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Message-ID: <61211asstr$1309266602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Kenny Gamera <turtlemeat69@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Into the Cold, Lonely Night {Kenny N Gamera} (no sex, flash)
Lines: 76
Date: Tue, 28 Jun 2011 09:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


The account and events that follow are the property of Kenny N
Gamera and the total coward hiding behind that pen name.  Any
reposting or archiving in any form by someone other than
asstr-mirror.org without the express written consent of Kenny N Gamera
is prohibited.  I don't know why I'm posting it, and I sure as
hell don't know why you're reading it, but there we both are.
It's sad because I am sad.  Hate mail can be sent to the new
address in the sig line.  Seems hotmail hates me now.



Thank You and Good Day,

Kenny N Gamera

turtlemeat69@gmail.com





Into the Cold, Lonely Night

by

Kenny N Gamera



She sat near the end of the bar, one stool removed from the two
balding guys. She was their age or maybe a tad younger. She wore
a brown jacket and tan leggings with a floral print. Her legs
were attractive: not too long with a nice shape brought out by
high heeled ankle boots.

The bartender set a pint in front of her. She picked it up and
took a sip as he turned to walk away. Her profile displayed an
eye the color of a hazy Midwest sky. They complimented her
shoulder length blond hair. The front strands on either side
were pulled back and held into a small tail by a silver band.

One of the balding men said something to her. She glanced at
him, the glass still near her mouth. She gave them a closed
mouth smile. Emboldened, the other said something to her. It was
witty, and with a chuckle, her smile grew to show straight,
white teeth. A hello formed on her lips.

The balding men swiveled their stools around to face her. She
shifted so she sat at an angle to them. They talked, the men
more than her. She listened and answered questions. The bar
moved around them. The men ordered second drinks; she sipped at
her beer.

When the glasses were down to a few unmelted cubes and a few
streaks of foam, she picked up her purse. She dropped a few
bills on the bar and stood. She turned to the balding men and
spoke a few words. They tore their wallet from their pockets and
threw money next to hers.

She smiled and led them to the door.

I called the waitress over and ask for another. She brought it.

I paid. One sip followed another as a dark night grows longer.

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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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