Path: not-for-mail
From: rdodger <rajahdodger@gmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Blues in the Night, by Rajah Dodger [MF]
Date: Tue, 02 Aug 2005 06:05:25 -0700
Organization: http://groups.google.com
Lines: 268
Message-ID: <1122987925.555945.286160@g14g2000cwa.googlegroups.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: 199.89.196.138
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1"
X-Trace: posting.google.com 1122987931 1509 127.0.0.1 (2 Aug 2005 13:05:31 GMT)
X-Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 2 Aug 2005 13:05:31 +0000 (UTC)
User-Agent: G2/0.2
Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com
Injection-Info: g14g2000cwa.googlegroups.com; posting-host=199.89.196.138; posting-account=sMADhg0AAAARozjx-BtxqfGB12O57XMR
===================
Blues in the Night, by Rajah Dodger <rdodger@hotmail.com>,
Copyright (c) 2004. All rights reserved, except that electronic
not-for-profit reproduction rights only are explicitly granted with the
stipulation that this authorship and permission note must remain
attached.
The bar where Fred sat was crowded and dingy, but it had a
television. On the screen, the Cowboys kicker shanked what would have
been the winning field goal; a mixture of groans and cheers echoed in
the crowded bar. The brunette sitting on Fred's left cursed and
slammed her beer down, splashing his left cuff.
"Oh hell, I'm sorry!" she spluttered, trying to dab at his sleeve
with a napkin. "Look, I'll pay for the cleaning bill..."
"That's okay," Fred reassured her, gently removing her hand from
his wrist. "I guess you were rooting for the Cowboys, huh?" The woman
grunted, muttering something unintelligible and downing the last of her
beer. Fred didn't mind; the bet he'd just won would pay for plenty of
shirts.
Fred hadn't particularly noticed his neighbor before, but now took
the time to give her a once-over. Peach blouse, small earrings, the
start of crows' feet - she had the look of someone who'd been around
the block a few times. On the other hand, she had a pretty face
through her anger, and Fred felt like sharing his good fortune.
"Tell you what," he said, and when she didn't respond he tapped
her on the shoulder to get her attention. "Tell you what, you can make
it up to me by being my guest for dinner - that is, if you can
recommend a good place."
She looked at him suspiciously, then blinked and smiled -
surprising him with alert blue eyes and seeming to lose at least ten
years from her face. "Don't mind if I do," she replied, extending her
hand. "My name's Sharon - what's your line?"
Fred was surprised at the strength of her grip. "Fred Sanders;
I'm in town for the pipeline convention." Sharon withdrew her hand and
slid off her barstool, picking up her purse. She was taller standing
than had been apparent, and Fred continued while he broke a hundred and
left the bartender a tip, "I'd have been at the hotel bar tonight, but
they were only showing the home team's game. I found this place to see
the game, but it doesn't look like the menu's worth staying for." He
chuckled at his own wit, while Sharon smiled appreciatively.
She ticked off the options on her fingers as Fred put his wallet
back in his pants pocket. "Well, there's a good Italian place a couple
of blocks over, and Chinese and Mexican near there as well as a
Moroccan place with real belly dancers." She gave him an appraising
look and continued, "Of course, the best place to eat in this town is
on the east side, barbeque to die for and authentic Dixie swamp blues.
But that's a drive from here, I'd have to give you directions and we
all know how men are about directions!" Her voice and face gave him
mixed signals - part humor, part challenge.
Fred decided to let the insult to his gender slide. Barbeque and
blues sounded good to him, and since Sharon's car was closer than his
hotel garage they agreed to let her do the driving. She set a brisk
pace as they walked to the car, and Fred admired her legs as her skirt
swirled about her knees. He was soon glad that Sharon was in charge,
as the route went through several parts of town that weren't at all to
Fred's liking. Her radio was tuned to a local channel playing music
that seemed almost familiar, bluesy but more raw and energetic than
anything he had heard back home.
The sign at their destination said "Hank's Rib Shack", and its
run-down exterior made the sports bar look high-class in comparison.
The food inside, however, made the drive more than worthwhile. As did
the company - Sharon turned out to be a school teacher and a lively
conversationalist, listening with equal interest to his stories about
drilling clients. The band was loud but tolerable, and after her
second beer Sharon dragged Fred onto the small dance floor where they
bumped and ground their way enjoyably through some slow blues numbers.
Time just flew by, and when Fred looked at his watch he couldn't
believe it was almost midnight. He had two client presentations to run
in the morning, and a laughing woman at his table who bore no relation
to the one who'd been swearing at the television earlier in the
evening. It took some convincing, but Fred managed to get Sharon out
of the building and into the car.
That left him with a different problem - they were in Sharon's
car, in an unfamiliar part of town, and she was in no shape to drive.
Fred even had to fasten the passenger seat belt, reaching across her
partly-unbuttoned blouse to get the buckle. She smelled of beer,
barbecue and perfume, and wriggled against him as he tightened the
belt. She was coherent enough to give him directions back to the hotel
district, and by the time his hotel was in view he had made up his mind
to put her up for the night. His company had booked a suite, so Sharon
could take the bed and he could sleep on the living room sofa.
It was with some embarrassment that Fred made his way through the
hotel lobby, with Sharon leaning on his shoulder and breaking into
random attacks of the giggles. She pulled herself together in the
elevator long enough to thank Fred demurely for keeping her off the
road. Then she kissed him - not a chaste polite thank-you, but a moist
full-lipped body-pressing kiss that left Fred wondering how much of a
gentleman he really wanted to be.
The elevator doors opened, and Sharon held Fred's hand as she went
with him down the hallway. When he reached into his wallet to get the
room card, she leaned against the wall, one leg extended with the tip
of her shoe drawing circles in the carpet. The lock released and he
pulled the door open, gesturing for Sharon to precede him. "Thank you,
kind sir," she said as she passed him. Her words were just slightly
slurred. Fred carefully locked and bolted the door while Sharon took a
look around the suite. "Quite a place you have, Fred, just what did
you say you do for these pipeline folks?"
"I'm a systems analyst and conversion specialist," he repeated as
he moved into the living area. "I'm in charge of making sure our gear
fits their needs."
"And do you often fit your gear into their needs?" She giggled,
then broke into uncontrolled laughter at the look on Fred's face. "Oh
relax honey, you let yourself in for that one."
Fred let out a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding, and smiled
at the truth of her comment. He had fed her quite a straight line.
"Okay," he said after he chuckled, "let's get you set up. The
bathroom's out here, so if you'll kindly take care of that first you
can have the bedroom for the night. I've got early meetings tomorrow,
so I hope you don't mind but you'll have to be awake and out by eight."
Sharon appeared surprised, then pleased, and headed for the
bathroom. Fred hung up her jacket and went into the bedroom to turn
down the cover and retrieve some of his papers. He heard the sound of
the toilet flushing, and soon Sharon stepped into the bedroom. She
yawned as she set her purse down by the bedside and smiled at him.
"Fred, I just want to tell you how delightful it is to be with a
gentleman. I'm sorry I had too much tonight, and you're being so nice
letting me crash here. I just wish I could make it up to you." She
yawned again and sat down on the side of the bed, smiling at Fred.
In other circumstances Fred might have taken that as an
invitation, but Sharon seemed to be feeling the effects of the evening
and he needed his sleep. Anyway, he'd already gotten lucky once with
the football game, so he stood up and smiled back at her. "Think
nothing of it, Sharon; I just wouldn't have felt right worrying about
you driving home at this hour." With that he turned and headed toward
the bedroom door.
When he passed the doorframe and turned to close the door, Sharon
was sprawled half on and half off the bed, softly snoring. He sighed
and went back into the bedroom to the bed. First he lifted Sharon to a
sitting position and carefully unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a
flesh-tinted bra that clung to the curves of her breasts. She wriggled
and sighed as he removed the blouse; when he went to hang it carefully
over the back of the desk chair, she flopped backward onto the pillow,
her skirt flipping up to show a strip of blue between her thighs.
Returning to the bed, he unzipped the skirt and slid it down her warm
legs, leaving the dark blue panties in place. Her feet curled and she
murmured, "Oh John, yes," as he tugged at the sheet and maneuvered
her body onto the mattress. He smiled ruefully; at least someone was
having nice dreams. He draped the sheet over her and turned off the
bedroom light.
Fred pulled the door behind him, then undressed for his own
makeshift bed. The room was cool enough to be comfortable, but not so
cold that he would need a blanket. He had a small headache and a
not-so-small erection. In the bathroom, he brushed and flossed, then
pushed his briefs down to tend to his other needs. His cock stood out
heavily, and he had to force his mind onto monthly sales projections
before his groin relaxed enough to finish his business.
Afterward, realizing the alarm clock was in the bedroom, he called
the front desk for a wake-up call, stretched out on the sofa and
covered his midsection with a towel for modesty. He twisted and turned
until he found a position that let him drift off.
Something woke him in the middle of the night... sounds from the
bedroom. He got up, wrapping the towel around his waist, and knocked
gently on the door. Getting no response, he pushed it open quietly.
Sharon was lying on the bed, her head propped up on the pillows and the
sheet pulled down. The flickering colors from the television screen
played over her face and bare breasts, nice-sized handfuls with large
dark areolas. Her eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell
regularly; one hand was resting on her stomach, the other hidden
beneath the sheet.
On the small screen, a woman bearing a vague resemblance to Sharon
was twisting her nipples and moaning as another woman knelt between her
legs, asscheeks flaring at the camera. Any annoyance at the extra
hotel charge was set aside by the sudden surge of blood to his cock,
swelling inside his briefs and pressing outward against the towel. He
switched the set off, but the images remained active in his mind. When
he got back to the sofa and eventually to sleep, his dreams were active
and erotic.
The woman in his dreams raked her fingernails over his nipples,
and his hips rocked under the wet slice of her pussy. The rough
material of the sofa cushion scraped against his bare bottom... bare
bottom? Fred's eyes blinked open and he looked upward into Sharon's
amused gaze. She was sliding herself backward and forward over the
length of his cock, with an extra wiggle over the sensitive head.
"Gee, you're a sound sleeper," she purred, "and such a gentleman, too!
I really expected you to join me in bed earlier, but the sofa works for
me."
Any response Fred might have mustered was silenced by her mouth
descending hungrily onto his. Her fingers slithered around the crown
of his cock and he felt the slick caress of lubricated latex.
Satisfied, she pressed his tip inside her and settled her weight down
onto his thighs. Her muscles swallowed his length and squeezed tightly
- very tightly indeed. She broke off the kiss and sat atop him,
playing with his balls, feeling them swell. "Oh yeah, Fred, don't
tease me, you don't know how long it's been since I was with a man!"
The rising tide of urgency within Fred kept him from putting words
together. He certainly wasn't of porn movie size, but it was obvious
that Sharon found his dimensions to her satisfaction and that knowledge
stoked his own arousal. Sharon's hips writhed clutching him deep
inside her and her fingers stroked and teased, darting into his most
private sensitive spots. Soon enough, yet too soon, he found himself
lost in the moment, his legs gone stiff and his body arching, lifting
her into the air with the lust-driven force of his orgasm magnified by
the rolling massage of her internal spasms round him.
Sharon sat above him triumphantly with an open-mouthed look of
bliss on her face, her breasts jiggling in the half-light percolating
through the windowshades. Her own spasms brought out everything Fred
had to give, and even the full furniture cushions weren't enough to
keep their passion from beating out an audible rhythm on the hotel room
floor.
Sated, the two collapsed together, bodies intertwined and
stretched out fully on the sofa. Sharon's fingers teased gently at
Fred's left ear as he sank into a post-coital slumber.
*RINNNNGGGGG*
Fred shook his head blearily, looking up at the ceiling and trying
to figure out where the phone was and who was calling him. When he
finally stumbled over to the living room desk and heard the automated
voice wish him "Good Morning,' some of his brain began working again.
Sharon was gone. If it weren't for the definite scent of sex in
the air, Fred might have thought he had dreamt the previous night. He
headed into the bathroom and started cleaning up, shaking his head in
bemusement. Bemusement got left at the station, however, when he got
out of the shower and couldn't find any of his underwear.
A thorough search of the room showed two things missing - all of
his underwear, and all of the bills in his wallet save for two singles.
Just enough for a beer at the sports bar. He sat on the sofa,
bewilderment and anger mixing uncomfortably, when his eyes lit on a
small flash of blue in between the cushions. It was Sharon's panties,
and there was a note inside them.
"Hi, Fred. I meant what I said about you being a gentleman... but
since you wound up getting into my pants I figured you wouldn't mind if
I got into yours! Enjoy the panties! -- S."
Fred looked at the blue fabric in his hand. He lifted it to his
face - it still bore her scent. His cock rose at the memory, and he
slapped it absently. It wouldn't help, of course. He grinned, then he
laughed out loud at the situation. If this were in a movie, he'd
probably be rolling in the aisles; the joke just happened to be on him.
At last, he slid the feminine garment up his legs, so that he could
finish getting dressed. It was small, of course, and the material slid
teasingly against his cock with his every motion. He wondered what his
customers would think if they knew the source of his good humor today.
***** {END} ***** Completed 2004-11-17, 2594 words
Copyright (c) 11-17-2004 Rajah Dodger (rdodger@hotmail.com)