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Have fun with this little story of mine!
Dingo
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“Sammy? Well, what a surprise! What are you doing here?”
I knew that voice and turned around, a glass in my hand. A little redhead beamed at me. Who was that again? What was her…? Ah – right!
“Hey, Vanessa. Nice to see you again.”
I put an arm around her – the right one, balancing the drink in my left hand – and gave her kisses left and right. She had once been with Bruno, one of my best friends. She giggled, and I smelled the alcohol on her breath.
“How’s Linda?” she asked,
“Good, I guess,” I returned, taking a sip. “We parted, quite some time ago.”
“Oh.” She looked confused, then shook her head. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You’d already broken up by then, you and Bruno.”
“Yeah, probably. It’s been two years now.”
She barely had to raise her voice. An hour ago, when I arrived, I had to shout for conversation. Now the electro-bass beats from the next room droned on a little less forcefully. Gerald had certainly invited all the neighbors, but after one o’clock in the morning you could never be sure if some neighborhood buzzkill wouldn´t call the cops.
She looked around and shrugged her shoulders. Bare shoulders. The red and white striped top with the spaghetti straps struggled to contain her full bosom. Vanessa was one of those girls who could best be described as “buxom.” Small and not fat, but not really slim either. Voluptuous, feminine shapes that somehow seemed too big for the body.
Very provocative, to some. But not my favourite. I’m more into the skinny ones. And I have no preference for red hair like so many others, anyway.
“How do you know Gerald?” she wanted to know, swaying her hips back and forth in groove with the bass drum.
“From college times,” I returned, letting my gaze roam over her head. Less people around now. “We had a few classes together. How about you?”
“By a friend.” She waved her hand in a ´it-doesn´t-matter´ way. “I just got here some minutes ago. Looks like the party’s almost over, though.”
“I get that impression, too,” I sighed. “What a bummer. There’s not much going on at the ‘Popocatépetl’ today, so I came here instead. Now what I am supposed to do with this evening that´s started?”
She laughed. A deep laugh, with a sort of coo in it. I blinked. Wait a minute — I knew that tone!
“Me too.” She yawned and stretched, showing off her breasts nicely. “I came here with a guy who invited me. But then we had an argue and he left.”
“Oh, and now you’re all alone?” I gave her a look of deepest regret. She laughed, again with that undertone. Her lipstick was a little smudged at one corner of her mouth. It didn’t matter. She had beautiful lips.
“Nah,” she giggled, winking at me. “Now I’m with you, right?”
“Right. Dancing?”
She nodded immediately and put her glass down.
We danced. The volume was just enough to hit the blood and to go straight to the legs. Or maybe we had just enough drinks. Vanessa tossed her hair back and forth in front of me. Deep red flames in the colorflashes from the improvised light organ above. She moved loosely, relaxed, always half a heartbeat behind the rhythm, as if letting it pull her along. This seemed strangely lascivious. Again and again our arms touched, and again and again she smiled at me from below. She resembled a mixture of a little girl and a vamp.
It may well be that I’m not one of the fast ones. But these signals I recognized. This was an invitation, right?
Hm – and me? Should I accept it? Actually, I just had enough of girls. Nothing against one night stands, but usually it didn´t work out that simple and noncommittal afterwards.
On the other hand — she was not my type, and vice versa was probably just as true. Best conditions, right? I was indeed hot. She was young and reasonably pretty, so why not?
Or have I overinterpreted something here? Was her supposed cuddliness only due to the alcohol that was singing in my veins? Or was this some kind of game?
Unexpectedly, I was overcome with displeasure. “Come on.” I put an arm around her and pulled her off the dance floor.” “I’ll buy you another drink.”
“Show-off!” she laughed, showing dazzling white teeth. “It’s all from Gerald, isn’t it?”
“Exactly. Makes it easy to offer a drink.”
She laughed again and willingly let herself be guided. I felt sweaty skin under my fingers. Her top left a stripe of skin above the red jeans, which highlighed the waist.
“A Caipibull for me.” She brushed her hair out of her face as we stood at the bar. Where ´bar´ meant a plain table full of bottles and glasses. I rummaged through the leftovers and found half-melted ice, pitu, lime slices, and a can of Red Bull. Normally this stuff grosses me out, but now it fit. I prepared two glasses and handed her one.
“Here’s to this evening!”, I declaimed theatrically, bumping my drink against hers.
“It’s night already,” she winked, putting the glass to her lips without taking her eyes off me.
“To night, then.” I took a sip, feeling the excitement tickle under my sternum. I wanted to know, and I wanted to know right now. Preferably with the oldest of lines.
“Speaking of night,” I said in a chatty tone. “Are we going to my place or yours?”
She didn’t choke. No cinematic effect, or anything. But she squinted her eyes, put down the glass and fixed me. Damn it — overdone! I had screwed up. In a moment, she would throw a curse at my head and dissapear on the spot.
So what? What did I care about the whims of this woman? Just a distant acquaintance of mine, a casual party guest. I put on a thin smile and waited. But this felt like I was playing a role. The role of a stranger.
But – there! A miracle. A hesitant smile spread across her large, deliciously sensual mouth, and her eyelids went halfway down. If that wasn’t a bedroom look!
“Well, well,” she giggled, “I didn’t remember you being that direct.”
“One learns.” I shrugged, put the glass down, and put both hands around her waist. Pulling wasn’t even necessary. She moved closer on her own until we were touching. Soft pillows nestled against my ribs. Her sparkling eyes looked up at me. She had deep green pupils. The color of wine bottle bottoms.
“My place,” she murmured, clasping my upper arms. “I live just around the corner.”
“Perfect. Because I shouldn’t be driving anymore.”
All by ourselves we melted into an embrace and kissed. She tasted the way she felt: sweet and soft. The curves of her hips filled my grip, she clung to me, and her lips met mine with barely suppressed eagerness. I suspected she needed it as much as I did. My member swelled and tingled prettily as it pressed against her belly. She felt it and responded by rubbing against it and me.
All right, a spontaneous fuck then. Normally I like it when a girl is a little brittle, so real conquest work is due. Here and now, however, I found her easy concession as fitting as it was pleasurable. I slid a hand up her expansive ass and forced my tongue into her mouth.
“Mhmm,” she murmured, licking my lower lip. “Let’s get out of here.”
Not five minutes later she stalked up the staircase to her apartment, a suppressed giggle on her lips. I followed her and enjoyed the sight of her butt swinging left and right in front of me. She really had a big ass, but nicely shaped. The plump cheeks came out perfectly in the jeans. Likewise the thighs: rather stocky than elegant, but very feminine and quite attractive. I was beyond aesthetic quibbles anyway. I just needed something warm and soft and devoted under me.
“Come in,” she whispered on the third floor, fumbling with the lock. A soft click, and the door swung open. Light shone out; she obviously hadn’t turned it off when she left.
“Nice,” I commented after an initial sweeping glance around the appartement. She laughed up at me. The living room looked like a marauding horde had came through. Dishes from dinner were still on the coffee table, clothes hung over the back of the sofa – apparently the last selection before going out – and the monotony of the gray carpet was broken by scattered books, magazines, paper notes and a notebook computer.
“Don’t look like that.” She pulled a pout, but had to grin at that. “I just thought I’d come back alone. Otherwise, of course, I would have cleaned up.”
“Of course,” I nodded, eyeing a bra hanging on the radiator. “Maybe we should have gone to my place after all. Because my place is super hyper tidy. Always, as men do it!”
“Yeah sure, certainly. Who needs too much tidiness anyway? You better look over here.”
She waited until I directed my gaze at her. Then she stripped off the skimpy leather jacket and let it fall to the floor, where it remained as a half-erect figure. With a giggle, she slipped the top over her head and tossed it aside.
I grinned at her. The chaos actually gained a certain charm this way. The white bra she was wearing really shone against her tanned skin. Those were DDs, easily.
“Well, do you think I’m pretty?” she cooed, caressing her body with one hand.
“Sure do.” I stepped toward her.
“Liar.” She laughed, but didn’t seem angry. “Linda was just as petite as that blonde I saw you with at the town fair last year. Bruno told me that even in college you always went after the skinniest ones. So – why me, today?”
I stopped, confused. What did she expect from me? The truth, in the end? She eyed me as curiously as a researcher would examine his latest experiment. Again, anger welled up in me. I didn’t feel like playing games any longer. All right! The truth? She could have it.
“Because I met you.” I spread my arms. “You’re right. Normally you don’t fit my pattern of prey. But for a quick, spontaneous Saturday night fuck, it doesn’t really matter, right? I’m solo for now, and I am horny. Horny for you, just like that. Is this a crime?”
She was no longer smiling. Her green eyes scrutinized me, weighing. She nodded slowly.
“I noticed,” she said softly. “Thank you for being honest.”
“And what about you?”, I shot back, still upset. “Don’t tell me you’re hoping for the big love.”
“No. In fact, I never really liked you.” She pressed her lips together. “I always wondered why Linda got involved with such an arrogant jerk like you.”