Its Just Sex

Jeremy moved through the crowd in a fluid motion like a ballet dancer. Light on his feet he passed person after person, man after woman, without so much as grazing them. His head was clouded with the mingling scents of perfume, cologne, and body sweat (the stale scent of beer, the stinging hint of liquor). The men and women alike who wore too much body masking scents for comfort. He swirled the remaining contents of his bottled beer and dodged the cigarette smoke like a prize fighter, making his way to the bar. The infectious rhythm of a throwaway pop star beat into his skin, throbbing like a war drum. It was his war drum, the drum beat of a modern warrior.

Through the throng of people he moved past a mirrored wall, admiring himself as he walked by. Before entering the club he had done a few exercises to get his muscles ripe. He hadn’t worked out in a few days and felt the need to push blood into them. It produced the desired effect. His designer white dress shirt clung to his body, accentuating his frame. It was tucked neatly in a haphazard way (so as to produce the desired effect of seeming to appear messy) into his three hundred dollar pair of blue jeans. A shiny, but not obnoxious, belt buckle highlighted his toned core. Combined with his shoes the outfit itself was nearly a thousand dollars, the watch (hanging loosely at his wrist) was equal to that in itself. His hair, meticulously coifed, had the same appearance as his clothes, messy, but tamed. His tan only added to the allure. The pearly white (and perfectly straight) teeth melted into the backdrop, as did his blue/green eyes.

Jeremy used these eyes to scan the crowd, instantly (and without noticing it himself) he passed over any women in groups with other women, likewise those in groups with men. He was looking for a solitary female, like an animal would when they attack the weakest member in a pack, the straggler left behind. He noted one here and there (placing them in a mental reserve in his mind) when he spotted her sitting at the opposite end of the bar. It was almost too easy.

Every man that walked past her got a coy smile and a playful look, those that came up to order a drink next to her got a pleasant “Hello.” He understood why they weren’t biting. To a casual observer the brute of a man sitting next to her (the one that was actively trying to engage her in conversation) was her boyfriend. Body language was telling Jeremy this wasn’t the case. He inspected her.

She wore a loose fitting, calf length, black, flowing, skirt with a sensible pair of heels. The skirt was hiked up just high enough to show off her leg muscles. If he was to guess (which he did), he would assume that she was a runner. To compliment the black skirt was a white, form fitting, tank top. He could also tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were not as large as he usually preferred but he could see that they were still perky, still defying gravity, and that her nipples were a decent size (like a pencil eraser). Her hair also looked fantastic, flowing around her and highlighting her soft facial features. He would have chosen a blonde normally, but her black hair (with dirty blonde highlights) seemed a perfect match with her tan (but not too tanned) skin. He couldn’t see much else from his perspective so he moved in for a closer look.

As he slinked his way to the other side of the bar he dodged a drunk frat boy as he attempted to engage in conversation with two women at the same time. The frat boy said something along the lines of “Watch it fag!” but he ignored him completely.

Moving closer she caught his eye, once again the same smile, the same playful look, flirted across her face. He sat next to her, squeezing past another man who was about to move in to order a drink.

“Hello,” she said.

Her voice had a sing song quality too it, airy, feathery.

“Hi.” He responded in kind.

He ordered a drink as she looked him over.

“You smell good.”

“Thank you. So do you.”

In truth, she did. “It’s…” Jeremy tuned her out, he knew what it was, Happy for Women by Clinique. He almost ignored her to the point where she asked what he was wearing. “This? I don’t even know.”

He did know, it was Capri Orange by Acqua Di Parma. He laughed as he said his usual retort (making sure he was not too boisterous). She laughed in return.

“My name’s Rose.”

She shouted this, which wasn’t necessary, they were close enough to not have to yell over the music (which had switched to yet another here today, gone tomorrow, pop star). He smiled at her, she smiled back (her teeth looked well maintained).

“Lewis.” he replied, “nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

They shook hands, she lingered a little, rubbing his fingers as they withdrew. The brute of a man beside her tried to get her attention. She leaned over, giving Jeremy a spectacular view of cleavage (a small mole on the inside of her left breast) and placed a hand on his thigh (the hand squeezed a little). Jeremy looked over her shoulder at the man behind her. The look said, “taken.” The man, defeated, got up and walked away.

This was the part Jeremy hated. Dialogue. He didn’t really want to converse with this girl (he was never going to talk to her again). He went through the motions, answering her questions, asking his own (all the while feeling his body tense up). Finally, when he thought she was just going to keep talking (and he would have to move on), she leaned over and whispered in his ear (her mouth close enough to smell the alcohol).

Moments later she was leading him through the crowd by his hand, heading for a bathroom (he truthfully did not know which one). As they approached he noticed the line outside of the women’s restroom, she did as well, and darted into the men’s. In what seemed like fate (he had seen the opposite before) the bathroom was empty, and she darted for a stall. She swept in first and he closed the door behind him and locked it.

She turned around smoothly and attempted to kiss him. He dodged the kiss and wrapped a hand in her hair (never kiss…it was a rule). He pulled her head to the side, firm, yet not too hard. She followed his lead and smiled. He placed light kisses on her neck, a slight suckle of her earlobe, a lick on her shoulder (he noticed the goose bumps fly up her skin). She wasted no time in placing a hand on his crotch. She squeezed. It wasn’t a pleasant squeeze (the zipper grinded against his cock) but he let it pass. Without hesitation she dropped to a crouch, hiking up her skirt and pooling it into her lap (he admired her ability to deftly crouch in heels). She went to unbuckle his pants and he stopped her (never drop your pants…another rule). He reached down and unzipped himself, her hands resting on his thighs, he could feel her hot breath through his jeans. He reached in (ignoring her attempt to do the same) and pulled out his penis. He was semi hard but it was enough to flop out and land on her face. He liked this, apparently she did as well, she let out a little laugh and let it rest on her cheek as she looked at him. She lifted the shaft and licked from base to tip, stopping momentarily to pull his balls out (squeezing them as she did, giving them a little tug). Her little tongue flirted across his penis until she got to the head. She paused and blew on it. The cold air sent a shiver up his spine and he almost instantly achieved a full erection. She grinned at this and took the tip into her mouth. He watched the full pink lips (with artfully placed lip liner) slide down over the ridge of his circumcision and close. Once fully past the teeth he watched her cheeks sink in (just like someone sucking on a lollipop). Jeremy could feel the heat in her mouth, the building saliva. She moved down slowly until her nose touched his jeans. He felt her throat clench and unclench, felt the muscles working (heard and felt the sensation of a slight cough).

He lifted her up and turned her to where she was leaning down and bent sideways at almost a ninety degree angle. She pulled her mouth all the way off his cock with an audible sloppy pop, took a few panting breaths, and went back down (using her thumb and middle finger to lightly dance along the shaft). He hiked her skirt up over her ass and effortlessly parted her tiny black thong to the side (it was one of those that tied). Instincts told him to stick his fingers right in but knowledge prevailed. He brought his fingers up to his mouth, deposited a worthy amount of saliva on them, and sent them on their way. With his ring finger he found her clit and started rubbing in a circular motion. Naturally Rose bucked a little into his hand. With his index and middle finger he inserted her. Surprisingly (yet not overwhelmingly so) she was already wet, the juices sliding around his fingers. He used a slow, steady motion, sliding himself in and out as his thumb traced her asshole (if they buck into it, they may want it). After what seemed like mere seconds she turned around, slamming her ass into his crotch. She left one leg down and hiked the other one onto the toilet seat. After sliding a few times she ditched the heel on that foot and braced herself on her toes (he noticed the pools of unknown liquid on the floor, the remnants of pubic hairs on the seat, a dark ring in the bowl). Jeremy lifted her skirt up and balled it in his fist, with his other hand he pulled the thong to the side again.

He flicked her with his penis, rubbing it back and forth to find the hole, pre-cum already emerging as if saying hello. With her free hands she placed one on his abs, the other she used to grab his cock and slide it home (wonderfully tight at first but with a little effort…effortless). She kept his pace slow at first, using the hand on his abs like a guide until she finally started bucking into him herself. Jeremy felt her warmth and basked in its liquid velvet. He rammed it in and out, watching the lips move with it, enveloping him. Her anus pucker with each thrust. Her ass and thighs ripple with every motion. He reached his hands around to grab her breasts. She lifted her tank top and guided his hands to their desired place, pulling the clingy material up to her throat. He rubbed her stomach, feeling the smooth skin (and biting his tongue to keep from ejaculating early). With one hand he pinched a nipple, with the other he choked her from behind. She arched back, giving him a view of her silhouette. She rubbed his hand over her throat, making panting noises. Jeremy could hear other men in the bathroom but he tuned them out, he listened to the soft slapping sound, the suction cup sound of his cock worming its way around the inside of her pussy (a queef here and there), his balls slapping against her inner thigh. He felt his orgasm coming and grabbed onto her hips. He pistoned (following the beat of the endless music echoing through the walls), sending shock waves up her body, before pulling out and squirting his shame across her back (little rivulets clinging to the skirt).

She laughed a soft (almost silent) laugh and Jeremy watched as the homeless semen wiggled on her back. He felt ill. After his brief moment of elation he looked her over again. She handed him a wad of toilet paper and he mopped up his sperm using only his thumb and middle finger to hold the paper. She pulled her thong back in place (but not before he saw hair around what he thought was a cleanly waxed pussy and asshole) and before lowering her (likely Wal-Mart) skirt he saw that her runners legs (highlighted with the heels) were not as toned as he thought, little dimples of fat riddled the backs of her thighs (and, to his horror, he noted where a pimple was coming up on her ass). She turned around before lowering her shirt and he noticed that what he thought were perfect breasts featured hideously (in his mind at least) dark and misshapen areolas. She smiled and he saw that the well maintained teeth were chipped and yellow. She lowered her eyes (thankfully when his lip curled) and he spotted that the hair he once liked was in dire need of a new color and cut. He backed up quickly (in what the little space would allow) and found the lock on the door.

“Hey…wait!”

Nails not professionally manicured but covered in little designs grazed his arm.

Jeremy exited as she was putting on her missing shoe (probably from Payless), snaking his penis back in his pants as he went. There was a small crowd gathering in the bathroom waiting for the vixen to emerge. As he passed them he could hear her calling him names from somewhere behind him, “asshole…shithead…bastard.” The men around him cheered with each new name. They hollered and catcalled. A man in front of him raised his hand for a high five and Jeremy dodged it.

“The fucks your problem?” The man asked, beer and cigarettes on his breath.

“What’s yours? Its just sex.”