perimeter, a darkened room off to the back with TVs blaring, a cherry wood bar lining the back wall, and a cozy room full of tables with comfortable chairs. We sidled up to one of the tables and settled into our seats.
A saucy looking woman with a long black braid, wearing a white shirt and black pants, waltzed over, ready to take our order. She had a beauty mark by her lip and chewed gum with loud smacking sounds.
“What’ll it be?” she inquired, looking at Michael with ‘I Want You’ eyes.
“A couple of El Jefe Weizens,” Michael replied, not sparing her even a glance. “That okay with you, Chér?” he added as an afterthought.
“Fine.” I gave him a timid smile.
We settled back in our plush chairs, ready to relax.
“So what’ve you been up to, Michael?”
He smiled that ever ready smile of his. His deep dimples accented his smile like a couple of outward facing parentheses.
“Ah, working, working out. You know the drill.”
“I KNOW you Michael. If all you were doing was working, you’d be a very unhappy boy.”
He laughed. “You got that right. Oh, you know, been seeing a couple of girls, mixing things up a bit.”
“Only a couple?” I teased.
“That was last night. I tell you what, girl, I sure have fun doing the nasty.” He looked up towards the corner as if seeing a movie of last night’s revelry.
“Fun, huh?” was my quick retort. “What’s so fun about it?” Can’t say that I had ever said having sex was FUN. To me, it was an act that I tried really, really hard to enjoy. Every once in a while I got it right, other times I faked it. Fun was the last thing I ever felt about coupling with another.
“Are you serious, Chér? Sex is the supreme act between two people, three people, or a whole bunch of people! It’s natural. It’s wonderful. And it feels GOOD! Damn, it feels good,” he proselytized. “How can it NOT be fun?”
“I dunno, to me, it’s kinda hard.”
“It’s supposed to be hard, at least the man is,” he chortled, pleased at his own joke. “I can show you sometime. Feeling is believing...”
“Thanks, Michael, but I’ll pass. I get what you mean.” I blushed and looked away.
The waitress edged over, dropped a couple of coasters on the table and placed a cold brew on each one. She gave Michael an appreciative glance. Michael kept his attention directed my way. The waitress gave up and stalked away.
We reached for our beers and took a long swallow. “Yum, that’s one of my favorites.” I licked my lips, savoring the delicious liquid as it cooled my throat. A delicious feeling of warmth spread through me, as the hops got busy in their job of mild intoxication.
“Mine, too,” agreed Michael, wiping the back of his hand across his generous, kissable lips. “Back to our last topic,” he continued. “If you ever want me to tap that,” he looked at my crotch. “I’m just sayin’…I’ll show you just how fun it can be.” He viewed me intently, eyes mischievous with delight.
“Michael…” I rolled my eyes in mock aversion. I seriously wanted to move the conversation in a new direction. This one was making me squirm and turn every shade of red.
An hour of light-hearted conversation later we each emerged from Jingo’s, a light buzz in our brains.
“You cool to drive, Chér?”
“I’m cool. I think I’ll scoot around the block to clear my head.”
He reached over and gave my cheek a friendly kiss. “Be safe, Chér. But not too safe,” he added, winking. With that, he hopped into his beast of a truck and zoomed away.
As I wandered, I thought about what he had said. Sex was fun? Sex was a lot of things, but not fun. I really wanted it to be fun. I wanted it to be something other than what it was to me, and what it was I could not say. I had always felt tortured…conflicted…drawn and repulsed…turned on, turned off. I was all mixed up. I loved to kiss, but when it veered below the belt, I was baffled and confused…averse
A saucy looking woman with a long black braid, wearing a white shirt and black pants, waltzed over, ready to take our order. She had a beauty mark by her lip and chewed gum with loud smacking sounds.
“What’ll it be?” she inquired, looking at Michael with ‘I Want You’ eyes.
“A couple of El Jefe Weizens,” Michael replied, not sparing her even a glance. “That okay with you, Chér?” he added as an afterthought.
“Fine.” I gave him a timid smile.
We settled back in our plush chairs, ready to relax.
“So what’ve you been up to, Michael?”
He smiled that ever ready smile of his. His deep dimples accented his smile like a couple of outward facing parentheses.
“Ah, working, working out. You know the drill.”
“I KNOW you Michael. If all you were doing was working, you’d be a very unhappy boy.”
He laughed. “You got that right. Oh, you know, been seeing a couple of girls, mixing things up a bit.”
“Only a couple?” I teased.
“That was last night. I tell you what, girl, I sure have fun doing the nasty.” He looked up towards the corner as if seeing a movie of last night’s revelry.
“Fun, huh?” was my quick retort. “What’s so fun about it?” Can’t say that I had ever said having sex was FUN. To me, it was an act that I tried really, really hard to enjoy. Every once in a while I got it right, other times I faked it. Fun was the last thing I ever felt about coupling with another.
“Are you serious, Chér? Sex is the supreme act between two people, three people, or a whole bunch of people! It’s natural. It’s wonderful. And it feels GOOD! Damn, it feels good,” he proselytized. “How can it NOT be fun?”
“I dunno, to me, it’s kinda hard.”
“It’s supposed to be hard, at least the man is,” he chortled, pleased at his own joke. “I can show you sometime. Feeling is believing...”
“Thanks, Michael, but I’ll pass. I get what you mean.” I blushed and looked away.
The waitress edged over, dropped a couple of coasters on the table and placed a cold brew on each one. She gave Michael an appreciative glance. Michael kept his attention directed my way. The waitress gave up and stalked away.
We reached for our beers and took a long swallow. “Yum, that’s one of my favorites.” I licked my lips, savoring the delicious liquid as it cooled my throat. A delicious feeling of warmth spread through me, as the hops got busy in their job of mild intoxication.
“Mine, too,” agreed Michael, wiping the back of his hand across his generous, kissable lips. “Back to our last topic,” he continued. “If you ever want me to tap that,” he looked at my crotch. “I’m just sayin’…I’ll show you just how fun it can be.” He viewed me intently, eyes mischievous with delight.
“Michael…” I rolled my eyes in mock aversion. I seriously wanted to move the conversation in a new direction. This one was making me squirm and turn every shade of red.
An hour of light-hearted conversation later we each emerged from Jingo’s, a light buzz in our brains.
“You cool to drive, Chér?”
“I’m cool. I think I’ll scoot around the block to clear my head.”
He reached over and gave my cheek a friendly kiss. “Be safe, Chér. But not too safe,” he added, winking. With that, he hopped into his beast of a truck and zoomed away.
As I wandered, I thought about what he had said. Sex was fun? Sex was a lot of things, but not fun. I really wanted it to be fun. I wanted it to be something other than what it was to me, and what it was I could not say. I had always felt tortured…conflicted…drawn and repulsed…turned on, turned off. I was all mixed up. I loved to kiss, but when it veered below the belt, I was baffled and confused…averse
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