Car Show Slut Ch. 07

The pain in my freshly pierced right nipple didn't last long. A few days later, it felt no different from the left one. And it did feel good. And I felt good, too, basking in the afterglow of the experience still several days later. I felt none of the guilt that had plagued me after my first visit to Joe's tattoo and piercing parlor. Well, that was a bit of an understatement. I did still feel deeply disturbed over what had happened, although at least I wasn't experiencing the depths of despair which I had after my first 'visit'. I kind of accepted it, accepted that yes, I had enjoyed it, and there was nothing intrinsically wrong with that. So what if I enjoyed it? The fact was that I did enjoy it. End of story.

How could I feel shame after how he had made me feel? He had, in the words of that old Linda Rondstadt song that I found my mind offering up as a kind of soundtrack for the morning, 'really worked me over good', and was indeed 'a credit to his gender', rough diamond that he is. The trouble now was that every time I drove home I would have to go past that exit that would take me down to Joe's shop, and I often had to fight the temptation not to take that road. It was an open opportunity on any afternoon to take myself to a place where I could be taken like a woman ought to be taken. All I had to do was take the exit.

But I held firm, luxuriating instead in the memory of that mind-blowing experience as a one-off. I had never entertained fantasies of bondage, but really that was what occurred; he had taken me as a kind of prisoner and I had secretly loved it. I loved the relinquishing of control, the abdication of all power over my destiny, to have some man do what ever he wanted. And that was the problem here – such fantasies are dangerous, but in Joe I could, should I wish, act them out in what I perceived to be a perfectly safe environment. I just wasn't sure I wanted to go down that road, as much of a turn on as it was. No, I wouldn't go back there again.

A week had passed since then. In the meantime I had settled back into my routine. I hadn't given up the idea of trying to get back into the dating scene, the episode with Julian hadn't put me of, but for the moment my priority was work. Things were steady in the office. I had those new clients to develop, and that was taking up most of my time. I sat at my desk going over the documentation, and at reflective moments finding myself occasionally rubbing my new nipple piercing, as if to check that it really had been done. I had been right about feeling 'balanced' – with both nipples done it just felt, well, exactly as I thought it would. And the notion that here I was, prim and proper on the outside in my expensive business suit, but such a slut on the inside, yes, it did give me a certain thrill. All the people in my working life that came in contact with me – who of them would know?

Actually, it did occur to me, there were some who knew. Looking in my diary I realized that next week I was scheduled to have a meeting with the firm where that guy Ron works, the guy who had felt me up at the beach. I wasn't looking forward to that. I imagined myself sitting in the meeting, knowing that his colleagues probably knew that he had felt up the young executive from the marketing company their firm employs. But then I remembered that Ron was married with kids, I had seen them at the beach, so Ron was hardly likely to be broadcasting our little interlude around the world. But then, I thought, so what? Who cares? People get together with people. People have affairs; and I am single. It's none of anyone's business anyway.

At the end of the day I decided to go for a swim. I was getting into swimming more and more – a great physical activity that really toned up the body and didn't leave you feeling like you'd been hit by a train, which was how I sometimes felt after an extended gym workout with my personal trainer.

The cool water felt exhilarating as I dived into the pool – just the thing after another hot day and eight hours in the office. The pool was fairly crowded, so I had to share my lane with others, which I didn't really like doing, and I noticed in the lane next to me was that girl with the short black hair again, that I'd seen the last time I went swimming. God, she must come here all the time. And by the look of the way she swam, that was probably true – she was so much faster than me, and with such a masterful stroke compared with my uncoordinated flailing of arms and legs. Watching her glide past from under my goggles, she moved through the water with such grace and beauty, so little splashing and the water licking up behind her feet as she kicked, and with her lovely slender body – God, I wished I could swim like that.

I only made it through 20 laps before I was done and headed for the showers. As I dried myself, I noticed her again, that girl with the short black hair, come into the locker rooms. She came up near to where I was changing, which evidently was close to her own locker. She saw me as she opened her locker and smiled. I smiled back in recognition – it was clear she remembered me from last time. I certainly hadn't forgotten her.

"Hi," she said. That silken voice again.

"Hi," I responded. She was still in her swimmers. I was naked, still drying off. She was looking at my body. Such big, striking dark eyes.

"Hey, nice piercings," she said. "Are they new?"

"Yeah, just got them done the other day."

I felt slightly embarrassed to be discussing my piercings so publicly, let alone the fact that she was opening looking at them. I realized then that she was the first person to have yet seen them. I felt rather self conscious, exposed.

"They look great!" she smiled, staring at my tits. I had the towel covering my waist – she hadn't seen the clit ring yet. "Did it hurt?"

"Yeah, it did, but the pain goes away after a few days."

"I was actually thinking about getting one done myself," she said. "So how do they feel now?" she added, still staring at my breasts. "Does you feel different?"

"Yes," I said, still feeling a little uncomfortable, but rather thrilled at the same time that this sexy young woman had opened a conversation with me. She was being a bit forward on the questioning front, I thought; I wondered whether or not she might be, you know, interested...

"They feel good," I said.

She smiled as she pulled her arm free of her one-piece swimming costume. She rolled it down, her beautifully pert breasts spring free, down her body and off her hips. She was now naked in front of me. She had a fantastic figure – the body of a swimmer.

"I was actually thinking of getting a clit ring," she said with a little giggle as I watched the towel slide around the curves of her body as she dried herself.

Well, I thought to myself, that's exactly what I've got. I'd been modestly trying to hide it from her view, God knows why, but I reasoned she's going to see it anyway. So show her.

I moved the towel away to expose my pussy.

"Like this?" I said, almost sheepishly.

Her dark eyes widened as they gazed upon my clitoris. She stood there staring. She almost seemed embarrassed for a moment, and I certainly did feel painfully embarrassed as she looked at me, but then the apprehension washed away and I suddenly felt bold, proud of my body and the fact that I had gone and done something as wild as get a clit ring – wilder than what this young girl had done, and she seemed to be a pretty 'out there' and groovy young thing. And why not show it off? Why not show it off to someone who is thinking of doing the same? Someone as sexy as this girl?

"Wow!" she said. "That's sexy."

I felt a little tingle inside at her comment.

"Thank you," I said, inwardly thrilled at the compliment.

Neither of us said anything for the next few moments as she got dressed into her jeans and tee. I couldn't help but watch her. I was trying to be discreet, but I wasn't doing a great job – I was pretty sure she was aware that she was being observed. She didn't seem to mind. She really did look good.

I was dressed now and pretty much ready to go. I was fumbling with my bag; something inside me wanted to prolong this little exchange. It was just like the last time I saw her here; there was something about her that I found intriguing, exciting. I couldn't quite bring myself to leave just yet.

"You must come here a lot," I said as I stood up, preparing to leave, but stalling for time.

"Yeah, I used to be on the regional swim team, but I gave it away – too much hard slog on cold mornings. It's still great, though, you know, as a regular exercise."

"Yeah I know," I said. "It's impact free; unlike the gym, it doesn't leave you in need of a massage afterwards."

She laughed.

"Well, I better be going," I said. "Might see you here again some time."

I started to walk off.

"Hey," she said, and I stopped in my tracks.

"You fancy going for a drink somewhere?"

My body tingled. Oh, yes! She's asking me out for a drink – maybe she really 'that' way!

"Yes, why not?"

"There's a little music club just around the corner."

"Sounds good – let's go."

"Oh, by the way, I'm Paola," she said, offering her my hand.

"Anne, pleased to meet you."

We shook hands, looking into each other's eyes as we formally greeted. She had a captivating face with those big, piercing eyes, and our handshake lingered for just that little bit longer than what would be considered normal public etiquette. I felt a thrilling rush through my veins as the nerve endings in my skin registered the unfamiliar warmth of her palm in mine.

"Ready?" she asked. I nodded. "Let's go."

The club was literally around the corner, probably not 100 yards away. I'd never actually noticed it before. It was a little bar, full of young people, and there was a band playing in the corner. Not my type of music, but maybe the sort of experimental stuff I might have gone to see 10 years ago. They had a girl singer and a guitar player, and a guy operating some kind of computer. Their sound was wild and almost free form, and on the verge of being too loud.

I grabbed a seat while Paola went off to the bar to get drinks. She moved through the crowd almost with the stealth of a cat, in her faded jeans and black t-shirt. There was something androgynous about her, hard to define, but something I found very, very attractive.

I looked around the room. This was a young crowd. I felt overdressed in my work gear, but then a noticed a few young guys in suits; really, it was quite an eclectic mix. Rather avant garde. Anyone could fit in here.

"Here you go," she said as she put the drinks down and slid into the circular shaped booth alongside me.

"Cheers."

Our glasses clinked and I took a big sip.

"So, what do you do, Paola?" After I said it, it felt like a boring thing to say in such a cool, groovy young establishment. One ought to be discussing music or art in a place like this. But sitting there in my work gear I didn't feel young and groovy.

"I'm a student. And I've got an exam tomorrow. I'm probably going to have to make it a fairly early night, unfortunately – I haven't studied at all!"

I felt a pang of disappointment. God, yes, there it was - I did want to sleep with her...

"Yeah," I said. "I remember those days – last minute cramming!"

I talked about my job, but it felt boring to do so. God, why do people straight away ask someone they don't know what they do for a living? Like I just did... It's really the last thing anyone wants to talk about in a social situation. I steered the conversation onto swimming, and quizzed her about how she could be so fast for what seemed like such little effort. She gave me a few pointers to improve my stroke.

"But really Anne, I saw you swimming – you're not bad."

"Well thanks, but I've got nothing on you – the way you just glide through the water so effortlessly. I don't know how you do it; you just look so good!"

There was a double meaning to that which I hadn't intended; it had just come out that way. She smiled. I looked into her face and recognized that look – the look you might get from a guy who's eyeing you off. A look that is saying, 'I'd love to fuck you'. Either that, or she was just a terrible flirt.

"Hey, but tell me," she said. Her hand was on my thigh. "How does it feel to have those piercings? I bet it's a real turn on!"

"Well, weird at first," I said, taking another big swig of my wine. Her hand was still on my thigh. "It hurt, and it hurt for a while afterwards, but now they feel great."

"Do you feel different now? Does it feel sexy?"

"Yes," I said. "It does feel sexy."

"Does it feel different with them having sex?"

I felt flushed. She seemed to have come in closer now. Yes, she was closer. I could feel her lower leg rubbing against mine. Her hand had moved up my thigh a little. I could feel her fingers resting on the hem of my skirt under the table.

"Yes, it does feel different. It feels good!"

We both giggled.

"I like it here," she said. Under the table her fingers gently dropped around onto my inner thigh, touching my other leg as I held my legs firmly together.

"It's nice to come here after a swim, and sometimes they have some cool bands on."

Our idle chat had nothing to do with the conversation that was going on between us physically. There was no doubt she was making advances on me, and for my part I had done nothing to stop or discourage her. She was coming onto me literally just like a man might. And it was working; the blood was rushing to my loins. I could feel my nipples swelling. We were in public, but what was going on under the table was hidden from view. Her touch was sending signals straight to my pussy. I could feel myself almost beginning to pant.

I knew that if I let my legs fall open even a little bit, she would take it as a green light, a sign to continue. That she would know for sure that I wanted it. But how far did I want this to continue? Here in public? Truth was that I wanted to turn and kiss those big full lips of hers. I almost ached for it. I felt her fingers slide under skirt – she was pushing my skirt back towards my hips!

And I wanted more. Even here in public. I let my legs fall open. If she didn't already know, she definitely knew now: that I liked girls. Her fingers drifted further up my inner thigh. So delicious...

Oh God, her fingers were roaming right up my thigh... I turned to look at her and smiled, just as I felt finger rub against my pussy. She smiled back. We both knew.

Then my cell phone rang. The tone interrupted the mood, and I chose to answer it. It was Sarah.

"Hi Sarah, haven't heard from you for a while."

"Yeah, sorry, I've actually been a bit ill the past few weeks, but better now. Hey, where are you, I can hardly hear you with all that noise."

"I'm in a bar."

"Oh yeah? What's the company like? Is he hot?"

"It's a she," I said, "I'm here with a friend." I saw Paola look up at me when she heard the reference to herself.

"Well, is she hot?"

"Sarah, you really are terrible!"

"Yeah, I know, but is she?"

"Well, yes," I said, looking straight at Paola. Somehow that gave me a little thrill. I secretly fantasized that she knew what I meant.

"Is she 'just a friend', or something else?"

God, that girl really is impossible!

I was getting a bit frustrated with Sarah and her taunts. It was just like the time over the phone with the plumbers – I felt like she had me in a little game that I could only lose. Damn it, I thought, I can either hang up, or call her bluff. What the hell, Paola already knows that I want her. And damn it, all this was making me as hot as hell. I took another sip of my glass.

Paola had stopped touching my leg when I took the call. Her thigh was still resting against mine, but she was keeping her hands to herself while I took the call. I moved my hand gently to hers and placed it back between my legs. Paola gave a sly smile.

"Yes, she's sexy," I said into the cell phone, but looking straight at Paola and smiling as I did it. "She's very sexy."

Paola was grinning madly, her big eyes widening as she looked at me in surprise. I felt so bold with what I had just done – such a rush! I opened my legs a little more and shuffled down my seat a little, just to make it even easier for her. I felt her hands reach my pussy again. Oooh, such a wicked thing to be doing in public – and with Sarah on the phone too! Not that anyone in the bar could see what was happening. And yet I wasn't much focused on our surroundings; it seemed like, sitting in the booth, we were in our own little cocoon.

"Good for you!" Sarah said. "Listen, it sounds like you've got better things to do than talk to me, so I'll call you later. I've got a little favor to ask."

As I hung up the phone I felt Paola's hand go round the back of my neck. She pulled my face to hers and kissed me hard on the mouth. I kissed her back, but I felt myself panic. I couldn't do it, not here in public.

"Hey, I'm sorry, but I'm not comfortable doing this here," I whispered softly into her ear as we continued our embrace. She understood.

"Anyway," she said, "it's getting late, and I really have to study. We better just call it a night."

We left the bar together. Arm in arm we walked back to our cars in the swimming pool car park. I walked with her to her car. She embraced me, swinging my body around so I lent up against her car as she kissed me passionately. I kissed her back as she earnestly ground her crotch into mine. She had such strength in her thighs! Her firm breasts pushed hard into mine felt fantastic, and I held her tight, my hands roaming all over her back and down across her tight ass. God, what a body!

We stayed like this for about a minute before she broke off the kiss.

"Anne, I would love to spend the night with you, but I do have to study tonight. I must pass this exam. But let's get together another time."

"Yes," I panted. "Let's." I gave her my phone number and another long languid kiss as she got into her car. I got into my car and drove off, dialing Sarah's number as I did. I was feeling very horny. I wondered what Sarah was doing right now?

As it turned out, she was hard at work studying as well. I wondered whether or not she and Paola knew each other. But for all her last-minute cramming, Sarah did have enough time to ask that favor she mentioned.

"I've decided to enter an amateur stripping competition," she said. "It's in a local bar tomorrow night, and I was hoping you could come along for moral support."

"You're going to do a strip tease in public?"

"Yep," she said. "You know me, I kind of dared myself. Actually, it's a friend of mine who's running the night, and he was talking about it and I got to thinking, and well... It is pretty full on, I know; that's why I'm asking – I'd feel better if I had someone there I knew."

"Well... why not?" I said. "Never been to anything like that before but it might be fun."

"Great! Can you be there by eight?"

"Sure."

She gave me the address details. God, stripping off in front of a room full of guys – how wild is that? Well, I thought, it's not far from what I once did myself, on that infamous night at Roger's brother's buck's night. No, that's a lot different from being a stripper. Actually, I was looking forward to watching her in action, so to speak; I did find her sexually attractive – God, I'd have liked to have gone round to her place that night had she been free. And I might have slept with her before had the circumstances been different. And I might still, I thought. The mere possibility of that gave me a sense of freedom. Yes, I liked being single. I liked the independence, the freedom to do whatever I liked, unconstrained by the needs and neuroses of a partner. Did I really want a boyfriend at all, I pondered?