The Lazy Boy

I can’t be absolutely certain that what happened, happened for the reason I think it did. But I’m pretty sure. And I don’t feel very good about it. On the other hand, if it hadn’t been me, it probably would have been someone else. As much as I’d like to think that Sharon saw something special in me, or something that she liked, I don’t know. I think at that time, in that situation, just about anyone with a penis would have suited her just fine. Still…

Lucy’s Little Longhorn. That’s honest to god the name of the little bar on Burnet road in Austin, Texas. You could, as they say, look it up. I had never been there before that night. It’s one of the many great little hole-in-the-wall places throughout Austin where you can just sit quietly and sip a beer and listen to live music. Along the back wall is a raised wooden stage where the musicians set up and play. There’s a small open area next to the stage for anyone who wants to dance, and the rest of the place is filled with ancient-looking rickety wooden tables with matching chairs. There were Shiner Bock beer coasters propping up a leg of most of the tables in a vain attempt to stop them from wobbling. There is a bar that runs the length of one of the walls, complete with brass rail.

I was there to see Karyn Poston and her Krystal Pistols. She’s a country-western wonder of a tall, substantial girl, is Karen. She wears weathered cowboy boots, a big cowboy hat, and a Texas-sized belt buckle with the Lone Star on it. I had seen her a few weeks before belting out a few Johnny Cash tunes at one of Austin’s many famous “hoot nights”, where the local artists cover famous songs from the chosen artist. That night I planned to catch the whole show. But, of course, things don’t always work out the way you plan, now do they?

I got there early to be sure I’d get a seat, and had my choice upon arriving. I sat near the back, to be a little bit further from the speakers and closer to the bar. I was sipping on a beer and thumbing through the Chronicle, the local weekly paper with all the movie and music listings, and tapping my toe absent-mindedly to the jukebox, when she came up.

“Are you here alone?’

“Yes.”

“You mind if I share your table? It’s probably going to get pretty crowded, and I don’t want to stand up all night.”

“Sure, have a seat.”

“I’m Sharon, by the way.”

“Hi, Sharon, I’m David. Nice to meet you.” I started to stand as I shook her hand, but she waived me back down into my seat.

I would estimate Sharon’s age somewhere in her early to mid-forties. She was wearing blue jeans, and a white blouse that hugged her curves nicely and allowed you to see just a hint of the lacy bra underneath. Her breasts looked full and firm, I guessed a large C or even a small D. She framed them nicely with a black vest and finished the ensemble with a black belt with silver studs. I don’t normally notice a woman’s shoes, but hers were a very severe, constrictive-looking black lace-up pair of the sort that fashionable women everywhere swear are comfortable, but which look like a de Sade torture device.

As we sat there talking I began to take more notice of Sharon’s defining characteristics. She had large, intelligent brown eyes that sparkled as she spoke. She had high cheekbones, attractive but not pronounced the way they would be for an emaciated super model. When she smiled slight crow’s feet would appear, adding character. Her hair was also brown, without a trace of gray. It was cut in a simple, professional style, straight without elaborate curls or feathering. It was parted on the side, and came down just to her shoulders. She was a woman that you might not notice as you walked in the room, but if you took the time to look, you’d realize that she was very attractive.

I hadn’t really noticed the rest of her body as she had walked up and introduced herself. But by now I was starting to get interested and was curious. When she offered to go to the bar and pick up the next round, I got my chance to see the rest of her. She was about 5’ 8” I’d guess, with nice slender legs that the jeans hugged nicely. Her belt was cinched tight, accentuating the narrowing of her waist. Her hips flared out sensually to a beautifully rounded posterior. Her body was full and lush, and, I imagined, soft and feminine. I started to wonder what it would look and feel like without the clothes.

And she caught me wondering. One moment I was staring at her ass and the next moment she had turned and started back towards the table. But I was still staring waist high, and apparently the look on my face spoke volumes. When I broke my trance and looked up at her, she had a knowing look on her face, and her lips turned up at the corners into a reproaching grin.

“And here I thought all you wanted was beer,” she said, handing me the bottle. She held on to it as I tried to take it from her. It was only when I looked her in the eyes that she finally let go.

“Sorry,” I said, turning six shades of red and taking a long drag on the beer. When she didn’t speak, I glanced sideways at her, trying to figure out what her reaction was going to be. She just sat there looking at me. Just as I was ready to crawl under the table, she busted out laughing.

“David, it’s OK,” she exclaimed between giggles. She grabbed my forearm with her and leaned forward to meet my eyes. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re not the first guy who ever looked at my ass.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of pervert or something.”

“I don’t think you’re a pervert. I just think you like my ass.” I started blushing all over again when she said that, and was again speechless.

“God, you should see your face right now. Lighten up.”

“OK. But could we talk about something else for a while?”

“You don’t want to talk about my ass any more?” she said, maintaining her devilish grin.

“Let’s talk about the GNP of Peru or something, all right?”

“OK. You’re off the hook. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You go to the bar for the next round. I want my turn.” Blushing for yet a third time, I covered my face in my hands. I only uncovered it again when I felt her hand on my shoulder, which I took as a signal that everything was all right.

“OK then. It’s settled. Now, are you a big fan of the band?” Sharon had an engaging way of speaking that let you know that she was actually paying attention to what you had to say.

“Actually, I’ve only seen them once before. A couple of weeks ago at the Red-Eyed Fly.”

“Oh, yeah, where’s that?”

“Down on Red River. They played at the Highwaymen hoot night.”

“The what?”

“The hoot night. It’s a fund-raiser where a bunch of bands get together and do covers of a band.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“How about you? Have you seen them before?”

“No. I didn’t even know they’d be playing tonight. I just wanted to get out and have a drink, and this place looked interesting when I drove by.”

“Do you like country-western music?”

“Yeah, I guess. I listen to a lot of different music.”

“I think you’ll like this then.”

We continued chatting about nothing in particular as the place began to fill up and it got closer to show time. After a while, we were both empty, so it was my turn to go to the bar for a beer. We hadn’t talked further about my peccadillo from earlier, but it was still at the forefront of my mind that she might be looking me over as I got up and walked the few feet to the bar. I even put on a little show as I stood waiting for my order to be filled. I bent at the waist and leaned on the bar, sticking my ass out in an exaggerated fashion to give her a good look. As I turned to head back to the table, I was disappointed to find that she was looking forward at the stage, and not at me.

But at least she had good cause to be looking there. The band was slowly making its way through the crowd and around the equipment on the stage. In a moment they would be tuning up the guitars and getting started. I handed her the beer and she thanked me. Pointing towards the stage, she said, “That’s her, huh?”

“Yep.”

“She’s a big girl.”

“She’s got a voice to match.”

“This ought to be good, then. Here’s to big…voices,” she said, as we toasted with a clinking together of the bottles. I could only chuckle at the apparent joke. Before I could come up with a witty retort, Karyn strummed her guitar and the show began. It was pure country, as she stood stock still on the stage except for the tapping of her toe, and belted out the songs with a voice straight out of 1950s Nashville. Both Sharon and I tapped our toes right along with her. Almost immediately there were couples two-stepping and twirling near the stage.

After a while the waitress came around, and we ordered another couple of beers as the music continued. I was getting a nice little buzz going by the end of the third one. I ordered a fourth to keep it going. Sharon and I hadn’t been talking, or even looking at each other much since the music started, concentrating instead on the stage and the music itself. After the fourth beer, I knew I was going to have to hit the restroom before long. When I couldn’t wait any longer, I excused myself and went off. As I went in I heard Karyn announce that they would play a couple of more songs and then take a short break. I was glad that I had beaten the crowd that would undoubtedly be in the bathroom at the end of the set.

When I came out of the bathroom I was startled as I almost ran headfirst into Sharon. I assumed she was headed for the ladies room next door down. “Sorry, but I think we lost our table,” she said. “I got up and someone took it. It might take a fist fight to get it back now.”

“OK, well, I don’t mind standing if you don’t.”

“Actually, I was thinking maybe we could go somewhere else.”

“Didn’t you like the music?”

“Oh, no, it was fine. I just feel like going somewhere else. Can you walk me to my car?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” We navigated our way through the crowd, out the door, and into the parking lot. The first thing I noticed when we got outside was that it had cooled off quite a bit since I had gone inside. It had been warm enough earlier that I had left my coat in the car. Now, though, I was shivering a little. Sharon reached into her purse and pulled out her keys. She hit the button on the key chain to unlock the car, and I noticed the lights flash on and off on a Lexus sedan a few cars away from where we stood. It was the only foreign car in the entire parking lot, and, I guessed, easily the most expensive.

“Hop in, and we’ll get warm,” she said. “My car’s heater is really good.”

“I’m all for that.” I hopped in on the passenger side as she went around to her side.

“It’ll just be a minute or two, and it’ll start blowing warm air,” she said as she adjusted the controls.

“It got kind of chilly, didn’t it?” I said, my teeth chattering. “So, where do you want to go now?”

“Where do you want to go?” she asked.

“I can think of a couple of places. But it sounded like you already had something in mind. Do you?”

“Yes…I suppose we should talk about that,” she said, tilting her head down and to the side and gazing up at me. She might have been blushing, but I couldn’t tell in the dim light. “I want to play a little game. Do you like games?”

“Depends on the game, I guess. Do I get a prize if I win?”

“Actually, you’ve already won. And if you don’t blow it, you’ll get a prize that I think you’ll like. Are you up for it?” As she said that, a smile crossed her face for just a moment, though I couldn’t tell whether it was a tease or a challenge.

“Yeah, OK, I’m willing. What’s the game?”

“Well, I want to take you somewhere. But to go, you have to be willing to wear a blindfold.” She paused, as if to let that soak in.

“Is that it? Or is there more?”

“There’s more. Once we get where we’re going, you have to do what I say. When we finish playing, I’ll put the blindfold back on you and bring you back here. That’s it.”

“And what will you be asking me to do?”

She leaned across the seat, and stroked my cheek. She looked me in the eyes, and gave me a light kiss on the lips. “Some things, you just have to take on faith.”

Obviously, the choice was mine. I could accept her conditions and take what promised to be an intriguing little trip, or get out of the car and go back inside for the band’s second set. I made a quick calculation about the likelihood of her meaning me bodily harm versus the likelihood of her meaning me bodily pleasure. I decided that pleasure was much more likely, and my penis took it from there.

“You’re not going to drug me and take my kidneys, are you?”

“What?”

“You know, the old urban legend. You wake up in a bathtub full of ice next to a phone. And there’s a note that says “Don’t move! Dial 911! Your kidneys are missing.”

“It’s nothing like that. You’ll have all your organs when the night’s over.”

“OK then, I’m in.”

She reached into her purse then and pulled something out. “Turn your head,” she said. I did, and felt something soft and smooth cover my eyes. “Good boy,” she said in a deep sultry voice, her lips only inches from my ear. The sound sent a tingle through my body, finishing at my groin. Then I felt her hands at the back of my head tying a knot. She reached around the front to pull it down in front to make sure it covered my eyes. Then she turned my head towards her and looked. “Can you see anything?”

“Not a thing.”

“Good. Then we’re ready to get started.” I felt her hand reach across my stomach. Thinking she was about to stroke my cock, I let out a small moan and raised my hips slightly to meet her. “Easy, lover” she whispered in my ear. “I’m just getting your seat belt.” I could hear the mirth in her voice, and I had to smile myself at my eagerness. She gave me a small peck on the cheek, and then I heard her putting on her own seat belt. She backed us out of the parking spot, and we were on our way.

We drove on in silence for a few miles, before I couldn’t quell my curiosity any longer. “Sharon.”

“Yes?”

“Why were you carrying a blindfold in your purse tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“You had a blindfold all ready to go when I agreed to wear it.”

“That’s not a blindfold. It’s a scarf.”

“OK, then. Why were you carrying a scarf in your purse?”

“Why are you asking me these questions?”

“Well, it just seems like you had this whole thing planned out already. It makes me kind of wonder what’s going on.”

“I had the scarf in my purse because I was going to wear it in the bar. But I decided at the last minute that it was too much. So I took it off and put it in my purse.”

“OK, I’m sorry for being so paranoid.”

“Your real question is was I planning to pick someone up tonight and blindfold them and take them home with me. Well, I wasn’t. I just wanted to go out and have a drink and listen to some music. But if you don’t believe that, then I’ll turn around and take you back to the bar.”

“No Sharon. I want to go with you. I’m sorry I asked you about that.”

“It’s OK. I realize this isn’t a normal situation, so I’ll forgive you a little curiosity. But no more questions, agreed?”

“Agreed.” We drove on then without another exchange for what seemed like a long time. Of course, being blindfolded can throw your sense of time out of whack, not to mention your sense of direction. By the time we pulled into a driveway, and finally into a garage, we could have been anywhere from Waco to San Antonio for all I knew. I only hoped she was serious about driving me back to my car when our adventure was finished. She led me out of the car and into her house, one hand on my forearm and the other on my shoulder blade.

Once we were inside, she reached behind my head to untie the blindfold, and gave me another soft kiss on the cheek. As I blinked, getting used to the light, I surveyed the room we were in. Although the room itself was dark, a light from another room lighted it to some extent. It allowed me to make out the general layout of the place, without being able to make out the specifics of such things as art on the wall or photos on the mantle. And there was a mantle over a large fireplace that looked as if it had gotten some use. A large basket of firewood lay next to it.

The furnishings consisted of a long, plush couch that looked to be leather or something similar that was situated lengthwise parallel to the wall where the fireplace stood. In front of the couch was a large glass and metal table on which were coasters and a bowl of some sort. Beside the couch there were what looked to be matching reclining chairs of the same material as the couch. It all looked rich and plush and comfortable. Across the room I could see a large screen TV, 46” at least, which seemed to be the centerpiece around which all the furniture was situated.

As my eyes were adjusting to the light, Sharon sat on the couch and leaned back, crossing her legs and putting her hands in her lap. I had hoped for some more intimate contact with her, but it seemed she had other plans.

“Take off your clothes for me, David” she said in a deep, seductive voice. It was the first unmistakably sexual thing she had done or said to me that night and it sent a shiver down my spine in anticipation. She had turned sideways on the couch to face me, and was running her hand through her hair. Her legs remained demurely crossed, and she laid her other hand on her thigh. Her foot bobbed up and down slowly, the only indication that she was not completely relaxed and confident about what she was doing.

“Do you just want to watch, or what?” I asked.

“I’ll tell you what I want after you’re naked. Now come on, put on a show for me.”

I then faced my second decision of the evening. I felt kind of silly standing there, about to strip down for a total stranger. Also, I didn’t know how sexy I could make it. Should I act like a Chippendale’s dancer or something? I’ve never given much thought to the way I take off my clothes. I could have just asked Sharon to put the blindfold back on me and take me to my car. But I was starting to get into the situation. I wanted to look sexy for her. So sexy, in fact, that she would strip down for me too, and we’d enjoy each other’s bodies. By way of showing her my decision, I stepped out of my shoes and kicked them aside as I looked in her eyes. Sharon smiled, knowing that I had decided to go along with the game.

I tugged slowly on my shirt until it came untucked from my pants. As I slipped it up my torso, I stroked my stomach and sides with my hands. As a tease, I let it slide back down and cover me before lifting it again. I continued stroking my stomach and chest with my fingertips as I lifted the shirt, finally pulling it over my head and off. I stood for a moment posing, arms dangling at my side.

I placed my left hand on my pants buckle then, just letting it sit there. With my right hand, I started at my thigh and slowly moved it up towards the buckle. Sliding it along my inner thigh, I cupped my balls in my hand through the denim of my jeans. Sharon’s eyes were intently watching my right hand, and she let out a small sigh and smiled as I squeezed my balls. When I didn’t make any further move to unbuckle my pants for a moment, she looked up at me.

“Tease,” she said.

“No, a tease doesn’t put out. You won’t have that problem with me.”

I slowly then moved my right hand up the length of my zipper, sliding over my hardening cock. I couldn’t tell whether Sharon could see the outline of it through my jeans; it was only half-hard. But I slowly squeezed my cock through the fabric and slid my hand up and down a couple of times. Then I moved up and unsnapped my pants. I slid the fingers of my right hand down and under the waistband of my underwear, and started to squeeze and stroke my cock for her. By that time, her eyes were absolutely blazing as she watched, enraptured. She was squeezing her thigh with her hand, but had still made no move to undress or to touch herself. However, I thought she was weakening.