What Men Want Ch. 01

Looking at men like him... Mary-Jane's attention had been flitting bird-like from one guy to the next, but it came to rest on the rather older man in the crisp, dark navy suit, the one drifting with apparent unconcern amongst the tables in her section of the club. He paused on the edge of the dance floor and stared serenely across the room, drinking quietly from his glass. Standing at over six feet, with layered, jet-black hair and strong, classically handsome features, he seemed the embodiment of what Mary-Jane found attractive about the opposite sex. The clothes he wore gave him an air of class without affectation, and hinted at an impressive physique lying beneath. The very way he moved suggested implicitly that he owned the place. She found herself staring; it was only when he turned and his gaze swept over her, that she diverted her eyes. Had he seen her look? She could not be sure, but she risked another furtive glance a moment later, to find him still perusing the swaying masses on the floor.

'Hi there...' Mary-Jane turned and looked up to see a tall, fair-haired boy, not much older than herself, hovering above her. He had the broad shoulders and bulky frame of a sporting type and fitted uncomfortably into the suit he was wearing. 'I was wondering - would you like to dance?' His weight shifted slightly from one foot to the other.

Mary-Jane was immediately infected by his diffidence and heard herself give her stock response. 'No, sorry - I'm just waiting for my friend. But thanks.' She diverted her eyes from his crushed gaze and waited until he had muttered apologetically and sloped away to wherever he had come from. He had actually been quite good-looking, it occurred to her, but the thought of making small-talk with him while dancing, that was more hassle than she was prepared to cope with. She brought her glass to her lips defensively and glanced off towards the dance floor. The suave older man, she noted, appeared to have moved on...

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Oh God yes, thought Joe, you are exactly what I want. And you've already noticed me. He stood in the shadow of one of the club's great columns and continued to observe the new object of his lust well out of her eye-line. He felt the familiar tingling of excitement in his scrotum, that accompanied the acquisition of a fuck-target. The girl at the table was petite, with small, pretty features and an ingenuous air that placed her, as far as he could be sure, still in High School. That alone made him shiver inwardly with the thrill of the forbidden.

There was the sophistication of a grown woman in her attire; her top was spaghetti-strapped, showing off her smooth shoulders and arms, and made from wispishly-light, beige chiffon - opaque, but so sheer it clung to the curves of her young breasts like it were see-through. A pattern of darker brown flowers added a touch of modesty to the bust-line. The similarly gauzy material of her skirt brushed her bare legs lightly when she shifted in her seat, and those daringly high heels set off her pretty insteps to perfection. Her loose, ash-brown curls were pinned up, with little tendrils of hair teased artfully downwards around her face and neck. Now this was someone who knew how to make the most of herself.

Her behaviour, however, told a different story. Her bearing, the way she shifted in her seat, the timidity of her eye-contact, all marked her out an innocent girl. Joe watched as she shook her head in response to the approaches of a well-presented but over-keen young buck - that was the second refusal she had delivered in ten minutes - in the same bashful fashion. He felt sure that this girl had yet to experience a cock pumping inside her.

And yet she knew how good she looked; she mightn't have been preening or self-absorbed like some of the other girls there that night, but she was fully aware of how many heads she was turning and oh was she enjoying it, however nervous her body-language. A not-quite-accidental prick-tease, drawing bees to her honey and then politely swatting them away.

The pretty young thing sat in a disco reverie, singing along quietly with the music that swelled through the club. Heaven - must be missing an angel...Joe took a swig from his drink, then he strode out from the column's shade and advanced on her. Time to bring this angel to ground.

***********************

'Good evening.' Mary-Jane was startled by the voice, a voice that held all the assurance lacking in those of her other potential beaux. She looked up again and he was there, his broad, immaculately clad frame towering over her. Her heart thumped, as she recognised the object of her recent scrutiny. He had all the natural attractiveness she had initially thought, and the mature confidence with which he addressed her served to heighten it. 'Now I'm hoping if I ask you to dance, you won't shoot me down like you did those other guys.' He smiled at her with warm self-deprecation and extended an inviting hand.

She did not think to refuse. It was the most natural response in the world to put her hand in his and let him guide her from her seat, even if she was blushing to the roots of her hair as she did so, even if her accepting hand was shaking. 'I'm not a very good dancer,' she said apologetically, her whole body seeming to heat up under the warmth of his gaze.

'You're in trouble then, I'm John Travolta once I'm out there,' he grinned. She giggled in a thrill of bashful delight and allowed her gorgeous, charming new acquaintance to lead her to the dance floor, studying all the while not to stumble in her heels. She could feel her head spinning, partly from the effects of that second grasshopper and the swirl of lights in which she was submerging herself, partly from the scary excitement of being swept up by the man she had been so thoroughly admiring. The Tavares tune was giving way to The Johnston Brothers' Strawberry Letter 23 and after the initial fraught seconds she found herself relaxing into the rhythm of the music, as if the crowded ebb and flow of this space was her second home. It was her new companion who made it all so simple, with his understated dance floor moves and the gentle humour in his eyes. Dancing within a foot of him, she felt carried by the reassuring way he smiled at her and fell into the same easy motion. She stared back at him, taking in at length those strong, clean features, made all the more sexy by his modish five o'clock stubble. It was all she could do not to betray how young she felt by breaking into a stupid, schoolgirl grin.

'What's your name?' he asked, the fresh citrus of his aftershave washing over her, as he leant in so that their faces almost touched.

'Mary-Jane, but everyone just calls me M-J.' Her nose accidentally brushed his cheek, as she innocently moved in on his ear, and she felt a delighted shiver run through her.

'Well I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, M-J. I'm Joe.'

'Hi.' She made a determined effort not to simper as she responded. Every word from his mouth proclaimed him such a gentleman; no boy her own age had ever spoken to her with such unforced charm. If only Pammie could see her...

'So you go to College close to here?'

'Not yet, I'm starting College in the Fall.'

'Now come on - you're way too classy and cosmopolitan to be just out of High School!' he said, with a winsome grin.

She gave what she felt was a very un-classy giggle at his compliment. Had she really shaken off the High School air that Pammie insisted still clung to her? 'You're teasing me,' she laughed. 'I'm only just eighteen!'

He professed further mock-disbelief, until she started to fumble words in her embarrassment and changed the subject to ask what he did. 'Oh, I teach over at Fraser High,' he told her. 'I'm a wrestling coach...'

Oh my, she thought, fighting the silly giggle that bubbled up inside her. He was almost throwaway as he mentioned his job, yet it sounded so wonderfully sexy. Why couldn't he have taught at my school? she wondered, laughing inwardly at her own secret wish. But then of course, she wouldn't be dancing with him now...

Oh yes, thought Joe. Just turned eighteen, hardly left High School. More a girl than a woman - exactly what he'd imagined. And couldn't have responded more perfectly to his advance. With experienced females a combination of wit and innuendo was most effective, but his self-effacing nice-guy charm was working a better magic here. And the reference to his job, sometimes best not made, was having the same desired effect. He could see young Mary-Jane fairly glow with pride at being seen dancing with him.

He observed the girlish smile that played on her pert features, watched how the gossamer of her blouse traced her sweet body, as she swung to the music. A picture of innocence, with just the merest hint of sexual curiosity rising to the surface. Joe imagined the lissom, young figure, so teasingly hinted at by the girl's blouse and skirt. He had a sudden, vivid image of her, stripped of every stitch she wore, kneeling on all fours and shocked to find herself being vigorously fucked on his bed. The thought heightened his pulse, made the blood pump through him, charging his cock as he danced opposite her.

There was a recklessness to his thoughts now, wild and liberating. He would make the image a reality, however he had to do it. Yes, he could have suggested a future dinner-date, taken his time to seduce her. But the sexual need was clamouring within him; he wanted her that night, wanted her curvy little High School body impaled on his dick very badly. So caution would have to dispensed with. He would get her away from the club, overwhelm her resistance and take her whatever way he desired. And if she did still resist...he would take her anyway.

Mary-Jane's head was a-whirl with the turn events had taken amongst the haze of disco lights. The Johnston Brothers song melded into a Donna Summer number and she felt relief as her partner indicated they take a breather. He guided her gently away from the dance space back to her table, drawing out her chair, so she could seat herself. 'Let me get you another drink. What are you having?'

'A grasshopper,' she responded as demurely as possible, hoping her choice didn't sound girlishly silly. She relaxed into her chair while he fetched drinks from the bar, basking in her new, unexpected adventure. Next week it would be she who had the story to tell, when she met up with Pammie. 'He was sooooo handsome I can't tell you... Not a boy, a real man - but a gentleman - funny and polite and charming... And he's a teacher!' Her friend would be wide-eyed and almost screaming with gossipy delight, as they clung together and dissolved into rapturous giggles.

'A sophisticated drink for a sophisticated lady.' Joe had returned and he settled in with her cosily at the table, as they sipped their drinks. She felt further tremors in her lower abdomen at her renewed proximity to him. 'So,' he said, with the same relaxed air as before, 'how does a lovely girl like you end up sitting here solo?'

'Oh, I'm here with my friend Pammie,' she explained, 'only she's vanished somewhere. She does that.'

'What, she abandons you for the whole evening?' asked Joe, his voice full of mock-outrage.

'It's not her fault, she just likes dancing and then she gets carried away. I'm kinda supposed to be stopping over at her place tonight, but if she doesn't show up again, I'll just go home.'

'Well I hope you don't mind being stuck with me in the meantime.'

She laughed again. 'Not at all. Your company's very welcome.' She eyed him coyly over her drink. It was easy to talk to Joe; he was relaxed and unassuming, for all his fine physical attributes, and he began to draw her out - on home life, music, her College aspirations... His presence was intoxicating, although that was possibly also to do with the banana daiquiri he had cajoled her into accepting. 'You have to try one, I can just tell you're going to like it...' And she did. She could not remember having drunk so much before and revelled in the alcoholic buzz. It only enhanced the experience of chatting with her new companion.

Joe liked the way things were progressing, but felt a need to hurry them along. The little poppet was not expected home and had been conveniently deserted by her girlfriend. On the other hand, that same girlfriend could return at any moment and complicate the situation. The additional drink with which he had plied Mary-Jane should have knocked her sufficiently off balance. Time for his next move.

'Look, M-J...' He glanced at his watch. 'I'm leading a pre-season training session in the morning - I should really be getting off soon. Can I give you a lift home? Your friend hasn't shown up...'

He watched her face light up with excited gratitude. 'That's really nice of you! I don't want you to go out of your way though, I live over in Clinton Township...'

'Not far from me at all,' he said, his cock beginning to stiffen again. 'Trust me, it won't be any trouble.'

Mary-Jane had no qualms about leaving the club without Pammie; she knew her friend too well to suffer any serious pangs of conscience. Surely Pammie would have encouraged her to accept the chivalry of such a well-mannered and good-looking gentleman. She wove her way unsteadily through the party crowd, but it was only when she stepped out into the cool of the night, that her alcohol intake truly caught up with her. Joe caught and steadied her as she stumbled on the tarmac, then guided her solicitously to the parking lot and his waiting silver-blue sports car. He opened the door for her and she slipped inside, subsiding dreamily into the sumptuously upholstered passenger seat.

'You okay?' Joe inquired, seating himself beside her. 'Maybe the daiquiri wasn't such a good idea.' He closed the car door, sealing his happily reclining passenger from the outside world and any niggling chance of rescue. Job as good as done.

'I'm fine,' Mary-Jane laughed, fighting her wooziness, as he pulled out of the lot. 'I really enjoyed the drink.' She nestled into the seat and succumbed to the daydream of narrating her story to Pammie. 'And then he drove me home, left me off right to the door. He opened the car door and everything...'

She could hear her friend's response. So did he kiss you? Say he wanted to see you again? That was Pam. The imagined questions, however, sped up her heart rate quite distinctly. Joe was certainly a gentleman, had paid her the compliment of spending the evening with her and was even thoughtful enough to taxi her home. But would someone as mature as him want to spend any further time with a girl just out of High School?

'M-J, look, I've just remembered - there are one or two calls I should really make before it gets too late. Would you mind terribly if I stopped off at my place on the way, just for a few minutes? I won't keep you long, I promise.'

Mary-Jane blinked and roused herself from her dreamy reverie. 'Sure, that's okay.' Joe turned off at the next junction and she sat up a little in her seat, keen to savour her extra little bit of time in his company. Wow, an extra morsel for the tale she would share with Pammie. He even let me see where he lives!'

Driving the final few blocks to his home, Joe felt a rush of excitement, the like of which he had not experienced in years. This girl was every bit as naïve as he had hoped; not the least glimmer of suspicion could be detected in her voice. She was walking open-eyed into the trap, one that would spring as soon as his front door shut behind her. He sensed every rhythm in his body quicken, as he contemplated the delicious hours ahead. In all his years as a High School teacher he had exerted discipline where his hankering after Senior girls was concerned, even if they attended a school other than Fraser. However much his desire for those newly-developed young bodies had crazed him, he had jerked it off secretly and taken out his frustrations on willing College girls at the weekend. Tonight, however, would see a glorious transgression of his own rule. His cock grew rampant in his pants, as he contemplated the ways he would bone the little sweetheart who sat unwittingly next to him in the car. As he turned the corner into his own street, he could barely contain the shudders that ran through his body. It was as though the lust were welling up from a great cistern within him, so that he could barely contain it. Get her in the house - just get her in the house... Then he had all evening to siphon off every last drop inside her. 'Almost there,' he said.

Mary-Jane gazed out at the broad, tree-lined boulevard, along which Joe was driving. Wow, he lived in a really nice neighbourhood. The car drew up outside a sizeable, single-storey ranch house, fronted, like the other houses on the block, by a well-kept garden, resplendent with flowers and bushes. 'Well, here we are,' said Joe. He climbed from the car and appeared a moment later by the passenger door, which he opened, ushering her out. 'Come on in while I make the call - can't have you sitting outside in the car.'

She beamed at his further display of gallantry and climbed from the vehicle, steadying herself on his arm as she did so. The street lamps threw a wash of light over the front of the house, showing off its fieldstone cladding. The building had a solid, masculine feel to it, that seemed to compliment its owner perfectly. Mary-Jane strolled up the garden path to the front door, admiring all she saw. Joe caught up with her at the heavy oak front door and unlocked it, holding the door open for her to enter. She peered into a broad, low-lit hallway. So this was the type of house in which a single gentleman lived. This was Joe's place... She stepped inside, fascinated.

Joe watched how the folds of Mary-Jane's filmy skirt swished against her smooth calves, how the delicate muscles of her feminine shoulders fluttered a little, as she walked into his home. She stopped and looked around, apparently absorbed in the details of the place, her bare arms hanging simply by her sides. Joe turned and shut the door deliberately. It was done. He had netted the prettiest specimen in The Butterfly Suite and from the way his great erection was tightening against the material of his pants, he was all primed to pin her. Care had been required from the moment he left the car to keep the stiffness of his member a secret from his young guest, but it was time to share that secret. He let Mary-Jane wander a little further down the hallway, stood watching as she brushed a curling strand of hair from her cheek. For just a few more exquisite moments he held down the lust that boiled and seethed within him, then he gave himself up to it and moved in on his pretty, heedless young captive.

Mary-Jane took in the clean simplicity of Joe's décor, delighting in the distinctly male ambience of his living space - the dark green carpeting and expanses of white wall, just occasionally broken by a framed print. This was a nice, middle-class dwelling, but one definitely owned by a single man - albeit a man of taste, intelligence and maturity. How privileged she was to get to know him, to have him treat her not as a student, but on a proper adult... Her thoughts were interrupted by the touch of Joe's hand on the bare skin of her shoulder and she turned in smiling response.

He was on her before she knew it. Her host grabbed her by the waist with one hand as she swung about, and dragged her tight into him. She made to gasp, but his mouth descended and closed on hers before she could utter a sound; he kissed her hard, his other hand cleaving to the back of her head, so that she had no choice but to accept his tongue as it dove into her mouth. It happened so fast, that she offered no resistance as he shoved her against the wall, almost lifting her off her feet as he did so. His body was still crushed against her, his mouth locked on hers with near-carnivorous intent. Her senses were consumed with the spice of his cologne and the sharpness of freshly-drunk whiskey, with his forceful grip on her body and the rude intrusion of his deep-thrusting tongue.