By The Numbers Ch. 03byslyc_willie©
I still had a lot of questions about my relationship, such as it was, with Sheila that Saturday morning. I awoke feeling more refreshed than I had been since breaking up with my last girlfriend, but as satisfied as my libido was, my heart and mind were in turmoil. Was I just a plaything for Sheila? Or was this whole 'by the numbers' thing her way of auditioning potential boyfriends?
I worked the lunch shift that day. Saturday lunches always started off slow, since it was a day that most of our guests had off. The rush really didn't hit until about one in the afternoon, but once it did, we were quickly filled to capacity and even had a short waiting list for tables. I was glad to keep busy; it kept my thoughts away from the anticipation of further delights from Sheila.
Around four o'clock, I finally had a moment to myself. My relief was due to come on soon, and the four tables I had were all eating, with full drinks and all the secondary condiments they had asked for. With the permission from the manager on duty, I headed out to the back dock for a smoke. Andi, a pretty and slightly chubby blonde girl, fellow server, and good friend, followed me.
"Crazy day, huh?" she asked as we both lit up.
I nodded, blowing smoke. "Good day, though," I said. "I figure I'll walk with a bill after tip-out."
Andi nodded. "Me, too," she said, then gave me a sly look and smile. "So, um, how was last night?"
I shrugged, not catching on to her expression. "Pretty good. I made about one-thirty, something like that."
Andi laughed softly, giving me a knowing look. "I meant . . . afterward," she said meaningfully.
I felt my heart jump slightly with anxiety, but tried to play it off with a casual shrug. "Um, afterward what?" I asked, feigning innocence. "I went home. Played some video games."
"Uh-huh," she responded, not buying my story. She laughed suddenly. "Geez, Nate, you're a great guy, but sometimes, you really can be dumb! I saw you hook up with Sheila! I watched her get in your car, and you guys took off."
I felt my face get hot. "It was dark," I said. "It was probably just her boyfriend, and—"
Andi sputtered. "Bull. Shit. Grant's, like, four inches taller than you and blonde. And he drives a freaking bad-ass Mercedes ragtop, not a ten-year-old Escort."
I said nothing as I smoked. I didn't look to Andi, afraid that my eyes would give me away.
"Look, Nate, I'm not gonna tell nobody," she said, recognizing how uncomfortable I was. "Okay, you guys wanna keep it on the down low, cool. I promise, I promise, I won't tell anybody. But . . . are you guys doing it?"
I suddenly laughed, needing some way to let the tension out. I felt suddenly like the lowly peon who was secretly pleasuring the Queen late at night. The weight of my secret was bearing down on me; I wanted to tell someone, if only to reaffirm to myself that my memories were real, and not some schizophrenic delusion. I felt I could trust Andi; we had become good friends since the day I started. She was almost ten years older, married with a couple kids. She often said she saw me as a kid brother.
"We, uh . . . spend time together," I said sheepishly, giving Andi a little smile.
"Hah!" she cried, bouncing on her feet. "I knew it! I could tell, they way you guys have been acting . . . ." She laughed for a moment, proud of herself for having guessed correctly. "So, um . . . does that mean you guys are, like, close? Or are you just fooling around?"
I took a deep breath, feeling my smile vanish. I shrugged. "I don't know, really," I said. "I'm pretty sure she's still with her boyfriend. We just . . . I guess it's just a casual thing."
Andi pursed her lips in thought. "Are you cool with that?"
I mulled her question over in my mind. Was I cool with it? "I guess," I said.
She stepped closer, touched my arm. "Nate, look. I think I've kind'a figured you out, at least a little, since you started. Sheila's the kind of girl who can have any guy she wants. And you're the kind of guy who's real choosy. When you like a girl, she's all you think about, right?"
I gritted my teeth. "Yeah. Pretty much."
Andi breathed in, smoked her cigarette. "I've known Sheila for over a year," she said. "Some things I like about her, some things I don't. I'm not gonna talk shit about her, but . . . just don't let her hurt you, Nate. She's not gonna leave her boyfriend. In fact, I'm pretty sure they're gonna get engaged soon."
I nodded, clenching my jaw. I did not want to hear Andi's words, even though they were the truth. In the little fantasy world I had begun to construct around Sheila and I, she was going to leave Mr. Lawyer and live happily ever after with me. We'd have sex five times a day and be blissfully happy, all the time. No fights, no headaches, nothing but sweet carnal pleasure, cuddling, and waking up together every morning.
But that was just fantasy. "Yeah, I know."
Andi sighed, rubbing my back reassuringly. "Hey, just . . ." she paused, searching her tongue. "It's obvious she wants to have some fun before taking that big step, right? So . . . have fun with her. Just don't take it seriously."
I closed my eyes a moment, feeling my shoulders slump. "That's the problem," I said. "I think I am taking it seriously."
I was left in a funky mood after my conversation with Andi. My bubble had been burst, so to speak, and while I knew it had to happen, I still was not happy about it. I returned to my tables, finished them up, then completed my sidework and checked out with the manager.
It was about ten minutes before six when I headed toward my car. A cold front had blown in that morning, dropping temperatures by a good fifteen degrees. I wasn't shivering in the sixty-degree air, but I definitely felt it through my work shirt.
As I approached my little car, I noticed a very recognizable Toyota sedan parked before it, nose-to-nose. The driver-side door popped open, and Sheila stepped out. Her beautiful face was a mixture of arousal and amusement as she regarded me. "Hey, baby," she said sultrily.
I breathed in, trying to contain any of the outward signs of arousal I instantly felt when I saw my lover. "Hi."
She strolled around between our two cars, glancing about casually before she sidled up before me. Her cheeks, I noticed, were rosy. And not from makeup.
Without preamble, Sheila settled her lithe little body against mine and kissed me deeply, moaning softly all the while that she sucked on my lips and tongue. "Let's make it quick, baby, I'm on at six."
I swallowed nervously, looking around. Our restaurant sat within a busy outdoor mall. There were cars, and people, everywhere. Granted, I had parked beneath a tree, which provided some shelter, and my car, with its tinted windows, would hide Sheila and I from our shoulders down . . . still . . . .
"Here?" I asked, alarmed.
Sheila grinned up at me, then took a single step back while her hands busily unsnapped and unzipped her tight jeans. Uncaring in her partial nudity, Sheila pushed the tight denim halfway down her thighs, revealing a pair of light blue cotton panties that she pulled out and away from her crotch. I shuddered at the sight of her tiny dark strip, the thick hood of her clit framed by those puffy vulva.
My cock swelled in my jeans. Here we were, in the middle of the day, with Sheila exposing herself and obviously urging me to do the same. Our seclusion was afforded only by a tree and my car. Anyone walking by, looking at the right angle, would be able to see what we were doing.
And that idea, that fact, I realized, was the biggest part of the allure. I shook my head, even as I felt it swimming with my desire for Sheila's kink. "I can't believe I'm doing this," I said, undoing my jeans. I pushed them down, just a little, and my cock fell out. Sheila's hand was quick to catch it.
"Ooo, baby," she cooed, stroking me. She stepped closer, and rubbed the head of my dick across her pubic mound. My dick leaked pre-cum that glistened in the small strip of hair above her clit.
"Kiss me," Sheila urged, bringing her face close. She tugged more firmly on my cock, even tilted it down so that the head pressed against her hot, wet clitoris. I moaned into Sheila's mouth, and groped her breasts through her shirt.
"I want you to cum," Sheila panted, masturbating me urgently. Her breath was hot and moist in my ear. She nipped at my neck. "Do it, baby. Don't hold it. Cum for me."
I felt my release building, and moved my hands from her firm tits to her back. I pushed against her hands, fucking them, moving my hips back and forth. My fingers dug into her shoulders as I moaned my release.
"Oh, yeah, baby! Oooo . . . oh . . . ." Sheila tugged on my cock as my cum surged out, coating her pubic mound, flowing down over her puffy lips and soaking into the gusset of her panties. We both watched as drops of cum dripped from my dick and fell onto Sheila's pussy and underwear.
She grinned up at me. "I'm gonna be squishy all night, baby," she said, then kissed me again. She glanced around quickly, then ducked down and licked the head of my cock, capturing the last thick bubble of milky semen on her tongue. She smacked her lips, savoring the taste, then zipped up.
"Gotta go to work, baby," she said casually, then bounced past me toward the restaurant.
I was still breathing hard, all at once amazed and drained by what had just happened. A goofy laugh escaped my lips. I tucked my dick away, got in my car, and lit a cigarette.
I answered my phone on the second ring. I was halfway into my third beer – thank you, Mark! – and feeling pretty loose.
"I'm still sticky."
I breathed in at the sound of Sheila's voice, and slid even more comfortably into the couch in my tiny apartment. "Oh, are you?"
"Uh-huh," she responded. "I could feel your cum all over my pussy, all night, soaking in . . . ."
I closed my eyes a moment, trying to contain my arousal. "You like that, huh?"
"I fucking love it, Nate." I heard some faint movement in the background. "I'm in my car, right now. Taking off my jeans. I haven't even left the parking lot. I'm just too hot."
My dick throbbed at the image her words provided. "Are you gonna get off right now?"
"Yes," she panted. "Oh, God, Nate, I can smell your cum. I'm so wet with it! It's all over my pussy!"
"Are you rubbing it in?" I asked.
"Mmm . . . yeah, I am. I'm pushing it in my pussy, baby. All that sticky, sweet cum . . . fuck, it tastes so good, too."
I trembled in arousal, stroking my dick. I was often naked in my apartment. "Can't believe you waited all night to taste it."
Sheila giggled. "I didn't," she said. I heard the wet, smacking, sucking sounds that indicated she was cleaning her fingers. "I went into the bathroom, soon as I got to work, put my hand in my jeans . . . damn, baby, you really shoot a huge load . . . mmmm . . . ."
"Did you lick your fingers?" I asked, my cock fully erect now as I stroked it.
"Of course," she said with a soft giggle. "Oh, Nate . . . I wish you were here. I wanna feel your fingers in my pussy again . . . fucking me . . . ."
"Come over," I said, pumping my dick.
Sheila avoided my suggestion, or perhaps she barely heard me. "I've got two fingers in my pussy, and one in my ass, Nate . . . just like when you were doing me . . . God! Right here, in the parking lot! Anyone could see me, baby!"
"Maybe they can, Sheila," I said, jacking my cock faster and faster. "Maybe they're watching you, right now. Guys rubbing themselves, looking in the windows—"
"Oh, God!" she cried. "You really think they'd do that?"
"Yes, baby," I said, fucking my dick harder and harder with my hand. "They'd all watch you finger your pussy."
"Oh-h-h, yeah," she groaned. I could faintly hear wet smacking sounds in the background, and imagined Sheila's legs spread wide, little feet braced against the dash, her fingers stabbing rapidly in and out of her swollen snatch . . . .
"In fact, I bet they'd surround your car, looking in, trying to get as close as possible," I continued, feeding to her obvious fantasy. "All those guys jerking off, fantasizing about you—"
"And girls?" Sheila asked heatedly. "Girls, too? Would they watch?"
"They'd touch themselves, too," I breathed, stroking my cock faster. "Put their hands right down their pants, or inside their shirts—"
"Oh, God yes," Sheila moaned. "Pushing their tits against the window . . . ." She trailed off, whimpering.
I followed a hunch. "Maybe they'd want you to roll down the window, so you could suck on them," I suggested.
"Oh, f-f-fuck . . . ." she growled. Her breathing quickened, sputtering into the phone. "Nate, baby . . . oh, baby . . . ."
The sweet, sexy urgency in her voice made my cock tingle. "Are you gonna cum?" I asked, pumping faster and harder.
"Yes, baby! Yes! Oh-h-h . . . ." I heard her moan and groan through her orgasm, punctuated by sharp little squeals of pleasure. Realizing she was climaxing, with our shared fantasy playing with Technicolor vividness in my mind, I came as well, splashing my stomach and hand.
For long moments, we listened to each other's breathing. Sheila moaned with satisfaction, making wet smacking and sucking noises. I realized she was licking and sucking her fingers clean once more.
"Nate?" she asked breathlessly.
"Good night, baby," she whispered, then hung up. I felt a moment's pang of disappointment; I had hoped she would want to come over, maybe get to "Number Four." But Sheila, though I didn't realize at the time, was having just as much fun prolonging the pleasure as she was enjoying it. Part of what made our whole 'relationship' exciting for her was the fact that she controlled the where and when of our trysts. I was just an eager lap-dog willing to follow her around.
Not that I was really complaining . . . .
I didn't see Sheila for a few days. She did not work on Sundays, and with the start of classes, I went back to working only nights except on the weekends. Sheila had a choice schedule, getting only the 'money' shifts, which meant I did not see her until Wednesday night.
By then, of course, I was more than anxious to be with her again, but I tried not to be obvious about it when I arrived at Jersey Jack's at four o'clock. I had seen Sheila's car in the lot, and my heart had begun hammering instantly. The idea of moving from masturbating each other to tasting each other . . . I was almost trembling when I opened the doors and saw Sheila sitting at the usual employee table in the bar.
But being shy, quiet me, I didn't head toward her right away. I just caught her eye and smiled. She smiled back, then returned to her conversation with a couple of other servers, acting as if I was no more important to her than anyone else. That irked me a little bit, but then I thought, what is she supposed to do? Come running and hug me, right in front of everyone?
We got an early pop that night, going on wait around 5:30. I was glad for the business, because it kept my mind occupied. My new classes gave me much to think about as well; I already had one paper due in another week. Good thing I don't have a girlfriend, I remember thinking at one point. I wouldn't have time for her . . . .
Girlfriend, I thought with a frown. So what's Sheila? Just a . . . friend with benefits?
What is she, indeed . . . .
Abruptly, she was there, beside me at the beverage station, getting drink refills for her guests. She 'casually' rubbed against me, and gave me a quick, sly look and a smile. I instantly felt my libido respond. My cock twitched in my jeans. Thank God for aprons . . . .
"Working tomorrow night?" she asked as she filled a glass with Diet Coke.
"Um . . . no," I said after a moment's thought.
I sighed. "Of course."
"When are you done with class?"
"Uh . . . twelve-thirty."
Sheila nodded to herself, gave me another smile. "Cool," she said simply, then turned and headed back out to the dining room. I followed her with my eyes, mildly consternated. Oh, God, baby, don't make me wait another day!
Andi's voice startled me. Feeling my cheeks redden, I looked away from my friend as she scooped ice into a glass. "Uh, hi."
She chuckled softly. "Nate."
"Wipe your chin. You're drooling all over the place."
Sheila left quickly that night. Did not even give me as much as a 'good night, Nate.' Around nine-thirty, I suddenly realized she was gone when a couple of the other girls were talking about meeting up with her and her boyfriend for drinks at a local bar. That put me in a sour mood.
All she had to do was tell me good night. Maybe a quick kiss, where no one would see us. But, no . . . had to rush off so she can be with Mr. Perfect. I got a sudden image of Sheila riding her boyfriend, telling him she loved him as they moaned and panted together . . . .
I got out of the restaurant as quickly as I could, turning down an offer of drinks at Cooty's from my friends. Instead, I went straight home to finish off the beer that my friend Mark had dropped off for me.
I was in a rush the following morning, having awakened late, and with a hangover, no less. I arrived for my first class ten minutes after it began, earning my professor's disapproving glare. It didn't help that I could still smell the beer on my breath, and others around me could, as well.
A few bottles of water, a couple of chicken soft tacos and an apple at the cafeteria helped with that, as well as the hangover. By the time I got out of my last class of the day, at 12:30, I was fully awake and no longer felt dehydrated. For once without Sheila on my mind – when on campus, I had a tendency to think of nothing but my classes – I made my way through the immense parking lots of the campus, finally finding my car in the B.F.E. region.
I didn't notice the note under the windshield wiper until I was behind the wheel and ready to turn the key. I frowned in immediate annoyance. There was always some kind of flyer or what-not slipped under my wipers. Some stupid college band playing at a cheap, off-campus bar, or a credit card application, or a new-age herbalist, or . . . .
I huffed, leaned halfway out my window and reached for the note. I almost crumpled it up and tossed it in the back seat, never to be read or bothered with. But the fact that it was a piece of paper obviously torn from a notebook made me pause. Curiosity compelled me to open it.
Meet me at the gazebo in Johnson Park. It's just past the statue.
My chest swelled instantly, a well as my groin. Sheila, I thought, with all the reverence of a devout Catholic invoking the name of a patron saint. I found myself smiling like a giddy boy on his birthday.
Hmm. The gazebo, huh?
Johnson Park lay on the north side of the sprawling campus, beyond the Humanities building. It was fairly sizable, with numerous paths for joggers and walkers, and lots of little hidden glades. It was pretty well known that amorous couples who could not find privacy at the dorms or anywhere else occasionally found a little spot amongst the trees in which to show their affection. It was said that Johnson Park (appropriate name, that) was home to more used condoms than a frat house trash can.
I passed the statue of Armand Johnson, some big-wig politician in the sixties who had provided a lot of funding for the young college, and followed a dusty path through trees and dense foliage toward the gazebo. The structure lay in a small clearing, surrounded by trees that retained most of their leaves. It's white latticework stood out against the surroundings. And there, seated within the enclosure, upon a swinging bench, was Sheila.