She walked in to the show late. Later than he expected her to, anyway. Her friends had been there for about a half hour when she arrived. He was in the middle of playing.
She glanced at him and smiled, taking a seat not that far from where he was standing. She moved onto the bar stool slowly. He could see she knew what she was doing. Her denim skirt seemed all the shorter as she adjusted herself on the chair. But it was the heels. The heels that she was making sure he saw.
And Christ, did he see them.
She bent over to make some useless adjustment on them, hooked on the rung of the stool. They were high. And red. And shiny patent leather. They were fastened with a strap across her ankle. Innocence and brazenness in one, ending in a narrow spike of a heel. Not so high as to be ridiculous, but just high enough.
She adjusted the strap and turned back to talk to her friends.
Her coolness, almost amusement, was making him want to just fuck that smile off her face. But he would wait. He bided his time, because he knew — knew the tables were about to be turned.
Let her tease, he thought. He had a surprise.
And tease she did. Every time she turned to look his way, she crossed and uncrossed her legs again. The skirt was short, made shorter by the way she kept moving in it. Catching his eye, working the beer bottle at her mouth, knowing he was watching it.
At one point she bent over to again unnecessarily fix her heel strap and gave him a clear look down the front of her gauzy white t shirt.
Keep it up, he thought. It is coming.
He guessed maybe she felt some sort of security knowing they were in a crowded bar. Maybe she felt more safe being a huge fucking tease knowing he was up there behind a microphone with a guitar strapped to him. After all, she probably thought, what's he going to do about it right now?
He smiled to himself. She'd made a bit of a tactical error by forgetting that his current position was the most powerful of all over her. But she was going to be reminded.
He had given her time to get settled. Get comfortable. Lapse into watching him and clapping, talking to her friends. All relaxed.
He hadn't told her he was going to play it tonight. It wasn't something they normally played. But tonight was an exception. And her incessant teasing made this moment all the better for him.
He looked at her tanned legs under the skirt. The heels. Everything. The back of her head that was going to turn in one second. He let himself enjoy the anticipation.
Then, without saying anything before it, he started playing it.
It didn't take even a second.
She stopped talking in mid-sentence. He watched her slowly put down her beer.
"Hey? Uhh, hello?" her friend said.
"Oh, sorry, yeah — this song is one of my favorites. It threw me off for second," she said.
She turned around now, almost afraid to meet his eyes. One heel hooked in a lower rung, one in a higher. Hands on the seat at her sides, holding on tightly.
He purposely avoided her eyes. He had to kill himself not to smile seeing her reaction out of the corner of his eye.
He avoided her eyes.
Until the chorus.
Then he moved to meet them, and locked with them for the entire thing. He could see her fingers digging into the unyielding seat of the barstool, knowing they wanted to be in his back.
To everyone else there, it just sounded like a great song — only the two of them knew what it did to her. Knew how he had twisted her with it in the middle of the night, singing it to her over the phone — whispering it to her in her ear. And that was without seeing him singing. This, this was almost too much.
She was a fool to think she had any control in the situation. She'd let her guard down by feeling confident in her shiny heels. Now she was in complete disarray in a room full of people, at a table with friends that she couldn't let on to, and with him front and center to watch her come undone.
"This song is good. What's it called?" one of her friends. The chorus was coming again. She couldn't bear it. But she couldn't look away. And she couldn't say the name of the song either.
"I forget now," she said, completely unconvincingly.
"I thought it was one of your favorites???" her friend said.
"Hey, are you feeling ok?" someone else said.
"Yes," she said. "Probably just a little hot."
She grabbed her beer and took a big drink out of it, She turned back as he started the chorus again, watched him command her eyes with his. Her eyes were a fuse he lit that burned all the way down through her heart. Her belly. Straight down to between her legs she could no longer cross.
Is it almost over, she thought to herself. There is not much more I can take of this.
But then the end, which got her more than anything.
And he knew it. He made sure to drag out the last round of the chorus even more than usual, ending it softly...so softly she thought she might fall off the chair onto the floor.
He finished the song and announced they were taking a break.
Oh God, not now, she thought. She contemplated running for a second, but there was nowhere, and no time, to go, before he was right in front of her.
"Hey," he said, smiling.
She couldn't talk. Just smiled back.
"Got a second? I've got to talk to you about something," he said.
Mistaking his intensity for possible annoyance, someone at the table mumbled, "Uh oh, you're in trouble."
They were right, but for the wrong reasons.
He led her by the hand through the crowded bar and out the back door. They were not outside for a second before he pushed her against the wall of the building in the dark.
He put both hands against the wall over her shoulders, and looked her in the eye.
She slumped her back against the wall. Her knees were weak.
"You liked that?" he said.
Her eyes fluttered.
"I can't even talk..." she whispered
"You could talk plenty with that show you were putting on in there for me, though. Flashing those heels. Everything else. Huh?" he said.
"Yes," she whispered. Her eyes were simultaneously hazy but directly focused on his.
He moved his hands to her hips and pressed his body against hers. She caught her breath as her fingers moved up to his neck, his hair, and he lowered his mouth to hers. It was a slow, penetrating, erotic kiss that urged their hips harder against each other.
He moved his left hand to her thigh, up and under her skirt to her ass, then slowly down her thigh to her knee, lifting it to his hip and around. His hand continued down her calf, her warm skin like silk, until he got to the shiny, hard, cool surface of her heel.
She pushed herself into him harder as he rubbed the tip of his finger under the strap of her heel. She moaned into his mouth. He moved his thumb back and forth over the tip of the spike of her heel.
And he was just as hard as it was. Harder, maybe.
She opened her legs wider to him. Pushing, urging. Their tongues teasing and working each other, their lips hungry, he knew what she wanted. His right hand moved up, under her skirt. Her inner thigh was so fucking hot, so fucking soft, he slipped so easily up, up, up, until his fingers found the edge of her panties.
Her moan was louder into his mouth now. Her noises always turned him inside out but this was the first time in a long time he was feeling them right in front of him. Knowing he was making her make them. He ran his finger along the edge of her panties, and he could feel how hot she was, but he wanted to know how wet she was.
Gently, easily, he slid his fingers under the seam of her panties until he found her, drenched, soaking, slippery hot pussy in his hands. It was his turn to feel weak in the knees because she was SO wet it took all his self control to not drop to them, right out here, in the parking lot, and lift her legs over his shoulders — bury his mouth deep in her pussy until she came, hot and messy, into his hungry, eager, waiting mouth.
He gently opened her with his fingers and moved just barely inside her and she cried out loudly. He realized this was not going to fly in the parking lot.
"We have to move. I only have five minutes more," he whispered.
"Can you fuck me for five minutes then?" she smiled dizzily at him.
"You fucking bet I can," he said, smiling.
He resisted the urge to throw her over his shoulder to walk to her car, though he wanted to — badly.
She led him to her car, parked on the street. He took her keys out of her hand and opened it. He opened the door to the back seat and pulled her in along with him.
He wasted no time, pushing her down on her back in the back seat.
"Just like old times," she said, smiling.
"You know what my first thought was when you walked in tonight," he said, smiling back at her, easing her panties off under her skirt.
"What was that," she whispered, working on his pants.
"You came in, all cool, AMUSED, even. I thought I wanted to fuck that smile off your face," he said.
She laughed but it caught in her throat, as he lifted her hips to him and slid all the way inside her as hard, and as fast as he could.
"There we go," he said, smiling.
She was SO wet. So incredibly hot and wet. It was impossible to go slow. And they didn't have a lot of time anyway.
"Oh God yeah. Faster, harder," she whispered. Her orgasm raged within her. He watched in amazement as she thrashed, her breathing coming in ragged gasps and moans. Louder. Louder. Louder. So loud he finally had to cover her mouth because he was afraid someone would think he was killing her.
Harder, he fucked her, harder and faster, her hips rising to meet his, her fingers digging scratches into his back, begging for more. He was so close to coming. He knew he had little time, but just one more minute.
He lifted himself up and pulled her ankles toward him, lifting her heels gently in his hands.
Her back arched as her hands reached under her shirt to find her nipples and work them as she watched him. He pressed the spike heels of her red patent leather heels into the tender skin of his abdomen. Those bad girl heels she was so proud of herself to stroll in with. Adorable and and sexy and not so innocent.
He pushed them in. Hard.
His eyes rolled with the feeling — a memory so long ago returning. A memory of opening doors eager to be opened. A slow, erotic journey of aching walls that wanted, needed to fall down.
He pushed her heels back down now. It was over — no stopping it now. Nowhere to go but exploding. He lifted her hips to him again, tightly in his hands, and rode her harder than before. So hard, He covered her mouth with one hand as she screamed into it over, and over, pounded her fists into the car cushions.
He was ready, so ready.
"Come for me," she whispered, saying his name.
"I want it, I'm on my knees begging for it," she whispered
He caught his breath, gasping for it.
"I'm so wet, so hot, so slippery, just like you want...just like you remember. Come all over me. I want it," she whispered, pulling up her shirt for him. Offering her hard nipples to him.
"Oh God," he said, and that was it. 3......2.....1....and he came...all over her.
After a moment he leaned down to kiss her smiling mouth gently.
"I'm so sorry, I've got to get back inside," he said, looking at his watch.
"I know," she said, smiling.
He fixed his pants and opened the door.
"I'll be there in a second," she whispered.
"Ok," he said.
"Do me a favor," he whispered.
"Anything," she said.
He took her panties and threw them into the back of the truck. "Leave those off when you come back inside," he said, smiling.
"You're a bad fucking boy," she said.
He winked at her.
"You fucking know it," he said.
As he went to close the door, she called his name softly.
"Yes?" he asked.
"You think I could get an encore after the last song?" she said, smiling.