My Fantasy Ch. 01

There she is. She has amazing hair, the perfect skin, a great set of abs peaking out from under her tank top. She moves with catlike grace through the crowded bar, smiling at people even as she pushes them out of her way.

"God, you just want to grab that ass and lick your way up her stomach," I mumble to Brook. Brook just smiles and takes the pool cue from my hands for her turn. Trying to still look calm and collected, I walk over to my drink on the windowsill. Taking long sips, I practically finish it. Next time Brook's up on the table, I'm just going to have to go get us more drinks from the chick with the amazing body.

"Your shot, sweetie."

"Ow! Stop tapping me with that thing, you don't know where it's been."

Brook smiles and hands me the cue, then picks up her own drink. "Ready for another one? My round this time."

I raise my eyebrows at her as I walk around the table, looking for the perfect shot. Like I would be able to make it, anyway. "Give me a second to miss this shot, then I'll go up. You know you'll just run the table on me when I leave. I'll give you time to do it this way."

"You just want to go up and drool over the bartender."

I line up the shot, hoping that the pretty purple ball will go into the pocket it's sitting three inches from. "And that's a problem?"

"That shot was. You didn't even hit the four!"

"What makes you think that I was aiming for the four?" I looked down to see what the solid purple ball was. It was of course the four ball in question. "Maybe I was trying to bank in the two."

"You mean the one on the other end of the table? Face it, honey, you suck at this game. Make yourself useful and go get us some drinks." She rummaged around her pockets until she found a ten, and waved it in front of my face. "I'll give you five more of these if you get her name and phone number."

I raised my eyebrows. Fifty bucks for getting a name and number? Sounded great, but I had never gone up to a girl in a bar and deliberately hit on her. Call me old fashioned, but I don't think that bars are the best place to meet someone. On the other hand, who said I had to hit on her to get her name and number? Maybe I was interested in a job opportunity.

"You're on. I'm coming back with two Seven Sevens and seven little digits."

"No one calls them that any more," she sighed and shook her head. "You keep that up and my fifty is safer than a virgin in a convent."

I traded the ten for the pool cue and sauntered over to the bar. There was a spot open between two groups of people (mostly guys, probably here to do what Brook bet me to do). I leaned in with the ten visibly resting on the bar in front of me. There were two bartenders working, the amazingly perfect girl, and a guy that I couldn't quite tell if he looked good because of the dim lighting, or was actually not bad looking naturally. Right now, the guy didn't matter much. I was waiting for long and leggy to walk towards me.

I had a few moments to check out her ass as she bent down to get a Blue out of the mini fridge across from the bar. Her frayed daisy dukes hugged her ass cheeks like a drowning man held onto a life preserver. My heart was starting to do a jig in my chest. Those legs! On and on, down to a pair of sandals with ribbons wound up her tight calves.

She stood up and pushed her long braid back across her shoulder, letting it fall down to the top of her shorts in a fiery red wave. She handed out three opened Blues to the group of guys next to me, nodded at me to let me know she would be with me shortly, and took their money to the cash register.

That's when it hit me that I was supposed to ask her what her name and number were. How the hell was I supposed to do this? Think of a good line, think of a good line. Staring at her abs as she gave the guys back their change was not helping.

"Two Seven Sevens, right?" she smiled as she pushed a stray curl behind her ear.

I smiled back, trying to think about the here and now, not what I wanted to do to her in my bed. That chest must look divine when it's not squeezed into that tank top. She asked about the drinks, right?

"You have a great memory. How did you remember that with all of these other people shouting drink orders at you left and right?"

She grabbed two glasses and filled them with ice. "It's not often we get two girls coming in here by themselves. Two guys hoping to see single women, but rarely two girls."

Looking around, I noticed that she was probably right. There were maybe ten women in the bar, and the other seven seemed to be with groups of people who were out together. "So we kind of stand out here, huh?"

She was pouring the drinks when I looked back, shaking the Seagram's bottle over the glasses to give us a little more than a shot in each glass. "I'm sure the guys like the added eye candy. You wouldn't believe how many hit on me each night."

"Bet you make good tips, though," I smiled at her as if we shared some wonderful little secret. "I bet you take home close to a hundred a night. And that outfit helps, I'm sure. You look great in it."

She laughed as she handed the drinks to me. "Thanks. That sounds so much more sincere coming from another woman than it does from one of these clowns. As for the tips," she shrugged as she took my ten. "Some nights it's thirty bucks, some it's closer to two hundred. It depends on the night of the week and what type of patrons come in here."

I took the change back with a sympathetic smile. "I know how that can be. I was a waitress at Roadhouse for two months before I couldn't stand the customers any more. My name's Kelly by the way."

Her handshake was firm and confident, something becoming more and more common in women these days. "Cynthia."

"Want to come out with us after you get out for something to eat? We're probably going to hit a Denny's or something like that."

Cynthia looked around to see if she was missing anyone's order, then back at me. I'm sure she was giving herself more time to think about my proposition. "Why not? I close up tonight; I should be out of here about quarter after four. Are you and your friend still going to be here?"

"I can't see why not. She's kicking my ass at pool, and you're making good drinks. What more can you ask for in a night out?" I pulled a five out of my pocket and left it on the counter for a tip with a wink, then picked up the drinks and walked back to the table.

Brook was leaning against the wall with the pool cue being passed from one hand to the other in front of her. I handed her one of the drinks, took a sip of the other, then took the pool cue from her. She was dying to ask what we were talking about at the bar.

"Well?"

"Well what?" I put the drink down and assessed the table. She had one ball left before going for the eight. I had five. I really should learn how to play this game.

"You two were getting pretty chummy up there."

"Her name is Cynthia, and she's coming with us to breakfast this morning."

"No phone number, though."

"I didn't ask. Would you give someone your number after talking to them for two minutes? I didn't think so. I'm lucky she's coming to breakfast."

"Breakfast." Brook smiled evilly as I lined up a shot that I had a chance of making. "Would that be breakfast when we leave the bar, or breakfast at your apartment tomorrow after she spends the night?"

She meant to fluster me, and it almost worked. I took the shot, finally knocking in the four, and smiled up at her just as evilly. "Right now, just the first. By the end of the night, hopefully both."

Brook laughed and tipped her drink towards me as I sunk the one as well. "Maybe you should hit on strange women more often, it looks like it might be improving your game, Kel."

The next two hours went by so slowly. Brook and I played doubles pool with three different pairs of guys. She was whipping everyone's ass. I was staring at Cynthia's. Normally, I'm not fixated with asses. I love a flat, taut stomach and well-defined arms. But her ass was just so tasty. I wanted to run my hands up the backs of her legs and cup that firm butt in my palms. I wanted to rub my face against her tight abs.

Needless to say I played worse than normal. I think that's why so many guys wanted to play against us, they thought we would be easy pickings. Good thing Brook's a shark. She learned how to shoot pool when she was three. Her dad would hold her up to the table and teach her how to line up shots. She uses words like "English" and "triangulate" and I just shrug and shoot like I always do. But she wiped the floor with every guy that tried taking our table away. I sort of felt bad.

Sort of.

Brook let me go up for the rest of the drinks. I got the guy the next time up, but Cynthia came around after that. Her smile was amazing. I couldn't stop smiling back. She poured the drinks without even asking what I was there for. I needed to say something to her, needed to hear her voice again.

"Care to join me in a shot? My girlfriend is nearing her limit, and I don't have anyone else to do one with."

Cynthia glanced down at her watch. It was three-twenty, almost last call. She was close to being off work. "Sure, what the hell. But I get to pick the shot."

"Deal." I motioned Brook over to take the drinks back, and she came over just as Cynthia was pouring some pink concoction into two glasses. "Brook, this is Cynthia. Cynthia, this is my friend Brook. What is that, anyway?"

"It's a Panty-dropper. Nice to meet you, Brook." Cynthia shook Brook's hand before picking up her shot glass. "Here's to new friends."

"To friends, new and old," I nodded as Brook tipped her Seven Seven towards our glasses and joined in. I let the shot slide down my throat, tasting the sweet-tart flavor momentarily. "Not bad. I've never heard of that before."

"Some guy came in and asked for it once. I wasn't sure if it was an actual drink or a really bad pick-up line. I looked it up in the Bartender's Handbook, and damned it if wasn't in there. It's a great shot to offer a group of guys, too. Pretty decent tip that way."

I laughed. "It always comes back to the tips. What do I owe you?"

"I'll get this round, and you can buy me breakfast."

"Deal. Are we going to get kicked out of here at closing?" Brook bumped my arm to let me know that she was going back to the pool table. I nodded and turned my attention back to Cynthia.

"Yeah, security reasons. I'll meet the two of you outside, or at Denny's, if that's where you're still going. It's your call."

"If we go to Denny's, are you going to stiff?"

"Why would I do that? You owe me strawberry waffles with whipped cream."

"A girl after my own heart." Visions of her with whipped cream over her tits danced in my head. How I would love licking that off. And I don't even like whipped cream.

Cynthia laughed. "Yeah, me and that guy in the corner who loves to watch you bend over the table when you shoot."

"Hey, I can't help it if I have a wonderful ass." I tapped my ass as she watched. I was more than happy to make her mind wander. "Too bad it doesn't look as good as yours in those shorts."

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. "You're starting to sound like one of those guys who is looking for a different version of the Panty-dropper."

I shrugged and turned away. "Denny's on Main, four-thirty. I look forward to buying you breakfast."

I walked casually back to Brook and the pool table. "Got time for one more?" I sipped my drink and smiled.

"She still coming, or did you scare her away?" Brook racked up the last game of the evening.

"She'll be there. I think I may get more than her phone number tonight if I play my cards right."

"Aren't you full of yourself. Listen to you, the first time you hit on a girl, and you think you can get her in bed."

I shrugged as I lined up the cue ball to break. "She hasn't run screaming yet, and I think she knows where I'm coming from. I think she's intrigued. And that makes me very excited."

"Her shorts make you very excited."

I laughed out loud as I shot the cue ball as hard as I could. "I'm just a sucker for red-heads with great bodies. What can I say? Did I sink anything there?"

Brook shook her head. "Yeah, believe it or not. Two solids. Keep going, babe."

Would you believe I won that game? I shot better than I had in weeks, and sunk the eight right before she did. I had to gloat a little, doing a victory dance around her and the table. I'm sure Cynthia saw me shaking my ass.

We were ushered out of the bar with everyone else at four in the morning. I waved to Cynthia and left with my arm around Brook. She had gone drink for drink with me again, and weighed forty pounds less. Not that I'm fat, don't get me wrong, Brook's just a little twig of a thing five or six inches shorter than me. And it's always fun to watch her try to drink as much as I do. Good thing Denny's was only a short drive away, and we took my car.

We walked into the Denny's about quarter after four. It was chilly; I never understood why they want the restaurant at sixty all year long. The air conditioning was brutal. On the up side, I was betting I'd see some party hats from Cynthia.

What a bad girl I am.

The waitress showed us to a booth in the back corner, away from the door and, thankfully, the air conditioning. I looked at the menu, trying to decide between the omelet and pancakes. I was pretty sure I could get Cynthia to share a bite or two of her waffles, so I didn't want those.

Brook ordered a hot tea to drink, something to mellow her stomach. I asked the waitress to bring a raspberry flavored iced tea. I wasn't sure what Brook wanted, so I told the waitress that the other member of our party would be with us shortly. I was hoping that she wasn't going to ditch us.

Ten minutes later, when I was just about to give up hope, Cynthia walked in. She had changed into yoga pants and a halter-style sweatshirt. Her abs just peaked out between the two, and her ass was still hugged tightly inside the soft material. The light gray color made her hair look even more vibrant.

My heart skipped a few beats as I watched her walking towards Brook and I. I quickly forgot about the few minutes that I had to wait to see her again. It was worth it. She looked so totally sexy in the sweats. I was trying to decide whether they would look better on my living room floor or at the foot of my bed.

"Hey, guys." Cynthia slid into the booth on my left. Her hand slid across the bottom of my thighs as she moved to get more comfortable. Was that intentional?

"Hey yourself. Get sick of the work clothes?" I was trying to sound casual, like I didn't feel as if a Mack truck just ran me over.

"Would you believe the manager asks me to dress like that? Unsweetened iced tea," she told the waitress when she came over. "Did you guys order yet? No? Miss? Can I get a small stack of waffles, with strawberries and whipped cream? What about you guys?"

Brook and I ordered as well, and the waitress left in a hurry. You would think that she was upset at having to work at four-thirty in the morning.

"So wait," Brook chimed in. "The manager wants you to dress, well, skimpy?"

Cynthia tipped her head back and laughed. "You can say it, I dress like a slut. Jay thinks that it brings in more guys, and makes them spend more money. And I'm sure he likes watching me bend down in those shorts, too."

By the end of breakfast, with my heart nearly exploding every time Cynthia closed her eyes and savored her strawberries and whipped cream, we were all pretty tired. Brook was ready to pass out at the table and just stay there all night. Sure, I was tired, but I was also hyped up on hormones, and could have sworn I could last all night long.

Cynthia yawned as Brook and I divvied up the check. "I don't want to drive home," she whined. "Can I just sleep here?" She placed her head on my shoulder. "You wouldn't mind, right?"

Wouldn't mind? "Do you need a ride home? I have to drop Brook off already. Where do you live?"

"Samson and Dirk."

"That's less than five minutes from my apartment. Come on, I'll take you home. You can call me tomorrow and we'll come and pick up your car."

Cynthia nodded against my shoulder and stood up to walk out. Brook lifted her head from the table and smiled at me.

"You're going for it, aren't you?" she whispered. I nodded back with my own smile. "One hundred for proof that you and she, well, you know."

"Baby, I'm doing this one for free. Look at that ass!"

I pulled a few extra singles out of my pocket and put them under my glass. I felt sorry for anyone who had to work this late. And I wasn't going to go home and try to relieve the waitress's tension. That was reserved for my gorgeous bartender.

I dropped Brook off at her house, wishing her luck with her uptight husband. You'd think I was a bad influence on her or something, the way he acted sometimes. I mean, I stay out with her all night, bring home another woman (hopefully), and he hates me. Go figure.

Cynthia had her eyes closed as we reached the intersection that would either take us to her house or mine. Left or right? I took my time seeing if there was any oncoming traffic before I turned. Was I so bold as to take her directly to my apartment?

"My roommate's home by now. I don't want to wake her up," Cynthia muttered next to me. "Mind if I crash at your place? I'm not a kleptomaniac or anything."

I chuckled as my eyes widened with my good fortune. This goddess wanted to come home with me! Would I mind? Absolutely not! I put my right blinker on and headed home. "Sure, if you don't mind a little mess. I live on my own and rarely get visitors, kind of like the mirror image of a bachelor's pad."

"Sounds great. You do own a bed and have a working shower, right?"

I envisioned the water dripping down those breasts, forming little rivers across her stomach. "Yep, paid my water bill last week. And I have an air conditioner that is constantly stuck at eighty."

My driveway was seconds away, and I pulled up next to the Cadillac DeVille that my landlord babied. He owned a Cadillac, and I could barely afford my rent. Maybe if I didn't pay close to seven bills a month, we would be a little more balanced out. I would move, but I loved my place. It was the second story of an old Victorian, complete with crown molding and two-inch thick oak doors. Two bedrooms, a huge living room, full kitchen with a breakfast nook, attic storage space, and use of the washer and dryer in the basement. What more could I ask for?

Cynthia took her bag out of the back seat and followed me to the private staircase in the back of the house. "Nice place," she whispered in the darkness. "I'm jealous already, and I haven't been inside."

I unlocked the door, climbed up the stairs with her behind me, and unlocked the top door. You can never be too careful when you're living alone these days. Turning on the light in the living room, I watched as Cynthia took a look around. Her purple sports bag was slung over her right shoulder, and her braid was over the left. They clashed, but it was so amazing that she was standing in my apartment that I didn't even care.

Be cool, I kept reminding myself. Just stay calm and make it seem like this isn't a big deal. Yeah, like I have strange women in my apartment every night of the week. I dropped my keys on the end table to my left, and headed slowly into the kitchen.

"Kitchen's through here," I said as I showed her around briefly. Make her feel comfortable, and maybe she won't be sleeping on the couch, right? "The door on the left is the office slash bedroom. I can call it that because there's a futon in there. To the right is the bathroom, complete with clawed Victorian tub and three by three glass shower stall. Right across from us is the master bedroom. Queen size bed, CD player and stripper pole all included. Just kidding," I smiled as she poked her head in the bathroom.