One Good Show Deserves Another

This story is dedicated to The Earl, who wrote a similar piece for me; "Do Anything For You?"

I'd caught her eye all night. We'd smiled at each other, given each other flirty glances over the crowd, and by now, I was sure I'd get my way. I picked up my cellular and made a quick phone call. Time, place. There. All set. I'd wait half an hour, then I'd make my move. The scene was set. Time for action.

Oh, fuck.

What was I thinking? What was I doing? Could I really go through with this?

"Get a grip," I told myself. "One time is no time."

I ordered a beer and forced myself to finish it, even though I don't really drink. I needed a boost. I'd never been this nervous in my life. Problem was, I've never really been drunk, so I wasn't sure how to tell when the beer had done its thing. I checked my wrist watch. Ready or not, I was going to go through with this. Now.

I gave her a long, naughty stare, followed by a wink, and then I left the bar, sure that she would follow me. I made my way over to the ladies' room. It was empty, except for one of the stalls, where I could see a pair of legs dressed in jeans. I walked over to the sink and jumped up on it. I sat down in what I hoped was a cool, seductive pose, and waited. It didn't take long before she walked in. We looked at each other. I grinned and raised my eyebrows.

She locked the door behind her and came up to me. She put a hand on my thigh, and I jumped. She looked at me questioningly. I was going to screw it up. I put a hand around her neck, leaned in, and kissed her. She was softer than a man, and she smell perfume instead of after shave. Other than that, lips were lips and hands were hands. I moved my mouth to her neck and licked it. I tried thinking of what I liked myself. Sure, this was individual, but what one woman liked couldn't be THAT horrible to another one, right?

She seemed to like it. I moved my hands down to her waist and pulled her closer. If only I had such a slim waist! If only my tits were that big! I caressed her round hips with a feeling of slight envy. I wanted to be as pretty as she was.

She ran her hands down my back and my ass, then bent down to kiss my legs. At first, I didn't understand what she was doing, then I felt her leaving kisses up the inside of my thighs. She stopped right before my crotch, and I couldn't decide if this was a good thing or not. She kissed me again, and put her hand inside my tights, inside my panties. I tensed up, felt invaded, but her fingers knew just what to do to take my mind off everything but the magic they were performing. I closed my eyes. This made it easier to relax and enjoy it. It wasn't a woman touching me, it was just hands. Experienced, knowing hands; they knew exactly where and how to touch, how long and how hard. I fumbled for support, and my hands grabbed on to the hand dryer on the wall and the water faucet in the sink. I leaned back, pushing my pelvis forward, giving her a better angle to work from. Her fingers spun in circles around my clit, rubbing it fast but light. My knees moved further apart, I pressed myself against her hand. It felt so good. Then I tensed up and moaned quietly. The waves of my orgasm came and went.

I pulled her hand out of my clothes and kissed it. Her fingers were wet with my juices. It smelled nice. A sudden noise from the locked stall made us both turn around. Inside the middle stall, someone put two jeans¨clad legs down; apparently the person in question had been standing on top of the toilet, watching us over the wall. She blushed and ran out of the ladies' room before we were caught. The door to the stall was unlocked, and my friend, whom I'd called in to watch this little show, walked out of there.

"Bloody hell, that was HOT!" he said.

"Do anything for you?" I asked.

In response, he took my hand and placed it upon his jeans. I could feel his hard, throbbing dick strain against the material.

"Now we're even," I said.