One Night in Lexington

The Club was its usual din when I walked in the door. A sort of rockabilly place, it had decent beer and sometimes decent, and sometimes not so, local bands. Dancing was to be had.

What else to be had, at least sometimes, were some very attractive ladies, frequently of relaxed morals. Me? I like ladies with relaxed morals, or at least I like them for the evening. Of course, I've been known to strike out, too. But, hey, Pete Rose ought to be in the Hall of Fame with his lifetime .303 batting average, and that means he was out 69.7% of the time.

This Friday night? It seemed like a target rich environment, because, front and center, was a gaggle of girls having plenty of fun.

I got myself a St Pauli Girl dark beer at the bar, then took the usual back-to-the-bar position to survey the room. Mostly my eyes were drawn to the gaggle of girls.

There were seven of them, of a bit wider age range than I'd expect from a group like that. One woman was clearly in her early fifties, certainly pretty enough, but she didn't really do much for me.

Anyway, guys came and went, asking the various ladies to dance, all except for one woman. She was a "chair dancer," if you know what I mean, the kind of woman who is moving her arms and legs to the music, but still seated. Somehow, she didn't seem to get asked, and I wondered why, 'cause she was cute. I wondered if maybe she was married, but it was a bit far, in the generally low lights of the Club, to see whether she was wearing a wedding ring.

Well, two-thirds of my beer was gone, and I decided that if no one else was going to ask her, I would. I'd need to get that close to check for a wedding ring anyway.

One last pull on my beer, and I set the empty down on the bar and went over to the gaggle. Turning things over in my mind, I thought that maybe she had been asked to dance, but just turned everyone down . . . so I just wouldn't ask. I went up to her, simply took her hand, and gently urged her to stand and head out onto the dance floor.

And it worked! The first song was medium paced, but the next one was a slow dance.

"You know, you never really asked me to dance," she said, but she did have a smile on her face.

"I know I didn't, and I did it that way deliberately. I'm Matt. Matt Murdock." I left that hanging, to see if she'd ask me if I was Daredevil, but I guess she didn't read comic books, because the name didn't faze her.

"Lexi, Lexi Brand." she said, which I presumed meant her name.

We enjoyed a couple more dances, and then retreated to her table; it was kind of hard to talk out on the dance floor, at least once the slow dance was over. There was a patch of good light which enabled me to check her left hand. Not only did Lexi not have a wedding ring, but there was no telltale lighter skin tone or slight indentation which gave away the married women who cruised these places looking for some strange. That was a good thing, because the last thing I need is some married chick on the prowl, and there's way too many of them.

Lexi was fun to talk to, laughing at my jokes, but not in that forced way that often happens when two people meet. It turned out that the whole gaggle were nurses at the UK Hospital, and they'd all gotten off at 7:30. They must've planned this night out, because they all had changed into real people clothing, jeans and various different tops. Lexi looked pretty good, casually so, wearing a darker colored t-shirt with a scoop neck. It'd have been a good shirt to show off some cleavage, if she actually had any cleavage.

Which she didn't. Lexi was average height, 5'5" or so, and slender from head to toe, narrow hips, a small but tight looking butt, and I guess somewhere between an A and a B cup. Her blonde hair was showing the beginning of darker roots, and her eyes were light-colored, grey or blue, hard to tell in the low light.

"So, Lexi is short for what?" I asked her.

She smiled and said, "It's short for Lexington."

"Huh?"

"Hey, mom really likes the city, went to school here, and you know how it was, parents were coming up with all of these 'new' names for their kids, and there it happened, I got named Lexington. I hated it through high school, but finally got used to it, and now I don't think it's bad at all.

"And heck, it wasn't even that different, because my brothers were named Boston and Cleveland."

"At least none of them were named Dallas, 'cause I hate the Cowboys."

Lexi laughed at that one. "Everybody hates the Cowboys!" I was starting to like this woman more and more.

Lexi's glass was empty, so I bought her another, the white wine she'd been drinking, and another dark beer for myself.

The evening was going about as well as could be expected, in a place where conversation was a bit difficult due to the din that pervaded the atmosphere. Laughs were had, and the occasional light touching on my arm led me to think that yeah, I had a chance with this woman. When her glass was empty again, I called over the waitress to order another one for her, but Lexi demurred. "Hey, I've still got to drive home, and a DUI is really something I don't need."

"No worries, my house is just a two-block walk."

"Well, that's pretty blatant. You figuring that I'm just going to spend the night with you?"

"It wouldn't be the worst idea," I said. It looked like Lexi was the direct type, so I might as well be, too. If I struck out, then I struck out.

"OK, then," she said, this time to the waitress, "I guess I'll have another glass of the white wine."

 :

So some more drinking and some more dancing was done, as her friends slowly headed out for the evening. I think that some of them had to work day shift on Saturday, but Lexi didn't. One of them, a cute thirty-something brunette, got picked up, and eventually, Lexi was the last of the gaggle still there.

It was almost eleven, and I was ready to head out. Alcohol is great for getting women into bed, but too much of it and the experience in the bedroom isn't as great as it can be. Lexi agreed, and we headed out the door.

The walk to my place was fun enough, with her arm around my waist and mine higher, around he shoulders. At this point, it was a sure thing. My digs didn't hurt my cause in the slightest; I had already told her that I was a lawyer, but I think she was unprepared for the subtle, but nice, brass plaque "Murdock Law Office" beside the door.

"So, I guess that you are your own law firm?" she asked.

"Yup, just me. I've got a receptionist and a paralegal I employ, but that's it. My practice is small, but successful, as I specialize in equine law. The horse farms have special needs, and they pay really well."

One thing about me: I'm a bit of a neat freak. I spent six years in the Army as a way to get Uncle Sam to pay for law school, and just because that meant I went in as an officer didn't mean that there weren't any drill sergeants 'encouraging' us in the Army way of neatness. That stuck with me after I left the service, and it was something I insisted on with my two employees as well. Everything had its place, was in its place, and I didn't allow smoking in my building, so it was first rate.

The law office was on he first floor of the three-story townhouse, and I had my apartment on the top two floors. It had been new construction in 1997, and I had the apartment remodeled just two years ago, so the place looked brand new. Everything was in place, and yes, the bed was freshly made.

I knew that I was in, but still wondered what was the best way to start things off. I needn't have worried, because Lexi plastered herself to me, as we were chest-to-chest, her arms around my neck, pulling my head down for a soulful kiss. My arms went around her waist, and I'd have pulled her even closer, had that been possible, but it wasn't.

Normally, I'd have pulled her t-shirt untucked, but she was wearing it in this new style, where the only place it's tucked in is right at the belt buckle. That just made things easier, as I was able to slip my hands under the shirt and onto the skin of her bare back. Her skin felt soft and warm, and I just knew that this would be a great night.

"This needs to go," she whispered, pulling on the grey golf shirt I had on. I stepped back a bit, letting her pull it over my head and off me, something a touch difficult for her since I was nine or ten inches taller than her. Still, it sure seemed like she'd undressed a man plenty of times before. Had I had less to drink, maybe I'd have thought that she might have done this with way too many men, and wondered if there might be some 'souvenirs' left over from her past trysts.

But, fuck it, she was horny and I was horny, and while I had some rubbers in the nightstand, they weren't anything I particularly enjoyed wearing. That I had several beers in me not only reduced my inhibitions, they also reduced my sense of caution.

After she pulled off my shirt, I got an appreciative look. I'm hardly ripped, but I'm a big guy with broad shoulders and a waist smaller than my chest. I was no gym rat, but I still did fifty sit-ups every day, a habit the Army had instilled in me.

And, of course, her pulling off my shirt meant that I needed to do the same for her. Even as small busted as she was, she still wore a bra, strictly for modesty. It was UK blue, I suppose to match her nursing uniform, but thin and with a little bit of lace on it. Best news? It had a front closure, which was always nice for quick removal.

For the rest, we undressed ourselves. Lexi's jeans were tight ones, which are always more easily removed by the wearer than someone else. Her blue panties matched the bra, and while they weren't a thong -- and I do so love thongs on women -- they were fashionable enough, and looked like she could work a 12½- hour-shift in them. Her ballet flats she kicked off easily.

It was kind of matter-of-fact the way we headed to the bed. I pulled back the covers, which really weren't needed in the warm weather -- and I had the windows open -- and she sat down on the bed. I gently pushed her back, kind of on her elbows, and kissed her belly, slowly moving down to the promised land.

Her pussy was lightly covered with her hair, not trimmed but not thick at all, as though it was naturally sparse. The lights were off, but enough light came in through the windows that I could easily see what I was doing; her pubes were darker than the hair on her head, but, as I said, she had darker roots showing, so this was no surprise.

It didn't take much to get her going, either. She was already wet, and I was alternating a good amount of effort with some light teasing of her sex. Glances up showed me a big smile on her face, and it was obvious: she would come easily and quickly from being eaten.

And I like to think that I give pretty good head. Certainly no one has ever complained about my oral talents -- and hey, if a lawyer can't use his mouth, who can? -- and it always seemed as though the ladies got off this way.

Lexi was really enjoying this! Like I said, she was resting on her elbows, so that she could see what I was doing, and as she got closer and closer, she reached down with her right hand, putting it on the back of my head, urging me to even greater efforts.

Lexi wasn't loud in bed, but her orgasm was obvious, from he tensing of her belly and her legs, and breathing as though she had run five miles. When it hit her, she straightened out like a board, her hands gripping the sheets, and her pussy pressing up toward my mouth.

"No more, no more," she gasped, "give me a minute." I knew that I'd done a good job, and she just needed a minute to catch her breath and recover. I slid up to cuddle her for a few minutes, and it wasn't long before her breath returned to being more under control, and the look in her eyes told me all that I needed to know; she was ready for more. I started to push my hips closer, getting ready to enter her, when she whispered to me, telling me that she wanted on top.

Well, that was certainly fine with me; I love it when a woman gets on top! There's nothing sexier than a woman fucking you, showing you how much she wants it, and it's a lot better than me being on top, fucking her. And besides, it's better for me to be able to control my own orgasm, easier for me to not cum too soon. Keeping the tension off my thighs and glutes makes it easy-peasy to hold off orgasm.

But that isn't what Lexi wanted. She wasn't a talker during sex, but it was obvious: she wanted me pressing my hips upward, more deeply into her as she was on the 'downstroke.' She was looking directly at me, her eyes locked onto mine, and her hands were on my chest, her fingers and thankfully short fingernails digging into my skin.

Thank heaven, she was rising to another climax, quickly, because what Lexi was doing was really making it a struggle to control my response. This was probably the best fuck I'd had in my 37 years on this earth, and it was rocketing to a crescendo. I realized that I had my hands on her hips, helping her with her movements, and maybe squeezing too tightly, but it didn't matter; she got a look that was a grimace, almost like she was in pain, and then she slammed down on me so hard, and held herself down as it overtook her, and that was it, I emptied myself inside her.

That was it, like a UK basketball player this was a one-and-done. Lexi tumbled down on top of me, and then to my side, and then we were out, a wonderfully satisfied sleep, with her spooned into my chest and hips. I don't remember what my dreams were, but I know that they had to be good ones, it was such a great night.

I'm a practical man, and I know that one great night of sex isn't a good enough reason to get married or anything stupid like that, but I did know one thing: I thought that there was a real chance for Lexi and me, because we just clicked together, just naturally fit.

The digital clock said 5:47 when I felt the movement and opened my eyes. Even at this early hour, there was enough light coming in the window to see, and there was Lexi, sitting on the edge of the bed, her beautifully bare back facing me as she was pulling on her jeans.

"Hey, there," I whispered, "you don't have to leave just yet. Let me make you some breakfast."

"Can't stay," she said, her voice kind of flat. "My husband will be home around 7:30, and I need to be at home, cleaned up, and just the way he expects me."

"What? Husband? I didn't see any wedding ring." Now I was worried!

Lexi stood up and turned to face me, as she was putting her bra back on. Man, she looked good! "I'm a nurse, silly! I pull on like fifty pairs of latex gloves every day, and wash my hands a hundred times a shift; wearing rings is just way impractical. My husband's a firefighter, at Station #9, down on Richmond Road, and he'll be getting off a 24-hour shift at seven.

"You were great, Matt, but that's it, we can never see each other again. Bye bye!"

And then she was gone, my one night in Lexington over, never to be repeated.