TFAM - The Magic Touch Ch. 01

She actually seemed to desire the latter. I could feel her mouth water as she pictured herself kneeling in front of me and begging for such a gesture from a worthy master, and hoping that I was not a disappointment. I could almost taste her near-unbridled lust that was bubbling just under her veneer of cool-and-collected curiosity. It was almost as if time froze for a few seconds as I processed all of this information. I recognized that this sensation was not the same as what had happened between Jake and me, but it was not far removed. I was taking in all of her emotions and even tapping into her surface-level thoughts, and it was clear that she was being affected.

I am no Casanova or Adonis. I will never win any contests of strength or beauty. My sole redeeming features are my imagination, my eloquence and my willpower. I hoped that I might have a chance with Candy. (Her actual name was Candice, but she always introduced herself as Candy... A hot young woman constantly surrounded by a bunch of blue-collar construction workers insisting that she be called a name you might hear in a strip club... Yep, ironworkers are weird.)

But I figured it would be because I was witty or funny, and she just happened to like that. I could tell that she held some attraction towards me, but she would probably never have acted upon it for fear of the potential social fallout should things not have worked out. So, I made a decision in that split second, while her eyebrow rose to question my action and the motivation behind it.

I wished (silly, in hindsight, but I had very little information to go on at the time,) with all of my might and willpower that Candy would absolutely want me to ask her out, and even take charge a bit, to tell her where and when it would be happening. I steadied myself for a moment, while keeping my hand to her cheek and my eyes locked with hers. And then, I did the bravest thing I may have ever done. I told Candy, "Don't worry, Candy. I wanted to invite you to get a drink with me, anyways. Meet me at the Coterie Bar tonight at eight, and we can talk more." Well, I say I told her... It was more like I had to scream it at her to be heard over the surrounding noise... Yep. Not a Casanova...

Luckily, we were next to an exterior wall of the building, and due to the cement pumping outside the doorway, there was not really anyone around to see the awkward position we were in. Candy smiled, (I would almost swear that she leaned her cheek into my hand as she did. She denied it later, but I figured that it could have been a subconscious thing.) and she put her hand on the back of mine. She leaned in close to my left ear, while holding my hand and said, "Sure thing, Ronin. Maybe we can discuss invasions of personal space." Obviously, this was meant to be a test of sorts, and I guess that she had done something like this many times before.

Sadly, or perhaps luckily for me at least, the other guys that she had given this test to before must have never picked up on the hint. But I had an ace in the hole here. She was still holding my hand to her cheek, while she smiled and said this. So, I could clearly feel her anticipation and how she barely dared to hope that I would make a move then and there. So I did the second bravest thing that I may have ever done. It was certainly one of the stupidest.

I was making a decision to make a move on a beautiful woman whose personal space I had just invaded. I had then basically asked this same woman out in a rather forward display of dominance over said woman. Most would probably take her words as a warning or threat about being WAY too forward. I was basing my next choice entirely on a weird thought that passed through my head and that I (possibly mistakenly; after all, I could just have gone crazy or something) thought was from this woman, that indicated that I should take the risk. I was risking my job, my standing in the hall, possibly my career, probably even my freedom. (Sexual harassment is a serious offense. Even as a first offense.) So, I kissed her.

It wasn't a passionate kiss. It was direct and decisive, but brief. A meeting of the lips that conveyed my intent to change the nature of our relationship heretofore. There was no tongue. No fingers running through hair or clothes. To be honest, it was probably not even all that impressive. Her initial reaction was obviously shock. But when I pulled back from what might have been my final act as an ironworker, her lips curled up again in a smirk of sorts. Our faces were very close together, and I could feel her heartbeat through her fingers on the back of my hand. She leaned in again and said something that I will always remember.

"You need to have a better kiss than that. A girl has got to have standards after all." Then she promptly got up again, and sauntered away. I will admit, I stared at her ass the whole time. She even caught me doing so and wagged her finger at me as she disappeared around a corner.

I was left to ponder over the events of the morning. (Remember, the end of shift for the night shift is in the morning of the following day.) We only had about an hour left until the shift was over. I was sort of dreading roll-up time. It was highly likely that I would encounter Candy again and I was not sure how that would go. Would she be mad? Did I go too far?

Either way, I did not see her at the gang boxes at roll up. This was not terribly unusual as some of the different jobs had more involved work and took longer to roll up for the end of shift. But my mind kept wondering if she had been absent because I had creeped her out. Or, maybe she wasn't present because she was sitting in the superintendent's office talking with HR to file a sexual harassment claim.

Regardless, I locked up my tools and went home that morning, full of dread and anticipation. Needless to say, I didn't get any sleep. All of the crews had the weekend off; it was a weird schedule which started Sunday night and ended Friday morning. So, I knew that Candy would not have work tonight.

I had decided that I was going to show up to the bar and face whatever consequences may happen. If I had overstepped, I was sure that Candy deserved her chance to see justice done. And if, by some miracle, she was actually interested, I was sure as hell not going to pass up such an opportunity. But, to say that I was ready would have been a gross overstatement. I was a mess.

Thankfully, the time passed and when the clock finally showed 7:00pm, I left my house for the bar. It was only a fifteen-minute walk, and I knew that I would be early. But I figured that if there was going to be a police interrogation in my immediate future, I should probably have some liquid courage beforehand. I chose this bar because it was near the job site and I could walk to and from the place from my house. I only really drink socially. I don't really like the feeling of being drunk. Too easy to get into trouble, and not all that healthy. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against people that enjoy drinking. I just don't really feel any desire to join in, except to be polite.

When I got there, there were no cops waiting for me. No ambush of SWAT teams and HR reps. I breathed a small sigh of relief. I went right up to the bartender, an attractive lady that looked more than capable of handling herself verbally as well as physically. I ordered a scotch on the rocks to sip on and wait. The bar was sparsely populated for a Friday night. After about twenty minutes, I began to wonder if I was actually insane. Here I was, waiting for a woman that was probably not even coming, or a team of uniformed officers with a restraining order or something.

IF she did come, she might be interested in a relationship, or she might just be interested in cutting off my balls. After an hour and twenty-five minutes, I decided to break my customary one-drink limit and extend to two drinks. I knew that I needed to eat something, or else I would be hurting in the morning, so I ordered an appetizer. I figured at this point, she wasn't going to show up, but since the dreaded uniforms also did not arrive, I figured that I was probably safe for the moment. And, of course, as the waitress left, I saw Candy walk in the door.

When a lot of stories describe that magical moment when a woman walks through a door, they usually use a lot of flowery and elegant words to convey her beauty or her graceful effect on the room. Some more seedy stories might do that, too, but also will go into how sexy or slutty the woman looks. Or maybe, how all the men and some of the women immediately start drooling over her, due to the uncontrollable lust her appearance provokes. Candy did none of these things. She was dressed in a simple black dress that was nice but conservative. It definitely fit her well and accentuated her figure nicely. But it was not a 'fuck-me' dress. It was not a look that seemed to say I am here to cut off a man's balls either, so I was going to try to remain hopeful.

Although, in hindsight, the black fabric would probably have hidden the stains pretty well. Her dress and makeup were conservative, but it was obvious that she had come here for our date and that she had chosen to put some effort into her appearance. Needless to say, she was a beautiful woman and I was not disappointed in the least. So you could say, that at least one man was drooling over her appearance...

I would like to say that I was upset at her being so late for our date. But, to be honest, I was just relieved that she showed up at all. So, like the gentleman that I am, I stood up and pulled out a seat for her. She smiled when she saw me and promptly walked to our table. When she was finally standing next to me, she stifled a slight giggle and sat in the proffered chair. I resumed my seat across from her and an awkward silence began.

Oh, I could probably say that I was dashing and witty and all the other things that most protagonists are supposed to be. But that is not even close to the truth. So, yeah. We sat there awkwardly for a couple of minutes like a couple of teenagers, until she and I started to laugh together at the stupidity of the situation. (Us being shy around each other when, just that morning, we were both laughing at her joke about a nun enjoying the new salty communion wafer recipe... don't ask...) After that, we began treating it like we were in the break room and a normal conversation began to flow. The only real hiccup after that happened as the waitress came back with my appetizer.

Well, while I say it was 'the only real hiccup', it was probably more like the first of the night. Candy realized that I had obviously been there for some time and had already ordered food. She apologized for being late, but asked to be forgiven because she had been trying to set up something special and had not accounted for how long it had taken. She seemed somewhat genuinely distressed over not realizing that she had been so late, and kept asking to be forgiven. It seemed somewhat odd to me that she stressed the forgiveness bit so much, but as the evening had otherwise been going so well, I dismissed it.

The night progressed well and we were both having fun. She was definitely the more socially adept of the two of us, but that worked well. Or, at least, it worked well until she started asking me about which girls in the bar I thought looked the hottest. It was clear that I was uncomfortable discussing the subject, especially given my interest in her. However, she insisted that I not only point out which girls I thought looked the most attractive, but also discuss what features I admired about them most.

I eventually loosened up enough to start engaging in the conversation (I had just about finished the second glass of scotch at that point), and we were just finishing our analysis of the minutiae that made a woman's breasts most attractive, when one of our fellow ironworkers spotted us and started to make his way over. He had apparently entered the bar some time earlier and had not seen us until then. And even though it should have been clear that we were here on a date, (like most drunk men) he decided that we absolutely NEEDED to share a drink with him. I could see the look of indecision playing across Candy's face as we spotted Bruce. So, I decided to intervene.

A couple of factors contributed to this decision. Normally, I am not an aggressive or violent kind of guy. I don't mind doing so if the situation calls for it, but I would usually prefer to stay in the background most of the time. My decision to step in here, mainly stemmed from the fact that during the night, I had found several instances to successfully have some form of skin-to-skin contact with Candy (mostly me touching her hand with mine). I had also experimented with other forms of contact (namely we played footsie under the table), but it seemed clear that the 'spark', as I came to call it, only happened when there was direct skin-to-skin contact. During these brief glimpses of insight through our various touches, I could tell that she liked it when I seemed confident or decisive.

Luckily for me, she also found it endearing when I was more sensitive or considerate. 'Gentlemanly', I think, was the term she kept thinking of. (I found that if I kept contact long enough, I could pick up some of her inner monologue.) This was clearly an opportunity for me to show decisiveness. Secondly, I knew how Bruce typically acted when he was drunk. He was an okay guy when sober, but he was a lecherous piece of shit when drunk. I had absolutely no intention of letting his wandering hands ruin the good mood Candy and I had built.

Since I was known to be somewhat reserved when dealing with others, it must have been a slight shock to the system when I clearly stepped in front of Bruce to stop him from approaching our table. Candy just sat there watching the proceedings, looking somewhat surprised as well. I attempted to convince Bruce that Candy and I were here together and that we wished to be left alone. I was cordial but firm, and I politely dismissed Bruce's arguments that his inclusion at our table would make things more fun. Sadly, after a minute or two, it dawned on Bruce that he was being told 'no', and that didn't really sit well with him. He started to get belligerent with me and then with Candy. Once he started to hurl insults at her, I grabbed him by the throat and forced him to look into my eyes. I had only the barest notion of how to make my abilities intensify, but I was damn well going to try right now because a white-hot rage was boiling in my gut at the moment.

I knew that Bruce and I would both come out worse in a fight, so I tried to push down Bruce's anger with my own. I, thankfully, lucked out here. I later tried something like this with another guy, and let's just say that things escalated much more quickly that time. Here, the main thing that I succeeded in doing was to make Bruce so incredibly mad that he popped a blood vessel in his eye from the mental strain. The sudden pain and overwhelming drunken stupor he was experiencing made him pass out. From the surrounding tables, it must have looked like I throttled him with one hand and choked him out to sleep it off.

I, myself, was just a little surprised that he just passed out like that and it took me a minute to settle myself. Meanwhile, the rest of the bar kept conversing and drinking as though nothing unusual had happened. And maybe nothing had, this bar catered to construction workers. The clientele was pretty rough around the edges to start with before the alcohol started to flow...

Now, Candy, on the other hand, from her perspective, I had just stepped up to a man that was significantly bigger than myself, and after trying and failing to resolve things peacefully, had proceeded to nonchalantly choke this large man out with one hand. She later told me that this was what had tipped her over the edge fully into wanting to... well... I am getting ahead of myself again.

I tried to play the whole thing off with aplomb, mainly because I really didn't know if Bruce was going to get back up in a minute or not. I didn't really want to be there when he did. So, I suggested to Candy that we leave. We had already eaten our food by that point, so the only thing left was to pay the bill. I went up to the counter to ask the bartender for the total and paid our tab. Maybe I was being a little bit cavalier by just paying the bill myself, and not asking what she wanted to do, but I was more concerned with expediting our exit than good form at the time.

The awkwardness had returned now (for me, at least), because we had not really discussed whether or not we wanted to go anywhere else after our meal. So, I fumbled around with my keys as I searched for some way to indicate that I didn't want the night to end just yet. But, luckily, Candy was more than happy to take my awkward silence as a gentlemanly restraint of my obvious desire to kiss her again.

So, being a direct, no-nonsense kind of woman, Candy closed the space between us and made it absolutely obvious that she wanted to not only be kissed, but to also find out how well I performed in bed. As soon as the doors to the bar closed behind us, she molded her body to mine and smashed our lips together with such a deep need, that even a dead man's heart would race. Her tongue took my shocked, half-open lips as all the invitation needed to strike up a tango in our mouths.

She playfully teased her tongue over the top of mine, until I took the initiative and (finally getting the hint) started to slide mine gently along the sides of hers. She also started to pleadingly whine in the back of her throat as our skin touched in such an intimate embrace, her body feeding off of the unbridled yearning and lust in mine. It was like a spark was frantically jumping around in a room full of TNT just waiting for something to go off in my head as I felt her exponentially building lust preparing to explode.

Her hands were desperately trying to either get into the back of my jeans or under the back of my shirt as her body began to realize that it craved my touch to stimulate the good feelings. Her conscious mind had mostly taken a back seat at this point. If I had allowed this to go on for more than the minute-or-so it did, she probably would have tried to strip me down and fuck me right in the parking lot. As it was, I managed to restrain myself and pull back just enough to allow me to whisper somewhat breathlessly, "You.... Me.... My place.... Now!"

I don't really remember much about the trip back to my house. I know that it must have occurred, but the feelings of the night were much too intense for any of the details to stick. Plus, it was within walking distance and we mostly were trying to race there while still kind of being attached at the lips. Once we got to the door, I distinctly remember propping her ass on the window sill next to the door as I fumbled trying to blindly get the key into the lock and keep my lips attached to hers. Once the door opened, I started to pull at the zipper on the back of her dress as she hurriedly undid the remaining buttons on my shirt and then ran her fingers over my chest.

Once I had finally triumphed over the damnable zipper on the back of her dress, I straightened up, breaking our kiss, and firmly turned her around. She demurely took two steps forward and shrugged the dress off of one shoulder. She paused here, as she slowly turned her head and looked back into my eyes. Her eyes half-lidded as she slowly and seductively shrugged the dress off of her other shoulder and let it slither down her body. It was as though the whole thing happened in slow motion, and maybe it did.

The back of her black lacy bra came into view first as the dress fell and revealed soft, smooth, mocha skin. I could see the swell of her breasts from behind her as they rose and fell with each breath. Next to come into view was her trim waist and lower back, and the tribal butterfly tattoo on her lower back. I had just enough time to make out the words, 'Daddy's Bad Girl' underneath the butterfly when the top of her matching black-lace panties began to appear.