The Blue Dress

It's one of those bars that make you wonder why you bother to come out. Too hot, too loud, too expensive. Glancing at your watch, you decide you'll head out once you've finished your drink. Enough time wasted already. Talking of time wasted, your eye is again caught by a lass perched on a ridiculously high bar stool. By her constant checking of her watch and phone, it's clear she's waiting for something - most likely, a someone. She's been there a while - at least as long as you've been standing elbow on bar, curiously watching the comings and goings of the room.

She's definitely cute - brown hair with blonde streaks, long legs, a nice smile - and quite obviously alone. Nothing ventured, nothing gained... As if sensing your ambivalence, she shifts position, crossing her legs under the table, a gesture of impatience. However, with her short hemline, she's just offered 2/3rds of the bar a comprehensive flash of her knickers. No one else seems to have notice, but you're thinking you must be on to something with this one. Quickly ordering a drink, you head over to her table, before you talk yourself out of it.

'Hello,' you try, wondering if there's a prize for such inspired conversation starters. 'Is anyone sitting here?'

She looks at you, curiously - who is this 6"4 ride that's chatting away with her, and asking if he can have a seat? 'No, no one's bloody sitting there,' she replies.

You're taken aback by her vehemence, and she notices.

'I'm sorry,' she starts, 'But I think I've been stood up. I'm a little bit embarrassed.'

Now, this, this you can do - you're a nice man who realises when Brownie Points can be won. 'You're embarrassed that you don't have to spend an evening forcing laughter with the kind of idiot that doesn't have enough decency to call or text you? Really?'

She giggles, the first real smile playing on her lips. 'Y'know, when you say it like that, I feel much better. Of course, the better could be the 3 vodka lemons I've had...'

Gallantly, you offer her another drink. Smiling prettily, she accepts.

While waiting at the bar, you glance back. Again, she uncrosses and recrosses her legs. Again, you're blown away by this flash of knicker triangle between golden thighs. Surely, she realises? But she's looking around the bar, and paying no attention to anything in particular. Surely not?

Back at the table, the evening really takes off - there's plenty of shared understanding, and everything slots in together easily. The music's loud, forcing her almost into your lap to make herself heard. Not that you're complaining - her dress, blue and short, is so clingy that nothing is a secret. You've spent a fond 15 minutes talking about the last couple of movies you've each seen, and slowly hypnotising yourself with the sight of her erect nipples straining against the fabric. Finally, she figures out why your eye contacts been so patchy, and she playfully swats your arm. 'Hey, when the three of you are done, let me know, okay?'

Painfully stammering, you attempt to deny and disassociate.

She laughs, patting your shoulder. 'It's okay - they're pretty fantastic boobs. I'd look at them, too.' She roars laughing at your expression - the surprise is so cute.

'Seriously,' she continues, 'Thank you for rescuing me tonite. This is a new dress, and I'm glad it got an occasion worthy of it.' Gently, she stretches up to kiss your cheek.

You turn your face, grazing her lips with your own. A sound between a whine and moan escapes her. Suddenly, both of you are intensely aware that sex is powerful. Frozen, faces together, barely breathing - this is the delicious tension of the new relationship. Will we, won't we? Hardly daring to move, she whispers so quietly she's practically mouthing the words, 'Come back to mine?'

You nod, swallowing.

Helping her into her coat, you leave the bar. Standing on the city street, the crowds of Saturday nite party animals surging and pushing around you, you're both silent. Placing her hand in yours - the intimacy of the gesture sending shocks through both of you - she turns and heads off.

You're lagging behind her, her long legs stretching away down the pavement, and you lengthen your stride to match her. She's accelerating, and you follow, faster and faster, until the two of you are running thru Sydney streets, untalking, holding hands, mesmerised by the shocks striking between you. Something in her soul has been met tonite, part of you has recognised this woman you've never seen before as yours.

Suddenly, she's pulling you down an alleyway, invisible unless you're looking for it, pulling you against her as she leans against the wall, panting. Cupping her chin gently, you raise her face, and your eyes meet. She gasps. You know.

Your knee's between her thigh... Her hands are under your shirt... You're kissing her neck... She's kissing the hand cupping her face, sucking your fingers... You're pushing against her, wishing you were in her... She's groaning, pulling her dress up around her hips, pushing your hand down between their two bodies... You're hooking her knickers aside, fingering her, watching her expression greedily... She's fumbling with your belt, undoing your flies, hooking a leg around your waist...

Sliding in to her sees you both gasp. There's no time, or so it seems, and you're fucking her hard, slamming her against the wall, nipping at her neck and jaw, her fingers digging into your neck, as she moans and calls, 'Ah ah ah!' Despite the roughness of the act, both sense the tenderness and good feeling that flows between you. Stroking hard and rhythmically, her dress is riding up higher and higher, showing off her hips and bum, which you grab enthusiastically, pulling her harder on to you. Her left boob has slipped out of her dress, and she's playing with her nipple, pinching and teasing, before sliding the hand between you to rub her clit as you fuck her brains out. Grunting with exertion, this sight is enough to push you over the edge. Slamming her against the wall, you thrust high and hard into her, her cry of almost-pain mingling with your whimpered orgasm. Still stimulating her clit, she pulls you hard against her, putting more pressure on her fingers and clit before gasping and yelling in her own orgasm.

Slowly, you pull out of her, amazed at the sight of your cum dripping down her thighs. She pulls her dress back down, covering the reddening handprints on her backside. You're refastening your belt. Both are shy now.

'I don't usually do this,' she states clearly, breaking the silence. 'You probably don't think that, but I don't.'

You pause, considering your reply. 'It was the new dress. It needed something special.'

She nods, quietly. This withdrawn, self-possessed woman is not the woman you shared drinks with, fucked beautifully in an alleyway. This is someone else.

'Look,' you start, trying to find a way back to the beginning, 'Maybe we shouldn't have done that, and I'm sorry.'

She pulls away further, nodding, 'I understand. You have to watch out for man-eating single girls!' The jokey sentiment is lost in her delivery.

Everything seems lost, different, sad. One last chance - 'If you're not busy in the next couple of days, maybe we could catch up for dinner?'

She smiles tightly. 'You don't need to buy me dinner.'

You continue. This was too close to good to stop. 'But I'd like to. And, I'd like to see what new clothing I'm worthy of.'

She turns, and looks at you. 'I don't buy new clothes for fuckbuddies.'

'So, let me date you. Dinner, a date. Who knows? I might even take you out for a drink afterwards. If you're good.'

'You want us to date now?'

'Why wouldn't I? You're clever, funny, and, no offence, you're amazing in bed. Or alleyway. You get it.'

She laughs. 'Are you crazy? Everyone knows you don't see the girl who puts out on the first date.

You shrug. 'I do. So, when can I see you again?'

She smiles. 'I think I invited you back to mine...'