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Blowing Off Some Steam before/after
"C'mere. I have a favor I want to ask you."
The perky blonde snuggled in close to me, like lovers do, carressing my triceps and chest, crushing her breasts into me. She had a hell of a body.
"What's that baby?" she cooed into my ear.
I was so turned on by the way she touched me, her breath on the nape of my neck, the way her hands seemed to hunger for my flesh that I started to get physically aroused. This girl knew how to push my buttons, and sex and flirting is, after all, theatre of the mind.
"I want you to go in and ask Steve for a ciggarrette for me."
She ran her hands over the edges of my lats and triceps, to my chest and shoulders, over and over roaming my body, giving me goosebumps.
"Sure. Are you going to stay our here?"
I slid my hand down to her tight ass in black stretch pants, carressing, as she groped my body.
"Yes."
She ran her hand over my chest and abdominals, and went inside to grab a beer and a ciggarrette, and this is how I ended up inadvertantly flirting with a dead man's wife.
It had been a long afternoon. I had taken off on some menial errands, and resigned myself to another weekend spent biding my time until the plan for advancing my position comes to fruition.
Besides, I had a theory that if I didn't go out this weekend, then I wouldn't blow any money that would surely come in handy later, rather than scrimping at the end of the month, marking the days before I get paid, as I will have to do until my pay raise comes through, an integral part of the plan.
I was somewhat resentful as my roomies had left me unattended. I imagined they went someplace to swim.
How wrong I was.
I was whipping up some burgers and fries when the two Tony's walked in through the front door. One had a hit single in the eighties, and the other was "Hellvis" at the Indianapolis 500. Foir the sake of clarity, I will call them "Tony" and "Hellvis."
I asked if they were hungry, and added to the amount of food I was making.
Hellvis sat down at the table, fumbling with something. I paid little mind.
Hellvis:"Is this b-sugar or meth? Its got this yellow color."
And I turned around to see him fiddling with a small packet of an off color powder.
Hellvis dipped his pinky in and tasted it.
Hellvis: " 'Caine."
Then my roomates and a friend showed up.
A few hours later, and C.J. showed up. We had sat at that table, drinking, bs.ing and generally having a good time for five hours striaght. The crew had gone to the titty bar, and now C.J. came in giggling and looking flighty as all hell. Apparently he hadn't been to asleep yet, as some friends of his came into town, and fed him some X at around midnight the prior night, and he was still rolling.
C.J. "Well, I guess there goes my nap."
So I went to get some smokes, because everyone horked mine down like it had the antidote. This quickly turned into some sort of massive operation.
I went to the local liquor store with a pocket bulging with singles, and talked to the cashier a bit. Nice enough guy, he gave me a box for my haul. It looked like I was gearing up for a decent sized party, when it was really just six of my friends sitting around, killing a saturday afternoon.
A twelver of bud light bottles, a pack of camel lights, a pack of camel filters, a pack of marlboro lights, two packs of winston lights, and a case of Pabst Blue Ribbion, in addition to the case they'd already went through, plus beers at the strip club, valium and a big assed perkodan (handed out for use later in the night), marijuana, and of course, the other stuff, and our afternoon was succinctly spent.
We talked about T*'s murder, and Tony backed off his prior statements that he thought it was drug related.
Roomie said we'd see T*'s wife at the show.
I gave Tony a ride home and our conversation was good. I like talking to creative intelligent people. It allows me the opportunity to stop hiding.
Came back to find everyone had went to the bar to meet some people. Got dressed, snagged a shirt from Roomie's closet and went down to the watering hole.
Went there and and everyone was surprisingly mellow. Couldn't tell who the dead man's wife was.
Roomie:"Nice shirt. You wear it well."
me:"Thanks."
Roomie:"You want it? Its yours."
Went to the "Business" show at the Bluebird. Heavy metal. It was okay. I stood next to this cute brunette and her friends out of convienience and flirted. I was more aggressive than usual, rubbing her lower back firmly but gently a few times. Making flip conversation.
Kara:"Can I barrow your lighter?"
me(throwing my arms around her, pulling her close to me, looking lips to eyes with a smile)"What's in it for me?"
We laughed and I lit her ciggarrette. She laughed at everything I said, whether it was funny or not.
At one point, one of her girlfriends slapped her on her ass. She looked surprised, and looking around, turned to me.
Kara:"Oh....I..uh...umm."
me:"What, her slapping you on the ass?"
Kara:"Yeah, I thought it was you."
me:"I guess its all in how you interpret it."
I waited a little while, maybe a song or two, and then gave her a spank on the ass. Nice and firm.
Her cute little behind, that is. The spank was, too, I guess. Not overly firm. Just right.
me(leaning into her ear):"That was me."
Towards the end of the show, I slung my arm around her lower back and rubbed her a bit sensually, thinking it would get her attention. She did not even move in the slightest. Not a flinch or a stir.
So I let it hang for awhile. I invited her back to the bar for a drink, and went to find my friends. She rubbed my chest as we said goodbye. I could've gotten a kiss, but I didn't try. I regret that. Big fan of non-commital, casual tongue kiss.
Went back to the bar, and flirted with several girls. Some good conversation. And this one blonde and I had excellent chemistry. We bantered a bit after the show, and we clicked.
After an interlude, we bantered a bit more. The gist of it was that she was psycho, so I had better watch it. I batted it back with humor, and she slung her arms around me, body to body, lips on the nape of my neck.
She:"We're perfect together."
The rest of the night at the bar, she would periodically come and flirt with me. By then, I had peiced together that she was the former wife of the man who got murdered, who came from the same area of the state I did, whom I believe I took some of his psychological residence in some of my friend's psyches, whom I suspected was haunting me for awhile.
The band came and sat at our table. The lead singer was a bit of an ass, thinking himself the semi-divine hevay metal singer. He looked to be around 40+ years of age. He bitched about the music on the juke box, so I got up, and clicked the switch that skips the song.
People in the bar stopped and looked at me, but only for a second. No one had the balls, and I think a fair number recognized me.
A girl stopped me on the way back to my table, and groped my bicep while she talked to me about, "...not skipping her songs."
me:"Was that your song?"
she:(groping my right shoulder and left bicep)"No."
me:"Your not playing something horrible are you?"
she:"No."
me:"Okay then."
Back at the table, I turned to the lead singer.
me:"Ask, and ye shall receive."
A John Cougar Mellancamp song came on, and everyone, prior girl included asked me to change it.
she:"Yeah, go ahead. Do it again. Don't worry, if anyone gets upset, I'm on your side."
me:(jokingly) "So you've...got my back, then."
So I did it.
She was rather aggressive and not un-attractive, but for some reason, I felt little connection with her, and no real attraction. So I let it go at that.
Another girl came along, Heidi, whom I talked to awhile.
Me:"Hi, I'm Argentum."
heidi:"Hi. I'm Heidi. My hands are cold and clammy, I just washed them, sorry."
me:"No worries. I might even like that."
We shake hands.
me:(throwing my arms around her waist and pulling her close):"Hey! I do like that!"
We laughed and talked some more.
I left early. The scenario was strange, and felt played out. That, and I had way more to drink than I usually do. I didn't feel drunk, though. Must still have my tolerance.
As I went to leave, the blonde girl whom I refuse to name, groped me again, this time finishing by resting her hand on my ass for a little while, gingerly at first, and then just deliberately. Twice. No guilt, nor repression. Just really, really friendly and really flirtatious. I loved it.
I went home and pondered this strange turn of events. Was she attracted to me because of me, or because of whom I reminded her?
Then everyone came home, she included. She walked in the door, and we said hi. Standing there, just looking at her, I motioned for a hug. It felt weird to be separated from her, and strange that I should feel so.
I was wearing a wife beater at that point, having stipped off the swanky shirt, and she groped my exposed and unexposed flesh hungrily with her hands, like I love.
Nestling into me, she kissed my neck, and whispered in my ear about nothing, running her hands over my arms and chest, teasingly, sensually, yet aggressively.
she:"How are you, sweetheart?"
I loved the way she handled me. It aroused me again. She just blatantly explored the work I've done on my physicality. I love it. Turns me on. It was then I felt like she was attracted to me for me.
She, Roomie and I went out on the porch and just talked for awhile. She rubbed lip balm on my lips. I wanted to kiss her, but had a sense of boundaries. That and the whole "dead man's wife" thing likely kept me in check.
Roomie went inside, and we cuddled as I described earlier.
Roomie then came out and the conversation gradually shifted elsewhere. To her moving from town in a month, to the names she wants to name her children when she has them. That...and her new married name.
Fuck me. She's not only the dead man's wife, but remarried since then.
I'd feel worse if someone had pointed this out earlier. Fact is, I'm sure I'd been told months ago, but never put two and two together.
I felt a little sheepish. But not entirely bad. She tapped into a part of me, that some girls just never figure out.
The night winded down, and she drove home after groping my quadriceps as she tried to put her shoes back on her feet, leaning on my legs for support as I sat on the steps. Kind of like some girls do before they go down on you. The thought did cross my mind, but, to my credit, I did and said nothing bad after I found out she was married, and something of a newlywed at that.
She drove home, and Roomie and I shut the house down, taking some care of our friends who had passed out.
I went downstairs after my evening hygeine, and stripped naked, as I like to sleep.
Rolled over a few times, and realized I couldn't sleep. Too many thoughts rattling around. I tried to express a wish to T* that I meant no disrespect, that I, too, just wanted her to be happy.
Too much booze and drugs, there was no spiritual connection. Maybe he was at peace finally.
And maybe I'm just a crazy fucker, working on suspicions and theories of an afterlife, when all available physical evidence is completly inconclusive, caring about respect for the fallen.
Then I remembered the perkodan and valium that had been doled out earlier in the afternoon. I took those, and in quick order, my head hit the pillow, and I was asleep.
It felt good to let off some steam.
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