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Random Wednsday before/after
she: "Look. I spilled margarita all over my pants. I'm all wet and sticky."
me(mockingly):"Oh, no. What are you going to do?"
she:"Go stand under the dryer."
me:"And waste it all?"
she:"Yeah, I should suck it out."
me(deadpan):"I'll do it."
Things had been going pretty well last night, despite the freakish snowstorm that swirled out of the mountains. We went to a local sports bar that we discovered where many girls go, for whatever reason, to watch the hockey playoffs. I believe a certain percentage were L.A. transplants, not that I hold that against them.
The bar, Choppers, was packed. It was much like a large, boisterous party. This gorgeous little girl with brown hair, brown eyes, tasty pert little body, vivacious personality walked up and started talking.
She not only talked, but she managed to bully my friends, too. She came up with nicknames for each, except me.
I liked that.
I also like the fact that she repeatedly groped and rubbed me throughout the night. She was a free spirit with a big personality...but I got the lavish attention.
In addition to the standard flirtatious girl fare, she even managed to rub her...well...
...I had difficulty believeing she got away with it....
With an arch of her hips, and some subtle, yet creative movements, like leaning on a bar rail-step with one leg, she managed to brush my quadricep with her...
...I'm fuckin' laughing...
...Mount of Venus. If I had to guess, I'd say her clit, or rather, where it was hidden.
The girl was unreal.
Telling jokes and stories. Making everyone laugh.
she:"You'd better give me a complimentary laugh, or we'll have to go out into the parking lot and fight."
me(looking at the door, then her):"Okay."
She got me to run my fingers through her hair. She got guys to buy her drinks. She was so electric.
she(turning to cj):"Hey! You look like a Backstreet Boy! Do some of the moves!"
CJ:"I don't know any of the moves."
C.J. hasn't been very effective with women since his last long term relationship dumped him in the beginning of November.
Oh well, things will pan out for him eventually. After all, he's going to be a breast oncologist. Either his earning potential or selfless dedication to the preservation and saving of boobies will carry the day for him at some point.
What was interesting to me about the girl, Cyndi, or NeNe as she had us call her later in the night, was when I would touch her.
She was quite aware of my touch, regardless of how much she touched me. Her eyes would get big, and she would get quite still. Responsive, but it occurred to me that she responded as though she hadn't been touched by a guy in a while. Or maybe it was something else.
And later I would figure out what.
It seems that Roomie actually knew people she knew. And as it turns out, he knew her husband, which they managed to peice together later, to her apparent chagrin at being found out.
*sigh*
To my credit, she was out that night sans wedding ring, and not very talkative about stuff like that. Not that I asked, but I do notice wedding rings.
So we called it a night, and I went home to soak in the steaming hot-tub, watching my breath condense in the cold air as the snow drifted lazily down in fat flakes, rueing my loss of innocence in that given situation, fantasizing about what will never be.
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