This story involves lesbian sex - if that doesn't turn you on, you're in the wrong place. This is a work of fiction, and while it bears a resemblance to people and events in my life, it did not actually happen this way. As with all things, this is a work in progress, and I welcome all comments at chriseveron@yahoo.com.
I'll tell you, there is nothing between Chicago and Austin worth looking at. A 24 hour drive and nothing to see. Oh, the Ozarks in Missouri are nice enough, if you go that way, but I guarantee you'll be too road-blind and paranoid about the crazy truckers careening downhill to enjoy it.
I got to Austin at 4:30 in the afternoon, after two days of driving. It was a Saturday, and my hotel reservation wasn't until Sunday, so I found a cheap motel to crash in for the night. The clerk mistook me for a boy - short haircut, big Army jacket, happens all the time - and was so embarrassed about it that he gave me a discount. Not too bad, so far.
My original goal was to spend a few weeks in the city and see if it was worth moving there. I had come down a night early because I found out a popular local musician had a gig that night, and I wanted to catch her. So I parked my stuff at the motel, took a shower, and put on some clean clothes. I wore my jacket automatically, but I almost didn't need to - it was snowing in Chicago, but Austin was already feeling the beginning of spring. I got the location of the club I was going to from the phone book, and, upon looking at a map, realized it was close enough to walk. I was thrilled - I'd had enough driving for a while.
It wasn't exactly the sleazy part of town, but it was definitely the bar-and-tattoo shop district. I loved it. Coming from endless miles of manicured Chicago suburbia, complete with hordes of uptight SUV-driving soccer moms and their brainless, materialistic children, I was more than ready for a little bit of sleaze. I spent an hour or so walking around, getting my bearings, and trying not to gape like a tourist at the people who appeared to be wearing cowboy hats and boots in dead earnest. By 6:30 or so, I figured I may as well establish myself at the bar. I like to get a good seat early on and watch the people come in.
It was a reasonably nice bar, with cute waitresses. I grabbed a seat by the sound board and settled in. The first act started at 7:30 - a little bit country for my taste, but not bad. Then a skinny kid with bulging eyes, wearing what appeared to be his pajamas, got up on stage for half an hour or so. I tried to ignore his appearance - his music was actually pretty good.
All this time the bar was filling up, mostly with women. There were plenty of shavehead babydykes, but I was more interested in the sizable late 20s/ early 30s set. Babydykes are a dime a dozen - give me a more settled woman every time. I spotted a few real cuties, too. One, tall with short reddish brown hair, caught my eye early and held it. She was sitting with a large group of people, though, so I just kept an eye on her. I've never been comfortable with the bold pickup line, and a group of people usually ruined my chances for something more subtle.
Finally the headlining act started. It was a few members of the local rock group Foxy Finish, doing a more mellow acoustic show. The vocalist had caught my attention back in Chicago. I had never seen her, except in moodily lit liner-notes pictures, but her voice more than made up for that. She had power and range in spades, and a knack for a catchy turn of phrase that made her songs stick in my head. I was kind of skeptical of the imminent superstardom her rabid pack of internet fans kept promising, but I figured she was worth seeing while I was in town.
Oh, boy, was she.
The pictures didn't do her justice. She was little - maybe 5'2", a hundred pounds soaking wet - but redheaded and fiery. She wasn't classically beautiful, but she was definitely cute, and she had huge blue eyes that she knew how to use - it seemed like she was looking into my very soul every time she glanced over to my section of the bar, and from the rapt expressions around me, everyone else felt the same way. Her music was a thousand times better live - her feisty presence set the hook and reeled us all in. I promptly forgot about every other woman there.
Halfway through the set, I managed to tear my eyes away long enough to start plotting a way to meet this woman. I got up and examined the layout, trying to pick a spot to stand where I could do something suave. I was feeling a bit discouraged when a cute but obviously straight girl wandered over to chat.
"Hi! I'm Becky. You new here? You look a bit lost."
Well, straight girls aren't my thing, but the cute-little-boy look had gotten me some favors done in the past.
"Yeah, actually. I'm Chris. I just drove in from Chicago. This chick is really something, isn't she?"
"Oh, Joan? Yeah. She really is amazing. She's super-sweet, too - my husband's the sound guy here, and she's one of his favorite artists to work for."
"Really?" I said. "That's nice to hear. Too many musicians think they can get away with being assholes just cause they can carry a tune."
She laughed. "That's so true! I could tell you some stories... So you haven't met Joan yet?"
Score! "No, actually. This is the first time I've seen her."
"Oh, well, then, I'll introduce you after the show. She'd love to meet you, having come so far and all"
Well, there you have it, I thought. Neat as could be. I chatted with Becky a while longer, and thoroughly enjoyed the show. After the set, Joan was of course mobbed by her fans, and she gave out hugs and signed things for everyone as she edged towards the back room.
"She's going to the office to get paid," Becky said. "We'll catch her there."
I wasn't about to argue. We followed the pack to the "Employees Only" door and slipped inside. Joan had gone into yet another room, and Becky motioned for me to stay where I was, while she headed through a curtain.
I stood there for five minutes or so, picking cat hair off my t-shirt and cursing myself for not wearing something more seductive. I was wearing a decent pair of jeans and boots, at least, but my Mickey Mouse t-shirt and olive drab Army jacket were deliberately anonymous travel gear. I'd avoided a few scrapes on the road by looking like a harmless and far from wealthy teenage boy. It took a little bit of doing - my breasts were hard to hide, really - but the jacket and a bit of a slouch mostly covered it.
Finally, Joan came out. Her eyes lit up as she saw me - either she really was happy to meet me, or she was the best faker I'd evr met.
"Chris, right? All the way from Chicago? That's so cool!" She gave me a quick look up and down, then pulled my jacket open a little wider. "Nice shirt."
Damn, she was smooth.
"Thanks... yeah. It's really nice to meet you. You sounded great out there." I couldn't think of anything wittier to say. She didn't seem to mind.
"Thanks! Glad you liked it. So, you going to be here for a while?"
"Couple of weeks, or until my money runs out. I'm thinking of moving down."
"Awesome!" That grin of hers was captivating. "I've gotta talk to some people for a minute. Can you stick around?"
Could I? Why yes, in fact, I believed I could.
It was more than a minute - it was actually about half an hour. She had a lot of friends there, apparently. I didn't mind - it gave me the chance to watch her close up. She was wearing a pair of leather pants that fit her admirably - not very many people can actually look good in leather pants. For all her slenderness, her ass was round and her thighs solid - I hate girls with thighs no bigger around than my biceps. Nothing to hold on to, you know? And up close, the tight t-shirt she wore revealed the fact that her nipples were pierced. Gave me plenty to think about during that half hour.
She finally finished and caught my arm.
"Let's go somewhere else," she said, rolling her eyes at the group of people she'd been talking to, "and have a drink."
"Sure," I said. "Lead on."
I followed her out into the night. We chatted as we walked about work and beer, nothing serious. I was wondering a bit by this point. So far she hadn't been the slightest bit flirtatious - only friendly. I was very carefully matching her tone. Even if we just hung out for an hour, it was better than spending the night back in my motel room rubbing off to Skinemax, or sitting alone in a bar fending off burly would-be suitors. And damn, the girl was hot.
We ended up at a quiet, dark bar with nice wood paneling and lovely deep booths. The conversation remained perfectly mundane despite the several shots of whiskey she insisted on buying me. I don't think she drank more than one all night. I was sort of surprised - most people I'd met would have definite intentions when taking a brand new acquaintance out and buying all the drinks, but she just kept chatting calmly, and looked amused. Finally the waitress came around for last call. We kept talking as Joan settled the tab.
"Man, I'm wiped. All that driving kicked my ass. At least I don't have to get up early." I frowned thoughtfully. "Do you? I mean, what do you do, besides play music?"
She rolled her eyes. "Practice playing music, of course. And argue with my manager. And the record label. Try to get my bandmates to learn some new songs. Try," she said with another eye-roll, "to get my drummer to play something at a different tempo."
I laughed.
"That's why gigs like tonight are so much fun. I get to play some stuff that just isn't Foxy Finish music. And," her blue eyes sparkled with the same amusement I'd been seeing all night, "meet some new people."
The waitress came back with Joan's card, and we headed out the door.
"Well," I said once we were outside, "I'm honored to be one of those new people. I expect you'll be seeing more of me soon."
The amusement turned positively devilish. "I'd like to see more of you. Very soon."
I barely managed to avoid gaping at her. Nothing all night, and then this? I shrugged mentally, then went with it.
"My motel is just up the street, if you like," I said with a slow grin.
"Good," she replied. "My roommate is single right now, and doesn't deserve the torture. Besides, she's a horrible gossip." She thought a moment, then started to lead me back to the club where she'd played. "I don't want to leave my bike down here - you can ride on back. It's only a few blocks, anyway."
That sounded just fine to me. She moved a pace or so further away from me as we approached the club - the behavior, I thought, of someone long accustomed to avoiding prying eyes. She was riding a very nice BMW, it turned out. She got it started and put her helmet on, then motioned me on.
"Hold on tight!" she said. I climbed on behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. I could smell her skin, and my lips were only inches from her neck. I was fighting temptation as she cruised forwards, but I didn't want to distract her, and I had enough to do just trying to keep my balance with all the whisky in me. So I just clung and breathed until we had pulled to a stop outside my room.
I climbed off and led her to the room. I didn't trust myself to speak. Truth to tell, I hadn't done this very often, and never with someone who was so sure of herself. She tossed her helmet on the chair, turned, and grabbed me by the shoulders, pulling me close. Her eyes searched mine. Some of my desire must have showed on my face. She laughed.
"Why are you being so careful? I'm not going to bite!"
My arms came up around her.
"Let's find out about that."
I pulled her in close for a kiss, and felt her grin even as our lips met. Then she took charge, pushing me back against the door, pushing my jacket off my shoulders. I gladly returned the favor. She showed considerable skill getting my bra unhooked, and I gasped as her hands found my breasts. She moved her mouth down my throat, along my collarbone. I could barely bring myself to interrupt her long enough to pull her shirt over her head. It was well worth it, though - her skin was like silk. I ran my hands down her back, then up along her flat belly to her chest. Her breasts were pert and perfect, with captive-ball rings in each nipple.
She pulled my shirt up to my neck and ducked under it, her tongue tracing the underside of my breasts, then locking on one nipple. I went ahead and pulled the shirt the rest of the way off. My hands returned to her back, and I bent my head to enjoy the spicy fragrance of her hair. She straightened up and we kissed again, bodies warm against one another. Then she grabbed my belt and pulled me towards the bed. I resisted just long enough to lock the door, then followed. She laughed again.
"So careful," she said.
I weighed half again what she did, but she pushed me down on the bed and climbed on top of me with no trouble at all. She kissed me again, then slowly - oh, so slowly - slid down me, licking as she went. Her hands kneaded my breasts and rolled my nipples, then slipped down to my belt, unbuckling, unbuttoning, unzipping. She paused for a full minute at my belly button, rolling her tongue around it, then dipping in and licking, licking. An age later she descended again. Just when she reached the edge, she looked up at me. Damn those mischievious eyes!
"Gotta take your boots off. A Yankee like you can't be having sex with her boots on. Far too redneck." And she slid off the bed to untie my boots. I started to sit up to help her, and she pointed an imperious finger at me. I lay back down reluctantly. I was dripping, aching, with my jeans around my hips, and this incredible woman was patiently working out a knot in my left bootlace!
Finally she got them both off. Then she pulled my jeans off. Then she pulled my socks off. Then she grabbed my right ankle and ran a fingernail up the sole of my foot. I kicked wildly, yelping. I got my foot free and slid down the bed to wrap both legs around her waist. I pulled her forwards, hard, and she landed facedown in my belly. Satisfied, I slid back up the bed. That put her about where I wanted her. She looked up at me and growled, then dove in.
It had been a damned long time, and I nearly lost it right there. She knew what she was doing, though, and backed off my clit long enough for me to get a grip. Fortunately, she had a sense of mercy, and didn't spend too much time teasing me. She licked me up and down, until each contact with my clit nearly sent me over the edge. Then she slid a couple of fingers inside me, hard. That was all it took. I met each thrust as hard as I could, and she rode my bucking hips like a true cowgirl, lips firmly locked around my clit, tongue dancing.
When my body stopped shaking, she pulled herself back up on top of me. I wrapped my arms around her and felt her heart beat in time with mine. I kissed her neck, her shoulders. I kissed her face, the line of her jaw. I caught her lips with my own and kissed her for a year, my hands wrapped in her soft red hair. When she pulled back to look at me, I met her incredibly blue eyes and smiled slightly.
"Now, my dear, it's my turn."
She looked only pleased, not amused, as I rolled her over. I was grateful for that. I ran my hands down her torso again as I moved my face to her breasts. I took each nipple into my mouth and ran my tongue along it, pressing the flesh against the steel ring inside. Her back arched a little, and her breathing deepened. My hand strayed to her waist, and I unhooked the rather large belt buckle she was wearing and unzipped her pants. The feel of the leather distracted me and I spent a while rubbing her round ass. I do like leather pants. After a while I was rubbing the crotch seam of the pants and her hips were moving in slow circles. I left her breasts for the moment and pushed her pants down to her ankles. I wasn't about to bother with her boots.
I lay back down beside her and kissed her some more. My hand wandered back to her thighs, then up to her belly, then down, just a bit. She wasn't nearly as wet as I'd hoped, but no matter. We did have all night. I let two fingers move in slow circles, spreading the juices, waking up her clit. I moved my kisses down to her neck, kissing slowly, enjoying the taste of her skin. I felt her hips move under my hand, gauged their speed, their urgency. I brought her nearly to the edge once, then again, then again, til she knotted a hand in my short hair. The next time she was close, I let my fingers slide inside her and replaced them on her clit with my thumb. Her back arched and she went rigid; she dug her fingers into my shoulders. I held the pressure until she started to relax a little, then started to move my fingers back and forth, still pressed up hard against her g-spot. Her hips moved to meet me. She was panting, almost grunting. Her eyes were closed. Finally she shuddered and was still. I moved my thumb off her clit but left my fingers inside her.
Her eyes fluttered open.
"Sweet!"
She pulled me in for a kiss. I kissed her until I could feel the heat start to rise in her again, felt her hips move ever so slightly against my hand. I moved back down to her breasts until her breathing deepened, just a bit. I ducked under her legs - still joined at the ankle by her pants - and came up between them.
"Why did you wait so long?" she asked, sounding remarkably unaffected by her obvious arousal. I looked up at her sharply, but she just looked frankly curious. I grinned slowly.
"If I tire you out a bit first, I can spend more time here."
"Oh." She let her head drop back to the pillow. "Good."
She was like honey under my tongue. I teased her even more unmercifully than the last time, trying to make it last. I slid my fingers in and out of her, using only the lightest pressure. Finally, I couldn't wait any longer.
She screamed, for that one. Screamed and grabbed my hair and tossed like she was trying to throw me off. Damn near broke my wrist, too. I hung on and licked until she begged me to stop. When I finally tore myself away to lay my head on her chest, the days I'd just spent driving hit me head-on. We were both almost too worn out to move.
"Chris," she said after a few minutes.
"Yeah, sweetheart?" I said.
"Will you do me a huge favor?"
"Mmm hmm."
"Will you take my motherfucking pants off?"
I cracked up. She glared at me a minute, then started giggling. We rolled around on the bed, tears streaming from our eyes, until I finally managed to disentangle myself enough to unzip her boots and pull off her now very sweaty leather pants.
She stretched her legs out with a sigh of relief. Then she wrapped them around me and rolled herself on top of me.
"You up for one more?" she asked. I groaned.
"Babe, I've been driving for two days. You can do anything you want to me, but I can't promise I'll be awake at the end of it."
She collapsed on my chest.
"Good."
We lay like that for a while, and I was almost asleep when she spoke again.
"You're moving here, you know."
I smiled.
"Yeah, I guess I am."