There was one empty leather-and-brass stool. She walked over to it, conscious of her tits and ass at every careful step. She climbed onto the stool. Her tube skirt slid up two inches. It exposed the paleness of her skin.Many eyes had accompanied her until she sat. Then most of them returned to where they dwelled before. But a few never left her. These were set inside the skulls of three young male Caucasians. They usually followed the instructions of a swelling organ between their thighs.Yes, Kristie knew what a nice girl like her was doing in a place like this. And yes, she'd love a white wine and ice, please. And thank you for all the sweet compliments. And no, she did not smoke. But she giggled.One of the three was a freckled redhead with a great smile and wide shoulders. It was with him that she shared the first dance. And the feel of his promising bulge against her thigh. But before his hand really reached her ass, he was politely tapped on his shoulder. His small, olive skinned. Of course, there was always denial, truth’s prettier, twisted sister. The silence grew until it weighed as heavy on my shoulders as the leather jacket I wore. Despite years of wear, it squeaked as I tucked both arms around her. My hands found her hair, resting there in the deep amber. Winding my fingers into the lengths of hair closest to the nape of her neck, I drew her gaze up to mine slowly. “No one’s watching…” I murmured, a small tingle urging my darker side forward. As quickly as a shadow disappears in light, my gaze swept the windows, seeking the form, light or lack of light that might give a voyeur away. There was nothing. I couldn’t swallow the grin as I gazed down at her upturned face. Cinching my fingers shut, her eyes opened with a sort of… you wouldn’t gaze. If she thought curbing my mischief would continue once there were no watching eyes, she was wrong. With the beautiful curve of her neck washed in the moonlight, I couldn’t resist a taste. Ducking my head down, I.
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