"Ok, now I'm dying to know - what are you selling in that room?" He's over the second the last customer leaves his booth. He still appears to be in good humour, but there's something else. Concern, I think.
"Is there a problem?"
Curious to know how he interprets all the activity and new clients he had that went from my booth to his.
"Not a problem, but it was the strangest night I've ever had at one of these gigs."
"Oh, do tell?" We seem to ask each other a lot of questions for a hookup.
"Why is it I had sooo many women come from here to my booth? And why on earth did I want to fuck them? Like every one of them! Now, don't get me wrong - I love women. And of course, you know, I love to get laid just as much as the next guy. But every woman? Or, more specifically, every woman from this booth? What's up with that?" His eyebrows raise in a perplexed look as he rubs the back of his neck. Maybe I'll massage that knot out for him. He probably got whiplash tonight.
"Was it so horrible for you?" I think of Laura, who went next door after leaving here to see about a tattoo she wanted for her lost child. I can't suppress a chuckle as I think of her hearing this admission and think ‘Good for you Laura, good for you’. But Don? He just looks so adorable here, all confused and sporting a noticeable lump in his jeans. He is winning a gold star in my GoodBooks right now.
"Not horrible but getting mighty uncomfortable at this point." He can't resist adjusting himself - which in other circumstances may have been a toxic male manoeuvre, but in this case, I sympathize with him. I unleashed a pack of she-beasts on him this evening. "One thing is for sure - I'm sure as shit going to take you up on that offer." He saunters towards me, watching me, gauging my reaction.
“Oh yeah, the tour. You sure you want in on the girl’s club?”
“Pfft. Girl’s. Not a single one of them were ‘girls’.” He looks down at my lips. His voice gets husky. “Girls look at precious little heart tattoos, Tinkerbell and small flowers. Not tonight, though. Tonight, all the women were looking at wolves, swords, and bleeding hearts. One woman is requesting a lightning bolt over a scar she has from a broken arm. One heat inducing idea after another. What were they doing back there in that room of yours?” I can see the heat filling his gaze and seeping into me, right down to my core.
I straighten up and raise my chin so I can level him with my best come hither look and an evil little smirk. He reaches out and touches my hair and God help me if it doesn't give me a thrill. I raise my chin a little more - a quiet act of acquiescence.
"Is there a problem?"
Curious to know how he interprets all the activity and new clients he had that went from my booth to his.
"Not a problem, but it was the strangest night I've ever had at one of these gigs."
"Oh, do tell?" We seem to ask each other a lot of questions for a hookup.
"Why is it I had sooo many women come from here to my booth? And why on earth did I want to fuck them? Like every one of them! Now, don't get me wrong - I love women. And of course, you know, I love to get laid just as much as the next guy. But every woman? Or, more specifically, every woman from this booth? What's up with that?" His eyebrows raise in a perplexed look as he rubs the back of his neck. Maybe I'll massage that knot out for him. He probably got whiplash tonight.
"Was it so horrible for you?" I think of Laura, who went next door after leaving here to see about a tattoo she wanted for her lost child. I can't suppress a chuckle as I think of her hearing this admission and think ‘Good for you Laura, good for you’. But Don? He just looks so adorable here, all confused and sporting a noticeable lump in his jeans. He is winning a gold star in my GoodBooks right now.
"Not horrible but getting mighty uncomfortable at this point." He can't resist adjusting himself - which in other circumstances may have been a toxic male manoeuvre, but in this case, I sympathize with him. I unleashed a pack of she-beasts on him this evening. "One thing is for sure - I'm sure as shit going to take you up on that offer." He saunters towards me, watching me, gauging my reaction.
“Oh yeah, the tour. You sure you want in on the girl’s club?”
“Pfft. Girl’s. Not a single one of them were ‘girls’.” He looks down at my lips. His voice gets husky. “Girls look at precious little heart tattoos, Tinkerbell and small flowers. Not tonight, though. Tonight, all the women were looking at wolves, swords, and bleeding hearts. One woman is requesting a lightning bolt over a scar she has from a broken arm. One heat inducing idea after another. What were they doing back there in that room of yours?” I can see the heat filling his gaze and seeping into me, right down to my core.
I straighten up and raise my chin so I can level him with my best come hither look and an evil little smirk. He reaches out and touches my hair and God help me if it doesn't give me a thrill. I raise my chin a little more - a quiet act of acquiescence.