Page 20 of H Is for Hardcore

Karita brought the cosmopolitan and another beer, and I held up a ten.

“On the house,” said Karita. “Dykes with balls get special consideration.”

“Then go buy yourself something lacy, doll face,” I said, holding out the ten.

Karita smiled. “Oh, you mean it, Mr. Cooper?” She set down the tray of drinks on an adjacent table and put both her hands on her tits, pushing them together and bending forward until she could pluck the bill away with her cleavage. She did exactly that, and I didn’t move the bill to make it any easier for her. A couple of women across the bar hooted and applauded as Karita came away with the bill stuck between her breasts at the slight V of her tank top. I guess by then they’d figured out I wasn’t a tourist. Karita bent forward and gave me a kiss on the lips.

“Whore,” said Danielle, putting her hand on my cheek. “Get your own man.” She kissed me, too, her full lips meeting mine and her slender tongue teasing its way into my mouth as Karita made a snide comment—“That’s what I was doing, slut”—and danced away.

Danielle’s lips parted with mine and she smiled.

“You don’t know what a thrill it is to get a man in here,” she cooed. “I mean a real man.” She squirmed some more against my cock.

“I guess you don’t get many guys,” I said gruffly. “I mean, in this kind of a club.”

She giggled, kissed my ear. “Well, you know. The management does sort of discourage it. We never know when a virile guy like yourself might walk in and steal all the femmes away.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh, yes. You know how we are. We’ll come here, all right, but we’re just waiting for the right man to come in, drag us home by the hair, and throw us on the bed. That’s what we all want, isn’t it? Even if we don’t know it.”

“Is that what you want?”

She looked into my eyes, her big brown ones seducing me in a way I’d never been seduced before.

I slipped my hand up Danielle’s dress. Now I could feel the soft skin of her thigh, and I found myself wondering, noticing that with my other hand I couldn’t feel those panty lines that had so turned me on when they showed through her slip. I ran my fingertips over the heart shape of her ass and wondered at their lack.

“I took them off,” she whispered into my ear. “I thought you’d like that. I know how a tough guy like you doesn’t like to waste time undressing a woman.”

Now my head was spinning for real, and I thought I truly might pass out. I tried hard not to blush, but as we sat there and drank our drinks, Danielle’s flirting increased a notch and we traded double entendres and brushed our bodies against each other. I got wetter with every sultry caress she gave the back of my neck, with every time she ran her fingers through my hair, with every kiss she planted on my lips. I had come in here planning to bewitch with my arrogance and braggadocio, but now this femme was seducing me with all the subtlety of Marilyn Monroe on Ecstasy. I can’t say I minded.

“You ever been with a real man?” I asked her in between flirts and kisses, in between letting my hands casually graze her breasts as I held her.

“Oh, I turn them into real men,” she said, kissing my forehead.

“Think you could pull that trick with me?” I asked.

“I won’t need to,” she said. “I can tell that right away.”

I still don’t remember how we made it from the table at the CoCo Club to the stairway leading up to the street. The four or five drinks probably helped, but I would have taken this girl home if I’d been drinking ginger ale.

I helped Danielle on with her long leather coat, feeling a sadness as I watched her button that gorgeous body away from me like a present wrapped before Christmas—as if I were never going to get a chance to unwrap it.

“I don’t live far,” she said.

“Good,” I told her. “My wife is waiting for me at home.”

She giggled and led me up the long staircase into the alley. The truth was that my three roommates were probably waiting up for me and would razz me indefinitely if I came home with a sweet thing like Danielle on my arm.

The second we got out in the alley, though, I found myself seized with a sudden urgency. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching—it was midnight on a Sunday night, and the streets would be empty—then grabbed Danielle and pushed her up against the brick wall behind the Dumpster, kissing her and thrusting my hand under her dress. She really wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“Mr. Cooper, please,” she sighed, squirming against me as I touched her smooth pussy. “Someone might see.”

“That’s the idea,” I growled, slipping one finger inside her as I kissed her, as she moaned and wriggled against the brick wall and rubbed her tits against my chest. I couldn’t believe how wet she was—probably almost as wet as I was.

The alley was open to the street but fairly hard to see from it. I knew more than a few girls who did things in this alley, but I’d never done it myself. I guess I’d never got drunk enough or horny enough. But any guy named Chad Cooper wouldn’t hesitate to take his woman in an alley, right? Well, at least, that was my fantasy.

I slipped my hand out of Danielle’s pussy, brought it to my mouth, and licked it. Then she licked it, too, and we kissed hungrily around my finger and the sharp taste of her pussy. I pushed my sharkskin-clad leg up between Danielle’s legs and shoved it hard into her crotch. She clamped her thighs around my knee and whimpered. We were in an alley filled with Dumpsters and trash, but all I could smell was Chanel No. 5. I dropped to my knees and slipped both my hands up under Danielle’s dress, pulling it almost to her waist, staring hungrily at her meticulously shaved pussy.

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