7 comments/ 82857 views/ 14 favorites A Chance Meeting with a Short Skirt By: sylviarockon The bottle of wine Jack had just bought for dinner was hanging almost unnoticed from his hand. He stood outside the wine store and raked a hand through his curly dark hair watching the retreating back of a girl who was wearing a thigh-length black coat with short stiletto boots. Long legs disappeared beneath the hem of a very short skirt. The dark blonde ponytail flickered and he could just make out her profile as she turned the corner without looking back at him. It had been a strange, random moment out of his day. When he entered the wine store there had been no one else inside, which was unusual for a Friday night in such a busy area of the city. He had been studying the racks of wine, trying to find a reasonably priced red he could take to dinner. When he looked up she, the black- jacket-wearer, was staring at him over the top of the wine racks. With smooth olive skin, full pink lips, and doe-brown eyes, she had caught his eye for more time than was comfortable. He looked away embarrassed, but when he felt her continued stare he was forced to look back at her. There was a smile in her eyes and a small dimple on one cheek. He smiled back. "Hi," she said, and he detected an accent. "I need you to do me a favor." He stared at her askance wondering what she wanted as she skirted the wine racks towards him. Casting a quick glance a little fearfully behind her she seemed to be making sure no one was watching them. When she rounded the rack he noticed her body and her long slim legs for the first time and he hoped he could imagine what kind of favor she wanted. She pushed back a stray strand of blonde hair that had escaped from a rough ponytail and made conspiratorial eye contact again. "I know this is a bit weird, but back home I can legally buy alcohol, and here, well I don't have an ID and I'm not 21 yet," she rushed as if he was going to stop her. "I totally understand if you don't want to, but it's just that I'm supposed to go to a dinner party and I want to bring wine. Would you mind?" While she was hurriedly explaining her predicament she had brandished a ten-dollar bill at him. "Why do you think I'm old enough to buy wine?" He asked mock indignantly. She smiled, "You are in a wine store for one and I'd say you were 25." "Close. 27." He smiled again and knew that he would do it after he watched her squirm a bit. Maybe he could draw this out into something more interesting. "Do you often accost strangers and ask them to do illegal things for you?" he asked her jokingly. "Yes. All the time." She replied deadpan. He laughed, delighted. "Well, at least you have to tell me your name." "I suppose that's fair enough. If I tell you my name, will you buy me the wine?" "A name for a potentially fine-inducing act? Doesn't seem to have quite the equivalence does it?" He was angling for her number and she knew it. When she smiled he knew she liked him and he felt an excited rush of anticipation. "You," she pointed a long finger at him, "are quite the haggler aren't you?" He held up one finely boned hand, "born and raised," he said. "Myra." She gave her hand and he took it, happy to have an excuse to touch her. Her fingers were long and thin, her hand was warm and fit in his nicely. "We shall see about the rest, after the purchase," she said. He grabbed two bottles of Bordeaux he wanted and wandered over to pay. The cashier looked blithely unaware of the illicit deal his customers had struck as he bagged the wine bottles separately. Myra brazenly grabbed one of the bottles along with a sharpie that was lying on the counter. Scribbling on the brown paper bag, she then handed it to him and grabbed the other one. They both turned to leave but she glanced at him, another small, mischievous smile on her face. "You - are a darling!" She touched his arm and he felt a shock of electricity. There was a charged silence between them. She hesitated a moment at the door and seemed suddenly unsure of herself. Her age had caught up with her and she looked young and vulnerable. He made eye contact with her but she looked away and mumbled, "Thanks," and headed out the door. Jack glanced down at the scrawled writing on the brown paper bag. It was her name and a street address nearby with the time 10p.m. circled. * * * When Jack arrived for dinner at the small gray house tucked away behind a swarm of tropical plants on a walkway a block from the beach, he had already figured out a way to make an early exit. Knocking on the heavy wooden door, he rehearsed his plans: a headache, a gig, or an early morning work call? His good friend Doug answered the door and let him into the living area of the house. "Hey man, how are you?" His friend asked giving Jack a quick friendly hug. Jack sniffed appreciatively at the aromas from the kitchen. "Good. How's Terri? Cooking something spectacular from the smell of it?" He took the bottle of red wine out of the paper bag and handed it to Doug. He carefully folded the bag and slipped it unnoticed into his jacket pocket. "Not only spectacular smells," he said to Jack as he turned to a small bar area to open the wine. A tall, red haired woman with pale skin and freckles entered the room from the kitchen wearing an apron, she smiled when she saw Jack and gave him a hug. "Good to see you Terri," Jack smiled back at his friend's wife. He'd known Doug and Terri since high school. They were the only couple that had lasted the distance. Just then a girl's voice drifted out from the kitchen. "Shall I turn the burner down on the sauce, Terri?" It was a familiar accent and Jack felt a strange sense of the familiar. He was about to shrug it off when the blonde girl from the wine store, with long thin legs and the short skirt, appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. Jack stared at her in shock. The expression on her face replicated his. A red glow suffused her face and her mouth fell open. After what seemed a minute of them staring at each other, she recovered suddenly. "Hello." She smiled disjointedly at him. Terri hadn't seemed to notice the awkward moment and said, "Thanks, Myra, I'll get the sauce. This is Jack, I was telling you about him the other day." She winked at Jack as she headed back into the kitchen and called out. "You should close your mouth Jack; the slack-jawed look doesn't suit you." Jack closed his mouth feeling bewildered and wanting to ask the burning question, what are you doing here? But Myra came forward and caught his eye quickly, proffering her hand toward him. "Hi Jack, it's nice to meet you." He shook it awkwardly but noted the warning in her hazel brown eyes. It's too hard to explain, lets not go there, it said. He couldn't think of anything to say to her, the questions he wanted to ask froze on his lips. Myra could sense his confusion and smiled a small smile and said, "I'll go help Terri in the kitchen." Doug had poured him a glass of wine and handed it to him. Noticing Jack's bemused expression, he chuckled. "She's a new friend of Terri's, from a yoga class I think. Terri has plans for her. Nice skirt, huh?" Jack shook his head amazed at the strange coincidence and smiled. "Right – great skirt." Dinner was a mixture of familiarity and tension. Myra, sitting across the table from him, was a constant distraction. He kept glancing over at her amid the conversation, noticing the way she moved her hands as she talked and the smoothness of her cheeks and neck and how the low cut t-shirt hugged the shape of her small round breasts. He felt agitated and kept up a steady stream of anecdotes. Always animated, he was even more so tonight and he was delighted to find that Myra was holding her end of the conversation up, even laughing good-naturedly at his feeble attempts at flirting. He could feel the wine kicking in, making him even headier. "Are you playing tonight?" Terri asked him suddenly. He'd forgotten about his plans for a quick escape and couldn't decide whether he needed the excuse of a gig or not. He thought quickly. "No." Terri smiled at Myra and boasted proudly. "Jack is a musician." "Really?" Mira smiled coyly. "A good one. You should see him play some time," Terri continued. "Maybe I will," Myra said with a grin at Jack. "If you can get into the club," Jack teased forgetting the ruse for a moment. "What makes you think she couldn't get into the club?" Terri asked lightly. Jack shrugged, recovering quickly, "What are you? 19?" "Twenty, almost 21," Myra smirked appearing to enjoy the game. "Really?" Terri said to Myra, surprised. "I thought you were older!" Myra shrugged and cast a quick sideways glance at Jack. Another bottle of wine later, they somehow found themselves departing at the same time. Jack knew it was the result of Terri's machinations but he didn't mind at all, as he felt the warmth of Myra's arm graze his. They walked together slowly down the lane. It was a warm night despite being late September. The low, overhanging trees felt almost tropical and he was tempted to walk toward the beach. But instead they walked up the ally in the opposite direction. "Quite a coincidence, huh?" Myra said as they walked together comfortably. "Spooky." Jack said. "So, you still want to go to this party?" Myra asked him. "What party?" Jack asked. "The one that I scribbled on your wine bottle." "Oh this one?" Jack grinned and produced the folded up paper bag from his jacket. "Yes. That one." Myra replied mockingly. "Would you have come if I hadn't happened to be at Doug and Terri's?" Jack hesitated as they crossed the busy road at the end of the ally. They jay- walked to the other side and since neither had commented on which way they were going, he kept on walking down a narrow ally-walkway on the other side of the road. Myra didn't protest; she seemed content to walk with him. "A strange girl gives me a random address for a party to meet her at, a party where I know no one except her? What would you do if you were me?" he asked her teasingly. She smiled at him. "Well, of course I would go. But that's because I'm twenty and adventurous." "I never thought someone would imply I was old and unadventurous at 27," he replied dryly. She chuckled but didn't reply. They walked together in silence for a while. The narrow walkway winding between quaint old houses was hedged with large tropical trees and flowering bushes that draped themselves towards each other, sometimes making Jack and Myra duck or change directions suddenly to avoid entanglement. The silence lengthened and Jack could feel the tension mounting between them. He knew he should ask her where she lived. He really just wanted to ask her to come to his place. He swallowed and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. When he looked back an unruly bush had taken over half the pathway immediately in front of him and he swerved to miss it knocking into Myra. He grabbed her arm and they stumbled sideways. She laughed as they staggered to remain upright. When they stopped Jack had an arm around her waist and was holding her upper arm. They were closer and he could smell soap and shampoo, it was fresh and clean. He breathed in deeply and caught her eye. She had moved imperceptibly closer, and tilted her face slightly up to his. The light caught her eyes and he couldn't stop looking at her lips. His hand on her waist moved slightly, caressing her hip and she closed her eyes and sighed softly. Then her hand moved and he felt her fingers in his hair at his neck, she was pressing him forward and he could feel the skin of his neck grow hot. He leaned in and kissed her because he could tell it was what she wanted. Tentatively, he touched her lips with his tongue. She opened her mouth slightly and there was a surge of pleasure as their tongues touched briefly. The kiss lengthened until she pulled away and smiled up at him, her eyes narrow and pleased. "Well. You are adventurous after all," she breathed lightly. "Uh huh. You want to test how adventurous?" He smiled widely and her eyes were suddenly serious. "You have a beautiful smile," she said and traced a finger gently along his lower lip. "You - are beautiful," he said seriously and kissed her again. This time he could feel the breath go out of him when her body moved even closer to his. His hand slipped down her back till he found his way under the jacket, under the short skirt and touched the firm, round contours of her butt, pulling her even closer. Both her arms had wound around his neck. If he let himself he could put her down on the pavement right there and fuck her. Instead he pulled away and grinning said, "I live a few blocks away." She smiled at him and wrinkled her nose. "You don't mess around do you?" He shook his head. "Is it a problem?" She stared at him intently for a moment, making up her mind. He hoped she would make it up fast. He thought he could count on her to make it up the right way. She took his hand, "Let's go," her voice was soft, sultry and he felt his hard on grow harder. The night had folded in on itself, getting closer and warmer during the few blocks they walked back to his ramshackle little house. The house was dark, which meant his roommates were both out, another weird stroke of luck having the house all to them selves. Myra waited patiently behind him as he unlocked the deadbolt on the front door. He could feel her presence behind him and his skin tingled with excitement. He opened the door wide and held it open, letting her pass by him, barely resisting touching her and kissing her as she passed. He flipped a switch in the living room and watched her as she stood in the center of the room surveying the clutter. "You live here with other musicians right?" She said without looking back at him. An old piano was pushed up against one wall next to a beaten up old sofa. On the other wall was a bank of speakers and a stereo system sitting on the floor surrounded in piles of vinyl records. There was an upright bass lurking in another corner and several brass horns and flutes were hanging on the walls. An electric bass was leaning up against an amp next to the piano. Dishes were piled up in the sink in the dim recesses of the kitchen facing into the living room. "How'd you guess?" Jack said with a smile in his voice. She stuck her tongue out at him teasingly. He grinned and she smiled back, looking young and vulnerable again, like she had in the wine store earlier. He observed the fleeting emotional expressions on her face. Some of her bravado had slipped, he could tell she was nervous, but she drew it back around her as she turned away and set up a pretense of inspecting the room to hide her feelings. "I bet you bring girls here all the time don't you?" Myra said flirtatiously. Jack didn't answer at once, letting a small silence speak for itself. "Not as often as I would like," he chuckled softly, playfully. She flashed him a quick glance, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly into an almost-smile. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked, wanting to relax her. "No. Do you?" she said as she decided to stop running her fingers over the dusty instruments and instead flopped down on the old sofa. He shrugged and took off his jacket, throwing it on a seat. He watched her from the darkness of the kitchen as he pretended to scan his fridge for something to drink. She was staring straight ahead twirling a strand of her ponytail in one finger. Her long, thin legs stretched out in front of her made his mouth go dry. He imagined having them wrapped around his waist. He turned away and grabbed a bottle of beer and opened it. He took a swig and then walked back out into the living room and handed it to her. Myra took it and took a long gulp. He sat down next to her on the beat up old sofa. "So you've been here for six months?" He asked her as she handed him back the beer. Myra nodded, "Six months." "Do you want to go back yet?" "No. Not yet. I like it here. It's crazy as shit. Unusual things keep happening to me." "Really? Like this?" He smiled and indicated himself and her in his house. She almost blushed, but looked away instead. Her shyness was cute, Jack decided, it kept catching her unawares. "No. Not like this. I don't make a habit of hooking up with strange musicians." "So am I strange?" He teased and handed her the beer again. "Probably," she said, "but I meant strangers. I don't usually follow strangers home to their dark houses." Her sassiness was back. "So why'd you follow me?" He asked her half wanting to really know the answer. She made eye contact in that fearless way she had in the wine store. He felt disarmed for a moment but held her gaze. "Because I wanted to kiss you some more." "Just kiss?" She grinned widely. "Probably not." "Good," he said firmly and took the beer back from her and put it on the floor. When Jack looked back at her she was smiling at him, an unmistakable look in her eyes. He moved closer and leaned in for another kiss. She tilted her head toward him and they kissed softly at first, then he coaxed her mouth open and they kissed deeply, hotly, feeling an intense, longing passion building between them. One of his hands was on her leg, moving slowly upwards, caressing her thigh just beneath her short skirt. Her body turned towards him, invitingly, as they continued to kiss and her legs opened slightly. Reading her body language he pulled away from her lips for a moment. Myra's soft pink lips were apart, her breathing was shallow and her eyes flickered opened in surprise. He held eye contact with her as if wanting to see the resistance she might have as he moved his hand under her skirt and touched the smooth skin of her inner thighs, lightly brushing against silky underwear. Her eyes held his intently without any look of disagreement as he reached under her panties and felt only smooth skin where there was usually some amount of springy hair. His fingers slipped down between the soft lips of her pussy, completely free of hair. He caught his breath sharply in surprise and Myra smiled at him, knowing the effect. "Nice." He breathed into her ear. Sliding a finger between the folds, he pressed gently against the sensitive flesh of her clit. Myra's eyes fluttered closed in obvious delight at his touch. His finger slipped down gently into the delicious wetness in the center of her pussy and he caught her lips again in a hungry kiss. She sighed and squirmed with pleasure and kissed him back hard. One of her free hands had strayed down to his belt and nimbly undid it and the button, slowly dragging his zipper down enough that she could reach inside and stroke his erection gently through his underwear. At the same time he slid his finger out of her, coating her clit with her own warm juices, rubbing gently, insistently until her hips involuntarily rocked against his hand. Eagerly her fingers had found their way into his underwear and she clutched his cock in her fist, slowly rubbing the sensitive skin up and down the shaft. He groaned softly into the hair at the nape of her neck, the tingling sensations of her touch rocketing through his body. Suddenly Jack heard a scrabbling sound at the front door, invading the hot intensity of the room. Myra tensed and froze. They both listened for a moment and heard the unmistakable sound of keys in the door. "Fuck." He swore as they swiftly disengaged, and then the door was open and his roommate Keith was standing there. Jack was zipping up his pants and Myra was pulling down her skirt, looking acutely embarrassed. Keith raised an eyebrow at him with a smirking, knowing look. "Hey Jack, don't let me interrupt…" Keith teased gently. His eyes shifted to Myra, appraising the long legs disappearing beneath the now, too-short skirt hitched up barely covering her. Jack realized Keith was waiting to be introduced to Myra who could not look at him. A Chance Meeting with a Short Skirt "Hi Keith," Jack grinned ruefully and stood up. "This is Myra." "Hello Myra." Keith smiled at her. "Nice to meet you." Keith was grinning at her, a wide, toothy grin. Myra smiled up at him, masking her discomfort admirably. "Hello Keith, nice to meet you too." "Well, I was just heading to bed…" Keith made a belated beeline to his bedroom. Myra was perched on the edge of the sofa. Jack touched her knee and smiled at her reassuringly. 'Hey, I'm sorry about that, I thought he would be out for the night." She shrugged and smiled at him. "It's okay." She shifted slightly. "You know, I should go…" He frowned disappointed. "No. You don't have to go." She stuck her lower lip out slightly and he could tell she was determined. "Yeah, I better." He was cursing Keith in his mind when she stood up to leave. Her ponytail was askew, and she pulled it down and he watched a long tumble of dark blonde hair escape around her shoulders. He imagined it against the naked skin of her back and shoulders and felt a twinge of yearning. "So, that's it? After all this meaningful serendipity tonight?" He pouted, but with a half-smile playing across his dark, pale features. Somehow he knew it wasn't it. She looked at him and for the first time that evening he saw a cloud of doubt and almost fear cross her pretty features. Her soft brown eyes looked painfully sad for a moment. She bit her lip as if thinking, evaluating and looked away from him. Then the façade was back up and the sadness disappeared as if a curtain had been drawn. Without looking at him she said, "I don't know Jack. There are things you don't know about me. Stories I don't want to explain…" His mind raced, what could she possibly have to explain that would frighten her off so easily? "I don't scare easily," he replied. She raised her eyebrows at that and smiled a small sad smile. "At least give me your phone number so we can try this again soon," he asked. She nodded and he got up from the sofa and retrieved a pad and pencil. She took it and he watched her long, elegant fingers as she scrawled the second note of the evening to him. Before handing it back to him, she moved closer and gently caressed his cheek, tracing the outline of his face and eyebrows. Her touch made his stomach lurch and he swallowed hard wanting her so badly to stay. Leaning in for another kiss, it was softer and filled with more yearning than earlier. She pulled away this time and handed him back the pad and pencil and turned quickly, headed for the door. "Don't you want me to walk you home? Or get you a cab?" He asked, concerned. On the doorstep with one hand still holding open the door, she turned and grinned at him. "No, I'm a big girl, I don't live far. I need to walk in the fresh air." She laughed and winked at him as she left. After the door banged shut behind her, he looked down at the pad in his hand. Another note. This time she had written in her bold, scrawled handwriting, "Meet me after work next Friday, 12am" and there was an address downtown. There was no phone number and no name of her work place. * * * The address turned out to be a bar, which he had guessed given the time she finished work. Jack had never been there before and if he didn't have the address, he doubted he would ever have found it. A large metal door was only identifiable as the place because the street number was stenciled above it. He had arrived a little early, thinking he could get a drink and watch her work. There were no lines and only one security person standing by the front door, a burly guy dressed in an immaculate black outfit. He gave Jack the once over and checked his ID before opening the door for him. The moment the door opened the pulsating bass sound of techno music assaulted him. Immediately inside was a narrow corridor, which blocked the view of the club and another man dressed in an expensive gray suit stood behind a desk. He barely looked at Jack, just asking him dully for the fifteen-dollar cover. Irritated Jack handed over the money and proceeded into the club. The corridor ended abruptly, opening up into a large, cavernous space. Industrial grade lighting high up against whitewashed brick cast a network of silvery light and shadows. Private lounge areas hugged the dim recesses around the periphery of the club. Low black sofas hemmed three round stages a foot off the floor, surrounded in low chrome railings and lit from below in a dim white neon glow. These caught his immediate attention since in the middle of each stage was a girl, each entwined in various stages of undress around a pole, and in one case around another girl. Each stage area was surrounded by at least five or ten people, most were men but some were couples, watching the strippers dance with varying degrees of interaction, enthusiasm, and cash offerings. The clientele looked like any other group of well-dressed club goers but the atmosphere was understated for a strip club, the brash lewdness replaced by a pulsing eroticism. Jack's attention remained unavoidably riveted on two beautiful girls on the stage nearest him, slow dancing against each other. A longhaired fiery red head with enormous breasts was wrapped around a slim leggy, girl with a short, pageboy style white-blonde wig, wearing some kind of silver harness. As he watched, the red head held the blonde around the waist, their hips pressed together, and the blonde slithered backwards, arching her back, baring round, teardrop breasts and looking upside down at a group of businessmen who were grinning and proffering handfuls of ten-dollar bills, she took a bill between her teeth and the red-head smoothly pulled her back to standing. Jack swallowed hard and tore his gaze away, heading for the bar at the other side of the club. There were no patrons seated on the tall chrome stools as he approached the dimly lit bar. He searched the immediate area for Myra but couldn't see her anywhere. He ordered a gimlet and again searched the club in the dim light for Myra. As the bartender placed his drink in front of him a short girl with long dark hair approached carrying a tray of empty glasses. The waitress, wearing a miniskirt and sequined backless top unloaded the tray, and rang up some bills at a cashiers stand next to the bar. Jack finished his gimlet too quickly and tried to catch her eye as she turned back to the bar. She glanced up and gave a small smile. Trying not to appear too obvious Jack sidled over to her and when she turned to leave with a full tray of drinks gave her a wide smile, "Can you help me? I'm looking for somebody who works here?" The waitress looked unimpressed and anxious to get her drinks to waiting patrons. "Who?" she asked impatiently. "Myra." Jack realized stupidly he had no idea what her last name was. The waitress shook her head. "Don't know her, maybe she goes by another name? I've got to get these drinks out." Before he could describe Myra, the waitress was gone. He sighed feeling more irritated and turned to try and catch the bartender's eye again, but he was busy unpacking hot glasses at the other end of the bar. Impatient, he decided to wander around. Maybe he would run into her. The club really wasn't that big and he was early. He took several steps down into the center of the room where the stage areas were arranged geometrically with the dark sofas. The light was even darker in the center of the room. Several people turned to glance up at him as he wandered past, but most were transfixed by the slow, well-practiced moves of the long-limbed dancers, exposing parts of the body that those watching were more than willing to pay large amounts of money to see more of. As he wandered past he noticed the buxom redhead was stepping off the stage-platform leading two of the businessmen toward the back of the club where Jack could only surmise were the VIP rooms. The lithe, white-wigged blonde had taken over the stage on her own, undulating slowly, seductively to the mesmerizing dance mix. Jack stared at her in rapt attention, her legs were long and lean and the contours of her narrow hips and thighs were a smooth, unfettered line, narrowing into a flat abdomen, flaring up again into firm round breasts. The silver harness wrapped around her naked body, concealing only a narrow strip of her pubic area, and it caught the strange silvery light, winking at the audience. The short, white-blonde wig distracted the eye with its vividness, but could not distract from the large dark eyes, framed with heavy black eyelashes. In the corners of her eyes, strange white stones were set. The effect was hypnotic and otherworldly. She stared off into the distance as if in a trance. Appreciatively Jack watched her move and then the large somber eyes seemed to flick back into the present and focus on him for a moment. When they did, he noticed something flicker across the girl's face, and even in the strange neon glow, it seemed that her face fell into an expression of recognition and fear. Her rhythmic body movements faltered for a barely perceptible instant and Jack realized it was Myra. The shocked recognition was there in his eyes and he knew she could read it. She tried to pick up the rhythm of her dance again but her alarm at seeing him made her falter again and then stop. Some guy from the other side of the stage called up to her, something Jack couldn't hear. Myra stared around her wildly as if looking for an escape. Jack stood frozen, staring at her bewildered as she turned and hurried off the stage to a few boos and jeers from those lounging watching her. Jack hurried around the sofas after her. He couldn't let her feel bad about his finding her this way. Another girl had hurried past to take her place as Myra slipped through the labyrinth of sofas and tables heading toward the back of the club. He could see the white-blonde wig glowing in the dim light and he caught up to her within a few steps. At the back of the club near the doors to the private rooms he tried to grab her arm to stop her, but she wrenched her arm away before he could get a grip and spun around to face him "Don't touch," Myra hissed at him glancing around fearfully. "You came too early." "Yeah, I guess I did. Surprise!" he didn't care that the tone in his voice was sardonic and hurtful. His eyes roamed over her body and he could see her curl slightly as if to hide. Her eyes narrowed angrily. "Come in here before you get me fired or you get kicked out." Opening one of the VIP rooms she ushered him inside. It was lit with a garish crimson light. The walls of the room were mirrored and surrounded by a plush crimson velvet sofa. In the middle of the room was a mirrored platform. He noticed the white wig on her head glowed a soft pink and her skin was a smooth, olive rose. She turned to him. "You're judging me." "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked perplexed. She looked away at that and could not meet his eyes again. She looked ashamed and closed her eyes. Softly she said, "I thought you wouldn't have to know." "But you invited me to meet you here." "I thought I would be finished." "Yeah, good plan." He looked at her closely. She still wouldn't look directly at him. He lifted a hand and touched her cheek with the back of his fingers and as he touched her he was suddenly aware of her nakedness. But she pulled away from his hand glancing up at the ceiling. Escaping his reach, she turned away and he watched her long legs and firm butt and hips sway sexily as she stepped up onto the platform in the middle of the room. "Sit." She said, some of the sultry façade was back and he sat on the low sofa trying to ignore the burning erection developing in his pants. "No touching, they watch this." She started moving, gently rocking her hips and swaying. Her long arms and fingers twisted above her and she looked down the soft curve of her breast directly at him. She twirled slowly and stuck her butt out towards him bending forward exposing the thin strips of leather covering her shaved pussy and wrapping around the crease between her butt cheeks and splitting to encircle her slim waist. She unwound and turned around arching her back, the smooth tight surface of her stomach glistening in the light. She turned slightly so that her shoulder hid her breasts and looked back at him with a hard, searing look that made his mouth go dry. "Why do you do this?" He asked her enthralled by the long, slim lines of her body and the movements she used to tease and taunt him. Swaying gently on the platform, her long legs were made even longer in the three-inch silver heels she wore. She did not meet his eyes when she replied, "It pays better than waitressing." "So do a lot of jobs…" He said uncompromisingly, while shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, riveted by her body moving in seductive waves in front of him. She laughed, a short ironic laugh. "Not like this. Not enough to pay my way through school." She crouched, her back arched, the harness split and encircling her breasts, light brown nipples pointing perkily upright on firm, young, round breasts. "You look amazing," he said, his throat dry, his voice sounding brittle. She undulated from a crouch back to a standing position, this time holding his gaze. Her expression was serious, matching his. Their desire converged in the intensely charged atmosphere of the small, crimson room. "How much for a lap dance?" He asked huskily, only half-joking. She blinked and twisted away from him and he worried that he had offended her. Then his gaze fell to the smooth, round globes of her ass and he suddenly didn't care. When she turned back, her expression was subdued. "Thirty, and you can't touch." He swallowed in excited anticipation as she stepped elegantly down from the platform and swayed seductively toward him. Standing before him, her body was inches from his face. If he reached with one hand he could touch those cherry nipples winking at him enticingly. Instead, he leaned back on the sofa as she began to move. His head felt light resting against the low back of the crimson sofa. Her thighs separated and she took a wide stance on either side of his legs that were stretched out in front of him. Her crotch was at his eye level and he couldn't decide where to look as she rocked slowly and rhythmically lower and lower, hovering just inches above him, her hands gently caressing her own body, lightly flickering over the curves of her breasts and down across her abdomen. Eyes closed, crimson-pink lips were parted. It was as if she had gone into another world again, the trance-like expression was back. Desperately he resisted the urge to grab her hips and force her down on his lap so he could grind his aching hard-on against her and hopefully into her. When she opened her eyes, she had a sultry, hooded expression on her face, and he could read the intensity of her feelings, feelings that he could tell she was trying to keep in check. "I want to fuck you," Jack whispered. "Tell me you want to fuck me too…" Myra's eyes widened a little, but she didn't reply. She was moving, tantalizingly closer to him, and then she lifted one, long slender leg and with pointed toe placed it gently on the sofa next to his head. She leaned in closer and in a strange, low whisper she said, "I'm a stripper not a prostitute…" "I wasn't thinking of paying you…" Jack stared down the smooth length of her thigh and smiled at her. He caught a barely perceptible smile playing at the corners of her pink mouth as she removed her leg and swirled gracefully so that her back was to him. He had a heavenly view of her butt, thighs, and the smooth slope of her back and shoulders. Shifting into a crouch, Myra gyrated cruelly, mere inches above his lap. His imagination played havoc on his aching erection and his hands lifted almost subconsciously, sweeping lightly around the globes of her butt. When she felt his light touch, Myra froze and stopped dancing, she turned and glared at him and then up into the corner of the room at the cameras. "No touching!" "Be with me tonight," Jack asked softly, in a haze of desire. "Give me thirty dollars and meet me out front in 15 minutes, okay?" Myra told him abruptly without explanation. He could not read her expression. She stood waiting as Jack fished out the bills from his wallet and handed them to her, then she turned and left the room before he had a chance to say anything. He sat for a moment stunned, trying to will his erection back down and calm the torrent of feelings. Fifteen minutes later he was standing outside the club grateful for the cool air on his face, his thoughts whirling. It was difficult to piece together what he really felt about finding Myra was a stripper. The experience with her in the club seemed incongruous with the young, fresh-faced girl he had met in the wine store, but he had been undeniably turned on in the club. She appeared suddenly from a side door, the wig was gone, and she wore tight blue jeans and the same long black coat she had worn when they first met. She still wore the make-up and the stones were in the corner of her eyes. Her hair was down, long and curly and framing her soft features prettily. They made eye contact and then Myra looked away troubled. Scrabbling around in her shoulder bag, she produced thirty dollars and handed it back to him. He looked at the cash in her hand and then at her. "What's that for?" "It's your money. I had to make it look like you were a paying customer and they take 40%," she explained pushing it towards him. He shook his head. "I don't want it back. You keep it." She caught his eye and with a fierce look said, "I won't take it." Suddenly he understood and with a guilty look he quickly took it back from her and shoved it into his pocket. After he did, the tension lightened between them. "Can you give me a ride?" Myra asked him and he nodded. They walked together along the street towards where his car was parked a block or two away. Neither of them talked for a while as if afraid to open up the intense feelings about what had just happened in the club. Jack was finding it hard to reconcile the subdued image of the pretty girl next to him in her street clothes with the flashy glamour of the white-wigged stripper. "So, has this blown it between us?" Myra suddenly spoke up, her voice soft and uncertain next to him. They had reached his car and he paused and looked at her carefully. She was looking at the ground, fiddling nervously with the catch on her shoulder bag. Glancing up at him they made eye contact and he smiled at her and hesitantly took her hand. He couldn't answer, which he knew was a mistake, but he had conflicting feelings and he hoped that the touch would help ease the way instead of words. He caught a brief pained expression on Myra's face as he let her into the passenger side of the car and felt a twinge of regret. They drove through the city back to the Westside in silence. A palpable tension was building in the close quarters of his car, he with images of her dancing for him flashing through his mind, she looking out the window her expression unreadable. As they got close to home, Myra spoke up again. "You didn't answer my question…" "What was that?" "You remember it." He sighed heavily. "I am surprised, but … I don't judge you for it." He pulled up in front of his house. The lights were all out. Myra looked at the house and looked at him. "Do you want to come in?" He made eye contact and hoped she could read the desire in his eyes. She looked uncertain. He leaned forward and held her chin in his fingers, gently urging her forward so that their lips would touch. When they did, there was a bolt of heat and suddenly they were kissing heavily, harshly, her teeth lightly nipped at his lower lip. He could feel her wanting him and it turned him on even more. They parted breathlessly; Jack's head was spinning. A Chance Meeting with a Short Skirt "Yes." Myra breathed simply in answer to his question. They left the car and he rapidly unlocked the front door, ushering her in. As she passed he took her by the shoulders and pressed her back against the doorjamb and kissed her again hard. He held her face between his hands and raked her hair back, leaning against her, pressing his body against hers. "Your room mates?" Myra suddenly giggled and looked around sheepishly. "Right." Jack replied and led her by the hand through the living room to his bedroom. As soon as he closed the door behind them, he flipped on a small lamp, which lit the room in a dim amber glow. Myra stood surveying the room, his bed pushed up against one wall was tall and made; for once he thought gratefully. It was sparsely furnished and the walls glowed a bright white contrasting with the dark wood of his bed head and chest of drawers. When Myra took off her jacket and turned back to him he swallowed, surveying her slim arms in the tight fitting t-shirt she wore and the way her round breasts were pleasingly silhouetted under the thin fabric. His memory flashed an image of her breasts unclothed, as she danced for him in the club and he felt a twinge of passion. Without pausing to think he stepped forward and stripped the t-shirt from her body, releasing the black lacy bra that held her breasts. Compliantly, Myra stood for him and let him hastily undress her. In a second he had stripped the tight blue jeans down over her hips and thighs but they snagged on her short stiletto boots. He didn't stop to remove her shoes and instead hooked his fingers underneath her black lacy g-string and stripped it down her thighs also. When he stood up she was standing almost naked before him. Her soft brown eyes were dark and inviting in the dim light, but she didn't speak and she hadn't resisted or stopped to help him. He had thrown off his jacket and now stripped off his t-shirt and jeans hastily in between hot, wet kisses with Myra who continued to stand in the center of his room where he had removed her clothes. "Please fuck me," he thought he heard her say in his ear when he kissed the side of her neck and nuzzled the hollow of her throat, breathing the musky perfumed smell of her deeply. His hands at last found her breasts and he held the perfect, taut globes, feeling the nipples tighten against his palms. His cock ached with needing to be inside her, he could feel her thigh rubbing gently against it as they stood closely together. Suddenly, without thinking, he turned her around, her jeans were still around her ankles and she could not move easily. He pressed her face down on his bed, her long thin legs, hanging over the side so that her feet were still on the floor. The tantalizing shape of her round ass grabbed his attention and he held his cock, pumping it roughly with his fist while with the other hand he reached between her legs, gliding his fingers between the swollen lips of her pussy. Gradually he pushed a finger gently into her pussy, which was already slick with her wetness. He heard her groan softly with pleasure and for a moment he finger-fucked her till the juices from her pussy started dripping down his finger. "Tell me you want me to fuck you." "Fuck me, please." He could hear her say in a small, plaintive voice. While he had fingered her she had managed to push off her jeans over her boots, and she shimmied her pelvis backwards off the bed slightly until she could stand with her legs apart, offering up her succulent recesses to him. He pushed his cock quickly against the opening of her pussy, rubbing the glistening tip against her. With a couple of small thrusts the tip was greased by her wetness and then he slid easily and elatedly into her. Her pussy was tight and hot and he shuddered with excitement to be finally inside her. She gripped him tightly as he drove into her from behind. Myra responded to his thrusts as they threw themselves into it, pushing back against him, finding the rhythm of his strokes. But he needed to see her face and feel her breasts so he reluctantly pulled out and urged her to roll over. Holding her hips he quickly pushed himself back into her. With every thrust, her breasts shuddered and she touched her nipples, pinching them, rubbing them with her long fingers. As he fucked her harder, he watched one of her hands slither down her abdomen and press urgently against her clit. He groaned as she latched her long, stiletto booted legs around his waist and his head rolled back and he closed his eyes in ecstasy as he felt her rocking herself closer and closer to orgasm as he fucked her. When he opened his eyes a moment later, her body was splayed out in front of him, one hand vigorously masturbating herself, her back arched and her head back, eyes closed and lips apart, moaning softly. Her hips were jerking spasmodically now, her pelvis pressing against his, forcing his cock deeper and deeper into her. Her moans had become cries and her fingers rubbed furiously at her swollen clit when suddenly her eyes flew open a far away look of intense pleasure on her face, she cried out and came hard around his cock. He could feel her pussy convulsing around him, which only made his already hard erection impossibly harder. As her orgasm faded and her body slumped she looked up at him with a glazed expression and leaned back on her elbows. The look in her eyes sent a burst of desire through his body, he needed a release now. Pushing her back on the bed, her knees bent, the stiletto boots resting on his bed. He crawled over her and plunged back into her now slippery wetness. The entire length of his body pressed against hers. Her long arms entwined around his neck and her booted legs wrapped around his hips as she matched his rhythm. She kissed his neck and was whispering something incomprehensible in his ear her breath sending tantalizing thrills of pleasure through him. The tension of his orgasm was building and his breath was coming hard and fast. He jerked suddenly still as he felt his cum erupt suddenly. His whole body shuddered with the prolonged pleasure of it, as he felt it spurt high inside her. But he needed to see it and pulled out of her, rolling his cock in his fist and watching in awe as another spurt of white cum shot out and splashed across her cheek and chin. Another spurt erupted onto her glistening belly. His head rolled back as he squeezed the last of the cum from his still hard cock. Then he collapsed next to her on his bed, breathing hard, with the bliss of the post-orgasm high clouding his brain. They lay still like that in the warm afterglow of sex. He could feel the side of her thigh pressed against his hip and it was comforting. His breath was coming back and his heartbeat was slowing. He didn't want to speak and break the delicious magic of the high. Myra stirred next to him. She turned to look over at him and her brown eyes were dark and shining in the dim light. Neither of them wanted to say anything. Both surprised by the intensity of the experience. "That felt … great." Myra spoke softly, her voice husky with contentment. Jack smiled and closed his eyes. He wanted to sleep but he also wanted to start all over again. He felt surprised at how great it was, felt a moment of fear when he realized how well their bodies fit together. Then he pushed away the fear and leaned over to look her in the eye. "You are great," he said and meant it. He gently touched her face, tracing the contours of her cheek and lip. He leaned in and lightly kissed her on the lips. Her body was smooth and golden and completely relaxed. He wanted to explore it more, inspect every inch. With a fingertip he caught a drip from the puddled remnants of his orgasm that had collected in her navel. She looked down at herself, seeing the wetness collected on her skin and smiled a small happy smile. He got up from the bed and found some tissues and cleaned her up. She lay there, like a child, half-asleep and let him. "Can you stay the night with me?" He asked her. She stared at him with an impenetrable expression, but nodded. Without speaking they climbed under the covers of his bed. She curled down into the bed on her side and he lay next to her on his side, spooning, feeling the slope of her butt and thighs against his stomach and he caught one of her legs between his. His right hand gently held one breast. He leaned his face into her hair and breathed in her soapy scent deeply. Myra was falling asleep and he knew he should get up and turn out the lamp, but the pale amber glow was comforting and he felt completely peaceful. It was odd. Normally he didn't like sleeping with someone he had just met. There was awkwardness and discomfort having an unfamiliar presence in bed. With Myra held close against him he felt at home, like she was meant to be there. The thought should be disturbing but it was not and he fell asleep. THE END