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It was amateur Thursday at Club Soma when I first met Deirdre. I had come straight to the bar from the radio station. I grabbed one of the high-bar stools that was far from the noise of the night’s musical accompaniment, but high enough to see the stage in case a good group stopped by. The fog of tobacco smoke formed a sort of membrane around the day’s social activities, filtering the rust colored projections from the stage’s lone rotating light. An acoustic duo called La Deseo took the stage after an hour of light conversation. They were dressed in traditional Apache tribal garb, though they were clearly Mexican. After an initial squeak of microphone feedback, the larger of the two announced the outfit, and its reason for being.
“We are La Deseo,” said the singer, his eyes becoming huge and white, sprawling wave-like over the crowd. “And we have come to you to express the desire. The desire within.” His partner strummed a chord furiously, as if he were about to toss a bull into the fray. “We dress as Apaches because they are a- a spiritual people, a people of desire,” He explained. “This first song is called “Seducir la Gitana”.
The wine in my glass settled and stained the individual ridges in my cup. I took a sip, and it was as if the room had suddenly become warmer. The song ignited, a galloping, throbbing thing, aching for something just out of reach. The chords were chromatic and bold, seeming to color the smoke a bolder red. On top of that, the place had suddenly become crowded. This group must have had something of a following. People began to push through the front door of the bar in droves, money and handstamps were exchanged and the body heat of this little Arizona bar had raised considerably. I hopped down from the bar stool, deciding to stake out a decent spot in case these people were on to something. I listened. The tempo of the music had changed to a steady march, the Spanish scales pressing awkwardly together, acquainting themselves with each other. Then, a climb began. The chorus had hit and both were shouting feverish, indecipherable Spanish into their mikes, working in a sort of chaotic round, reaching, pushing harder, farther. I nodded along, sipped my wine and surveyed the crowd. They seemed to be enjoying the show at least on the surface, I could see them anticipating the highest high of the high notes, and when it hit, there was an almost audible sigh though the room. Ah- and then, a breathtaking decrescendo, a serene albeit depressed tempo, a sea of Spanish notes mixing in the smoke tangling in my hair, splitting the tides of bitter wine in my glass.
That was when I first saw Deidre. She was a few rows behind, back pressed up against a brick support beam. She seemed small and vague, a faint imprint in the cloudy bar. She was tall and thin, with middle-length black hair tied messily in a bun behind her green-dyed bangs. She had on a little sleeveless shirt that made the C-shaped curves of her breasts one of her few discernible features from across the room.
I turned back around. La Deseo were on another song, now. A third member had materialized behind them, touting a horn. One of them had a hand drum, affecting a tribal sort of beat while the Spanish guitar bounced off its meaty pulse, glossing the tune over with a fertile glow. I turned around again. The girl with the green bangs was drinking a bottle of water, her head still bobbing to the music even when she stopped to take a sip. For some reason, I decided that I had to speak with her. Before I knew it, I had angled myself through the crowd to her side.
“Hey there,” I said to her.
“What?” Deidre shouted back. I came closer, nearly pressing my shoulder against hers. I could see her better from this angle. The stripes of green continued across her hair, slanted like a Richter-scale readout. She had a nice face. On the concave dip of her left cheek, a small dimple deviated from all the vanilla-white around it.
“Hey there,” I repeated. “Come for the band?” the girl shook her head “no.”
“I noticed you up front.” she said, her voice as smoky as the room.
“Yes,” She tossed her now empty water bottle into an adjacent trashcan. I stood there for a moment, trying to think of something to say. For what reason had I come over here in the first place?
“I noticed you, too.” I said.
“What?” she shouted back. Once again, La Deseo had begun to work itself into another climax, the waves were all rising up, feint hints of Mexican falsetto emerging from the lead singer’s strained vocal chords. I leaned in closer to this girl, so close I could smell the vague fragrance of fresh violets; maybe a recent shower.
“I noticed you, too.” I said. “You seemed kind of mysterious, like you were coming out of the smoke–“
“What?” she interposed. This time she turned to face me. I wasn’t sure if she couldn’t hear me or if she didn’t understand where I was going with all of this. Her eyes were nearly the same shade of green as the chaotic rivers of dye in her hair. I came in canlı bahis closer, my lips just inches from her ear.
“You looked nice,” I said. “Like you just appeared out of the smoke.” I hung by her ear for a second. The heat in the bar was heavy. This close to her neck, I could feel her beginning to perspire, I could feel the sweat beads forming. I leaned away from her and waited for a response. She was watching the band again, her attention seemed completely diverted. Had she not heard me again?
“I need to use the restroom.” She told me then. I let out a small sigh of heated breath. I shouldn’t have come on strongly.
“Alright, alright.” I said, pretending to be at once drawn back into the music. She nodded and took a tentative few steps away from me, lingering just out of reach.
“Aren’t you coming?” She asked.
I pulled the metal door to the stall shut behind me, its surface etched with a thousand teenager’s Fucks and Hells. I began to turn to face Deidre but was then pushed in the chest so my back was pressed against the left wall.
“Have you ever messed around in a bathroom?” she asked me. She was feverish, excited. I could feel her blood pumping. This was going to be great.
“Uhh, no.” I managed. She came in close to me, pressing against me. Our mouths met and our tongues were instantly entangled, wrapping around and sliding over each other. She bit my bottom lip and pushed harder into me. I felt my cock grow erect with a series of pangs that were both pleasing and painful, pushing against my jeans, pressing up against the crotch of her skirt.
“Mmm…what’s that, baby?” She asked. I was already lost in passion, swooning and full of desire. Everything seemed vertiginous — the walls, her words, the world around. I buried my head into her neck, biting and sucking on the thin skin, licking behind her ears.
“What’s that? What’s that pushing up against me, baby?” I had lost control, I was in the throes of a burning lust. My hand clamped down suddenly on her breast. A sigh escaped from her glossed lips.
“What’s that, what’s that?” she was excited, too, I could tell she didn’t know what she was about to do either. “What’s that pressing up against my tight cunt, baby? Tell me, oh God, tell me.”
I was suddenly nervous. Had someone else come into the bathroom? I could hear the sounds of La Deseo coming dampened through the portico and brick, the plaster of the bathroom and the aluminum of the stall door. Were those footsteps? If a woman caught me in this bathroom, I’d be the one getting a fine. I didn’t need another place to add to the list of places I couldn’t be.
“I think I hear someone—” I said.
“Shhhh..” she pressed one of my fingers against her lip, and I stopped. She worked her hand between my legs, squeezing my balls almost in examination before working upwards systematically, inch by inch appraising the storming hard-on through my jeans.
“You’ve got something for me, don’t you,” she said.
“I’m not sure.” I stifled back. Was there someone in the stall next to us? Oh Jesus, she was unzipping my fly and I was groping her breasts. I reached behind and held her ass tightly as she undid the top button.
“Touch me,” she said. I touched her. Rather, she touched herself with my hand, grabbing me by the wrist and spreading my fingers out under her skirt, on her thigh. She worked my hand slowly upwards, through the band of her panties, through the faint traces of prickly pubic hair. When I first felt her, she pressed her thighs together, her cunt pulsed there as if we were an electrical reaction to the motion of my fingers, sudden, twitching, quickened. I traced one of my long fingers across her soft folds. She came in close, and I pushed deep into her vulva, warm and wet.
“Mmm…” she cooed. She unveiled my cock from the tangled mesh of my boxers, letting my erection stretch freely into her open hand. We stood there, seemingly locked, my fingers working upwards through those draping, pink folds, right up to the hardened nub of her clit, encircling it to get her wetter, crazier. She was pulling my cock at a steady rhythm, knowingly or unknowingly in beat to La Deseo’s now frantic tantrum. I felt pulled into her by violent forces, bade to accept the pleasure as she rubbed my cock and compelled to not only continue to touch her, but to push her forwards–two, now three fingers in her, as deep as they could go.
We realized we were literally frozen when the sudden knock came on the stall door. Our hands were on each other, our tongues tangled and still in our mouths like sleeping serpents.
“Excuse me.” It was a man’s voice. We tidied up quickly, the zipping of my fly and the swishing sounds of her skirt and top being slid back into place were the only sounds. We pushed open the door at the same time. A half-Mexican club worker stood in front of me, his chest level with my eyes.
“This is a women’s bathroom, sir.” He pointed out. “What are you doing in here?”
Outside, the streets were slicked bahis siteleri from a recent rain, pooling in asphalt tresses and carrying the reds, greens, and yellows of the traffic lights. After my hasty removal from the club, I tottered on in embarrassed silence, dodging strangers. They all seemed to be looking at me accusingly — but why? I heard you got caught in the girl’s room. Ridiculous. I was halfway down Anthem Drive when I heard footfalls behind me. They started as distant puddle-splashes, the untold clamor of the streets. Then, they dried into sandal-slaps up against the pavement getting faster, ever faster. I turned around.
“You.” I said. She was back, almost breathless, though I could tell she was in good shape. She must have run out of the club at the last second, how could she have known which way I had chosen, which of the streets I’d be taking to which borough?
“I’m sorry for getting you kicked out of the club,” she said in a half-laugh. “That was… my fault, I’m sorry. I get carried away sometimes, just not usually with–“
“Strangers, I know.” I finished. She smiled. We huddled together under the streetlight there for a moment, me leaning up against a mailbox, trying to sort things out in my head. Why had she followed me out here?
“You know, it really was the first time I– just, I mean, I don’t even know your name!” she said. I told her I was Tristan, like the faerie tale character.
“Or like Shakespeare,” she said.
“That works too.” I said. A smart girl. Was this supposed to be a clue? If so, I didn’t need it, I could tell by the gleam in the pin pricks of her irises, that gleam of knowing, the same gleam that so unabashedly showed her excitement, her spark, her hunger for more.
“I’m Deidre.” She said, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. “And umm, I know it didn’t turn out so well at the club, but, uhh, well I have a place just a little down the ways…”
“You have a place.”
“Well, my parents have a place.”
“That’s very nice.”
“No, but, uhh..” we were both laughing. Her snow white skin was turning red as if stained by wine. She seemed genuinely nervous. If this really was the first time she had done anything with a stranger like that, what had gotten into her? What had made her invite me into the bathroom? Christ! A good girl didn’t generally do that. I wasn’t convinced this was a good girl yet, though.
I reached forward and graced the outline of her face, my fingers moving over the silky skin, over the mole on her cheek. I broke the silence.
“Are they home?”
“I think so, but…”
“No, no, you’re not getting me into trouble, again!”
She laughed and paced around a little, towing at the shattered pavement. “Well,” she said, her voice as hazy as the cloud she had appeared out of. “You’re invited, definitely. I have a pretty safe place where we could talk, be alone, and–” she stopped. “I’m embarrassing myself.”
“No, no!” I was going to reason her back to her original plan of action, what she had in store for me. All I had to do was tap into those urges from before, those urges that still burned in the electric sparks of her eyes. A strategic hand moved to her hip, I spoke with her softly, deeply, honestly. I knew it couldn’t be over yet.
She walked me back to her house on the nicer side of Orange Grove, trekking through a large barbell-shaped yard that met an ancient cobbled tutor that she said was her house. I could see one window with a college flag hanging from it — University of Arizona. On the floor below, the shifting light of a television in channel flux hinted at her parents, even siblings maybe, that waited in there. I pushed it all aside. I could feel my half-erection still aching, and I focused on only the rhythmic movements of Deidre’s hips and ass as we passed the house, the gravel pit in the backyard, and the twenty feet of open land that lay between the mansion and a greenhouse. She took my hand, nervously looking over her shoulder at the house. Suddenly, she eased up.
“I think we’re safe.” she said.
She parted the thick plastic, translucent flaps of the greenhouse, pulling me inside. The heat hit, and immediately I felt like I was back in the bar, with Deidre under a new electric light, this one even more warming, more buzzing. All around was the scent of flowers, the slanted shadows of spindly trees, endless jungle plants and verdant birds of paradise leaping out of emerging weeds. The diaphanous lilies parted, star-white and open just like Deidre know, her legs knotted around my back as we lay on the ground of the greenhouse.
I wanted to ask if we could be seen from the house, if anyone comes out here at night, if they had a gardener — but instead I was grappling with this mysterious girl, our limbs twisting over themselves, mimicking the twisting vines around us. We rolled onto a small patch of cotton, the seed-filled blanket sprawled out beneath us and took us in as we took each other. She unbuttoned my shirt, missing a couple, but managing to pull it bahis şirketleri off. She was wearing a black bra that I freed from its clasp, and it spilled downwards, exposing her pink areolas. I was now kissing her shoulders, her neck, anything that fell in front of my lips.
“Suck them,” she told me. “Please put your mouth on them.”
I took them in my mouth as she struggled to push my pants off. We rolled over so she was on top of me, her breasts falling down in front of my face, those perfect Ccurves. I licked and sucked her nipples, feeling them harden. I pinched them, squeezed them, and fingered them. She was sighing in pleasure and now I was just in my boxers, she just in her skirt. She reached back and gripped my shaft and pulled it from my boxers.
Before I knew it, she had tossed herself over me, her legs over my head, her breath coming down hot on my throbbing, smooth cock. I felt her lips on the head, working the thick tip and licking down the length of my penis. I took her cue and pulled her by the waist towards me. We were the perfect height — my mouth and nose pressed up against her hot cunt in the humidity of the greenhouse. I inhaled her scent, looking at the glistening pink skin. I spread the soft lips of her pussy open, darting my wet tongue in and out, sloshing over her clit. I felt her take me in her mouth at the same time, the warm, wet enclosure of her lips not far from what I could imagine her cunt to feel like, wrapped tight around my cock.
“Yes! Yessss!” she uttered as I pressed my whole face into her, licking with avid enthusiasm, sucking, tonguing her sweet juices. As I moaned and sighed and felt the pleasure rising in me, I held on to her hips. We anchored each other down, taking and receiving, forcing each other to go deeper, deeper. When my cock had been wholly taken in by her soft lips, she pulled herself from my tongue, and we kissed deeply, her juices still burning on my tongue. I rolled over on to her, pushing her back against the cotton rug.
“I want your cock,” she sighed as my fingers slipped quickly in and out of her cunt. Her hand was still on my hard cock, and now she was pulling me towards her pussy.
“What did you say?” of course I was going to do this. I wouldn’t have followed her here if I didn’t want it so badly.
“I want your cock.”
“Say it again.”
“I want your cock.” she was working into something, rocking back and forth on my fingers. I could see the something on her exposed clitoris, her aching nipples, her dampening forehead. I wanted to bring her to it.
“Are you gonna give me this nice big cock, baby?” she came again. “Fill me with it.” A question, then a command. We were sweating, grunting, on the floor. I pushed my head of my slickened penis between her thighs, angling upwards and into, falling into a vibration that felt natural, easy even. We didn’t think about it then, but we were fucking hard, my thick cock burying itself seven inches into her body, extracting, pushing in. We screamed while we screwed, we didn’t care anymore. The only thing was that something and were going to get it.
I picked Deidre up, holding her on my hard cock, letting her sink down on to it.
“Oh, fuck, oh fuck, fuck…”
I sat her on a table to which some hanging baskets were attached, and rattled the whole thing, our pelvises convening and pushing off of each other, so desperate, so wickedly in chase. I could feel it rising in me, I could feel it like a tide surging forth, filling me with heat and blotting out everything but the action.
She said nothing.
I said nothing.
I was picking up speed, and she was angling herself, pushing me up and into her g-spot while she sucked my fingers. We moaned and swore and sighed, and I could feel her beginning to tighten.
“I’m cumming!” she screamed. I was going to cum too, I was going to cum hard. The pressure was immense, I was holding her sides, tracing my hands across her flat stomach, her breasts and hard nipples. She ran her hands over me in ecstasy, tumbling over my chest and rubbing muscles as my cock rubbed harder and harder in her.
“Ahhhhhh….” she let out a long sigh, and then I began to groan. I reached to pull my cock out of her. Suddenly, I felt her hand meet my wrist and stop me from pulling out.
“Oh Deidre,” I moaned “I’m gonna –“
“It’s okay,” she said between breaths. “It’s okay.”
When we hit it, we hit it together, an arms flailing, body-sweating moment of pure pleasure. Her cunt tightened and spasmed, and she bit into my neck, the hard tips of her nipples making contact my chest. I could feel her fingernails tear into my back, but the pain lost as I came too, a rush of warmth flowing through me until I felt myself explode against those sweet, womanly vibrations, those tremors of elusive ecstasy.
I held the girl tightly, as tight as I had held some girls I had loved. We remained pressed up against each other, frozen again, breathless, as if one word would break the spell. The heat and moisture of the greenhouse made us feel only these bestial things that tie us to the earth, and we lay side by side for awhile before she disappeared into her father’s smoking room, maybe forever — back into a haze through which she moved.
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