Not to say she didn’t want it, just that she deliberately played harder to get. I didn’t give her any lines about Dave Matthews, because I knew she was smarter than that. By the time we sat on the patio at the bar, I’d realized I would just have to start insulting her for her to really want me. I made her recite one of her poems to me and told her it was garbage. When her hair fell in front of her face—she had long blonde hair—she would constantly sweep it back, briskly, as if it were a fly. I told her that she looked much sexier as Cousin Itt. She thought that was hilarious. We started making out on that patio. I massaged her bare legs, covered only at the top by cheap-looking green shorts and didn’t even try to resist fingering her in public. She let me slip two fingers under her shorts and panties and I located the folds of her vagina. She let me rub around the surface of her clit for a minute, before pulling my hand away and saying, “Okay, not here.” She looked at me with her. It was Friday night and I was at the bar with some girls from the office. It wasn't long before the drinks were flowing and the talk got raunchy. April talked about this guy she literally ran into the other day. He's an EMT who apparently has a healthy sexual appetite. She said that they've been fucking almost non-stop since. "So, have you gotten any since the delivery guy in the elevator," Jean asked me while downing her third martini. "I got some on Monday," I confessed. "Oh yeah," the girls chimed in together. "Younger guy," Christine asked. "Yeah and pretty damn big," I said kinda bragging. "So big pencil dick," April said while asking the bartender for her fourth refill. "Huge Italian sausage," I said while polishing off my gin martini. "Is there enough to go around," Christine asked with fascination. "We don't share our guys," I said with a laugh. "Besides, it was a one-time thing," I added while trying to change the subject."How thick we talking," April said after downing yet.
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