Figured it had been a while since I chimed in, 'sides these seem to be the only stories coming out on the site right now.





I leaned back against the window ledge and looked out over the dance floor. Two dozen fools were sliding and shuffling in a loose formation while the DJ played a song that should have died with disco. I sipped my JD on the rocks remembering why it was that I really hated weddings. I could have brought Kathy along, but you know how it is. You invite a single girl to a wedding and her brain gets all sorts of squirrelly ideas.

I should have been suspicious when Rob called. We'd done a tour together and he'd pulled me out of a tight spot. He even visited me at Walter Reed when he got back. I owed him. That was two long years ago and we hadn't seen each other since. When he called it wasn't to talk over old times. Who the fuck wants to do that!

Naw, he was getting hitched and the grooms party was a bit light. Like I said I owed him but after being volunteered for this gig I think we're about even. So there I sat in a rented tux. Positioned not ten feet from the open bar. I'd skipped the chicken dinner and was working on a nice sociable buzz. A Jack Daniels or two helps.

I probably wasn't the first to notice her; I couldn't help staring as she sauntered across the dance floor. She was more than pleasant to look at, tall and tight and on the prowl. Her raven hair fell in loose ringlets bouncing just off her shoulders, A cute little light blue skirt tried real hard to reach the middle of her thighs. She had a pair of matching powder blue heels that lifted her calves almost three inches. Yeah, she was working the whole package and she knew all the boys were getting real attentive.

When she reached the stage she leaned forward trying to catch the DJs' eye. As she bent forward her skirt naturally rode up a bit higher letting me know her stocking were held up by a light blue garter belt. The DJ cupped his ear to hear her and she rose up onto her tiptoes to shout out her request. That little skirt rose even higher letting me see that her thong was color coordinated with the rest of her costume. It was an amusing display and I tried real hard not to drool like an idiot.

With a nod to the DJ she turned and started back across the floor. She was obviously enjoying the attention. She strutted in those heels like a pro, her tight little butt swishing that skirt back and forth. A strapless pushup bra under her low cut blouse gave the impression that her breasts were going to pop free any second. The entire performance had me mesmerized, but I'm sure I wasn't alone.

It wasn't until she was half a dozen feet from me that I began to suspect I was her objective. When she was barely a pace away she seemed to stumble.

Even after a few drinks I'm pretty quick on my feet. In fact if it weren't for the drink in my hand I probably would have caught her. As it was I reached out with my left hand but she ducked under it, and sank down to her knees.

And there we were.

I was standing dumbfounded with a drink in my hand. This gorgeous creature all dressed up and needing to be stripped down was kneeling at my feet, and I'm sure every man in the room had to be turning three shades of green with envy.

Now I can't tell you if God exists, I kind of believe in the western version of Karma. You know the "what goes around comes around", or maybe "most folk get what they've got coming eventually". My point is I have never done anything to deserve something like this happening to me. Not in this life or any other I can think of. I was trying real hard to come up with something cleaver to say as I stared down at those magnificent bobbing boobs.

She bent down a little further seeming to be intent on retying my shoelaces. That interrupted my ogling and I used the brief break to utter one of my more charming opening lines.

"What the fuck?" I blurted out.

She looked up at me with huge innocent blue eyes and said in a sweet husky voice.

" Not yet sailor, maybe later."

She winked and then she went back to tightening my laces.

I'd been a jarhead back in the day but anyone waving that much cleavage under my nose could call me a swabbie if they want to. I'm easy.

My mind wasn't getting any sharper and I really think that was all her fault. I set down my drink on the ledge reached down and lifted her chin until we were looking into each other's eyes.

" Why?" I asked, my voice a bit harder than I intended. It wasn't much but I was barely able to hold that much of a conversation.

" I was told it's the best way to ask you for a dance."

She looked up at me, her eyes narrowing a bit. I think she expected that to mean something to me. I was at a total loss. Blood was beginning to return to the old brain and things just weren't adding up. Still you don't give the free pony a dental exam, at least not right away....

© Mad Lews

thoghts on a title anyone?



Mad Lews