You're A Fine Girl

Story by: B.C. Kingston
Artwork by: B.C. Kingston

Part 2

“Your boyfriend? Wow, you move fast,” I replied almost hoping she really did move that fast.

“No no no silly… You know...” she made air-quotes with her hands in front of my face before wrapping them back around my neck, “a ‘boyfriend’. So I don’t have to put up with creeps like that guy back there.”

Oh… a pretend boyfriend. Got it.

“Oh I see what you mean,” I replied pausing, only not to seem too eager, “Sure, I can do that.”

I’m all smiles now. Of COURSE I can do that. When the song ended, I lead her back to my table and we sat down with Gary and Linda. I politely flagged down the waitress and ordered the next round of beers and cranberry-vodka.

We talked. I learned that her name was Brandy and recited ‘Brandy Brandy Brandy!’ a thousand times silently in my head to lock it in. I also learned that she was a receptionist at a local business that sells parts for industrial manufacturing or something like that. She revealed that her friend had to leave because she worked early the next day. Brandy was going to leave too, but it’d been so long since she’s been out that she decided to stay. She leaned over and told me she almost regretted the decision because of the pink-narcissus. It turned out that her polite attitude towards him was just that: being polite to some random creepy guy.

I started rattling off some of my euphemisms for guys like him and she snorts again in laughter. “Ha ha!” she giggles, putting her hand on my leg, “Pepto-Biff-Tannen! That’s hilarious! He kept going on and on about all the offroading he does, blah blah blah.”

I also learned that Brandy was no slouch in the drinking department. It took her nearly an hour to finish her first cranberry and vodka. It only took her another hour to finish the next three. With each drink she became more open and vibrant. She laughed more often. She touched me more often. I didn’t know if she was simply maintaining the ruse of us as a couple for onlookers, or if that’s simply how she was. Mr-Overcompensates was still prowling around the bar. He’d moved to hitting on other women, but he was still keeping an eye on us.

And then Sexyback came on over the speakers and she DRAGGED me out onto the dance floor. Immediately, Brandy turned around, backed up her tush and started repeatedly slapping it against my pelvis while lifting her hair with both hands and letting it fall onto her shoulders. She was having a great time. More importantly, she was having a great time with ME!

At this point, I just tried to stand there and look cool, maybe swaying a bit to the beat. There was an audience of other men watching her, lust in their eyes. Other couples were on the dance floor, but the spotlight might as well have been on Brandy.

She turned around, placed her hands on my sides and went into a full squat. Perching on those heels with her legs fully folded, she parked her face right in front of my crotch. Now I had sprung wood the moment her rear had slammed into me the first time. It couldn’t be helped. I’m sure she knew. How could she not? And now she was taking a good look at her handy work. On her way back up, she nudged my belly with her head, waving her hair all around. I looked down to see a lustful, pouty, open-mouthed look dancing on her face.

It was a very sexy routine. I couldn’t tell if she’d practiced it before. Her technique wasn’t flawless, but her enthusiasm was excellent. I put my arms around her and pulled her in close for some more intimate dancing. I ran my hand up her neck through her hair and then wrapped it around her head, massaging the lobe of her ear with my thumb. I wrapped my other arm around her and held her close. Our hips worked frantically, trying to grind the beat into each other. My manhood was at full attention and lasciviously pressing itself into her belly. She had to know it was there and seemed to relish focusing her rhythmic bodily contact at that point.

We ground our way lustily through the next song as well. Sometimes we changed position, but we were always rubbing hips. It was like we were having sex… with our clothes on… with an audience. Thanks to Brandy’s provocative gyrations, I had a few moments where I wondered if I could ‘contain’ the excitement boiling in my pants. The dancing was hard work too. Pretty soon we had both built up a steady moisture and were wiping sheen from our brows. She looked much sexier doing so than I did.

When the song ended, we got off the dance floor and she planted a long wet kiss on my cheek. Then she laughed and said, “That was fun.”

The musk of her glow had combined well with the scent of her perfume. She smelled intoxicating. It was like she’d been switched on. I imagined that she would smell equally great after making love. Hell, we’d just practically made love in all but the penetration and climax.

As I lead her back to our table, I couldn’t help it. I had to blurt it out, “I like you. You’re fun.”

My sentiment came out completely childish, but she just smiled back and said, “I like you too!”

And so the night went on. She laughed at my corny jokes and when a good song came on, she dragged me back out onto the dance floor for another workout. When the DJ called last-call for alcohol, she was clearly disappointed, "Oh... So soon? But I’m not ready to go home yet!"

As luck would have it, I knew of an after-party that a couple of the bar-regulars held routinely. I was a little leery of suggesting it to her as I knew we would be greatly outnumbered by other guys, but it didn't matter. As soon as I mentioned it she jumped at the idea, "Let's go! Can you drive?"

So we decided to go. I could tell upon arrival that Brandy was not impressed. The house had a very run-down frat feeling to it. She stayed close to my side as we walked into the shabby living room and I exchanged greetings with a few guys I knew. Then we grabbed a couple cans of Icehouse beer (yum-yum! – NOT) and parked it on one of the beat-up couches. She sat on my lap and wrapped an arm around my neck. Based on her trepidation, I wasn't sure if she was really that into me, or just leery of EVERYONE else at the house. There was dance music playing and a few of the girls who showed up were dancing/stumbling around in the living room. Brandy seemed content to stay seated on my lap, rocking a bit to the beat. Of course, her proximity and steady rocking motion guaranteed my perpetual hard-on would last, frustrated to the early morning hours. There was no way she couldn’t have noticed, but she never said anything. Instead, she just continued smiling and nuzzling her butt into my lap.

The upbeat energy of dancing and drinking at the club had not carried over successfully to the afterparty and before long, I could see the late hour and the alcohol taking its toll on Brandy. She’d curled her legs up and was resting her head on my shoulders. As much as I enjoyed the cuddle and stroking her long dark hair, my concern for her wellbeing eventually took over.

"Had enough fun for tonight?" I inquire, brushing a strand of hair away from her pretty face.

It wasn't meant to be a loaded question, but I was almost hoping she would say ‘Not yet! I’m saving the best for last!’ or something to that effect. Instead, she just nods her head and mumbles out an “Mmm hmm.”

"Ok," I whispered close into her ear. "Is it okay if we leave your car at the bar for tonight?"

"No car. Took a cab."

"Oh, okay. Well I can drive you home if you want. Where do you live?"

"Aw... can’t we go to your house?" she purred, running her finger down my chest.

Suddenly, I had gone from 'boyfriend' to BOYFRIEND. I feel a little guilty because I know she'd had too much to drink, but how can I refuse an offer like that?

She seemed to come alive suddenly and stood up off the couch reaching her hand out to me. Then she spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, "Come on loverboy! Take me home!" which drew immediate ogling "Oooooohhh's" from everyone in the vicinity. A couple of my friends gave me the whistle-wink-thumbs-up routine, knowing that for me to leave the party with a pretty woman on my arm was a rare thing indeed.

So I grabbed her jacket off the couch and hurried her out of the house to a cacophony of catcalls. She giggled the whole way. Once we were in the car, she turned to me, leaned over, and planted a wet kiss on my cheek.

"I had soooo much fun tonight! Thanks!"

"You're welcome," I replied warmly. "I had fun too."

Then her mood quickly turned sad. "I have a confession to make though," she frowned.

Uh oh, here it came. "What's that?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and sighed loudly, "I have a boyfriend."

Other posts in this story

You’re A Fine Girl – Part 1

A light-hearted story about a doofy guy who gets in over his head with a girl way out of his league.

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You’re A Fine Girl – Part 3

The night is heading for a very unsatisfying ending... or is it?

Continue reading

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