Some Enchanted Evening
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,912
Reviews:
2
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,912
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Some Enchanted Evening
Some Enchanted Evening
Randy Foreman sat at the tiny table in the middle of the dark nightclub. He clutched at his drink, almost forgetting to drink it. It was a rum and coke, which he usually didn’t like. He had only gotten it because Claire had. He shifted his hips, and tried to fit his knees under the table. It certainly hadn’t been made to accommodate his manly proportions. Six feet four, and 110 pounds. Oh, yes. Randy had to be careful not to knock this table over. He sipped his drink, and smiled.
It wasn’t that he was unhappy. It was just-- He had never been to this club before, and wouldn’t have picked it out himself. Still, he didn’t mind it too much. He did feel a little uncomfortable in the crushed velvet bustier Claire had asked him to wear. His shoulders were bare, and he kept hunching over.
Plus, it didn’t quite fasten in the front. Randy understood that it wasn’t meant to. Claire and her friends had explained that to him the first time he tried it on. It was the style. But he was still embarrassed, knowing how anyone could see where he should have had a hairy chest.
He also had reservations about the narrow black skirt, with a slit up the back so he could walk. But since Claire had gone to all that trouble helping him pick out clothes when they had gone shopping the week before… Well, he couldn’t say no. When he complained, Claire just told him it was the fashion. Randy knew nothing about fashion. So he had to believe her. He would never get it, he supposed.
The music pounded and throbbed over the loudspeakers. It was difficult to talk to anyone unless you went out into the lobby, and Claire didn’t want to do that. She wanted to stay there. It wasn’t as though you came to clubs to have deep, heart-to-heart talks or anything. She had told him that several times already, yelling it at him over the music. So Randy sat. Occasionally patting at the stiff, purple wig he had ordered from a catalog. It was all so different from what he usually wore to go out. He generally wore a blue button-down shirt. Khakis. The sort of outfit you wore to shake hands in.
Claire was watching Randy. He gave her a smile, like a republican candidate, to show he was doing all right. A-okay. She grinned. She was probably laughing at him, but he was used to that. He looked over in the direction of the bar, thinking about offering to buy Claire a drink, since he had noticed, ever so cunning, that she had nearly finished the one she had now. When he saw him.
When he happened to meet his eyes.
He was a leather daddy, up at the bar to order a drink. He was tall, dark, and handsome. Very tall. Even through the leaping dance lights, Randy could see that. The sort of man who could pose for the cover of a romance novel, but that wasn’t the kind of novel this man belonged in. Randy knew nothing about romances, but he knew that. He wore black. His trousers were probably leather, and so tight tight, that Randy, if he had been any closer, would have known for certain that he was well-hung.
The man had been talking to someone next to him at the bar. He had just happened to look up at that moment—and he was looking right at him. At Randy!
Claire was talking with her friend, who Randy had only met twice before. He couldn’t hear what they said. He had to tap Claire on the shoulder to get her attention. Then he leaned in and said, as loudly as he could. “Uh, Claire… Did you see that leatherman over there?”
Claire just looked at him. “What was that?”
“There! At the bar! The leatherman!”
“Which one?”
“What? I can’t hear you.”
“WHICH ONE?”
Randy gave a stupid smile and pointed his finger at Claire. “You’re fired!” he said. She rolled her eyes, but he just knew she liked it when he did that. After a few minutes or so, he said: “That one. The one in the black leather jacket.”
“Randy. There are at least five men at the bar wearing black leather jackets. Probably more. Could you be any more specific?”
“That one.” Randy pointed. He could only hope the man hadn’t seen.
Claire leaned forward, and scanned the bar. “Oh,” she said. “I see.” The leather daddy didn’t notice her. Randy knew, though how he knew he wasn’t certain, that the man was there to see other men. He didn’t have time for anything else.
“So,” said Claire. “I see him. What about him?”
“Well.” Randy blushed. He looked down at his lap. He didn’t even know where to begin. What if the man was watching him, at that moment? What if he knew Randy had been watching him, all along. Oh, my god! He looked so stupid! He was embarrassed, but he tried to shake it off. “Anyway. So, so, so anyway. I kind of like him, but I’m. I’m afraid to talk to him. I don’t know. What if he doesn’t like me?”
“If he doesn’t like you, that’s his problem,” said Claire.
Her friend nodded.
“Besides, Randy, you have no reason to think that. You haven’t even tried to talk to him yet. And you are looking quite nice tonight. Especially in that outfit. You’re a new person now. You’re going to get hit on. Trust me. I can feel it.”
Randy shrugged. He didn’t want to be too obvious (what if everyone could see him watching!) but he couldn’t help looking back at the leatherman. He turned back to the table. Then, he couldn’t help it, he was looking at the leatherman again. He was still at the bar. He had his drink, and he was talking with another man. Was that his boyfriend? Randy didn’t know. “Do you. Do you think I should, I should, talk to him?” he said.
“If you want to,” said Claire.
“Claire,” said Randy. She had to see the situation was desperate. The leather daddy was still talking to the other man, who laughed at something. His teeth glittered. Bitch. Soon the leatherman would leave the bar, and go back into the crowded club, and then Randy would never find him. He had to talk to him now. Now or never. But what would he say? He couldn’t offer to buy the man a drink. Duh. He already had one. He couldn’t ask him what time it was. That was so stupid. “Claire,” he said again. “You have to help me. I don’t know what to do!”
“Randy,” said Claire. “I can’t tell you what to do. You’re just going to have to decide for yourself.”
Randy sighed. He knew she was going to say that, but he had hoped she would just tell him what to do. Then, he would be able to do it, no matter how scared he was. Usually, Randy preferred to give instructions to other people. Not the other way around. But he was no longer surprised by this new feeling, of wanting someone else to control his life. He wouldn’t have acknowledged it even a few months before, when he had been dating the UNI sorority girl from Eagan with her ideas of what she called The Advancement of Women. He had changed, and he knew why: it was his time with KIRA. His beloved mistress certainly knew how to use a whip, and he had learned much.
But think of all that he could learn from a beloved master!
“Hey, Randy,” said Claire’s friend. He looked back at her. “Since you’re going to the bar, would you mind getting me another drink?”
Randy was relieved. Finally. Now, he had at least something to do. “Okay. What would you like?”
“Vodka and cranberry juice.” She handed him her empty glass.
“Vodka and cranberry juice. Got it.”
“Oh, and would you mind getting me another rum and coke?” said Claire. “While you’re at it.”
Randy took Claire’s glass. “Of course, Claire. Anyway, so so anyway. I just want you to know that I’ll pay. I’m the man. I live very, very comfortably, so. I have the money. You don’t need to pay me back.”
Randy was so busy listening to his own voice that he hadn’t noticed that neither of the women had opened their purses. They knew, if Randy did not, that he was not coming back to the table. And that if he was going to buy a drink for anyone that night, it wouldn’t be for either of them. “Randy,” said Claire. “Your purse. You will need it if you’re paying for the drinks.”
“Oh, yes,” said Randy. “I. I forgot.”
Randy picked his purse up off the table. It was a zebra print purse Claire had helped him pick out at Kmart. He had to set the women’s glasses down first, and he didn’t even think to pick them back up again. He walked over to the bar. The lights were flashing and zooming over the small dance floor, though no one here was actually dancing. He walked through a hazy of cigarette smoke and the laughter of drunk women wearing black thigh high boots and tight shirts, who were sitting at a table with their guys. Randy blinked. The music was louder than ever, but he went on. He couldn’t tell if the leatherman was still at the bar, but. He couldn’t turn back now.
He could hear his old litany, almost without thinking: I hope I can make it. I hope I can make it through.
And, with the grace of god, he made it to the bar. Just as the leather daddy came back, holding an almost empty beer bottle. Right next to Randy.
Randy couldn’t believe it. He was closer than he had ever dreamt possible to the most splendid example of manhood he had ever seen. Now, he was close enough to fully appreciate it. The leatherman was perhaps an inch taller than Randy. He had a mustache, and short spiky hair. Totally butch, but Randy would have expected nothing less. And his outfit. A good republican, the kind Randy had always thought himself to be, would not approve. His black pants were indeed leather, and just as tight as Randy had guessed. He had taken his jacket off, and Randy could see he also wore a skintight black vest. A studded belt that whispered how it would feel across Randy’s back. His ass. And Randy knew he shouldn’t be so obvious, but he couldn’t look away-- The man’s vest revealed a lot. Several tattoos Randy still couldn’t see very well. And Randy couldn’t believe it, but he had to. The man had his nipples pierced. One was pierced twice.
Randy nearly squealed like a pig with desire.
Of course, the man had noticed Randy. When he managed to tear his eyes from the leatherman’s manly chest to his manly face, he saw he was watching him. He had been for perhaps a minute or so. So were several other people. The man leaned in so Randy could hear him over the music: “See something you like, little girl?”
The man sitting next to him laughed. “I think she does. But that’s no little girl. From the looks of her, I’d have to see she’s a rather big girl.”
“I know,” said the leather daddy. “I was only trying to flatter her. Since she so obviously wants to flatter me. Isn’t that right?”
Randy had nothing to say. His steel plate was smashing all the words he could think of flat before he could say them. He clutched at his purse. Finally, he said: “I’m not a girl, no, no. Not a little girl or a big girl. I’m a man. And I just want you to know, in case you were wondering, I’m no little dude.”
Several people nearby laughed, including the daddy. Then he said: “Oh, we never really thought you were a girl. We were only teasing you. Besides, I thought you would be flattered to know you were so convincing. Is this your first time in drag?”
“No,” said Randy. “But yes, yes. I am not very familiar with it.”
“You’ll improve,” said the other man. “I can tell.” He turned back to face the bar and the glittering bottles by the mirror, and lit up a cigarette. The bartender had been making several Bloody Marys at the other end, but he was coming back now. He set a just opened bottle of beer in front of the leatherman. He nodded. He looked over at Randy. “Anything for you?” he said.
Oops. Randy finally realized he didn’t have the women’s glasses with him. Oh well. They wouldn’t mind if he just got them another pair of drinks in fresh glasses. Though that seemed a waste. Yet, he couldn’t remember what they had wanted. And he wasn’t ready to go back to the table, not yet.
Randy tried to think of what to say. He had ordered drinks before, but standing next to the leather daddy, he found it hard to think. “I… I…”
“He’ll have a rum and coke,” said the leather daddy.
As the bartender turned to fill the order, Randy could only stare at the man. He continued to stare as the bartender brought him his drink, and the leather daddy paid him. Finally, he said. “Thank, uh. Thank you! But I didn’t say I wanted a rum and coke.”
“But it was what you wanted,” said the leather daddy. “Just a guess. And don’t even think about paying me back.”
Randy felt like a woman. And he loved it.
The leatherman drank his beer. Even that was manly. Then he leaned in close to Randy. His breath was warm with beer smell, and it ravished Randy, as he wanted this man to ravish him. “And I suspect I know what else you want. Besides your choice of drink for the evening.”
Randy blushed. He sipped at his drink, but he was so excited, he hardly tasted it. It was all he could do not to giggle.
“What do you mean?” he said.
“What do you think? Come now. You don’t know a pick up line when you hear it? It wasn’t that good, but still.”
Randy was blushing more and more still. “I…” he said. He took a deep breath. “I don’t have much experience with this sort of thing. With sex stuff. It’s. It’s kind of, kind of. It’s disgusting. That’s all.
“Well, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. And what do you mean by sex stuff?”
Randy couldn’t believe they were discussing this. In a bar, a PUBLIC PLACE. He was nervous, but finally, he said: “Well. Anyway. My friend Kira. She sent me an email once and she was telling me things about the you know, the woman’s, you know. G spot. And I thought that was disgusting. I mean. Married people should just do it, and get it over with.”
“Really. Well, there’s a lot more to fucking than the missionary position, if that’s the kind of thing you don’t like.”
Randy giggled. He had always assumed that if he had sex, that would be exactly what kind it was. Married. Missionary position. Still partly dressed. He hadn’t even thought about it. After all, he was a republican, and that was how republicans had sex. He had never slept with the sorority girl, not that he had tried. They had never gone further than little prim kisses at her parents’ doorstep after he drove her home. That was all she would allow, and he hadn’t minded. But it wasn’t enough anymore. Somehow, he felt as though he had missed out on something. He shook his head, and sipped again at his drink.
“I. Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that. And I don’t like using that vulgar word. The, you know. The f word.”
“Oh.” The leather daddy didn’t seem surprised. “But we don’t have to discuss that quite yet. We’ve got time enough, after all. I don’t think I caught your name.”
“I’m Randy,” said Randy, offering up his name as he would his asshole.
“Well, nice to meet you, Randy.” The leather daddy introduced himself, but Randy barely listened to him. He was too caught up with the thrill, the near orgasmic excitement, of hearing the man say his name. As no one had ever said it before.
“Now that we’ve gotten acquainted,” said the leather daddy, “we can properly discuss fucking. I know you don’t like the word. But that’s what it is. It is dirty, and messy, and involves bodily fluids, and preferably, being butt naked. But you don’t have to call it fucking. Let’s see. There’s screwing, banging, humping, shagging… It’s all the same, when you get down to it.”
Randy stared. He didn’t know what to think. But he knew. In a flash, he realized what he had known all along. He wanted to be fucked. He didn’t want to have sex, or, heaven forbid, make love. He wanted to be fucked hard.
“But enough of that,” said the leather daddy. “I tend to be overly verbose, but I’m working on it.” He finished up his beer, and then patted his jacket pocket for his keys. “So. Randy. What’s next?”
Randy was shy and blushing as a little flower. He looked down. “I don’t know. Whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?”
“Yes. I don’t know anything about these. This sort of thing. Just tell me what you want, and I will do it, sir.”
“That is tempting. Well, Randy, why don’t we blow this place and go for a ride? I’m parked just down the street. And I’m always ready to offer a lady a ride.”
“But, but. You see, I came with these women, my friends, and they will be wondering where I am, and they might need me to drive, and…”
“You didn’t drive them here, did you? Then, as long as they have a car, they’ll get home. I think they know that better than you do.”
Randy nodded. He hadn’t thought of them once, the entire time he had been with the leather daddy. And he was right. They would be fine. And he didn’t want to think about them, not now. He only wanted to be with this man. He couldn’t leave him. No way. “Yes. I want to go for a ride with you.”
He left the bar with the leather daddy, out into the movie sunset even though it was nearly 12:30 in the morning. Randy had stopped at the table to pick up his coat, a zebra print to match his purse, and he clutched it tightly around himself. He kept his eyes lowered, modest and quiet as a good submissive should be, but he never looked away from the daddy. Not once. And the man’s motorcycle! Randy should have known he wouldn’t have anything so ordinary as a car. Oh, it was big and black and scary. He could feel its rumble already as the daddy helped him climb on. This time, he needed no encouragement to put this arms around the daddy’s waist. He held on tight, pressing himself against the daddy as though there was nothing else in the world.
“Well,” said the daddy. “You’re catching on.”
Randy giggled. His legs were spread wide over the motorcycle, and for the first time, he felt something special in his really, really small dick. The daddy revved the engine, and they were off. Randy clung to him, so excited that he started squeaking like a chipmunk. The daddy didn’t mind. Randy had never been happier. He never wanted this to end. The night was rushing all around him.
*
When they reached the daddy’s building, Randy let him help him climb off the motorcycle as though he were a lady. He clutched his purse close and giggled. He let his skirt lift up, higher and higher, and then he let it drop. Just long enough to show a tease of hairy man leg. So the daddy could see what the merchandise was like. It was cold, but Randy wanted, and needed, to show himself off. Too bad he couldn’t let the daddy know just how ready he was-- But that would have to wait.
“Thank you, sir,” he whispered.
“My pleasure,” said the daddy.
The daddy’s apartment was on the third floor. As they walked up the stairs, he said: “My only regret, you know, is that I can’t pick you up and carry you up the stairs, two at a time. Like Rhett Butler did to Scarlett O’Hara.”
“Rhett Butler? Who’s that?” said Randy.
“You know. From Gone with the Wind… Oh. You don’t know. Anyway, that was always a fantasy I had, to carry a boy up the stairs like he did with Scarlett. But it wouldn’t work. Sorry. But believe me, I’ll make up for it.”
Randy felt oddly disappointed. He would have loved it, the man picking him up and throwing him over his shoulder, whether Randy gave him permission or not. Preferably, when he hadn’t. He wouldn’t be able to do anything. Only thrash and struggle prettily, as the man threw him across a bed. Randy sighed. This was the first time he wished he wasn’t quite so tall and manly. No one could pick him up.
They were no sooner in the apartment, and the door locked behind them, then the daddy was on him. Randy had kissed before, of course. With Kira, a few times, when she allowed it, and his girlfriend. But this, this was kissing. They were moving back into the bedroom, and their clothes were dropping: or Randy was undressing the daddy as a good submissive should. He dropped to his knees to unzip the daddy’s pants, wriggling all the while, ready to worship the sight of his cock. And worship he did. He gazed at the man’s cock with joy. He wanted to touch it, but he could not yet presume. It was already at half mast, and its Prince Albert piercing-- He knew his virginity was doomed.
When they were in the bedroom, the daddy let Randy go. Randy whimpered, lying on the bed, as the man went back to the dresser. “Just a few things we’ll be needing,” he said. He took out all the toys. The handcuffs. The nipple clamps. The butt plug. And, of course, plenty of lube. They would be needing it.
He turned back to Randy. “But first. I need to help you with your clothes.”
He undressed Randy as though he were a doll. Randy let him, gazing, always, at his magnificent cock. Then the fun began. Randy was learning a lot, just as he had known he would. He was in the middle of the bed, hands cuffed behind his back, nipple clamps in place, and he knew what he wanted. Finally, he knew.
“Fuck me!” he screamed. “Fuck my ass!”
The daddy shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. He pulled Randy up onto his knees. “Isn’t there something we need to do first?”
Of course. Randy gazed lovingly at the man’s cock. He had known all along. He wanted to say it, with all of the necessary importance. “May I…”
“A little louder.”
“May I suck your cock, sir? It is the most beautiful cock I have ever seen.”
Randy was granted permission. “Good boy,” the daddy said.
They fucked all night. The daddy was all that Randy could have hoped for. He was ravished, as he had never hoped to be ravished, in every way. As the enchanted night ended and became the enchanted morning, the fucking was not over. As he limped to the bathroom, Randy wondered when he would be able to sit down again. Not that he cared. He had to hurry back. His master was waiting for him.
THE END
Randy Foreman sat at the tiny table in the middle of the dark nightclub. He clutched at his drink, almost forgetting to drink it. It was a rum and coke, which he usually didn’t like. He had only gotten it because Claire had. He shifted his hips, and tried to fit his knees under the table. It certainly hadn’t been made to accommodate his manly proportions. Six feet four, and 110 pounds. Oh, yes. Randy had to be careful not to knock this table over. He sipped his drink, and smiled.
It wasn’t that he was unhappy. It was just-- He had never been to this club before, and wouldn’t have picked it out himself. Still, he didn’t mind it too much. He did feel a little uncomfortable in the crushed velvet bustier Claire had asked him to wear. His shoulders were bare, and he kept hunching over.
Plus, it didn’t quite fasten in the front. Randy understood that it wasn’t meant to. Claire and her friends had explained that to him the first time he tried it on. It was the style. But he was still embarrassed, knowing how anyone could see where he should have had a hairy chest.
He also had reservations about the narrow black skirt, with a slit up the back so he could walk. But since Claire had gone to all that trouble helping him pick out clothes when they had gone shopping the week before… Well, he couldn’t say no. When he complained, Claire just told him it was the fashion. Randy knew nothing about fashion. So he had to believe her. He would never get it, he supposed.
The music pounded and throbbed over the loudspeakers. It was difficult to talk to anyone unless you went out into the lobby, and Claire didn’t want to do that. She wanted to stay there. It wasn’t as though you came to clubs to have deep, heart-to-heart talks or anything. She had told him that several times already, yelling it at him over the music. So Randy sat. Occasionally patting at the stiff, purple wig he had ordered from a catalog. It was all so different from what he usually wore to go out. He generally wore a blue button-down shirt. Khakis. The sort of outfit you wore to shake hands in.
Claire was watching Randy. He gave her a smile, like a republican candidate, to show he was doing all right. A-okay. She grinned. She was probably laughing at him, but he was used to that. He looked over in the direction of the bar, thinking about offering to buy Claire a drink, since he had noticed, ever so cunning, that she had nearly finished the one she had now. When he saw him.
When he happened to meet his eyes.
He was a leather daddy, up at the bar to order a drink. He was tall, dark, and handsome. Very tall. Even through the leaping dance lights, Randy could see that. The sort of man who could pose for the cover of a romance novel, but that wasn’t the kind of novel this man belonged in. Randy knew nothing about romances, but he knew that. He wore black. His trousers were probably leather, and so tight tight, that Randy, if he had been any closer, would have known for certain that he was well-hung.
The man had been talking to someone next to him at the bar. He had just happened to look up at that moment—and he was looking right at him. At Randy!
Claire was talking with her friend, who Randy had only met twice before. He couldn’t hear what they said. He had to tap Claire on the shoulder to get her attention. Then he leaned in and said, as loudly as he could. “Uh, Claire… Did you see that leatherman over there?”
Claire just looked at him. “What was that?”
“There! At the bar! The leatherman!”
“Which one?”
“What? I can’t hear you.”
“WHICH ONE?”
Randy gave a stupid smile and pointed his finger at Claire. “You’re fired!” he said. She rolled her eyes, but he just knew she liked it when he did that. After a few minutes or so, he said: “That one. The one in the black leather jacket.”
“Randy. There are at least five men at the bar wearing black leather jackets. Probably more. Could you be any more specific?”
“That one.” Randy pointed. He could only hope the man hadn’t seen.
Claire leaned forward, and scanned the bar. “Oh,” she said. “I see.” The leather daddy didn’t notice her. Randy knew, though how he knew he wasn’t certain, that the man was there to see other men. He didn’t have time for anything else.
“So,” said Claire. “I see him. What about him?”
“Well.” Randy blushed. He looked down at his lap. He didn’t even know where to begin. What if the man was watching him, at that moment? What if he knew Randy had been watching him, all along. Oh, my god! He looked so stupid! He was embarrassed, but he tried to shake it off. “Anyway. So, so, so anyway. I kind of like him, but I’m. I’m afraid to talk to him. I don’t know. What if he doesn’t like me?”
“If he doesn’t like you, that’s his problem,” said Claire.
Her friend nodded.
“Besides, Randy, you have no reason to think that. You haven’t even tried to talk to him yet. And you are looking quite nice tonight. Especially in that outfit. You’re a new person now. You’re going to get hit on. Trust me. I can feel it.”
Randy shrugged. He didn’t want to be too obvious (what if everyone could see him watching!) but he couldn’t help looking back at the leatherman. He turned back to the table. Then, he couldn’t help it, he was looking at the leatherman again. He was still at the bar. He had his drink, and he was talking with another man. Was that his boyfriend? Randy didn’t know. “Do you. Do you think I should, I should, talk to him?” he said.
“If you want to,” said Claire.
“Claire,” said Randy. She had to see the situation was desperate. The leather daddy was still talking to the other man, who laughed at something. His teeth glittered. Bitch. Soon the leatherman would leave the bar, and go back into the crowded club, and then Randy would never find him. He had to talk to him now. Now or never. But what would he say? He couldn’t offer to buy the man a drink. Duh. He already had one. He couldn’t ask him what time it was. That was so stupid. “Claire,” he said again. “You have to help me. I don’t know what to do!”
“Randy,” said Claire. “I can’t tell you what to do. You’re just going to have to decide for yourself.”
Randy sighed. He knew she was going to say that, but he had hoped she would just tell him what to do. Then, he would be able to do it, no matter how scared he was. Usually, Randy preferred to give instructions to other people. Not the other way around. But he was no longer surprised by this new feeling, of wanting someone else to control his life. He wouldn’t have acknowledged it even a few months before, when he had been dating the UNI sorority girl from Eagan with her ideas of what she called The Advancement of Women. He had changed, and he knew why: it was his time with KIRA. His beloved mistress certainly knew how to use a whip, and he had learned much.
But think of all that he could learn from a beloved master!
“Hey, Randy,” said Claire’s friend. He looked back at her. “Since you’re going to the bar, would you mind getting me another drink?”
Randy was relieved. Finally. Now, he had at least something to do. “Okay. What would you like?”
“Vodka and cranberry juice.” She handed him her empty glass.
“Vodka and cranberry juice. Got it.”
“Oh, and would you mind getting me another rum and coke?” said Claire. “While you’re at it.”
Randy took Claire’s glass. “Of course, Claire. Anyway, so so anyway. I just want you to know that I’ll pay. I’m the man. I live very, very comfortably, so. I have the money. You don’t need to pay me back.”
Randy was so busy listening to his own voice that he hadn’t noticed that neither of the women had opened their purses. They knew, if Randy did not, that he was not coming back to the table. And that if he was going to buy a drink for anyone that night, it wouldn’t be for either of them. “Randy,” said Claire. “Your purse. You will need it if you’re paying for the drinks.”
“Oh, yes,” said Randy. “I. I forgot.”
Randy picked his purse up off the table. It was a zebra print purse Claire had helped him pick out at Kmart. He had to set the women’s glasses down first, and he didn’t even think to pick them back up again. He walked over to the bar. The lights were flashing and zooming over the small dance floor, though no one here was actually dancing. He walked through a hazy of cigarette smoke and the laughter of drunk women wearing black thigh high boots and tight shirts, who were sitting at a table with their guys. Randy blinked. The music was louder than ever, but he went on. He couldn’t tell if the leatherman was still at the bar, but. He couldn’t turn back now.
He could hear his old litany, almost without thinking: I hope I can make it. I hope I can make it through.
And, with the grace of god, he made it to the bar. Just as the leather daddy came back, holding an almost empty beer bottle. Right next to Randy.
Randy couldn’t believe it. He was closer than he had ever dreamt possible to the most splendid example of manhood he had ever seen. Now, he was close enough to fully appreciate it. The leatherman was perhaps an inch taller than Randy. He had a mustache, and short spiky hair. Totally butch, but Randy would have expected nothing less. And his outfit. A good republican, the kind Randy had always thought himself to be, would not approve. His black pants were indeed leather, and just as tight as Randy had guessed. He had taken his jacket off, and Randy could see he also wore a skintight black vest. A studded belt that whispered how it would feel across Randy’s back. His ass. And Randy knew he shouldn’t be so obvious, but he couldn’t look away-- The man’s vest revealed a lot. Several tattoos Randy still couldn’t see very well. And Randy couldn’t believe it, but he had to. The man had his nipples pierced. One was pierced twice.
Randy nearly squealed like a pig with desire.
Of course, the man had noticed Randy. When he managed to tear his eyes from the leatherman’s manly chest to his manly face, he saw he was watching him. He had been for perhaps a minute or so. So were several other people. The man leaned in so Randy could hear him over the music: “See something you like, little girl?”
The man sitting next to him laughed. “I think she does. But that’s no little girl. From the looks of her, I’d have to see she’s a rather big girl.”
“I know,” said the leather daddy. “I was only trying to flatter her. Since she so obviously wants to flatter me. Isn’t that right?”
Randy had nothing to say. His steel plate was smashing all the words he could think of flat before he could say them. He clutched at his purse. Finally, he said: “I’m not a girl, no, no. Not a little girl or a big girl. I’m a man. And I just want you to know, in case you were wondering, I’m no little dude.”
Several people nearby laughed, including the daddy. Then he said: “Oh, we never really thought you were a girl. We were only teasing you. Besides, I thought you would be flattered to know you were so convincing. Is this your first time in drag?”
“No,” said Randy. “But yes, yes. I am not very familiar with it.”
“You’ll improve,” said the other man. “I can tell.” He turned back to face the bar and the glittering bottles by the mirror, and lit up a cigarette. The bartender had been making several Bloody Marys at the other end, but he was coming back now. He set a just opened bottle of beer in front of the leatherman. He nodded. He looked over at Randy. “Anything for you?” he said.
Oops. Randy finally realized he didn’t have the women’s glasses with him. Oh well. They wouldn’t mind if he just got them another pair of drinks in fresh glasses. Though that seemed a waste. Yet, he couldn’t remember what they had wanted. And he wasn’t ready to go back to the table, not yet.
Randy tried to think of what to say. He had ordered drinks before, but standing next to the leather daddy, he found it hard to think. “I… I…”
“He’ll have a rum and coke,” said the leather daddy.
As the bartender turned to fill the order, Randy could only stare at the man. He continued to stare as the bartender brought him his drink, and the leather daddy paid him. Finally, he said. “Thank, uh. Thank you! But I didn’t say I wanted a rum and coke.”
“But it was what you wanted,” said the leather daddy. “Just a guess. And don’t even think about paying me back.”
Randy felt like a woman. And he loved it.
The leatherman drank his beer. Even that was manly. Then he leaned in close to Randy. His breath was warm with beer smell, and it ravished Randy, as he wanted this man to ravish him. “And I suspect I know what else you want. Besides your choice of drink for the evening.”
Randy blushed. He sipped at his drink, but he was so excited, he hardly tasted it. It was all he could do not to giggle.
“What do you mean?” he said.
“What do you think? Come now. You don’t know a pick up line when you hear it? It wasn’t that good, but still.”
Randy was blushing more and more still. “I…” he said. He took a deep breath. “I don’t have much experience with this sort of thing. With sex stuff. It’s. It’s kind of, kind of. It’s disgusting. That’s all.
“Well, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. And what do you mean by sex stuff?”
Randy couldn’t believe they were discussing this. In a bar, a PUBLIC PLACE. He was nervous, but finally, he said: “Well. Anyway. My friend Kira. She sent me an email once and she was telling me things about the you know, the woman’s, you know. G spot. And I thought that was disgusting. I mean. Married people should just do it, and get it over with.”
“Really. Well, there’s a lot more to fucking than the missionary position, if that’s the kind of thing you don’t like.”
Randy giggled. He had always assumed that if he had sex, that would be exactly what kind it was. Married. Missionary position. Still partly dressed. He hadn’t even thought about it. After all, he was a republican, and that was how republicans had sex. He had never slept with the sorority girl, not that he had tried. They had never gone further than little prim kisses at her parents’ doorstep after he drove her home. That was all she would allow, and he hadn’t minded. But it wasn’t enough anymore. Somehow, he felt as though he had missed out on something. He shook his head, and sipped again at his drink.
“I. Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that. And I don’t like using that vulgar word. The, you know. The f word.”
“Oh.” The leather daddy didn’t seem surprised. “But we don’t have to discuss that quite yet. We’ve got time enough, after all. I don’t think I caught your name.”
“I’m Randy,” said Randy, offering up his name as he would his asshole.
“Well, nice to meet you, Randy.” The leather daddy introduced himself, but Randy barely listened to him. He was too caught up with the thrill, the near orgasmic excitement, of hearing the man say his name. As no one had ever said it before.
“Now that we’ve gotten acquainted,” said the leather daddy, “we can properly discuss fucking. I know you don’t like the word. But that’s what it is. It is dirty, and messy, and involves bodily fluids, and preferably, being butt naked. But you don’t have to call it fucking. Let’s see. There’s screwing, banging, humping, shagging… It’s all the same, when you get down to it.”
Randy stared. He didn’t know what to think. But he knew. In a flash, he realized what he had known all along. He wanted to be fucked. He didn’t want to have sex, or, heaven forbid, make love. He wanted to be fucked hard.
“But enough of that,” said the leather daddy. “I tend to be overly verbose, but I’m working on it.” He finished up his beer, and then patted his jacket pocket for his keys. “So. Randy. What’s next?”
Randy was shy and blushing as a little flower. He looked down. “I don’t know. Whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?”
“Yes. I don’t know anything about these. This sort of thing. Just tell me what you want, and I will do it, sir.”
“That is tempting. Well, Randy, why don’t we blow this place and go for a ride? I’m parked just down the street. And I’m always ready to offer a lady a ride.”
“But, but. You see, I came with these women, my friends, and they will be wondering where I am, and they might need me to drive, and…”
“You didn’t drive them here, did you? Then, as long as they have a car, they’ll get home. I think they know that better than you do.”
Randy nodded. He hadn’t thought of them once, the entire time he had been with the leather daddy. And he was right. They would be fine. And he didn’t want to think about them, not now. He only wanted to be with this man. He couldn’t leave him. No way. “Yes. I want to go for a ride with you.”
He left the bar with the leather daddy, out into the movie sunset even though it was nearly 12:30 in the morning. Randy had stopped at the table to pick up his coat, a zebra print to match his purse, and he clutched it tightly around himself. He kept his eyes lowered, modest and quiet as a good submissive should be, but he never looked away from the daddy. Not once. And the man’s motorcycle! Randy should have known he wouldn’t have anything so ordinary as a car. Oh, it was big and black and scary. He could feel its rumble already as the daddy helped him climb on. This time, he needed no encouragement to put this arms around the daddy’s waist. He held on tight, pressing himself against the daddy as though there was nothing else in the world.
“Well,” said the daddy. “You’re catching on.”
Randy giggled. His legs were spread wide over the motorcycle, and for the first time, he felt something special in his really, really small dick. The daddy revved the engine, and they were off. Randy clung to him, so excited that he started squeaking like a chipmunk. The daddy didn’t mind. Randy had never been happier. He never wanted this to end. The night was rushing all around him.
*
When they reached the daddy’s building, Randy let him help him climb off the motorcycle as though he were a lady. He clutched his purse close and giggled. He let his skirt lift up, higher and higher, and then he let it drop. Just long enough to show a tease of hairy man leg. So the daddy could see what the merchandise was like. It was cold, but Randy wanted, and needed, to show himself off. Too bad he couldn’t let the daddy know just how ready he was-- But that would have to wait.
“Thank you, sir,” he whispered.
“My pleasure,” said the daddy.
The daddy’s apartment was on the third floor. As they walked up the stairs, he said: “My only regret, you know, is that I can’t pick you up and carry you up the stairs, two at a time. Like Rhett Butler did to Scarlett O’Hara.”
“Rhett Butler? Who’s that?” said Randy.
“You know. From Gone with the Wind… Oh. You don’t know. Anyway, that was always a fantasy I had, to carry a boy up the stairs like he did with Scarlett. But it wouldn’t work. Sorry. But believe me, I’ll make up for it.”
Randy felt oddly disappointed. He would have loved it, the man picking him up and throwing him over his shoulder, whether Randy gave him permission or not. Preferably, when he hadn’t. He wouldn’t be able to do anything. Only thrash and struggle prettily, as the man threw him across a bed. Randy sighed. This was the first time he wished he wasn’t quite so tall and manly. No one could pick him up.
They were no sooner in the apartment, and the door locked behind them, then the daddy was on him. Randy had kissed before, of course. With Kira, a few times, when she allowed it, and his girlfriend. But this, this was kissing. They were moving back into the bedroom, and their clothes were dropping: or Randy was undressing the daddy as a good submissive should. He dropped to his knees to unzip the daddy’s pants, wriggling all the while, ready to worship the sight of his cock. And worship he did. He gazed at the man’s cock with joy. He wanted to touch it, but he could not yet presume. It was already at half mast, and its Prince Albert piercing-- He knew his virginity was doomed.
When they were in the bedroom, the daddy let Randy go. Randy whimpered, lying on the bed, as the man went back to the dresser. “Just a few things we’ll be needing,” he said. He took out all the toys. The handcuffs. The nipple clamps. The butt plug. And, of course, plenty of lube. They would be needing it.
He turned back to Randy. “But first. I need to help you with your clothes.”
He undressed Randy as though he were a doll. Randy let him, gazing, always, at his magnificent cock. Then the fun began. Randy was learning a lot, just as he had known he would. He was in the middle of the bed, hands cuffed behind his back, nipple clamps in place, and he knew what he wanted. Finally, he knew.
“Fuck me!” he screamed. “Fuck my ass!”
The daddy shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. He pulled Randy up onto his knees. “Isn’t there something we need to do first?”
Of course. Randy gazed lovingly at the man’s cock. He had known all along. He wanted to say it, with all of the necessary importance. “May I…”
“A little louder.”
“May I suck your cock, sir? It is the most beautiful cock I have ever seen.”
Randy was granted permission. “Good boy,” the daddy said.
They fucked all night. The daddy was all that Randy could have hoped for. He was ravished, as he had never hoped to be ravished, in every way. As the enchanted night ended and became the enchanted morning, the fucking was not over. As he limped to the bathroom, Randy wondered when he would be able to sit down again. Not that he cared. He had to hurry back. His master was waiting for him.
THE END