One night stand Part 1

“I approach him under flashing lights in a dim atmosphere on a sparsely populated dance floor, under the influence of the false confidence of two double vodkas and limes and a pornstar, as well several predrinks. I come close to his body and put my hand on his chest, and lean in, my ear close to his as he bends down slightly straining to hear my words. I hadn't noticed how tall and large his body was until I was standing in front of it, him towering over me.

“Why are you dancing by yourself?” I ask loudly in a voice that is heard in only a whisper over the music playing in the club. I must repeat myself several times, even though I'm sure he gets the clue and with that we take step into the dirty trance of the meaningless pop top 10 practically played on repeat. And I am only relieved that he would take a girl like me.
I've had my eye on him from the moment I entered the club. Angered by the inevitable ditching by my friends I poured drinks down my throat as quickly as possible expecting the magical effects of spontaneous fun that so often occurs with the consumption of such an elixir.

I sat on a bench at the bar and watched him from afar wondering if he might have noticed me. When I finally found one of the girls I had come to the club with, a superficial friend, I turned her body in his direction and was rude enough to point behind his back. “That” I shouted in her ear “is the one I want”. She looked at me bewildered and made a weak attempt to deter me but her opinion meant nothing to me and I was determined.

I sat near to him on a bench that surrounded the dance floor as if I were an animal stalking it's prey. He was at the edge of the floor dancing in place, looking out over the room at the emptiness no doubt. He was extremely tall, and well built although lean, and he had a dark skin tone. He was dressed well, Nike sneakers, somewhat baggy jeans, a shirt that I don't recall, maybe a polo. He had short dark hair, and a face that I didn't pay much attention to.

When we danced he held my back and stepped to the beat, my shirt kept getting pulled up showing my leggings, and the skin on my back. I make a constant effort to pull it down, a task made difficult by the stony permanency of his arm fixed around me. He doesn't attempt to touch me more inanimately like most men at the club tend to. His large hands never wander to my breasts nor my ass, though mine find my way all over him. My eyes too look up at him innocently, full and brown with lust. I grind on him shamelessly, my front and back into his crotch and on his legs, while I move my hands over his chest, shoulders and down his back like I'm sanding down a sculpture.

My dancing is terribly sloppy because I have no rhythm and I apologize and blame it on the booze. He tells me it's ok.

“I need a drink” I eventually say after five or six songs and he takes me to the bar and orders me my third vodka and lime and a rum and coke for himself. We sit on the benches off to the side of the bar and I swing my legs over his lap and he holds me in his long, strong arms. His name is Duran and he is from the Bahamas, he an engineering student at a university here in the city. I tell him I like Jamaicans and he tells me his mother is and I'm satisfied.We talk briefly but mostly touch, and I kiss his large lips. He asks me what I'm doing tonight and I tell him I don't know and that I've lost my friends and he accepts this temporary answer. I tell him I may go home and he is a gentlemen and doesn't pressure me. He tells me he lives far away but has a key to a place he used to live that we could go to.

“Would you like to go somewhere more private?” he asks and I say yes even though I don't know where he has in mind. He take my hand in his and leads me away to a more secluded section of the bar where the slot machines are. We sit on stools across from each other and we kiss and and rub and I realize that he isn't great at making out. He's very closed off and it's hard to know if he's into any of it at all but I make enough effort for both of us. He's lucky enough to get a view of a wall on the other side of me, whilst I stare out at peering eyes of those people drinking in booths on the other side of a window that portions off the gambling space. Duran kisses my neck and touches me and the patrons wink and point. I am the girl that you so often see up against the wall in the shadows, tipsy, and on her worst behavior. Getting laid tonight. A fat, rundown man comes to gamble and looks at me slyly with a smile like he's into the whole situation and I tell Duran that we should go find his friend.

Once again on the dance floor we find his short, black friend, with bulgy eyes, horridly drunk dancing with a chubby white chick with dyed black hair. We smile and commence floor fucking, when who approaches but my 39 year old, thin, balding, married, smashed landlord who has seemed incredibly, and unacceptably into me all night. He gives me the same smile the gambling man had that “you-dirty-girl” look. It's the same look I get all night long when people see my little white girl self, with such a large black man leading me by the hand like a dog cluelessly around the city during the early morning hours, my dress riding up.

One night stand Part 2

It's 3:30am and the club is closing and I still don't know what I should do because I've never had a one night stand before. I have only ever fucked once. So we go to McDonalds and there I find each of the girls I went out with originally, my roommates and my drunk landlord once again. One of my roommates stumbles up to me in line and tells me she has just fucked a bouncer that she's been pursuing. She keeps repeating to me that she has no underwear on and I notice that her pants are on backwards. She's still incrediblely out of her head and her blond dried out hair is a mess. She sees Duran and finds my situation hilariously amusing. We've both already had such a surreal and fucked up night that she hugs me and tells me she loves me and we both smile. I feel happiness and friendship with her, something I don't often experience often. At this point I have completely sobered up, and stand in line by Duran waiting for his quarter pounder. We are wearing matching winter coats, black and puffy with fake fur trimmed hoods. His is long, down to his knees, and mine comes to my waist. I feel edgy and ghetto for wearing it. My landlord talks to Duran like he's my pimp or something. “She's my favorite house girl” he says “she's the nicest”, and he eyes me like a piece of meat and I feel like I'm being sold away,still somehow I feel no sadness, only joy at the feeling of reality and life pulsing through me. My landlord lays down a grand for he's five dollar meal like a rich asshole and tells Duran that he owns a beach in the Bahamas.

I eat a few of Duran's fries and I talk to my roommates and they all half-heatedly insist I come home with them but at this point I've already made up my mind.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask. “No but we can take a cab to Needs”. And it is decided. We take the cab, get the condoms, and then continue to Brunswick, a sketchy street on the north side. The cab driver won't take Duran's plastic and is fed up with us so he lets us off the hook and tells us to get the fuck out.

The house looks fine from the outside, it's a large building with many doors leading to different sections. He digs out his key and we enter, it is cold because there is no heat to be turned on. It is bare and there's a lot of garbage on the floor. We climb up the stairs and he gives me a tour. There's still working electricity, soap in the bathroom etc. We enter the bedroom and there are books scattered on the floor and empty dressers. I wonder who's they are because they were probably never his. Some of them look like paperback screen plays others old weight loss books. There is a large double bed that takes up a lot of the space. It is a flowered mattress with no sheet or covers which makes it feel cleaner, and a large wooden, loose and wobbly head board.
We don't talk. We stand on either side of the room and act purposely, removing our attire systematically. I finish first and lay on the bed wearing only my bra and panties ,shivering. He digs through his many coat and jean pockets but can't find his condoms. He's left them in the cab.
Duran walks to a convince store down the street in the rain, leaving me alone and naked in the deserted house. He returns frustrated, it's closed. He watches me shivering and I kept saying how cold I am. He calls another cab and before he leaves he kisses me all over my breasts. Then he returns to Needs, at this point it's probably around 5am. I look in the closet and find a sarong his ex has left there and spread the thin material over my body. I text a friend. It reads;
“Shit, I'm at some guy's abandoned house. He went to go get condoms”.

Even still the situation doesn't sink in and I don't regret anything I have done. I wonder what the possibility of some hobo who also has a key coming in is, but don't worry significantly. Then I wonder if this is the kind of places you hear about on tv. A place where people come to shoot up, hide out, and fuck since the landlord doesn't change the locks, and I feel grateful for getting to see one in my life time. I smile at the thought that I'm finally experience the city's underbelly. I hope the mattress doesn't have bed bugs but I don't concern myself with it.

When he returns he gets on me and starts sucking me, and he really stinks at it but I fake pleasure anyway. He doesn't finger me or stick his tongue up me and I wonder why. He doesn't ask me to give him oral, he says we don't have time. He gets up top of me, he's not full of passion or any excitement that is evident other then his hard-on. He drives into me and the sex is fine. Hard and rough, my legs around his waist, my head bumping against the wobbly headboard. I moan and talk dirty and he tells me to “shhh” , he doesn't want to disturb the neighbors and I feel kind of angry. I don't give a fuck about the neighbors. The man next store has a smokers cough and it sounds like “ho ho ho”. As Duran fucks me I make a joke about a santa who's let himself go and we laugh every time the man coughs.

We fuck twice. One after the other and I don't understand how he does it. When we're done he stays inside me for a bit, he's panting, tired and sweaty. I have my arms around him and stroke his head with my eyes closed and legs still wrapped around him. Now I'm the one saying “shh shh shhh” like I'm comforting a small child. He rolls over, his long legs dangling over the side of the bed his eyes closed, he's breathing hard. His sweat is all over me and even in the dark he glistens. He gets cleaned up and we both get dressed and don't talk. It's 6 am. He calls a cab, and we wait outside in the rain, and he sits down because he is too tired to stand. I feel wide awake. I only wish he would talk to me. He doesn't flatter me, he doesn't say anything about the sex and I wonder if I was bad or a disappointment. He just complains about the cab being late and how tired he is.

The cab takes me home and I get out coldly. I tell him to “have a good one” but I don't make eye contact.

I go into my roommate's room and nudge her awake. It's 6:30 am.
“I'm home” I say.
“I see you” she says.
And I go to my bedroom and sleep it off.

~End~