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Thursday, July 19, 2007
Bravery
“I think it’s great that we’re not having sex anymore,” I remarked nonchalantly, sipping my beer.
Blog Boy* took a swig from his pint, a bemused expression on his face.
“What I mean,” I clarified, “is that with all that happened, I’m relieved about our managing not to have sex but still remaining friends over this last year.”
Blog Boy nodded in agreement.
“But,” I continued, “I think the sex thing between us will always be there: I’ll probably always feel attracted to you.”
He smiled at me. “Yep; and me too with you. You can’t just switch that off…”
“We just have to make sure we don’t act on it, not give in to our desires; that way our friendship will be fine.”
He grinned and we raised our beers in a mock toast. At that exact moment, a pretty, thirty-something blonde woman approached us. A little tipsy, she grabbed the table for stability and leaned in towards me.
“Is he your boyfriend?” she said softly, with a suggestive wink.
I looked over at Blog Boy. “He might be,” I replied, grinning back at her flirtatiously.
“How long have you been together?”
I paused, trying to think of an accurate answer. “We’ve known each other a few years...”
“You look very happy,” she said, wobbling slightly in her high heels.
“We’re just fine, thanks,” I replied, stifling a laugh and throwing Blog Boy a look.
“Well then, I don’t want to interrupt your evening,” she said, smiling, “but could you please spare a cigarette? I’ll pay – whatever it costs. Anything you want for it, I’ll give you.” She swayed a little in Blog Boy’s direction and I raised my eyebrow at him to see what his response would be.
Unlike me, because he’s sweet-natured, instead of stating a reasonable demand, he simply reached into his packet of cigarettes. “Here you go,” he said, offering her one. “Enjoy.”
“Oh, it’s not for me, it’s for a friend,” she replied, but took the cigarette anyway. She stroked each of us on the arm, thanking us profusely as she did so. Then she bade us farewell and wished us a pleasant evening together, squeezing us both on the shoulders as she left. At this, Blog Boy and I exchanged a brief look of surprise; instinctively I knew we were both thinking the same thing.
I quickly turned to watch her shapely figure move away from the table and felt the blood rush into my head and my heart begin to thud loudly. I wasn’t sure if it was the excitement of having just seen The Bravery live not even half an hour before; or if it was due to the large amount of beers I had drunk; or whether it was being faced with a sexy voluptuous woman quite obviously flirting with us both, but whatever it was, I suddenly felt impulsive.
“Do you realise you could have asked her to do anything for that cigarette and she probably would have?” I said, smirking at Blog Boy mischievously.
With a stupefied grin on his face, Blog Boy laughed. “Yeah, I guess…”
“I mean, honestly, she would be up for it, I'm sure.”
Blog Boy smiled again, but this time more hesitantly.
“Seriously, she is. I know it.”
I swung another peek at the woman and turned back to Blog Boy. “Jesus,” I whispered to him conspiratorially, “if I had noticed what nice breasts she had when she was standing next to us, I would have asked her to press them into my face in return for that cigarette.”
I turned to look at her again.
“Actually,” I continued, even more enthusiastically, “I would have asked her to rub them against your face. She’s got great boobs, look at them!”
We both fixed our gaze on the woman: her tits were indeed great. In fact, she was great: just my type actually. Rubenesque; a big bum, buxom: the exact kind of woman I go for. (Given I only have Sapphic leanings about 2% of the time, I am extremely fussy and quite shallow about the type of women I find sexually attractive.) With her voluptuous figure etched onto my eyes, all sorts of sexy thoughts entered my head and the pounding in my chest became almost unbearable.
“I could get her to do it,” I said to Blog Boy, eagerly and with sudden confidence. “I know I could. If you want me to, I will. Honestly, if you want her tits in your face – and, quite frankly, I wouldn’t mind seeing that – I bet you she would do it if I asked her.”
Boy Boy shifted in his seat a little. “No, don’t. It’d be embarrassing.”
“You don’t want me to ask her? Don’t you think she’s sexy?”
“It’s not that. I mean… She’s very nice, yeah. It’s just, well, oh I don’t know…” He trailed off and I knew the potentially heated moment would be lost unless I acted on it quickly.
“I won’t embarrass you, I promise,” I reassured him. “I tell you what: how about a kiss instead? Would you like that? I know she’d be up for it; I guarantee it.”
He smiled shyly at me and bit his lip. “OK, I suppose…”
Before he had even finished speaking I had turned to look at the blonde woman who was now standing just a few feet from our table. I observed as she chatted away with her friend and I tried to think clearly, but my mind was racing with adrenalin and excitement. A few seconds later, she saw me staring at her and smiled. I gestured to her that she should come over; as I watched her curves sashaying in my direction, I took a deep breath and hoped for the best…
To be continued...
*The people who have read the book will know to whom I refer in this post.
Blog Boy* took a swig from his pint, a bemused expression on his face.
“What I mean,” I clarified, “is that with all that happened, I’m relieved about our managing not to have sex but still remaining friends over this last year.”
Blog Boy nodded in agreement.
“But,” I continued, “I think the sex thing between us will always be there: I’ll probably always feel attracted to you.”
He smiled at me. “Yep; and me too with you. You can’t just switch that off…”
“We just have to make sure we don’t act on it, not give in to our desires; that way our friendship will be fine.”
He grinned and we raised our beers in a mock toast. At that exact moment, a pretty, thirty-something blonde woman approached us. A little tipsy, she grabbed the table for stability and leaned in towards me.
“Is he your boyfriend?” she said softly, with a suggestive wink.
I looked over at Blog Boy. “He might be,” I replied, grinning back at her flirtatiously.
“How long have you been together?”
I paused, trying to think of an accurate answer. “We’ve known each other a few years...”
“You look very happy,” she said, wobbling slightly in her high heels.
“We’re just fine, thanks,” I replied, stifling a laugh and throwing Blog Boy a look.
“Well then, I don’t want to interrupt your evening,” she said, smiling, “but could you please spare a cigarette? I’ll pay – whatever it costs. Anything you want for it, I’ll give you.” She swayed a little in Blog Boy’s direction and I raised my eyebrow at him to see what his response would be.
Unlike me, because he’s sweet-natured, instead of stating a reasonable demand, he simply reached into his packet of cigarettes. “Here you go,” he said, offering her one. “Enjoy.”
“Oh, it’s not for me, it’s for a friend,” she replied, but took the cigarette anyway. She stroked each of us on the arm, thanking us profusely as she did so. Then she bade us farewell and wished us a pleasant evening together, squeezing us both on the shoulders as she left. At this, Blog Boy and I exchanged a brief look of surprise; instinctively I knew we were both thinking the same thing.
I quickly turned to watch her shapely figure move away from the table and felt the blood rush into my head and my heart begin to thud loudly. I wasn’t sure if it was the excitement of having just seen The Bravery live not even half an hour before; or if it was due to the large amount of beers I had drunk; or whether it was being faced with a sexy voluptuous woman quite obviously flirting with us both, but whatever it was, I suddenly felt impulsive.
“Do you realise you could have asked her to do anything for that cigarette and she probably would have?” I said, smirking at Blog Boy mischievously.
With a stupefied grin on his face, Blog Boy laughed. “Yeah, I guess…”
“I mean, honestly, she would be up for it, I'm sure.”
Blog Boy smiled again, but this time more hesitantly.
“Seriously, she is. I know it.”
I swung another peek at the woman and turned back to Blog Boy. “Jesus,” I whispered to him conspiratorially, “if I had noticed what nice breasts she had when she was standing next to us, I would have asked her to press them into my face in return for that cigarette.”
I turned to look at her again.
“Actually,” I continued, even more enthusiastically, “I would have asked her to rub them against your face. She’s got great boobs, look at them!”
We both fixed our gaze on the woman: her tits were indeed great. In fact, she was great: just my type actually. Rubenesque; a big bum, buxom: the exact kind of woman I go for. (Given I only have Sapphic leanings about 2% of the time, I am extremely fussy and quite shallow about the type of women I find sexually attractive.) With her voluptuous figure etched onto my eyes, all sorts of sexy thoughts entered my head and the pounding in my chest became almost unbearable.
“I could get her to do it,” I said to Blog Boy, eagerly and with sudden confidence. “I know I could. If you want me to, I will. Honestly, if you want her tits in your face – and, quite frankly, I wouldn’t mind seeing that – I bet you she would do it if I asked her.”
Boy Boy shifted in his seat a little. “No, don’t. It’d be embarrassing.”
“You don’t want me to ask her? Don’t you think she’s sexy?”
“It’s not that. I mean… She’s very nice, yeah. It’s just, well, oh I don’t know…” He trailed off and I knew the potentially heated moment would be lost unless I acted on it quickly.
“I won’t embarrass you, I promise,” I reassured him. “I tell you what: how about a kiss instead? Would you like that? I know she’d be up for it; I guarantee it.”
He smiled shyly at me and bit his lip. “OK, I suppose…”
Before he had even finished speaking I had turned to look at the blonde woman who was now standing just a few feet from our table. I observed as she chatted away with her friend and I tried to think clearly, but my mind was racing with adrenalin and excitement. A few seconds later, she saw me staring at her and smiled. I gestured to her that she should come over; as I watched her curves sashaying in my direction, I took a deep breath and hoped for the best…
To be continued...
*The people who have read the book will know to whom I refer in this post.
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