I took another sip from my beer, my eyes still glued to the cutie leaning against the weathered picnic table near the edge of the gazebo. No idea who she was, but she had my full attention for the last half hour or so. A tiny little thing, quite, well, young, but what do I know? She could be twenty-two or eighteen. But her age was just one of several minor details my alcohol-soaked brain was fixating on for just a second or two.
Her friends were the chatty, loud type. She was the quiet one, an observer in the middle of that mediocre cover band’s attempt at classic rock.
What drew me in was not her pretty face, her sweet smile, or her sexy curves. No, it was the delicious little, very visible cameltoe she was showing off. Yes, she knew exactly what she was doing; I knew that much.
She looked a bit out of place at this little park concert, if you could even call it a concert- more of a local gathering, much more tailored to my generation than hers.
I had exchanged a few looks with her, testing the waters. She did not react much until most of her friends had left.
But then, there it was: a short, inviting smile that triggered my predatory instincts. The beer level in my body had long since pushed me past the threshold of reason, leaving me purely on impulse.
I pushed off from the tree I had been leaning against, concentrating as hard as I could not to stagger. I opened with a flirtatious “Hi.”
Her head whipped toward me, and the sweet girl-vibe evaporated. “Hello?”
Her whole body stiffened when my shadow fell across her oh-so-tight pedal pushers, but she didn’t step back.
I shot back, giving her a lazy grin. “You look a little… out of your depth here, kiddo.”
Her nose scrunched up; God, she looked adorable like that. “Don’t call me that.”
“What, ‘kiddo’?”
“You know exactly what I mean.” The corner of her mouth twitched.
“Do I?”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Clearly.” My eyes deliberately dropped, tracing the outline of her thighs, the inseam of her shorts, until I landed squarely on that tight, defined ridge again. I let my gaze linger there, not attempting to hide my focus.
“My eyes are up here,” she snapped, but her voice wavered.
She crossed her arms over her chest, a futile attempt to look intimidating. “I’ve been watching you stare at me, you know. You’re a total creep.”
“A creep, no, not really,” I said, closing the distance, stepping into her personal space.
“Whatever. I’m not here to be hit on by some… some middle-aged-”
I had made her stop just by looking deeply into her eyes; God, they were pretty.
My hand drifted down, fingers grazing the fabric stretched tight over her. Her breath hitched, a sharp, involuntary inhale. I leaned closer, my lips brushing her ear.
“And I think…” My finger pressed slightly, tracing the outline. “You are.”
She trembled, a soft, pathetic whine escaping her throat as her legs instinctively parted.
“That’s what I thought,” I whispered.
I pressed my lips against hers, taking what I wanted. She was stiff at first, frozen almost, but her mouth parted instinctively for me. Her inexperience was evident, the way she didn’t quite know what to do with her tongue. It turned me on more than I could remember.
My finger kept moving, tracing the soft ridge through the thin, pantyless shorts.
My finger worked her through the fabric, dragging slowly, measured strokes across that swollen ridge. My tongue in her mouth, synced to my hand working between her legs, was taking her by storm. I circled, pressed, then dragged down, repeating the motion until her knees buckled.
Then, footsteps on gravel. A group of people approached from behind, shattering the bubble we were in. I cursed inside, but held on to it for the sake of what was to come.
I pulled back, my hand slowly letting go of her sex. She blinked at me, looking absolutely ready.
“Hold on,” I said, trying to keep it together, despite my head spinning from, well, all of it. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out one of my business cards.
A sleek piece of heavy stock with my name and number embossed in silver. I held it out between two fingers, waiting for her.
She stared at it, then at me, then back at the card before she tentatively reached out and took it, her fingers brushing mine.
“You know what you want,” I told her.
I gave her a wink, turned on my heel, and walked off into the dark. She remained standing there, clutching the card like a lifeline. I could feel her eyes on me, but I didn’t look back.
