Find Roxy

As you watch the girls getting another round, you know what you ought to do, but you can’t. You keep seeing the way that Roxy looked at you.

You take the shot out of Karen’s hand, toss it back, and break away from the group without a word, pushing your way down the counter to Alex. She sits at the end, sipping a beer and looking around in satisfaction. You are guessing that her business meeting went well.

“Good work, CCL,” she says to you, looking you up and down. Your shirt hasn’t really started to dry yet, so it’s not hiding anything. You don’t even care anymore. “Ready for this now?” She hands you the phone number, which you slip into your pocket.

“Where’s Roxy?”

“Roxy?” Alex looks surprised. “You know Roxy?”

“A little,” you reply.

She gazes at you. “And I thought you liked older women.”

“Were you going to try your luck?”

“Maybe,” she replies.

“Next time. Where is she?”

“OK, bossy. She’s right through those doors. You can go in,” Alex tells you.

“Thanks.” You leave her there and go to the doors that she indicated, letting yourself through. It’s a kind of meeting room, just as dingy as the rest of the place. Roxy sits at the table with her feet up, sipping a glass of what looks like whiskey.

She jumps in surprise as you come through the door, and her heavy boots thump to the floor. She spills her glass, but quickly picks it up and gets to her feet.

“Jenny,” she says, coming around the table toward you. She stops, staring. It’s the wet shirt again.

Her vest is on the table. She stands in front of you in jeans, a tank top, and those big boots. It makes her look like such a beanpole. She doesn’t look big and bad like a biker, she just looks awkward. You did more than just fail to read the signs and return her feelings. You put a big dent in her confidence. It’s not all your fault. She has no business trying to get serious with a CCL girl.

She doesn’t seem to know what to say, and neither do you. You have a feeling that breaking her heart at some point is inevitable, but it doesn’t have to be tonight.

“Come here,” you say, beckoning her with one finger.

She approaches you shyly, and you just wrap your arms around her neck and pull her down for a kiss. It’s not the smartest thing to do, long-term… but you want to cheer her up, and this is how you do it.

The club has some rooms upstairs for things that you don’t want to think about. The narrow bed that Roxy throws you on wails and almost breaks, but then she’s on top of you, smothering you with kisses that taste like whiskey. She wants you naked, and in seconds your wet clothes splat on the grimy floor. You help her with hers, and then her narrow, smooth body is holding you down and her tongue is in your mouth. You instinctively spread your legs, and she grinds her body against yours, waking everything up inside you as you run your hands through her hair.

She’s not using elegant technique when she touches you, but it’s enough to make you want to scratch up her back and yell. She gropes your mound, leaving stinging hickeys on your neck until you’re wet enough for her to slide a finger in. Then two.

She looks down at your panting face, then kisses you and uses her hand until you stop her. You have to do your part too. A little pulling on her hand, then her hips gives her the message. With a sweaty, burning face, she gets up on her knees and works her way up your body until you can steer her pussy to your mouth.

With a little tongue flicking action you make her cum twice in the amount of time it took her to get you close once, and her hoarse, **** wheezing is music to your ears. She’s helpless as the orgasms overtake her, and you trade places, pushing her down and climbing on top. With her firm thigh between your legs, rubbing against your slick pussy, you nip at her nipples and squeeze her breast as she groans in agony and happiness.

You guide her hand between your legs again and hump against, looking into her eyes and holding her gaze when you finally cum, mouth open, gasping silently. With your walls still clenching on her finger, you let your damp body down on top of hers.

You like the feel of her arms around you, even if she is a bit… bony.

But you are not spending the night here. This place is gross. You cheered her up, and after a few minutes you’re able to walk. You kiss her cheek and stand up.

Dazedly, she watches you bend to pick up your clothes.

She sees the way that you eye them with distaste. Wet clothes are bad. Wet, filthy clothes are even worse.

“Do you have to go?” she says.

“I do,” you reply, glancing at her, lying naked on the rumpled sheets.

“Let me give you something to wear.”

Accept clothes from Roxy?

Or just wear yours?