Chapter 6
A black and white Toyota Yaris pulls up to the curb, inside is Stanley, he’s not beaming, but I can tell he’s happy to see me in an outfit that’s no better than Taylor’s but more modest with less cleavage. My heels aren’t that thin or long, and I wear a long coat that’s very silky and more of an acting protection against bare arms when it’s cold: similar to an accessory like my wooden bangles around my wrist, and small hooped earrings.
He signals with a slanting of his head for me to get into the front seat with him. I get in. We drive off. And nothing is said. I have no idea where he will be taking me. “When you messaged me, I thought you weren’t going to change your mind.”
“I was feeling a little ill.”
“But you miraculously improved in those few hours from your jungle flu?”
I check the text that I sent him … I really did text him that I had jungle flu. “I was never good at lying.”
“I can tell. I laughed when I read it.”
“At the time it felt true.”
“What was the real reason? Or am I not allowed to ask that?”
“Personal problems.”
“Boyfriend?” Stanley should keep his eyes on the road.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” We come to a red light.
“If that’s the case then I believe you. So, it’s on for me to say you look beautiful?”
I look out the window and bite the top of my lip with a small smirk. “Maybe?”
“You look gorgeous.”
“Keep your eyes on the road.” I’m still focusing out there. And the neighboring car, which is filled with 4 -young men, each wink and give me a cheeky grin. They suddenly stop doing this, and I turn around to see Stanley giving them the death stare.
“I can’t have them drooling over my date for the night.”
“So, it’s a date?” I’m still fighting a grin.
“We’ll see how it goes.”
…
I dressed right. Because when he parks the car and we get out to walk, he takes me to a Mexican cocktail bar and we take a seat outdoors. It’s a nice night. Inside is lit with neon blue and red lights; some smooth Mexican music, and plenty of conversation and good moods from those drinking and eating nachos and enchiladas.
“I like this place. I heard they serve food?”
“Are you hungry? I could order a large bowl of nacho’s?”
“Why not.”
Stanley calls over one of the waitresses and orders the nachos with melted cheese and avocado. And when it comes to the drinks, it’s two very white horchata cocktails. “There cocktails are the bomb here. I used to come with a few of my army pals when on leave. They have a discount for veterans of all kinds. It makes us proud to be acknowledged.”
“That’s good.” I get a text: it’s Marcus. I don’t want to destroy the etiquette of a potential date situation. It’s seen as rude. “Do you like the army?”
“I take it over wasting time in a normal and boring job.”
“Like mine?” –
“What do you do?”
“I just work in an office handling queries from florist orders and customers.”
“That doesn’t seem like something Megan really wants to do?”
“Stanley is observant.”
“He is. From the first time I met you I caught on to you being a little trapped.”
“Is that right?” Stanley looks good. All black, but his jeans are more washed out: the style, and wide enough for plenty of room for him. He’s doing well with me.
“What with Taylor. The home. And now to confirm it, even more, your current relationship status.”
“I wouldn’t say trapped.” –
“But you could use a change scenery.” –
“And would you be that change of scenery?” -
“Early days. But there is something about you.”
“Typical.” Our horchata cocktails are delivered on a tray and are full of ice and a small peppermint leaf. “Thank you.” The waitress smiles thankfully at me for my manners. Stanley does the same. I take mine. He takes his.
“What’s typical?”
“Promises of being a different scenery?”
“I didn’t promise you anything. I could say, I would like to go back to my car, take you to a secluded spot and make love to you, good love. And that would be a promise.”
“Make love?” I’m tempted. He got us both hot with that one. “We have food waiting.”
“We could come back. I know the people here as I’m a regular customer.
“A bit quick, aren’t you Stanley?”
“I think you’re a woman who likes to get down to business? And by that, you just want it to be clear from the start.”
Eureka! No game playing. Stanley gets me. My clit is clicking. And I sure as hell want to have some fun in his car. “Let’s drink these then. And go for a little spin.”
…
He took us to an alley where vans would pass only to go through the main gate of the warehouse. But it was rare, he said, at night, to see any come after 11. When he parked up near a wall and switched off the front lights … I climbed on top of him and we immediately started kissing as if the clothes were already off. My hands were caressing underneath his top, and he was giving me a nipple twister with his index and ring finger.
It was getting me more worked up, and I started to dry hump his crotch area which was already getting hard. But he himself, wanted to gain control of his horny-demeanour and lowered the seat; grabbing me slightly and placing me underneath; pulling my dress upwards and then taking off my velvet red knickers.
Stanley worked with the cunnilingus, but I was moist, so it didn’t take him or me long to get off his jeans and boxers. He urged his junk inside me and I greeted it with an eruption of my involuntary body that had been wanting this. I moaned and closed my eyes as his head was buried at the side of me to penetrate deeply. He had used a condom.
I had dreamt about Stanley’s technique in bed from the moment I had laid eyes upon him. Those few nights that I slept, and that one time when me and Marcus were having sex, was enamoured with Stanley’s face which pleased me more than Marcus.
Stanley pumped away, I moaned each time. So, did he. I ran my palms down his muscular back and stopped when I felt the bumps of his buttocks that I slapped and then left there. I could feel all of what he was doing to me. His stroke game was consistent, and he kept at it for a good 3 – minutes which filled the car with mine and his groans of pleasure. I thought he would stop, but no, he kept on going, and I kept on pushing down on his ass … the car was rocking and squeaking.
I moved up to his waist. He elevated himself up, pulled out gently, and then moved his long john all the way into my mouth and started the face-crusher. My name for it as I clasped onto his bum-cheeks whilst he edged into my mouth with his special tool of a delivery. I kept the time of each thrust inside my gob. I had to take one had away and attend to my lady parts because this was very much turned me on. Rubbing … rubbing … rubbing away and being unable to exhale as it was feeling so good.
My mouth was full, I gave him a chew, he exclaimed with pleasure. When satisfied, he took his Johnnie back, and saw that I needed a hand down below, and placed his tongue there which was enough to have my spine skyrocket up and grab onto his head as he ate away. I was nearing my satisfaction, even if I wasn’t coming. He was going for it. And after a few more moments. I tapped his bald head. He stopped, peered up at me, and said, “I needed that Megan. I was dreaming about tasting you from the time I met you.”
“And how did I taste?”
“Better than I expected.”
I smiled flirtatiously. “It was good.”
“I told you.” He winks and stares. “Shall I take you home?”
“Yeah. I got some thinking to do.”