Oca 15

Call Me Friday

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Angela White

Call me Friday. No I mean call me on Friday. I’ll be ready for anything. Friday’s the only day worth a goddamn. You’ve got Friday night and 2 days ahead of you. The possibilities are limitless. It’s like when you were in school; at the beginning of a semester…well you remember all the good things you were going to accomplish. Go to class regularly, do your reading assignments all that shit. Uhuh, by Sunday (equals end of semester) all you’ve got, if you’re lucky, is a hangover.

Enough philosophizing, Friday doesn’t need any help or analysis, it is pure, it stands alone, a beacon of hope at the end of a shitty week. There I go again. Ok, I unlock the door. The key works the very first time. An omen of good things to come. At the kitchen counter my fingers around the new bottle of tonic water. It is amazing how plastic can be so rigid. I mean all it has in it is liquid, a nice soft substance and air, so where does the rigidity come from? Yeah I know it has to do with non-compressibility of liquids and all that crap, but I choose to ignore those issues and be amazed. I twist the cap holding the bottle over the sink. The gas releases, the paper label wrinkles, the bottle relaxes as if exhaling from the tension of keeping all that wonderful liquid fresh and fizzy for me.

Like Friday, there are few things as good as the right glass. I like the ones with a heavy base; the kind that wouldn’t tip if you drop kicked it. Thin walls though, like crystal. I like rum in them, dark, and a slice of lemon. Buying a good lemon is harder than people realize. You want one with a relatively thin skin, they’re juicier, which I believe are the ones with little nipples. I’m still talking about lemons. So then the tonic and I’m ready.

I only smoke of Fridays. On the way home I bought a pack of Marlboro lights in a box. I fish them out of my purse. I won’t bore you with a description of the pleasure I derive from opening a fresh pack of cigarettes. You get the picture.

The smell of fresh tobacco and the first cigarette, not just the first cigarette, but the first puff, on the other hand are; well yeah let’s just say special and get on with this.

My apartment is not that great, but it does have a nice balcony that overlooks the city. I’m on the top floor so there’s a reasonable amount of privacy and a pretty view at night especially when you can’t see all the ugliness. The construction, the dirt that come with a growing city. It’s really not a city; it’s a university that’s eating a small town. I’m not a student, but I’m 23 so sometimes I pass as one. No one knows; I sit in on classes and Amsterdam Shemale go to the gym, I can fit in no problem.

But tonight I’m on the balcony. I’ve got my rum, my ashtray and my first smoke is in process. Life is good. There is no pressure on Friday; I let it come to me. If nothing happens there’s always Saturday. So Friday is a free evening. I’ll probably go uptown later, but maybe not. Might get a call about a party or one of my girlfriends is horny. Life is full of surprises when you let it be.

It’s late August so it is hot and humid. I’m still wearing my work clothes, so I need to get a little more comfortable. After finishing the cigarette I go in my bedroom and take off my clothes tossing them into the growing pile with their predecessors from earlier in the week. I need a shower and decide to go do it. Now a good shower is another thing…yeah I know here she goes again. Never mind everybody knows about a great shower. So my pussy is getting a little stubbly and needs a shave so I take care of that. Neatness counts, no one likes a pussy with a 5 o’clock shadow.

On the balcony again I’ve about finished my second drink. Time for action, I decide that this Friday is for dancing. Put on my dancing shoes, black dress, panties…no bra and head for my favorite dance place uptown.

So I’m at this bar where they have a great jukebox, and a dance floor. It’s not a gay place, but you see a lot of guy/guy couples and the same with girls. Straight girls go there if they’re not in the mood to deal with the meat market atmosphere of the purely hetero places. They might get hit on by a girl but you know its different more relaxed less pressure. I’ve been dancing my ass off; sweating like crazy. This is what Friday was meant to be like; this is why god created Fridays.

I have a Rolling Rock long neck and I’m having a conversation with a girl I don’t know. She may or may not be straight, doesn’t matter we’re just talking…her name is Margaret. Discussing the meaning of “White rabbit”. The beer is sweating almost as much as I am. People are right up against our table dancing. Also at the table are my friend Renee and her new friend. She has fallen in love as she always does on weekends. This time with a girl that could be her daughter. Renee is older around 35 or so. She’s trying to pass wisdom to her new friend. She spends much time trying to prevent younger girls from repeating the mistakes she made in life. She’s like a sex-Mormon; evangelical. Renee understands this is futile, but she has to try, otherwise she would feel guilty.

I gradually realize Rotterdam Shemale explaining the song to Margaret is going to take too long. She hasn’t read “Alice in wonderland” and doesn’t know about Carroll’s young girl fetish, nor has she tried mescaline. I tell her I’m gonna dance some more. Her eyes brighten; she wants to dance with me. We fight our way onto the floor. I have to be in the middle with bodies all around, banging into each other, beer in hand. It hardly matters who I’m with, like dancing with everyone on the floor. Margaret does seem to be initiating a fair amount of body contact with me. When I have my back or side to her she sort of starts rubbing her crotch against my ass or hip, her legs apart. I find this arousing and am thinking it could be an interesting night.

We dance to three songs then go back to the table for a break. She goes to get me a fresh beer. I’m starting to really like her. Renee and her friend have moved on to a topic more interesting to me…cunnilingus. The girl, her name is Claire, says it’s over-rated and Renee says she hasn’t had it done properly. I agree with Renee. From personal experience I know she can do it properly. Next thing you know Claire’s panties are on the table and she’s demanding a demonstration. Renee does not hesitate, opportunity may only knock once; under the table she goes. My beer arrives. Margaret asks where Renee went. While I’m trying to concoct an answer I see she’s looking at Claire. She looks at me and asks what’s wrong with Claire. I look at Claire and it doesn’t appear anything is wrong; she looks like she is having a good time. Eyes closed, licking lips. I see her mouthing the words “oh my god” and so forth. Still pretty loud in the bar so no one can hear her.

“Renee’s under the table.” I point to Claire’s panties. Margaret’s eyes get real big, and then she starts laughing like a hyena, lays her head on the table, body shaking. I just smile and nod.

Soon I feel Margaret’s hand on my knee. Head still on the table, she peeks up to see my reaction. I wink at her. In case she needs more encouragement I spread my legs. She sits up, moves her hand pulling my dress up exposing most of my thigh. She’s looking at me while brushing the length of my thigh with her fingers, biting her lower lip. I tell her it feels so good. I look back at the dancers surrounding us. The music is Cheryl Crow I think…she’s gonna soak up some sun. The room is mostly dark, lights only from the bar, the jukebox, the “exit” sign, although god knows how anybody’d get out of here in a hurry. Margaret’s fingers are inside my panties, but Netherlands Shemale the strange multi-cellular organism that is the crowd on the dance floor has caught my attention. Composed of seemingly independent parts, it’s controlled by a single thing. The brain is the music. If it stops the animal dies. Right now the beast is fucking alive and thinks it will live forever…just like a 23-year-old girl who’s got a cold beverage, shaved pussy and a hand between her thighs on a Friday night.

My attention returns to Margaret, she had slipped her fingers inside me, but has removed them and is now licking my juices from them. Her eyes locked on me. I reach under the table and slide my panties off. I show them to Margaret and she reaches back between my legs. She teases my clit…mmmm god she is good at this. She’s whispering in my ear telling me how hot she is and how much she wants to fuck me, how wet her throbbing pussy is…what she would do to me if we were alone. I love this kind of talk. Ohhhh yes…jeez she is touching my clit and inside is massaging my g-spot…fucking oh yes…She tells me she wants me to cum so hard that everyone in the room knows what’s happening. I no longer hear the music: her voice is my only music “Come on baby lets hear you scream…yeah come on…oh your cunt is so hot it’s dripping juices…oh yeah up inside you I feel your little rough spot…right there? Yeah I thought so…stroke you like that ummm yeah fuck my hand honey that’s it. I bet you need your nipples touched don’t you…tell me about it… yeah I wish you were nude so I could bite your hard little nipples while I’m fucking your sweet cunt with my fingers. Then I’d lick your clit with my tongue til you begged me to let you cum…Are you getting ready to cum babe…ummm better slow down let you cum slow and hard…yeah slow.”

I close my eyes, biting my lip so I don’t scream. It’s starting as she strokes me slow then a little faster bringing me to the edge then slow again, letting me slide back down a little…I whisper to her…”please let me cum now…I need to cum for god’s sake hurry and fuck me Margaret”, I hear her giggle next to my ear. Suddenly she’s at my clit with rapid strokes…I cum almost before I know it…ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shit oh yes ohh yes…I have my head on the table, my hands over my face…oooooooooooooooo…I shiver, tremble, sweating now more than when I was dancing…ahhh sweet. Margaret leans next to me kissing my cheek, still gently stroking my clit. “I don’t think too many people noticed,” she says, giggling again. “Want a cold beverage hun?” I nod my head.

The music rocks on; the beast is still alive, and Margaret is right it hasn’t paid any attention to me…and her. Claire and Renee are talking about moving in together…I guess Claire has changed her opinion on cunnilingus…this is good even for a Friday. Probably will make my top 5 when all is said and done.

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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