I dislike overly manicured fingernails. I like them as close to natural as possible. I don't mind some color, but not much, and, please, don't let them grow so long they look like talons. Let them be slightly innocent, trimmed and buffed. Attached to long fingers that taper to gently probing tips.

Just such fingers were handing me my last old fashioned as I sat at the huge solid oak bar in downtown Kansas City. I had finished eating at a place not too far away from where 12th and Vine once was. Not there anymore. But you can still get great barbecue burnt ends. When you're finished eating Kansas City barbecue head to this place. My kind of joint. The oranges are always fresh for my old fashioned cocktails.

Her finger tips lingered for only a trace of too long. You know? Not aggressive, but willing, receptive. I smiled, picked up my drink, and sipped. Smooth and old fashioned, just as I was. I nibbled on the cherry as a fan wafted the delicate scent of her Emeraude perfume across the bar. It had it's own top notes of orange and lemon. I had a good nose and I was certain she did, too. Slightly upturned, as it were, and covered with freckles.

This was my third old fashioned tonight but the first she had served to me. I would have noticed her immediately. We were in the Vine district and the populace here was definitely on the dusky or darkly creamy-cum-cocoa side. My ancestry was birthed in the south and so was hers. Mine had a touch of Asian spice added from mother. She displayed the tones of a merrily mixed woman with hair that grew as it wished, and it wished to be free. 

I smiled and she returned it as she began cleaning up her station here. Apparently she was in charge of clearing up now that the final bell had sounded. I was in no rush. I had an old fashioned to savor. She was in no rush either. Good paying customers are cherished in the service industries. Or they had best be if you want to, at the least, break even and pay your staff.

"Need a ride home tonight? It's been raining and the streets were wet when I arrived here," I queried quietly as she moved behind the register. She shook her head. Never hurts to ask.

"Thank you, but I have my car here. I couldn't leave it in the lot overnight. Not a good idea," and she waved her delicate fingers to the side.

"That's cool then. Since you're finishing up though I can at least walk you to your vehicle. I brought in an umbrella since it was raining as I arrived. I've finished my old fashioneds for the night." I passed over my card for her to complete paying out my tab. She swiftly completed that transaction, closed out her drawer, and gathered her things.

Apparently I was escorting her outside to the parking lot in the rear.

"You are definitely the old fashioned type, sir. Straight up in every way? Yes? Oh, I'm Teesha, by the way." 

My laugh was more a slight chuckle, but I had to agree wholeheartedly with that assessment. I was straight up and I found that the old fashioned ways seems to always work well for me. Why change? 

"Absolutely, lady of this night, absolutely. And I'm Chris." Oh, everyone knew that progress was necessary for a more perfect society, and I was a fomenting feminist and liberation fighter from way back. But some things were basically fine and good as they were. Old fashioned and straight up. She put her hands on my chest as I twirled her around. I smiled again. We were at my vehicle.

My lips approached hers as she leaned back onto the hood of my sports car. It was still slightly damp but her long coat kept her dry as we laid together trading old fashioned kisses. Soft and gentle, traded with forceful and sensual. Quick little moans escaping from freely responding lips. Her hands pulled my head more tightly against her as I let my lips travel down to the hills and valleys of her tenderly creamy shoulders and cleavage.

As I continued gathering groans from her lips she was gathering loose clothing and opening new territory for us both to explore. With her delicate fingers and my rough ones spreading apart the slits in a silk skirt and the satin of lacey panties. Soon, very soon, it was an old fashioned straight up, entering her from the front, with true traditional love-making taking over.

I was humping with short jerks at first, feeling the body moisture matching the humidity surrounding us. Then it was necessary to spread ourselves, her legs wrapping about me, and my rigidity pumping faster and deeper with each stroke. Her fleshy legs pulled tightly around me, while my fingers dug into her rounded thickness behind, gripping and seeking ever deeper penetration. Old fashioned screwing, old-style.

There was no rush. We were alone in the lot. I took my time and she accepted all the time I had. When we both knew we'd fulfilled our simple, old fashioned goal we both released ourselves. I filled her and then we sat for hours in my car just talking as new friends will. As the sun peeked in from the East we finally parted with an old fashioned goodnight kiss.