The Green Light Tavern. I’d had this vision of the place being bathed in emerald light, sort of like in the Wizard of Oz. It was, in that regard, somewhat disappointing, being boringly normal. The legendary green light turned out to be a green shade on a table lamp behind the bar. This was what I’d travelled a few thousand miles to see? That wasn’t the real reason I was here, though. It had been a whim that brought me to Pueblo.
My fiancée and I sometimes hit this bar and pick up girls. You know, to play with. Interested?
We’d hit it off. I liked talking to him. He made me wet, not just damp, but dripping wet with lust. I can’t remember exactly how long it was before I admitted that I usually slipped my hand into my panties as soon as he messaged. Our talks were so often harmless. Music. Writing. Life. Just getting to know each other a little across the miles. Usually, his girlfriend would enter the conversation. Not in person, but yeah, he’d tell me about her and I would share little things about the girl I was seeing as well. And the entire time I’d have my fingers in my panties. Nice and slow, just teasing my sensitive clit or, sometimes, slipping a finger into my tight little hole, slowly working my way towards an orgasm. Pretty sure he had no idea how many times he’d unwittingly made me come.
And now, here I was, armed with only a verbal sketch of her; gorgeous, her curly hair looking like she’d just been fucked, dark sensuous eyes. And him; rugged, slightly balding and a neatly trimmed goatee.
I’ll be the blonde girl with small tits at the bar wearing a tie-dyed hoodie.
That was it. I wasn’t sure if they’d show. Or what would happen if they did. Butterflies tickled my stomach as I worked on my second whiskey sour and checked the time once more. Sometime between 7 and 8. Nothing more specific. We’d agreed to pretend this was a random encounter. Strangers at a bar looking for a little side dish to take home and play with for a night. No strings attached.
It was hard not to keep glancing around, especially when I’d hear the door open and felt the cool autumn wind caressing my bare legs followed by a footstep on the hardwood floor. Is that them? I didn’t want to know. I wanted to be surprised and yet the flames of curiosity were hard to ignore. It took all my will power to concentrate on my drink and the Fleetwood Mac song playing on the jukebox, expectations matching each disappointment as I teased myself with thoughts of what might happen, hyper-aware of how wet my lacy blue panties were becoming and wondering if and when someone might notice the faint aura of aroused girl surrounding me.
I felt a presence behind me sending a nervous burst of tension through me, eyes flickering towards the mirror on the wall behind the bar. The first few times someone had approached, it had been a false alarm. Some guy clearly - not him – attempting to hit on me. I didn’t mind so much and feigned just enough friendly interest not to be rude but not enough to encourage them.