Bimbo Ch. 01

The Chamber is a small club, mostly frequented by teenagers, she concludes. All the better. Teenagers are horny and shallow. She stands a really good chance of scoring tonight.

A tall blond guy in an Iron Maiden T-shirt walks towards her, and she hurries away from the bar and out on the dance floor. She’s not going to just settle for the first guy, who comes along, she wants to check all the options before she accepts any come-ons.

The dance floor’s already packed, but she manages to wiggle her way in between a group of girls, without spilling her Coke. The speakers are trembling with the high volume of some rap she doesn’t recognize. The DJ lets out clouds of smoke near the floor, it rises and evaporates, and makes her lungs itch. When the smoke clears, she sees the blond guy pushing his way between the dancers, approaching her! He’s persistent; she has to give him that. Persistent – or pushy! She dances away, hoping to lose him in the crowd, but no, there he is again! What the… is his problem? Can’t he take a hint? She ducks under the arms of a gang of immigrant boys, and hides behind them. But he’s tall, he can see her over the boys’ heads, he’s coming closer, her heart beats painfully in her chest, this isn’t funny, what’s the matter with that guy? He’s getting creepy!

Just as he’s stepping up to her, a strong arm grabs her from behind, and a stranger starts dancing with her. For a brief second, she wonders if she has jumped out of the figurative frying pan, but then she sees her stalker back away with a look of fear and disappointment on his face. Anyone who saves her from a stalker has to be a friend. The arm lets go of her, and she turns around to see who has saved her.

He’s very tall, and very, very muscular. He looks like a body builder. He’s got bleached blond hair, cut short. A bit of a military type. He bends over and shouts in her ear:

"You looked like you needed some help!"

"Thanks!" she shouts back, smiling and nodding in case her voice isn’t strong enough.

"Dance?"

The volume of the music effectively stops any longer conversations, one word at a time works best. She nods, and they dance.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

He escorts her to a booth, refills her Coke, and gets himself a beer. The high walls that separate the booths from each other have a dampening effect on the noise. They can talk without having to shout.

"I’m Alan," he says. What’s your name?"

"Ellie."

She’s not comfortable to call herself Trixie or Candy, but she does put on a somewhat lighter, more high-pitched voice than her real one.

"Nice to meet you, Ellie. Do you come here often? I’ve never seen you before?"

"Nah, I’ve never been here before. I’m out club hopping tonight. You know – checking out new places."

"I see. So, what do you do when you’re not club-hopping, Ellie?"

"Oh, you know… I’m a… a waitress!"

"A waitress? How nice…"

"What about you? You look like a gym instructor or something!"

That’s all the encouragement Alan needs to start talking about himself. Ellenor doesn’t have to do anything but nod or widen her eyes or utter meaningless sounds like "Oh!" and "Uh-huh?" for a whole hour. The whole time, she’s scanning him. He may be a bore, but he seems nice, and he’s got a body worth fighting for. He’s good at dancing, and he’s strong. Oh, yes, she most definitely wants to go to bed with this guy!

He starts getting flirty. She knows this game. She’s been playing it longer than he has. She can almost foretell what he’s going to say or do before he does it, and she plays along, tossing her hair, giving him flirty looks And mischievous smiles, to speed things along. This is an exciting game, and she knows she’s going to win. When he puts a hand on her knee under the table, she smiles, leans in closer, and whispers:

"Perhaps we should go somewhere more private?"

"I’ll hail us a cab," he says.

He holds his arm around her waist as they walk out of the bar. He doesn’t help her with her coat, which makes him lose a few points, but he makes up for it outside the bar, where he opens the cab door for her. Old-fashioned, perhaps, but Ellenor likes a little politeness in a man. They get into the backseat, Ellenor gives out her address, and off they go.

He grabs her and kisses her. He’s strong, his lips are hard and demanding, and his tongue probes her mouth. OK, so he’s not a very good kisser. Never mind, he might be better at other things.

They get out of the taxi, he pays for it, like a good boy, and they take the elevator up to her apartment. He’s really eager, he’s slobbering against her neck and groping her, pressing her up against the wall. The intense type, huh? She thinks, as the doors open and let them out on the 5th floor. He fondles her from behind while she unlocks the door; his eagerness makes her giggle. They get inside and close the front door, and without warning he scoops her up into his arms, as if she didn’t weigh anything.

"Where’s the bedroom?" he asks.

"Over there," she points, and he carries her into the bedroom.

She gets a vision of a knight in shining armor, but it turns into a vision of a caveman carrying his prey, as he drops her on the bed and starts tearing off her clothes. When she’s all-naked, he strips out of his own clothes, and Ellenor’s eyes grow big when she sees why he’s so macho and aggressive. She’s beginning to understand why he’s into bodybuilding…

With that, he jumps her and attacks her breasts with his tongue, while his fingers travel further south. Is he aware that her clit is located about "1 from where he thinks it is? Should she bother telling him? Nah. It’s only for this one night. She’s never gonna see him again. Just one good, quick fuck, and then throw him out.

"I want you inside me," she whispers.

He’s happy to oblige. OK, finally something that he’s good at! Well, perhaps "good" isn’t the right word… "forceful" suits him better. He’s pumping her violently, and she moans partly out of excitement, partly out of pain.

"Slow down, baby!" she pants. "Not so hard! You’re so strong! Be gentle with me, big boy!"

He’s forceful, but considerate. He adjusts his speed and force to her liking, and with a little help of her own hand, she manages to come. She moans loudly in his ear, and this drives him over the edge as well. He grunts and groans and she gets another vision of a caveman.

They stretch out on her bed afterwards, catching their breath. She’s glad that he’s too tired to speak; she has no idea what she would say to him. Most of all, she’d like to roll over and fall asleep. It WOULD be a nice change to sleep in such strong arms, but then she’d have to wake up next to him, and make him breakfast, and…

"I gotta go home now, baby."

He solves the problem for her. She smiles, pretends to be even more tired than she really is, and hums something in approval. She puts her robe and slippers on while he gets dressed, and walks him to the door. A last clumsy kiss, a promise to call – how, when neither of them has exchanged their phone numbers? - and he gets eaten up by the elevator. The door has just closed behind him when another door opens, and Sam steps out in the hallway.

"You slut!" he beams. "I knew you could do it! Now, get that sex-stinking body of yours in here! I’m gonna dream about that hunk all night, and I want DETAILS!"