I didn't have a plan. I just wanted a beer. I was visiting an old college buddy who lived downtown. He texted me that he had to work late, "sorry." So, I thought I'd meander and grab a brew. The sun was going down as I strolled down the street and the temperature was comfortable at around eighty degrees. There was a lot of activity on the street which was lined on both sides by bars. Some looked very . . . expensive and others were packed full of people. I didn't want to fight crowds so when I passed a tavern with an Irish name, McSomething I don't remember, that wasn't too crowded. I popped in. That's when I saw her.
Our eyes met, and the effect was instant and tangible. We connected in some way that I still cannot fully explain. Not in a way that makes sense, anyway. It was like we were old friends who hadn't seen each other in some time reconnecting. But we weren't old friends. We'd never met before. Yet there was this underlying familiarity between us that gave our relationship a running start and served as both a lubricant and catalyst for it. She turned back to the friends she was with and said something that I couldn't hear across the room.
"Hey, you!" one of her friends who had clearly enjoyed several alcoholic beverages yelled. "Miranda needs a date!"
Clearly embarrassed, the girl, evidently her name was Miranda, turned and looked at me, then walked over and invaded my personal space and whispered, "I need a date. Wanna be my date?"
"Without question!" I replied, which elicited a pleased smile from Miranda. "Does this date have an agenda?"
"Well, we'll probably have a few drinks here with my friends. They'll ask you embarrassing questions and tell you embarrassing things about me. When that winds down, we'll excuse ourselves and you can walk me home. After that . . . " she trailed off enticingly.
And the evening went along pretty much as she predicted it would. They pumped me for information about myself and told me things about Miranda that her mother probably didn't know. All the while, Miranda held my hand, rubbed my arm, or pressed her hand on my thigh. Nothing too forward, but familiar and comforting. For me, just her presence was intoxicating but the constant physical touches were a clear indication that she was into me.
Then, somehow the conversation got steered to sexual fantasies. There had already been plenty of alcohol consumed by this time, so any normal social prohibitions had gone out the window. Stella, the friend that had initially set me up with Miranda, divulged that Miranda had a fantasy that involved getting her asshole licked. I believe she intended to embarrass Miranda, and I wondered just what kind of friend Stella was, but the alcohol in me thought to save Miranda from embarrassment by volunteering to fulfill that fantasy right here and now for all to witness. It didn't occur to me that this might have the unintended consequence of embarrassing her even more. Nor did it occur to me that her friends would seize on the idea and demand that I perform it. I looked at Miranda, expecting to find her recoiling in horror from being at the center of such unwanted attention. Instead, she had something of a wicked expression on her face. I raised an eyebrow in response.
"It was your idea," she grinned. "I will if you will." This was not the response I expected, but the analysis would come later. At that moment, she began sliding out of her tight shorts. Immediately, her friends cleared a spot on the table, so she could perch on all four atop it. We were in the very back corner of the bar and mostly out of view to the other patrons. That was the farthest thing from my mind at that moment.
