Loo at Me (750 Word Challenge)

Dearest reader,

My first effort in this category, I hope it's acceptable. If you are interested, this story takes place about two months before the events of

Eve & Lucy

. Also, you should go listen to Caroline Martin's song "Look at me" while/after reading this.

Happy reading,

T x

This story was written for the 2025 Literotica 750 Word Challenge, below this line are exactly 750 words:

_____________________________________

Picking up my Guinness, I swallow the black beer, enjoying how it slips down my throat.

Suzy leans over. "That's some good head, Haile babe."

I cock my brow at her, quizzically.

"Lick your lips," she whispers.

I stick out my tongue, and clean off the creamy froth.

"You know," she says, hand on my arm, "I could do that for you." Girl flirts like it's going out of date. But I'm not flattered nor interested - I know she's like this with everyone.

"Shh!" I say, pulling up the hood on my Fox top, forcing her to let go, "we here to rep Keke. Listen!"

I turn my attention back to the small stage, just a few metres away, Keke's tight white shirt glowing in the lights. Guy looks ripped. Funny, I never see him down the gym. The muscles of his forearms ripple as his fingers flex over the strings of his guitar.

His voice is a surprise. He's always so high-pitched and excitable, but now it's warmer, deeper, like thick hot chocolate.

His words wash over me - I'm not really listening to the lyrics - as I immerse myself in his performance. He has such presence, such magnetism. Such as shame we've never got to act together - if only we could have done

Fences

or

Raisin in the sun

.

"

Will you deny me now?

" he sings, and I think of Antonio and wonder what it would have been like had Keke been cast as Sebastian, rather than that guy Michael, who couldn't act, but looked like Carrie.

The thought makes me feel funny, and I reach for my pint for a distraction.

The song ends and we clap enthusiastically.

"My God, he's so sexy!" Suzy leans over me to gush at Rich on my right.

"I know," comes Rich's reply, "what a shame for you Keke doesn't swing that way!"

"Tell me about it," her hand lands on mine, "still, I always got this one."

I shrug her off and glower, while Rich titters, "don't be so sure!"

Funny, when we came in here first, I thought it would be attention from the gay guys that would make me feel uncomfortable. But I felt strangely at home. Nah, instead it's the objectively hot bi-chick that's making me uneasy.

"Thank you, thank you," Keke says from the stage, "you're all too kind. That one was one of my own songs, but this next one is a cover. Anyone heard of Caroline Martin?"

A murmur of negation from the crowd.

"Ah well, check her out. She did five - five! - John Peel sessions, plus she's local. This is her song "Look at me" and it's about surrendering to temptation. I want to dedicate it to a certain fox in the audience."

Whistles and cheers ring out.

Keke waits for them to settle down. I feel a buzz that isn't just from the beer, a nervous anticipation, perhaps on his behalf, but maybe something more, like I'm there on the threshold of something. Perhaps it's just my imagination, but the light around him seems to brighten as those around the pub seem to dim, the reflection of his shirt and his smile dazzling. I feel glazed in the glare, like an animal in headlights.

There is silence.

He begins.

This is different to the other songs he has played - slow, sparse, deliberate.

And when he sings, he looks right at our table.

Look at me, wild fox, quietly waiting for you

The hair on my skin erects. I am mesmerised, like the rabbit. The way his hands move, fluidly, delicately, firmly, over the neck and body of the guitar. It's so sensual. So sexy.

I try to tear my gaze away, and my eyes land on his lips, poised just in front of the big black microphone. Words seem to just fall sweetly from them, like kisses.

Look at me, tired one, I am heavenly sweet.

Yes. I couldn't look away if I tried.

His head dips a bit and now my eyes are on his, his on mine.

I am aware I am hard. Throbbing.

Only the finest cho-co-late, can give you the buzz that you need.

My mouth is watering at his words, such is the power of his performance.

I'm ready to slide down your throat, oh, yeah, please.

I imagine it. Slick and hard and pulsing. Oh, yeah, please.

And I will only pretend to resist.

And I stop pretending.

I can no longer resist.

I don't want to.