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Rebound
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Title: Rebound
Author: Sabriel Regan
Rating: 18 (NC-17)
Summery: Elle needs a night out, but it's gonna take a kick up the arse from Ash and Kerri to make her realise that.
Disclaimer: I'm very happy to say that these are all mine.
Author's Notes: a) This should hopefully tie in with my Ash & Kerri collection (this stands alone, you dont need to know who these guys are). b) I wrote this sometime last year and I found it again a couple of days ago, changed the names and I can use it here... I really haven't changed this at all in the typing up so be forgiving please.
Dedication: This is 100% for Vicky, the only and founding member of my fan club. Thanks for pushing me into finally typing this up... and mainly thanks for taking the 6 hour round trip on the train just to see me for the day.
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I stood at the bar, that was my place of late, the good old bar prop. Since she had dumped me over christmas it had thrown me into a dark world that I didn't like, and once I'd spent New Year's Eve at a party that I didn't feel part of, I decided to imerse myself in work.
I took any extra hours I could get; I'd work well into the evening, get home and change straight from my leathers into my PJ's- seeing no point in putting on soft clothes. Then all I'd do would be to stare mindlessly at the TV for an hour while I ate something that always tasted bland.
Now a month had passed and I could feel the pull of Valentines day, could see it in the shops and the happy couples around me. It was now that I noticed that, with a month of working straight around the clock, I was feeling tired and even more lonely. The only thing I'd gained from this was the overtime pay, which, though little concelation, would make the next couple of months' bills disapear.
The thing that plagued my mind was that this time last year I had worked overtime to fund a dirty weekend for the gorgeous creature that had, just 30 days ago, dumped me.
I was now at the stage where I just wanted someone to turn to. Other stages I'd already seen were: grief; begging her to give me another chance, though later I knew that she had been wronging me from the begining; mourning, not only for our relationship but also for myself and time lost; then emptiness, this was the stage at which I through myself into my job.
It was after a month of hell that I had suddenly been pulled from certain despare by my best friend and her girlfriend. I appreiciated them not flaunting their relationship when I was at such a sore time. Maybe they thought they had a favour to repay; I had introduced them 18 months earlierand I expected no more from them than maybe an invite to the wedding or maybe to be the namesake of their first child.
Kerri had been my best friend snce we had gone to the same sixth form, from there we went to the same university. Later I met Ashlyn through work and as soon as I got to know her I knew she and Kerri would be perfect of one another.
It was now that Kerri saw fit to offer me my reinbursement, and that is what she truly did: offered me a choice, asked me to pull myself out from the dark. Thus, reluctantly, I stand in the only gay bar on our side of town, not really giving the scene my full attention.
I must admit I was not really in the mood to eye up women in tight outfits. No matter what the 'normal' section of my brain was telling me. Believe me, normally I wouldn't say no to a drink and a dance, or the tight outfits. Normally.
On this occasion I'm wearing my leather trousers; I do like my leathers, I feel safe inside them; and a deep blue tank top. When I turn to the bar you will see the artwork on my left shoulder; a rose, no bigger than A10, and done to my own design. Its black and is only done in lines, inside the stem is the name that has been bring that dull pain in my chest for the last month.
When my shoulder is turned to you and you see this declaration etched into my flesh, you wouldn't know what she's done to me, you'll think that I'm taken... if you bother to look that closely.
Though I have no regrets at all over its creation, Kerri has already suggested that I have it filled in, so that the stem is all black, she also pointed out that the overtime I've done could be used to pay for it. I've told her I need to grieve first.
This is but a small hicup in my 'secondary debutantship' to the scene, or so Ash says. According to her "that Bitch from Hell", as she calls her, branded me.
The way I'm viewed is that of someones elses property, until proven otherwise. At this stage in the game first impressions count for a hight percentage of the chance of a second glance.
Maybe it's good in a strange way, it means that I'm not bothered too much by women on the prowl. Only those who are really interested will approach me. Interested enough to find out the truth. On the other hand, maybe I'll only be approached by those on caring of they're playing mistress during a one-night-stand. Believe me I don't care for the latter.
This isn't my first 'get back into the scene' night out with Kerri and Ash; the first time I made virtually no effort, the next time they insisted on helping me get ready. In Ash's words "In the right top you'll have every hot blooded woman in the bar wet from looking at that chest."
That certainly earnt her a dirty look from her girlfriend, her reply was simply that I'm her friend and so she had an obligation to me to know what about me would drive women insane.
She then went on to make the point that as she assumed that I'd wear my leather trousers, it might be good for me to either sit on a bar stool with my legs open, or to sit astride a backwards chair.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh come on Elle, you must know what the leathers do for people, why else would you wear them on a night out?" I decided it probably wasn't the best time to tell her that I saw them as a barrier. Otherwise she'd have my safety net whipped out from under me quicker than a frog tonguing flies.
I'm sure she had a different sort of tonguing in mind for me.
Being a realist, I knew that I wasn't about to meet Mrs. Right after my first couple of nights out back in the scene, and I knew that I'd have a few one night stands before I'd find a long-term relationship.
With this in mind, I was prepared when I noticed a woman across the room, I could see she had been looking me up and down. It also didn't take a genius to tell that her eyes were lingering on my right hand; my forearm laid on my right thigh, its hand drapped between my leather clad, slightly open, legs.
Now I'm not stupid, I do know what Ash was saying when she told me how to sit on the stool. Most women, and the somewhat unwanted men, can't resist the toned ripple of legs through leather. Or in the heated scene of the bar, what lays under the leather at the apex of one's legs.
Once it seems that she has looked me over enough, and has clearly found me to be worthy of a second glance; the expression in her eyes changes. The look she now gives me is certainly one of mentally undressing me. Her gaze slowly unzips my beloved trousers and removes my tank top, revealing the black strapless bra underneath.
Strangely this treatment doesn't make you feel as vulnerable as you might expect. Now that she has seen me notice her hot gaze, she began to cross the room towards my perch at the bar.
She was slightly taller than myself; with short light brown hair, softly spiked at the back; she wore a red top and a long black skirt, its split reached higher than her mid-thigh, showing the creamy flesh of the leg above her stocking. The boots she wore were quite simply 'pulling boots'; they were thigh-high, the likes of which I can only relate to Julia Roberts in 'Pretty Woman'.
She moves across the bar, weaving between the mass of dancing bodies until she reached the bar stool next to mine. She rested against it; one boot heel hooked over the bottom rung, the other stretched out in front of her. In this pose, her skirt hitched up higher on her leg, showing more of that soft skin.
The way she perched on the stool left room on the seat behind her, where she placed her hands; leaning back on them. She seemed to have perfected her casual act, even with the laid back drawl of her voice, "What ya drinkin', Sugar?"
She leant towards me, letting me catch the relaxed tone of her voice over the pumping music of the bar. This wasn't the sole purpose of this gesture as gravity acted on the fabric around her neckline, giving me a perfect view down her top. The skin there looked just as creamy soft as the skin shown above her stockings.
This aspect of her gesture was mostly lost on me, being more drawn to legs than breasts as a gerneral rule. In the secondary sense it did cause me to look down to the growing split in her skirt. As she had leant forward she had braced the stretched out leg against my stool,on the rung between my legs having that leg bent at the knee, what had been a thin line of flesh creeping up her leg was now parted far enough for me to tell that her knickers were red.
Even though she had clearly done it on purpose, I needed to compose myself before I fell off the stool. "JD and Coke."
She smiled and stood up, her skirt fell back into place. Then she lifted her stool, moving it closer to mine. This time when she sat on it her knee, which was exposed from her skirt, rested against my thigh. Calling over her shoulder to the barmaid, she ordered our next round of drinks.
My eyes had now returned to her face, in a laid back, no worries way. I guess I have an act too. When she moved her hand to lay over mine on my leg, my eyes casually followed her movment. "I'm Chris... I didn't catch your name Sugar"
I look up from where her hand lay on mine, her eyes were grinning, they were a stormy grey, smoldering like her attitude.
"I'm Elle." I turned my hand over and raised it, raising hers in the same motion. I held her hand in mine as if I was going to kiss it, but insted I raised it towards me so it forced her to stand; I did the same.
"Do you dance Chris?"
Her reply was a s smooth as she was when she told me she'd do anything I wanted. She said this as hse ran her free hand along the bare skin of her chest, her fingers making a dip into the centre of her top. All of her actions screamed 'I'll fuck your brains out, I'll have you begging me to let you cum, I'll make your legs go weak and your body tingle.'
Everthing she had said or done had the same subtitle: Come to bed.
Still holding her hand, I led her into the centre of the dance floor. The music had a fast beat and that's how we danced, hands cupped around each other's waist. After a few songs a slower one came on, when she heard this she started to move me slowly towards the wall. She had her arms around my shoulders and when we reached the wall she brought her knee up to my waist height, I held it there. I could feel the tight muscle of her thigh; from experience I could guess how open this position left her. Before I realised I'd done it, my free hand slipped up the back of her thigh, in through the split of her skirt to trace over the soft, firm flesh of the cheeks not covered by that red thong.
We stood there against the wall for a few minutes, moving in time with the music, while my fingers lingered on her skin. Feeling more daring, I moved my fingers around further, until I could feel the lace at the middle of the thong between her legs. Now to be honest I was shocked at how wet she was, all we had done was dance after all. As I ran my fingers along the outside of the lace I could practically feel her throbbing underneath. "Are you really this wet for me?"
In reply she lent forward so that her breasts pressed against mine. She ran her tongue up the inside of my neck, when she reached my ear she whispered "Why wouldn't I be?"
Then her soft lips closed around my earlobe, and I couldn't help but roll my head back against the wall behind me. Next she moved down my neck, kissing along the sensitive flesh. While she was doing this I had drawn the lace aside and slowly slid my middle finger into her; as I thought she was wide open in this position and her hot soft walls wrapped around my intrusion. She let out a small gasp when I first entered her, now as I added a second finger I saw her eye lids flutter as her eyes rolled back breifly.
As I started to move my fingers around inside her, she covered my mouth with hers; everytime I caught a sensitive spot inside her she would moan into my mouth. Not thrusting in and out, just pushing forward to stroke against her g-spot.
The way we moved was completely in time with the music, in a hot parody of dancing; no one would have know, unless they had done this themselves.
When the slow songs had finished a faster one came on, it allowed me to move my fingers faster inside of her, rubbing on the most sensitive planes, until I felt her muscles tighten and our kiss silenced her climax.
It's nice to know I've still got it.
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END
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