Message-ID: <53536asstr$1145085003@assm.asstr.org>
From: Desdmona22@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} [deirdre Fest] "Lemon Drop" (MF) 
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Date: Sat, 15 Apr 2006 03:10:03 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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"Muse" In the spirit of deirdre, this story began. Unfortunately, her  spirit 
must have had to leave me early and tend to another writer. And without  her 
guidance, my story grew exponentially.
 
Lemon Drop
By Desdmona
 
 
I blame it on the lemon drops. There couldn't be *any* other
reason but  too much vodka for how things turned out. I was a
pre-school teacher teaching  three year olds their singing
letter people - you know, Mr. M's munchy mouth,  Miss O the
optimistic optimist, and Mr. Z's zipping zippers. Three  year
olds dig the catchy tunes, and I wasn't a half-bad singer.
What can I  say? It was putting me through college so I could
become a real teacher with  a real teaching certificate.
Today, three year olds. Tomorrow,  kindergartners. I had
goals.
 
I wasn't a lush or anything, but I did go out on Friday and
Saturday  nights with a few of my sorority sisters. Sometimes
you just had to spend  time with people your own age or you
might end up as sugar-coated as Mr.  Rogers, or Barney.
 
On this particular Saturday, Lindsey and Amber asked me to
go with them  to a club in a town forty miles away from the
usually college-saturated club  near the university.
Apparently, Lindsey had discovered the place over  spring
break. At first it seemed sort of sad because the rest of us
had  all hit Florida during our time off, and Lindsey had had
to stay home. But  she assured us her time wasn't wasted and
to prove it, there was this place -  Honey's.
 
We loaded into Amber's BMW (her parents are rich). Don't ask
me the make  or model. It was blue and shiny with leather
interior. Lindsey popped in the  Black-Eyed Peas and we were
on our way.
 
Sometimes a girl just knows she's hot. She feels it when
she's sliding  into her Lola Luna thong and rubbing scented
lotion on her freshly-shaved  legs. Her hair curls just the
way she likes it, and her make-up achieves the  smoky look
that's on every other page of Cosmo. That night was one  of
those nights for me. I'd had my share of "You're pretty,
Miss Mandy,"  handed to me by my devoted toddlers, but it
wasn't the same thing as looking  in the mirror and feeling
*it* when you stepped into the stilettos. And if I  had any
doubts to the contrary, Lindsey chased them away with a
"Damn, you  look hot tonight, Mandy," when we were barely a
mile out of town.
 
"You're looking pretty hot yourself, Linds," I told her.
Okay, so there  was a little I'm-your-friend-you-pat-my-back-
I'll-pat-yours in the  conversation, but mostly it was just
true. Lindsey is shorter than I am by  about five inches. She
kept her dark hair short, short like Halle-Berry-short  a
couple of years back, and she had a pixie frame to go with
it. Guys  flocked to her because of her perfect orthodontic
smile and light green eyes.  And that night she showed her
stuff dressed in a black mini-skirt and red  cowboy boots.
 
Amber must have been feeling a little left out because she
piped up,  "What about me?"
 
"Fuck, Amber. You always look hot - even when you're doing
laundry or  brushing your teeth," Lindsey said.
 
"Yep," I agreed. And it was true. Amber was the offspring of
two of the  most beautiful people ever to procreate. Often
times those kinds of beautiful  people have children who can
never compare and leave you wondering how their  child had
missed all the good genes. But not so in Amber's case. She
got  her father's blond hair and fair skin, her mother's
perfect C breasts and  tiny waist, and from some other
generation, dimples to offset her ruby-lipped  smile. She was
Playboy material waiting to be photographed.
 
So, needless to say, when we walked into Honey's, we
presented a pretty  good picture - sort of Charlie's-Angels-
like without the guns.
 
At first glance, I thought the place was a bust. The crowd
was small,  mostly men - well-dressed males in Armani and
Ralph Lauren - and a few other  girls close to the same age
as us. The music was canned, and it was the kind  of music
you could hear waiting on hold for the doctor. Lindsey
addressed  the situation before Amber or I said a word.
 
"Don't worry, it will get better. It's still early."
 
"It's not so bad, really," said Amber. "But it does sort of
remind me of  a place Mom and Dad would go to." Amber was
ever the optimistic optimist. I'd  even taken to calling her
Miss O.
 
"What do you think, Mandy?"
 
"Well, the cologne is more Cool Water and less Axel. Maybe
it's not so  bad."
 
"Exactly," Lindsey said with a wink.
 
We followed her to the bar and ordered a round of frou-frou
frozens  before finding a table. It took five minutes for the
games to begin. It was  sort of a record. Usually, when the
three of us entered the college club, it  only took a minute
for some loaded frat boy to approach us with visions  of
grandeur, thinking his slurred speech and sweaty armpits was
exactly  what we'd been looking for all of our lives. The
extra four minutes almost  had me worried that Lindsey had
lost her touch, and we really were in the  wrong place.
 
"Any of you ladies ever been to Honey's before?" the Polo-
dressed,  thirty-something man asked.
 
Lindsey wiggled her fingers and batted her baby greens. "I
have," she  said. The two of them shared a smile before
glancing at Amber and me and then  locking eyes again.
 
"Are you sure your friends will fit in?" His voice was deep
and worldly  like he'd been around.
 
"Don't they look like they'd fit in?" Lindsey answered.
 
He took another glance, first at Amber and then at me. He
was *every*  bit as confident of how he looked as I had been
back at the Delta House  getting ready. He didn't smile, but
his lips were parted in what seemed like  a challenge. I
wondered if I was out of my league.
 
"They'll do all right." He motioned toward the bartender and
held up  four fingers. The bartender grinned and nodded.
 
"I wasn't worried," Lindsey said.
 
"Maybe you're not, but this one," he tilted his head toward
me. "She  looks a little unsure."
 
"Are you unsure, Mandy?"
 
On my own turf, I would have laughed. But here in this
place, with this  suave stranger staring at me, reading me
like a book, I felt like one of my  toddlers facing the
height of the slide for the first time. I steadied  my
breathing and took the plunge. "If you're sure, I'm sure
Linds."
 
"I'm sure, too," said Amber, already sipping the last of  her
drink.
 
"Whoa, slow down, Miss O, or we'll be picking you up off the
floor  before the crowd even gets here."
 
Amber shrugged and slurped at the empty glass. As if on cue,
the  bartender approached our table with four shot glasses,
lemon slices, and  packets of sugar. I'd barely had time to
taste the frozen strawberries of  drink number one.
 
"Ooh, lemon drops," cooed Lindsey. "My favorite. How did  you
know?"
 
"Lucky guess," he said.
 
I glanced over at Lindsey. She was laying it on a little
thick. I  happened to know the frozen daiquiri in her hand
was her favorite. But so  far, this was her game, and if she
wanted to flirt with Polo man, so be  it.
 
Polo man's name was Alexander. No last name. "Call me Alex
if you want,"  he said as he nabbed the empty chair at our
table. We followed his lead -  added the sugar to the lemon
wedge, held the wedge in one hand and the shot  in the other.
"Here's to Honey's, the best little whorehouse in town,"  he
said before taking his shot and sucking on the sugar coated
lemon  wedge.
 
"Did he just say, whorehouse?" I asked Lindsey. But her
mouth was full  of lemon and she could only smile around the
rind.
 
Alex looked at me. I was the only one who hadn't done her
lemon drop. He  smirked as if to say he knew he'd been right
about me. I immediately knocked  back the shot and stuffed
the lemon wedge in my mouth.
 
Before long, another gentleman approached our table bearing
lemon drops  and a smile. And another.  By the third shot, I
was singing munchy  munchy mouth (those singing letters
really are catchy tunes) and giggling.  Somewhere along the
line, the room had grown darker and more crowded. A few  more
girls had entered, but it was still mostly men who filled
the tables  and stood at the bar. But these men weren't your
average barflies. They  appeared wealthy, with a polished GQ
look - starched white shirts with opened  collars and shiny
black shoes. I thought I'd figured things out.
 
"Is this a gay bar, Alex?" He'd been watching me, and not
covertly. In  fact, his gaze had been glued to me since the
first lemon drop. I tried to  laugh it off, tried to act like
I didn't notice, but the longer he stared,  the more nervous
I felt.
 
"No, Mandy. It's not a gay bar," he said. There wasn't
anything  particularly unique about his voice, even though
his panache gave him a bit  of a James Bond vibe. But when he
spoke my name, I felt a tickle in my  belly.
 
A blond man with heavy eyebrows approached with fresh shot
glasses. Alex  shot his hand out without looking at the new
arrival and said, "She's had  enough."
 
"Isn't that for me to decide?" I countered.
 
Alex pulled his hand back and shrugged. "Yes, I suppose it
is."
 
I looked up at Mr. Eyebrows and shook my head, no. I *even*
convinced  myself it was totally my decision. When I turned
my gaze back to Alex, he was  still staring. "Can't you look
at someone else for a while?" I asked.
 
He ignored my question and asked one of his own. "Why are
you here,  Mandy?" There it was again, that pit-of-my-stomach-
lurch when his lips  met.
 
"I'm here with my friends."
 
"And what did your friends tell you about Honey's?"
 
"She told me they have very clean bathrooms." I stood
quickly,  forgetting all about the three shots I'd just
consumed. Unfortunately, my  body was well aware of them, and
I staggered sideways. Alex was there like a  solid wall,
holding my elbow and staring into my eyes. His were brown
with  thick black eyelashes.
 
"I'll escort you," he said.
 
"You okay, Mandy?" asked Amber. She and Lindsey looked at
me. "Need us  to come with you?"
 
I hesitated. Normally, the trip to the bathroom was a given.
It was a  chance to catch up on the night, discuss the whos
and whats that had  happened. But with Alexander's deep brown
eyes caressing me, I decided he was  all the company I needed
for now.
 
"No, I'm good."
 
His hand never left my elbow as he walked me to the ladies
room. I  wondered if he meant to stay with me all the way
into the stall, but at the  door he let go and leaned against
the wall.
 
"I'll wait for you here," he said.
 
The bathroom mirror proved I'd become a little disheveled in
the course  of the evening - a little less curl to my hair,
glossy lips gone - but I was  still feeling "it." I looked
back at the door and thought about Alex. He was  handsome, in
a Hugh Jackman sort of way, and maybe I was out of my
league.  But without meeting a challenge, a girl could never
expect to move up from  triple-A to pro. I'd made up my mind
to play Alexander's game.
 
I did the business I'd set out to do, clumsily, but no one
was in the  stall to call me on it, and I took one last
glance in the mirror. "Okay, Mr.  Suave, I'm ready if you
are," I said to my reflection.
 
Outside the restroom, Alex still leaned against the floral-
printed  wall. He smiled when I exited. I think it was his
first smile of the  evening.
 
"So you do know how to do something with that handsome face
besides  scowl," I said.
 
"Handsome?"
 
"As if you didn't know."
 
He touched my elbow again, this time more firmly. "Let's go
in there for  awhile, shall we?"
 
I looked where he gestured. It was just a wooden door with
no markings.  "Narnia, is it?" I asked.
 
Alex grunted and opened the door. Beyond it was a hallway
that reminded  me of a college hall with doors, leading to
God knew where, lining either  side. I suddenly felt whoozy
and I wasn't sure it was alcohol-induced. "My  friends will
miss me," I mumbled.
 
The pressure on my elbow intensified, not so much as to
hurt, but merely  to guide me forward. "Lindsey knows where
you'll be," he said.
 
"So maybe I should know too, don't you think?" I looked up
into his dark  eyes, dreamy eyes, eyes that couldn't possibly
be evil, I told myself.
 
"You're a smart girl, Mandy. Think about it." He paused long
enough for  his words to register, but all I could think
about was how good he smelled.  "Rooms in the back of a club.
A club filled with men and only a few girls,"  he finished.
 
"Oh! Sex?" I said. Of course sex. Mandy, *duh*.
 
"I chose you. First at the table means first choice. And you
were  mine."
 
"I'm sure I'm supposed to be flattered." And I was, but I
wasn't  prepared to let Alexander What's-His-Name know that.
After all, caveman  approach should never be encouraged.
 
"Flattered? Maybe. But the reward will show you I mean
business."
 
I burst into giggles. Had he really said such a macho thing?
It seemed  out of harmony with the man he'd been up until
then. "You're the best there  is, no doubt," I said.
 
Alex shrugged. "I don't think of it as a competition, Mandy.
I'm looking  for fun with a gorgeous woman, and here you
are."
 
Okay, so I'd decided to play Alex's game, but I had figured
it meant a  lot of flirting, maybe a little dancing, and even
a kiss or two. Who knew it  meant sex in the back room of a
lounge? "You can't be serious," I said. "I  don't even know
you." I heard the words coming out of my mouth, and yet  my
body still moved along the hallway effortlessly.
 
"I'm deadly serious, Mandy." The timbre of his voice left no
doubt. He  was in charge. Maybe I could have screamed, or
turned and ran, but instead, I  moved along with his powerful
frame and smooth words like I'd turned to  putty. Putty, by
the way, is a lot softer than Play-Doh, and it rarely  gets
hard if it's left out in the air too long.  I was  definitely
putty.
 
He opened the last door on the right, and we stepped in. The
door closed  behind me in less than a blink. The room was
decked out in candles and earth  tones. I could have been
stepping into a magazine page, it was that  evocative. The
smell reminded me of the Italian room oils I'd found at  an
upscale department store - completely decadent.
 
"So this is where sin originates," I quipped.
 
"Take off your clothes, Mandy." It was an order, not a
request.
 
"But, I - I."
 
"You want this or you would have turned and ran away before
we walked  down that hallway."
 
Was that true? I didn't know. I was attracted to him. I
mean, who  wouldn't be? And the setup was exciting - almost
anonymous sex, but not quite  - but did I really want to go
through with it? My actions were way ahead of  my brain. By
the time I'd thought through what I really wanted, I was
down  to my bra and panties.
 
I bent to kick off my shoes, but Alex stopped me.
 
"Leave them on."
 
I rose to full height and stood. Arms down at my side and
left leg  slightly bent. I could have stood like that all day
with nary a niggle of  nerves if Alex hadn't sucked in his
breath and let his dreamy gaze float over  me like settling
dust.
 
He undid his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled his shirt
from his  waistband. I trembled with anticipation or fear or
anything except the  temperature of the room. The ambience
was as hot as the dancing candles. He  shook his pants down
his legs and off his feet and draped them over a chair.  His
legs were muscled and hairy and dark. He slipped out of his
underwear  - silk - and tossed them to the seat. Next were
his shoes and socks. When  he'd finished the hurried
striptease, he stood up. His shirt tried to cover  his
erection but failed.
 
"Just like Play-Doh." I giggled. "Expose it to the air and
it gets  hard."
 
"Play time's over, Mandy." He whipped off his shirt and
added it to his  pile of clothes. He wasn't college-jock
built, but he was no slouch. His  torso and abs were solid
mass with just enough hair to look rugged. His cock  swung up
with a curve like a scimitar, hard and theatrical. He  moved
toward me with the agility of a Japanese warrior. He pressed
his  mouth to mine. I expected hard, cold lips, but instead
they were warm and  malleable. His tongue insisted its way
into my mouth, and I tasted lemon and  sugar. His hands found
the snap of my bra and easily undid it. *Practiced.*  That's
what he was.
 
He slipped the straps down my arms, sweetly letting his
fingertips steal  along my skin. Magic fingers and magic
tongue turning me inside out. He  released the kiss and
pulled back to look at my naked breasts. He didn't  touch or
kiss or maul them, he just stared and breathed. Warm air
bumped  at my nipples, and they reacted.
 
"Lie on the bed, Mandy."
 
Who was this girl that just did as he said? It wasn't me, at
least not  the me I knew and loved. And yet, without
hesitation, I stretched out on the  bed and put my arms above
my head, feline-like, ready to purr.
 
"I like the attention to detail," he said gesturing toward
my panties.  I'd chosen a pair with black cut-out lace and a
red heart. "But I'd rather  see what's underneath," he
finished.
 
I raised my hips in acquiescence, and he slid the delicate
lace down my  thighs. I'd lost my voice, both the inner one
that tried to make a joke out  of everything, and the outer
one that might have said, "No," or "Like this,  Mr.
Alexander?" He tossed my panties without glancing away from
me. But  instead of looking at my pussy, his eyes stared into
mine.
 
"We're going to fuck now, Mandy."
 
I nodded like a good girl.
 
He lifted my legs to his shoulders and knee-stepped between
them until  the heat of his groin and the base of his dick
petted my sex. He stroked my  calf with his cheek before
letting my stiletto-clad foot drape over his  shoulder. I
felt him grab his cock and press it to me. The head  didn't
immediately pop inside. I was wet. So was he. Our fluids
mingled,  priming the way for the inevitable. A third try was
successful, and his  scimitar curved to my inside.  The
descent was slow and easy. I  concentrated on every feeling.
Just when I thought he was likely to slice me  in two with
his length, he pulled back as slowly as he'd entered and
began  again. His strokes were long, slow, and gentle. Then
they were quicker and  not so gentle. Then they were much
quicker, and deeper, and harder, and I  clawed at the bed
linens.  My tits bounced so hard they hurt, but I  didn't ask
him to stop. I *didn't* want him to stop.
 
Orgasms are a miraculous thing. They can sneak up and zip
through you  quicker than a finger snap, or they can run
slowly, like a trickle of water  working its way down a dried
up river bed. I couldn't say which kind Alex  experienced
because I was too caught up in my own. I'd never really
peaked  at the same time as a lover - and truth be told, I
didn't that time either.  But I did come milliseconds after
him. It was like putting a hand over a  shower massage head
set on jet. Spritz. Spritz. Spritz. And I was riding  the
waves.
 
I closed my eyes and let the feeling find its way to every
nook and  cranny of my nervous system, followed by my
muscular system.
 
Alex slipped out of me, gently but decidedly, and moved my
legs together  and over to the bed. I was still putty, but
gooier.
 
I heard the click of his belt and my eyes popped opened to
see him  nearly dressed. Okay, so maybe he *was* out of my
league. I was still trying  to get synapse A to synapse B and
he was already at the cortex.
 
"Aren't you supposed to ask if it was good for me, or
something?" I  mumbled.
 
"If you hurry, we can avoid the charge for a second hour."
 
"What?"
 
"For the room. Honey's charges by the hour."
 
"You've got to be kidding me?" I wasn't thinking Alex and I
were ready  for marriage or anything, but I did think we'd
connected somehow. I mean, I  came when he did. Doesn't that
count for something?
 
Alex had his wallet out and was digging through the bills.
He tossed a  handful of them on the edge of the bed. "Here's
yours, but if you're going to  stay in bed, the extra charge
from Honey's will have to come out of  that."
 
"Wait, wait, wait. Tell me what's going on." I sat up and
suddenly felt  naked. I grabbed the mussed duvet and tried to
cover myself.
 
"You can cut the act, Mandy. It worked really well to get me
to pick  you, but no need to overdo it."
 
"Act?" Single syllables was all I seemed to come up with,
but the inner  voice had finally found its muster. What the
hell was going on here? Why the  fuck didn't Lindsey prepare
me for this thing? Where was Lindsey? And Amber?  Were they
fucking someone else in one of the other rooms?
 
Alex had finished dressing and was doing the staring thing
again. "You  know you're almost worth an extra hour," he
said. "But I've got to get home  to the missus." He turned to
leave.
 
"Don't you *dare* walk out of here before telling me what the
hell is  going on."
 
"Better ask Lindsey," he said and was out the door.
 
It took me longer to get dressed than it had to get
undressed, most  likely because of the red I was trying to
see through. If it hadn't been for  a knock at the door, I
might have just curled up into the bed. The knock came  from
Honey, or some woman who had long blond hair and a sugary
smile. She  pleasantly reiterated about the room charge. I
turned her down. I grabbed the  cash and stuffed it in my bra
and sauntered out the door like I knew exactly  what I was
doing.  I made my way out to the bar, but Lindsey or  Amber
were not in sight. I turned back to the hallway, reading to
pound on  every door. Honey shushed me back out to the bar.
 
"Have a drink, sweetie. Your friends should be done
shortly."
 
I sat down at the bar and looked around. Alex was nowhere to
be found.  Within seconds, a shot of vodka, a lemon wedge,
and a pack of sugar was set  down in front of me.
 
"From that gentleman over there." The bartender motioned to
someone  across the room. I glanced over thinking it might be
Alex. Instead a tall -  basketball player tall - man with
curly blond hair winked. Did I look like a  slam dunk?
 
"No thank you," I said. "I think I've had enough for one
night."
 
The bartender shrugged. "Suit yourself."
 
By the time two more lemon drops had been set in front of
me, by two  other men, I was ready to shout the house down.
Luckily, Lindsey, closely  followed by Amber, sashayed into
the bar.
 
"I *swear* to God, Lindsey!" I shouted.
 
"Shh. In the car, we'll talk about it in the car."
 
Minutes later, we were sitting in her BMW, and I'd lost my
ability to  speak again. Amber and Lindsey were chatting like
we'd just left the mall  instead of some sex club.
 
"What did you think of his thing?"
 
"Wasn't that weird the way he did that thing he did with  his
mouth?"
 
"Oh, I know. But it did feel good."
 
"Yeah, it did feel good."
 
"Okay, that's enough. *Somebody* better give me an explanation,
or I am  filling both of your makeup kits with acid."
 
"Geesh, Mandy. Didn't you have fun?" asked Amber. "She
should have been  with us, huh, Linds?"
 
"Lindsey!"
 
"Okay, okay, Mandy. I should have told you what went on
there. But I was  afraid you wouldn't go. How much did you
make?"
 
"You're damn right I wouldn't have gone."
 
"We made five hundred dollars each," chirped Amber. "I'm
getting that  pair of shoes from Nordstrom's now."
 
"What exactly *is* that place, Lindsey?"
 
"It's just a place where men can pay girls for sex without
strings  attached and in the comfort of a beautiful room."
 
"Oh yeah," Amber gushed. "Our room looked just like a safari
hut. With  real grass floors and mosquito nets. What did your
room look like,  Mandy?"
 
So Lindsey had dragged me to a whorehouse without my
knowledge. She'd  let me think ... well, heck, I don't know
what I thought I was doing with  Alex. But aside from all
that, from what Amber was saying, she and Lindsey  did it
together! "You guys were in the same room?" I asked. Oddly,
I felt  left out. There'd never been any lesbian love between
us, but didn't everyone  think about it once and awhile? And
now Lindsey and Amber had gone and done  it without me.
 
"That's what the guy wanted. It was fun, wasn't it Linds?"
 
Lindsey just shrugged. "You never told us how much you
made," she  said.
 
"I didn't look. I was *too* mad to even think about the cash."
 
"Well, think about it and look."
 
I pulled the cash out from inside my bra. The bills were
warm and  smelled of Alex's cologne. I almost smiled until I
saw the denomination. Then  my mouth just hung open. I held
ten one-hundred dollar bills. "Oh, my fucking  God." It
didn't make sense. Alex had given me a thousand dollars  but
didn't want to pay for the extra room charge? Go figure that
one! I  thought about the evening and how much fun I'd had
right up until Alex  dropped the bomb. It wasn't so bad
really. And if a thousand bucks was the  pay off.
 
Needless to say, the three of us made our way back to
Honey's the next  week. And the week after that. And the week
after that. Now, the only Mr. Z's  zipping zippers I do are
in the back rooms at Honey's on Friday and Saturday  nights.
 
And Lindsey and Amber and I, well, let's save that for
*another* story.  The way I figure it, I should graduate from
college totally debt-free. And  with some good investments,
I'll be living large - especially for a teacher -  with
plenty of time to write.
 
-end-
 
 
 
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