“I’m going to head to bed. Feel free to go in the bathroom if you need to.”
Without waiting for his response, I scurried into the bedroom, shut the door, and changed into my pajamas as fast as I could so I could bury myself in the bed in case he needed to pass through the room. And this was the first night in my adult life I went to bed without brushing my teeth, but there was so much more on my mind.
11
Tom
When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I noticed was how uncomfortable my pajama pants were. The lingering, powerful dream still rolling through my mind had caused me to pitch a tent so strong that I instinctively unbuttoned the single middle button to let it out. I willed myself not to touch it and tried to focus on something else, anything else, in order to avoid the indignity of her being in the next room while I jerked off.
I tried to focus on the bar and all of the information we had learned in the last few days, but nothing seemed to clear my mind. Every time I started to think about the bar, it would drift to drinks, and then to last night. The sweet smell of her perfume as I caught her. The tension between us while I held her in place. There had been a moment there, however fleeting, where I could have just dipped my head and placed my lips on hers…
I had to shake this off. Figuring a shower might help, I got up quietly, pulling the waistband of my pants out until my cock went back inside, and made my way to the bedroom. Amanda was still asleep, curled in the center of the bed with a pillow under her arm. She looked incredible. Ignoring the thoughts running through my mind, I went into the bathroom and started the shower. With any luck, she would hear the water running and get up, get dressed, and we could get on with our day. Or better yet, maybe she would sleep right through my shower and I could have a second look at her.
Briefly I thought about running just cold water, but the stiffness in my neck seemed like it needed the warmth. Stripping out of my pajamas, I climbed in and let the water rush over me. I cleaned myself quickly, with every intention of getting out, but the showerhead was strong enough to beat my muscles into submission, and the warm water was relaxing and luxurious.
I closed my eyes and let the water run down my face, the streams sliding down my neck, over my shoulders, and down my chest. No matter how long I had been in there, the urge for release had not subsided. The images of Amanda in the dream had not gone away, and even were joined now by the image of her in the bed. It brought thoughts to the surface so real, so intense, that my cock thickened under the water, and I reluctantly grabbed the base.
An image of Amanda from the dream, her hair at her shoulders, dressed in only a silken robe, came searing into my mind’s eye. I stroked myself as I imagined her in that robe, walking into the bathroom, seeing me in the shower. In my vision, she opened the robe and let it slide off her magnificent body before climbing in with me.
Water would cascade down her perky, full breasts and stream down her stomach. It would create rivulets that wound their way to her core, some filtering down her thighs, others collecting in the soft bush above her center. We would kiss, and she would take my cock in her hand, guiding it to her like a siren, and lift her leg to open herself to me. I would press her against the wall of the shower, her breasts pushing into my chest as I entered her, and she would gasp.
My eyes clenched hard as I stroked faster, imagining myself inside her. Her mouth would droop open, and she would moan as I fucked her. Then, just when I was about to explode, she would drop to her knees and take me in her mouth. I came hard as I imagined emptying myself onto her tongue, and shook, holding myself up by pushing against the wall with one hand as I exploded into the bottom of the tub.
When I was done, I cleaned myself off, made sure the tub was similarly spotless, and turned off the water. I wrapped myself in the towel, waiting to get back to my suitcase to put on clothes, and opened the door a crack. She was still asleep, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It felt so wrong, and yet, it felt so incredibly right.
I marveled again at her beauty as she slept and then made my way for the other room. As I got dressed, I decided to leave her a note and got out a paper and pen. When my message was written, I signed it and left it on the table where our laptops were, and I left, a smile threatening to cross my face.
It was later in the afternoon, the sun disappearing behind trees before peeking through again as it went on its way toward setting. The five brothers had collected, and at my suggestion, we all decided to take a little stroll to Danny’s bar. Jordan was the most excited by the prospect of a showdown, and I had to go over with him a few times that there was to be no threats and no fighting. He sounded like he understood, but I knew him well enough to know that keeping an eye on him was for the best.
As we walked into the bar, I noticed how dank it was. The sunlight from outside was completely filtered out, and the color of the bar was a mixture of dark brown and dark blue. As if the whole bar was a bruise. The other brothers filtered into the bar, taking random positions at the few seats around the place, but Jordan and I went to the bar and sat on two empty stools next to each other.
Danny looked up from where he was putting away shot glasses and saw us reflected in the mirror and turned. The grimace on his face was etched deep into his cheeks, and I readied myself to duck if he happened to throw something at me.
“What in the blue hell are you doing here?” Danny asked, his voice gravelly.
“Came in to get a drink,” I said quickly, before Jordan could interrupt. “Since our bar is kind of, well, nonoperational.”
Danny made a sound that told me he was still leery of us being there.
“Well, I am always open to welcoming new customers,” he said, casually putting the last of the shot glasses away, “but I’m not selling.”
“We aren’t here to buy your shitty dive bar,” Jordan said from behind me, and I raised my hand to shush him. Danny’s eyes turned to him and widened like a mad bull. When he spoke, it was low and even but full of contempt.
“You talk shit, and you start shit. I have no reason to serve belligerent customers,” he said.
“We aren’t here to start shit,” I said, cutting Jordan off from responding. “We’re here for beer. At least I am. Jordan?”
“Whiskey and soda,” Jordan said, his eyes not leaving the rather large roughneck in the corner. Whoever he was, he seemed ready to jump into the fray should there be one. I made a mental note to go after him first if things went south.
There were a few moments of silence after everyone asked for their beverage of choice and Danny handed them out without incident. Mine was last, and he placed it in front of me with just a little too much force, so it foamed up a bit and spilled over the edge.
“Whoops,” he said, deadpan.
With that, Danny left us to go serve other customers, and I began eyeing the rest of the crowd. There was the big guy in the corner, but he seemed like more of the fist-fighting bouncer type than an arsonist. Several other old drunks littered the remaining tables and booths. A haggard old woman sat at the bar several seats from me that I could only describe as a leather Barbie. At one time she might have been a very attractive woman, but what looked like sixty years of booze, cigarettes, and hard living had worn lines deep into her face, and her skin was orange with bronzer. She had a lit cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other, and for the first time I noticed the bar wasn’t smoke-free.