Margaret Lost From Her MindChapter 7
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I met Margaret outside my favorite drinking spot, an English pub in south Florida. I was sitting at a table outside having a beer when along came Margaret and her husband. The place was busy so they asked if they could sit across from me. Margaret wasn’t beautiful but she had a very pretty face: beautiful full lips and big green eyes. Despite her Anglo-sounding first name, Margaret was Chinese by birth. Her parents had named her after some movie actress they liked. She had a wonderful body: 5’5” tall, not skinny but firm and ripe. She had small, perky breasts, which I love, and a perfect ass. Of course I couldn’t see all this at the time; I could only make out the outlines of her body through the fabric of her dress. Detailed exploration wouldn’t happen for several weeks.
Her husband Jeff owned a chain of furniture stores. Jeff was a very big fan of Jeff; as we drank, he let me know that he was probably the smartest, most successful guy in the history of the universe. Margaret smiled indulgently but looked a little pained at times. She was wearing a purple bra; sometimes when she leaned to pick up her drink I could see its lacy edges. I was getting very horny looking at her. Jeff was getting very drunk. Once in a while I caught her glancing at me when she knew Jeff wasn’t paying attention. Some combination of booze and the curve of her breasts gave me a massive erection. Luckily I didn’t have to get up for a drink or the bulge in my pants would have been tough to disguise.
I encouraged Jeff to drink plenty. The drunker he got, the less sense he made and the less alert he became. Then the beer got to his bladder and he had to go inside to find the bathroom. Finally, I had a chance to be alone with her. We hit it off completely, chatted about where we came from, what we liked, etc. Margaret’s cheeks were a little flushed; maybe from the wine she was drinking, but I hoped there was more to it than that. She definitely started to flirt with me in her own quiet way. I was praying Jeff would fall asleep on the toilet or at least take a long, long time.
As Jeff returned, a couple of my drinking buddies stopped by and asked if they could perch at our table. I was glad to see them, but also used them to engage Jeff in conversation. I think one of them was actually impressed by Jeff’s big talk but the other one (the smart one) was reading Jeff like a book, teasing him without Jeff realizing it, occasionally looking over at me with a mischievous glint in his eye. I was so glad he was there, and he had figured out where my interest lay. There are wing men and then there are wing men; this guy is the Red Baron of wing men.
As my friends settled into chatting with Jeff, I moved around the table bit by bit so Margaret and I could hear each other better (yes, I know – any excuse.) She still had a slight accent. Those lips were begging to be kissed. I wasn’t trying to hide the fact that I thought she was hot, and she didn’t seem to mind. She was definitely getting a little tipsy. I had never tried the classic/cliché move of rubbing my foot against a woman’s leg under the table but I was beginning to consider it. Margaret saved me the trouble: after glancing over to make sure Jeff was still wrapped up in one of his endless monologues, she leaned a little towards me as we talked and rested a hand gently on my thigh. That sent a thrill through my entire body. I tried hard to play it cool but I’m sure I failed miserably. My face must have been the color of beetroot; I was so turned on and would have fucked her there on the table if it had been possible. I responded by gently stroking the back of my hand along the forearm that led to my thigh. Now I could see that Margaret was feeling very, very horny and she was into our little talk every bit as much as I was.
By now the beer was running through Jeff. He announced loudly he had to go pee again (thanks, Jeff – didn’t really need the news flash). Margaret and I disengaged and smiled at him as weaved his way to the door. As he disappeared inside I flagged down my favorite bar tender and asked her for a pen and a scrap of paper. Casey could read people; that was what made her so good at her job. She looked at the two of us, knew exactly what was going on, and handed me a small note pad and a pencil; then she disappeared inside. I wrote down my number and tore off the page for Margaret. I handed Margaret the pad quickly, below table level. She gave me her number. The exchange had taken maybe all of ten seconds. We both breathed out a little, relieved that we had got the deed done before the world’s greatest genius got back from peeing.
Just a little too late, Jeff decided to re-assert his ownership of Margaret (and I have no doubt that is how he thought of it); he emerged from the bar and came over to sit down between us. It didn’t matter now – Margaret and I had connected and Jeff was way behind the curve. I looked over at my hero wing man and gave him a discreet thumbs-up out of Jeff’s line of sight. He gave me a big cheesy grin then he and his pal announced they were heading to another watering hole and wished us good night. As he leaned in to shake my hand I whispered, “I owe you one.”
“No worries,” came the reply, “you’d do the same for me,” he gave me a slap on the back and strolled off.
Jeff could hardly speak English at this point and was starting to repeat himself a lot, or lose his train of thought entirely. Margaret put her arm around his waist and gently suggested they finish up and go home. He resisted at first but eventually agreed. Margaret waved Casey over and asked if she could call a cab for the two of them. While they waited for the cab I suggested Jeff might like to take a look at the cigar shop next door. Of course, it turned out that Jeff was maybe the world’s number one expert on cigars. And how to run a cigar store. Man, the guy just couldn’t stop. They paid their tab and I walked with them to the cigar place. Jeff decided he wanted to go inside and explain a few things to the unfortunate guy behind the counter. I said I’d rather stay where I was and just window shop. Then, like a fool, Jeff suggested/decided that Margaret should remain outside with me. I could have kissed him. Well, not really, but Jeff was turning into the gift that keeps on giving.
Between the bar and the cigar shop there is a narrow alleyway with an awning overhanging it. It’s shady during the day and bathed in shadow at night. I took Margaret’s hand and tugged on it gently, leading her into the alley. She gave one last glance inside the store to reassure herself that Jeff was still busy talking (he was) then let herself be led by me into the shadows. As we disappeared into the darkness an insane idea took hold of me but I went with it anyway. I led Margaret well back from the street then looked at her and whispered, “Show me your breasts.”
“What!?” was her understandable response.
“I want to see your breasts, Margaret. Show them to me.”
She glanced up and down the alleyway. I thought she was going to tell me I was crazy and walk away but she didn’t. She was making sure we were completely alone. She retreated further into the shadow so her back was against the wall of the cigar store. Then Margaret looked me straight in the eye as she peeled down the short sleeves of her dress to free her arms. A second later her bra fell away and she was standing there with her beautiful firm breasts only inches from me. I had to catch my breath. The two of us were utterly silent. Even in the shadows I could see her erect nipples against the porcelain white skin of her perfect breasts. Suddenly it was like we both snapped out of a trance at the same moment: Margaret brought her bra back up and slid her arms back through her dress sleeves. I helped her straighten her dress and we moved carefully back around the corner to the front of the shop. Jeff was still pontificating to the long-suffering store manager. I looked over at Margaret; she was shaking from nervousness and excitement and arousal. Without looking at me, she reached out and took my hand. We stood there silent, holding hands, till Casey yelled from the bar door that the taxi was on its way.
Her husband Jeff owned a chain of furniture stores. Jeff was a very big fan of Jeff; as we drank, he let me know that he was probably the smartest, most successful guy in the history of the universe. Margaret smiled indulgently but looked a little pained at times. She was wearing a purple bra; sometimes when she leaned to pick up her drink I could see its lacy edges. I was getting very horny looking at her. Jeff was getting very drunk. Once in a while I caught her glancing at me when she knew Jeff wasn’t paying attention. Some combination of booze and the curve of her breasts gave me a massive erection. Luckily I didn’t have to get up for a drink or the bulge in my pants would have been tough to disguise.
I encouraged Jeff to drink plenty. The drunker he got, the less sense he made and the less alert he became. Then the beer got to his bladder and he had to go inside to find the bathroom. Finally, I had a chance to be alone with her. We hit it off completely, chatted about where we came from, what we liked, etc. Margaret’s cheeks were a little flushed; maybe from the wine she was drinking, but I hoped there was more to it than that. She definitely started to flirt with me in her own quiet way. I was praying Jeff would fall asleep on the toilet or at least take a long, long time.
As Jeff returned, a couple of my drinking buddies stopped by and asked if they could perch at our table. I was glad to see them, but also used them to engage Jeff in conversation. I think one of them was actually impressed by Jeff’s big talk but the other one (the smart one) was reading Jeff like a book, teasing him without Jeff realizing it, occasionally looking over at me with a mischievous glint in his eye. I was so glad he was there, and he had figured out where my interest lay. There are wing men and then there are wing men; this guy is the Red Baron of wing men.
As my friends settled into chatting with Jeff, I moved around the table bit by bit so Margaret and I could hear each other better (yes, I know – any excuse.) She still had a slight accent. Those lips were begging to be kissed. I wasn’t trying to hide the fact that I thought she was hot, and she didn’t seem to mind. She was definitely getting a little tipsy. I had never tried the classic/cliché move of rubbing my foot against a woman’s leg under the table but I was beginning to consider it. Margaret saved me the trouble: after glancing over to make sure Jeff was still wrapped up in one of his endless monologues, she leaned a little towards me as we talked and rested a hand gently on my thigh. That sent a thrill through my entire body. I tried hard to play it cool but I’m sure I failed miserably. My face must have been the color of beetroot; I was so turned on and would have fucked her there on the table if it had been possible. I responded by gently stroking the back of my hand along the forearm that led to my thigh. Now I could see that Margaret was feeling very, very horny and she was into our little talk every bit as much as I was.
By now the beer was running through Jeff. He announced loudly he had to go pee again (thanks, Jeff – didn’t really need the news flash). Margaret and I disengaged and smiled at him as weaved his way to the door. As he disappeared inside I flagged down my favorite bar tender and asked her for a pen and a scrap of paper. Casey could read people; that was what made her so good at her job. She looked at the two of us, knew exactly what was going on, and handed me a small note pad and a pencil; then she disappeared inside. I wrote down my number and tore off the page for Margaret. I handed Margaret the pad quickly, below table level. She gave me her number. The exchange had taken maybe all of ten seconds. We both breathed out a little, relieved that we had got the deed done before the world’s greatest genius got back from peeing.
Just a little too late, Jeff decided to re-assert his ownership of Margaret (and I have no doubt that is how he thought of it); he emerged from the bar and came over to sit down between us. It didn’t matter now – Margaret and I had connected and Jeff was way behind the curve. I looked over at my hero wing man and gave him a discreet thumbs-up out of Jeff’s line of sight. He gave me a big cheesy grin then he and his pal announced they were heading to another watering hole and wished us good night. As he leaned in to shake my hand I whispered, “I owe you one.”
“No worries,” came the reply, “you’d do the same for me,” he gave me a slap on the back and strolled off.
Jeff could hardly speak English at this point and was starting to repeat himself a lot, or lose his train of thought entirely. Margaret put her arm around his waist and gently suggested they finish up and go home. He resisted at first but eventually agreed. Margaret waved Casey over and asked if she could call a cab for the two of them. While they waited for the cab I suggested Jeff might like to take a look at the cigar shop next door. Of course, it turned out that Jeff was maybe the world’s number one expert on cigars. And how to run a cigar store. Man, the guy just couldn’t stop. They paid their tab and I walked with them to the cigar place. Jeff decided he wanted to go inside and explain a few things to the unfortunate guy behind the counter. I said I’d rather stay where I was and just window shop. Then, like a fool, Jeff suggested/decided that Margaret should remain outside with me. I could have kissed him. Well, not really, but Jeff was turning into the gift that keeps on giving.
Between the bar and the cigar shop there is a narrow alleyway with an awning overhanging it. It’s shady during the day and bathed in shadow at night. I took Margaret’s hand and tugged on it gently, leading her into the alley. She gave one last glance inside the store to reassure herself that Jeff was still busy talking (he was) then let herself be led by me into the shadows. As we disappeared into the darkness an insane idea took hold of me but I went with it anyway. I led Margaret well back from the street then looked at her and whispered, “Show me your breasts.”
“What!?” was her understandable response.
“I want to see your breasts, Margaret. Show them to me.”
She glanced up and down the alleyway. I thought she was going to tell me I was crazy and walk away but she didn’t. She was making sure we were completely alone. She retreated further into the shadow so her back was against the wall of the cigar store. Then Margaret looked me straight in the eye as she peeled down the short sleeves of her dress to free her arms. A second later her bra fell away and she was standing there with her beautiful firm breasts only inches from me. I had to catch my breath. The two of us were utterly silent. Even in the shadows I could see her erect nipples against the porcelain white skin of her perfect breasts. Suddenly it was like we both snapped out of a trance at the same moment: Margaret brought her bra back up and slid her arms back through her dress sleeves. I helped her straighten her dress and we moved carefully back around the corner to the front of the shop. Jeff was still pontificating to the long-suffering store manager. I looked over at Margaret; she was shaking from nervousness and excitement and arousal. Without looking at me, she reached out and took my hand. We stood there silent, holding hands, till Casey yelled from the bar door that the taxi was on its way.
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- 03.01.2022
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