Connie & Tim - #1: In the Alleyway

Transcript

She came very close to making an excuse to refusing his offer, but his steel-blue eyes met hers. It seemed a very long time since she'd left home and since being touched. She needed to be touched.

His hands were strong and a little rough. They had dark curly hairs the color of his eyebrows. He pressed her against the wall in the dim hallway light, and she pulled him against herself.

Connie and Tim The Alleyway Connie was a pretty girl, though she never really admitted it to herself. But men saw it. They would turn to look after she'd passed them by on the street.

The summer of 1947 was destined to be a scorcher. Here it was, the first Friday in June, still spring, and it was already hot. That August kind of heat was in the air much too early.

Sticky. Afternoon haze. The movie in the Low East Theater at the corner of 8th Street had been held over for a third week.

She'd already seen it twice. And she'd noticed the big fan near the open doorway of the little bar while on her walk home from the subway. Oh, what the hell, she said out loud as she pulled on her two-tone black-and-white pumps.

She still had on her blue suit from the office. She glanced in the mirror before leaving, making sure her makeup was right. The door latched and shut behind her.

Her heels clicked their way down the stairs, her nylons making little scuffing sounds on the hem of her skirt. Five months of climbing four flights hadn't hurt her pretty legs at all. Connie hesitated a minute at the door of the bar.

She almost turned back to the street, seeing that the rail was occupied by a few older men speaking loudly with thick accents slurred by drink. But she spotted a few couples at marble-topped cafe tables opposite the bar and deemed the little tavern safe enough. That big fan swung back and forth slowly, fluttering the hem of the summer dress worn by one of the ladies at the tables.

That fan's promise of a cool breeze blew her into the dim room almost as much as the movement of her legs. It was so damn hot. "'What'll be your poison, lady?' said the chubby barman as he wiped the glass on his apron.

"'Valentine's. Bottle, please. As cold as it can be.' "'Sure thing, sugar.' He hooked off the cap, placed an upturned glass over the stem of the bottle, and put it down on the shiny bar top.

"'That'll be a quarter, sugar. We don't run no tabs here.' He gave her change for her dollar. One of the tall little round tables in the back was empty.

The glass rocked back and forth and tinkled a bit as she walked to a stool. She perched up on the tall stool's red leather cushion, hooking the heels of her shoes over a rung. She didn't notice that the hem of her skirt had gotten caught on a rough edge of the seat cushion as she settled onto the tall seat.

It slid up and got caught under her, dangerously close to revealing a garter strap. She didn't notice, but there was someone who had. Her stocking top hinted a promise of pale skin above.

Jack at the office had asked about her perfume, and other men had once or twice before. But Connie never wore any at work, and the comment mystified her. Maybe it was those pheromones drifting in the wind of the fan that caused the eyes that had admired a turned-up skirt to pay even more attention.

The beer was cool and it went quickly. Connie dribbled the last of the bottle into the glass. The gentleman admirer, having watched for the right timing, moved from the shadows at the back of the bar.

Connie almost jumped when he startled her. ''Pretty lady, may I buy you another?'' Well Connie was not much of a drinker, and she was surely not one to be plied with drinks in a tavern. But caught by surprise, and surprised by her own words, ''Well, okay,'' she said.

The cool breeze was so good, and she was feeling a little buzz from the first bottle. She quickly noted the cut of the guy, white cotton shirt with a gray suit, top button open, a loosened tie, probably a guy on the way home from one of the offices nearby. She noted big shoulders and shiny black shoes.

Surprisingly, she didn't notice when he looked quickly at her silk-covered thigh, stocking top just showing a bit. But she felt his eyes on her. Somehow a girl always knows.

She came very close to making an excuse, to refusing his offer, but his steel-blue eyes met hers. ''Tim, Tim O'Connell, I work nearby.'' Had she even asked his name? She didn't remember asking.

Maybe a second beer was not a good idea. She took a sip anyway. ''Connell,'' she said, offering a girly handshake.

''I mean Connie, I'm Connie,'' and she giggled a bit. He smiled. He took her hand and gave it a polite once-up-and-down shake.

That was probably where she went wrong. His hands were strong and a little rough. They had dark curly hairs the color of his eyebrows.

Damn she thought, those are amazing eyes. It was already over, the deal cut. She just didn't know it yet.

But he did. It was somewhere near the end of the second beer in his next B&B, when she caught him glancing at her thigh. Yikes! What if he thought she was showing some leg on purpose? She quickly stood up to straighten her hem, candy-red nails along the blue fabric.

Too quickly, though. The alcohol and the heat and sudden shyness hit her, and one heel caught on the rung of the stool, and down she went. The next thing she knew, Connie was in his arms as he broke her fall towards the tiled floor.

Her head spun a bit, and for an instant, there was nothing in her mind but the feeling of strong arms and the scent of a man in the wool of his gray suit jacket. As he lifted her, she put her arms around his neck. His hair felt soft on her forearm.

He went to brush the sawdust from the floor off her hip. His ham felt warm, even through the fabric of her skirt. She started to push his hand away, but stopped.

Then she knew, too. Connie looked up. There were very few words.

They covered ground quickly. Connie heard her own voice saying things her mind didn't know about, and in the dim light near the table, with her back to the wall, his hand reached around her waist, and his fingers touched the skin under the edge of her blouse. That spot, the one on her spine, just above her waist.

He felt the shudder in her, and he felt himself tense in that spot behind his testicles, where the urge always came first. A kiss placed on her neck, under her damp hair, just behind her ear. Connie did not pull away.

It seemed a very long time since she'd left home, and since being touched, she needed to be touched. Tim! Stop! Not here! she managed in his ear.

People are looking! Is your place nearby? Tim almost growled it in a low and urgent voice.

My God! The landlord would throw me out if I brought a man upstairs. No! No! We can't! There was no more waiting, though.

He took her by one hand and placed his other on the small of her back, into the shadows he drove her, into the narrow hallway behind them. He pressed her against the wall in the dim hallway light, and she pulled him against herself, and she'd have given in right there, one knee up, standing against the wall, if the barkeep's assistant didn't startle them when he opened the storeroom door. Luckily, he had pulled a light chain before opening the door, and he turned towards the bar with a case of booze in his hands.

The music from the jukebox covered her gasp. The guy didn't look back towards Tim and Connie. A quick glance between them, and Tim tried that storeroom door.

Locked! Damn! he whispered.

But as he turned, he saw the exit sign near the bar's back door, a door that stayed locked from the outside. He pushed her through it into the night air of the back alley. There were no other doorways into the alley from the other buildings.

The alley zigzagged a bit, hiding the view to the street. The hum of the vent fan from the tavern's kitchen covered the smaller sounds around them. In the shadows, her hands were on him.

She was now as much the aggressor as he. Connie, girl, just what the hell do you think you're doing? she thought.

Then she decided not to listen to her inner voice. He turned her back to him, and he pressed against her buttocks, erect as he slid his hand up her stomach and under her bra. He felt the heat of her skin and nipples that wanted to be touched.

The warm, damp perfume of a woman in heat was all around him. There was a ragged old bar stool leading up against the rough brick wall. Connie didn't even think about it as he pushed her skirt up around her hips.

Her back was still towards him as she bent over the tattered stool, and she felt his nails against her inner thigh as he pulled aside her panties and a garter snapped. His fingers had done this before. They knew where to touch.

She helped him anyway. The moan was quite loud as he slid a wet finger to her clit. Then first one finger inside, then two.

And then those slippery fingers slid up past her waist and ringed an aching nipple. Her own silky cum felt like warm lotion on her breast. Connie never even looked back over her shoulder as he knelt and kissed her between the legs.

He left her wet for easy penetration. She heard the zipper slide, his belt buckle clink to the ground. Connie felt him push forward and answered back with a thrust of her own.

He made a sound, half laughing out loud and half a groan, and then he was surrounded by her. Connie felt him thrusting. She squeezed him for his pleasure and hers.

For an instant she tried to remember his entire face, but all she could recall was the look in those steel blue eyes and their hunger. She knew it had been his to see in her eyes as well, and she let him have his pleasure and she climaxed over and over, touching herself while he took her. Finally he pulled away at just that instant and covered her hips with hot cum.

She felt it trickle warm down the back of one leg till it soaked into the top of her stocking. Panting, she turned towards him. She grabbed his pants, rumpled on the pavement, and put them under her knees as she knelt down in front of him.

With a long stroke, she milked the last of the creamy cum from him onto the tip of her tongue and her red-glossed lips. Connie lifted his cock, still shiny with her own juices, and licked the salty skin of his balls. She made red lipstick prints inside his thighs.

Tim pulled off his jacket and put it down on the gritty ground and sat Connie's butt right in the center of it. She laid back. He took both of her slender ankles in one big hand and held her legs up in the air, and lifting her hips with his other hand, he was inside her again.

Now he was in control again, and Connie let him be, and he drove her over a threshold she had never felt before. The neighborhood dogs started barking when she cried out as she came, a dozen times all at once, and he shuddered his own release deep inside her, gasping for air. He'd never come twice before.

Demon girl! Crazy girl! They fell together, eyes looking into eyes.

They'd found each other's fantasies. Suddenly the hot June air felt cool to their burning skin. Would it be a hot summer indeed?