Nocturnes Read Online Free PDF Page A

herself and pats her bare hips as if searching for something. “I usually keep cards handy, but I’ve got nowhere to put them in this get-up. If you need a cab, I have a friend who owns a taxi service.”
    Staring at her pussy—mmm, lace is my favorite—I imagine pushing the delicate fabric between her legs aside and giving her an hour-long mouth-to-crotch revival session. The barely there cleft between her labia taunts me. A pair of lips begging to be French kissed. I pucker up.
    “Uh…” Two fingers draw my chin upward, and my gaze collides with a pale-blue stare. “I’m up here, Rex.”
    Fuck. Me. She’s gotta be wearing contacts. Nobody has eyes that color. Like Baskin Robbins daiquiri ice. How did I miss those gems the first time we met? Too busy staring at her Wonder Twin Tits, I guess.
    I shake my head. “Sorry. What?”
    “I said, if you need a ride home, I’ll give you the number for a taxi. You don’t look like you should be driving.”
    “Driving? No. Only driving I plan on doing tonight involves my cock, your pussy, and maybe your ass if you’re game.” I grin. Then I realize what I said. My stomach drops like a lemming off the Cliff of Good Sense. It crashes right along with her smile. “Shit. I’m sorry.” The little devil on my shoulder is having a field day.
    The ice in her eyes gets downright glacial. “I have to go.” Lola walks away. Actually, walk doesn’t do her justice. It’s more of a combination glide-strut-swagger. One foot in front of the other, her bare, fucking perfect ass swaying to a lazy, swing tempo, the black angles of her G-string accentuating her curves. That gorgeous mane of hair swiping her back. I imagine curling my fingers through those silken waves, twisting until the locks bite into my fists, and pulling her head back to stare into my eyes as I fuck her from behind. Squeezing those white tits, biting nipples. Working her clit into a guitar-slamming frenzy with my knuckles. The songs I could play on her…
    Shit. She’s getting away. I charge after her through the swarm of bodies. My feet are doing their best to keep me vertical, but my head has other plans. I have to stop twice on my way through the crowd to steady myself.
    Christ, if I can walk away tonight with just Lola’s phone number, I swear I’ll never drink again. When she reaches the door to the dressing rooms, I yell her name. She stops and turns toward me.
    “Look, Rex, I’ll probably do another set on Friday. Come back then if you want to see me naked.”
    My shoulders heave as bile climbs my throat. No. Please, no. You cannot puke right now. Get her number, then hit the john. Puke all you want there.
    “It’s Rax . Come on, Lola. I know you were checking me out. How about you give me your number, and I’ll call you tomorrow? Or we could meet after you get off work tonight.”
    Her body switches languages from Open for Business to Stay the Fuck Away. Sometimes I wish I weren’t multilingual. The latter is my least favorite dialect.
    She lays a palm in the center of my chest and says, “Listen, buddy. I don’t know you. I’m working, and you’re interfering with my business. You’ve had a lot to drink. I think it’s best you head home before Duane comes looking for you.”
    “Duane can suck my left nut,” I slur.
    She glances over my shoulder and nods. “Great. You two enjoy yourselves.”
    I turn. Fucking Duane’s wrestling his way through the crowd toward us. Shit.
    When I look back, Lola’s gone. This seems like as good a time as any to hightail it to the bathroom. I duck and slink in between bodies until I get to the men’s room. Commandeering a stall, I shove two fingers down my throat and think really hard about eating maggots. The pipe tapped, puke rises and explodes into the toilet. Works every time.
    As I coax the physical reminders of the night’s adventures into the bowl, I catalogue my poor choices. “You’re a dickhead, Rax,” I mumble between heaves. “A fucking