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Last Thing I Do

"See anything you like here?" He asked after chugging the last of his Budweiser.

Once a week, they’d travel to a nearby town and try to lure some narcistic wannabe stud into their motel room to fuck her for money. If possible, she liked them young and good-looking and why shouldn’t she? Sally was flat out gorgeous, five eight with long platinum blond hair and baby blue eyes. She had the face of an angel and a body to tempt the devil.

Sally set her Pina Colada down on the maple bar, rotated on the stool and surveyed the room. "Not really."

"How about that young black guy playing pool."

She turned toward the tall well-built Negro. He wore a white tee-shirt, jeans and flip flops. His closely cropped hair surrounded the top of his young, handsome face. He reminded her of Will Smith. She stared at him and liked what she saw.

Her mind wandered. She pictured herself on the pool table, naked with her legs wrapped around him, while he drilled her hot pink pussy with his chocolate-colored nine incher. But, of course, if he did fuck her, it wouldn't be here. It would be back at the motel room where there wouldn’t be any witnesses.

The young man noticed her looking. He set the bottom of the pool cue on the beat up wood floor, leaned on the tip and stared back. The corners of his lips curled up into a friendly, but haughty smile.
She continued to stare, her face showing no emotion.

The pool player's lips morphed into a pucker. His eyes glinted as he projected the kiss thirty feet to Sally's lips.

She turned to Hermie. "Nah, he’s too cocky."

"All the more reason to pick him."

She glanced at him one more time.

He flashed a confident smile and winked.

She turned back to the little guy. "Afraid not. I'm in a white mood anyway. Besides, I had a nigger last week in Thayer."

"Shush. You know you’re not supposed to say that word anymore. I know it’s hard to get used to, since Daddy used to say the ‘N’ word so often, but you have to watch it. Now, are you positive you don’t want him? He wants you. This is the fourth bar we’ve been to and this town isn’t that big."

Sally's nostrils flared with irritation. “Look, you just have to bring them to me. I'm the one who has to suck their cock and let them fuck me. I’m going to go to the powder room. After that let’s go to one more bar and if we don’t find what I want, we’ll call it a night."

Sally rolled off her stool and as she strutted to the comfort station, dozens of men’s adoring gazes followed her seductive, swaying rear end. She paused at the restroom doors. How classy, the side by side doors read holes and poles. Deciding she fit the former, she pushed the door that said holes open and entered the restroom. She went to the lavatories, washed her hands and stared into the mirror to make sure she looked her best.

"Don’t worry about it foxy lady. You look fantastic."

Before she could turn to see who’d spoken, the pool player came into view in the mirror’s reflection, easing in right beside her.

She tried not to smile, but her disloyal lips curved up anyway. "What are you doing in here?"

"Looking for you. I saw you looking at me. I know you want me and I want you. I want me some sweet, white meat."

She rolled her eyes. "What a fucked up line you have. 'Me Tarzan, you Jane,' let's fuck. How old are you anyway?"

"I'm celebrating my twenty-first birthday today and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate than having your pretty pink pussy on the end of my long brownie."

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