Not What I Expected From a Dance Recital

Lexi Editorial Warning: my verb tenses get a little strained herein.  I hate myself so you don't have to.

So this week is dance recital week for a visiting company.  They manage pretty well; they herd 8000 kids with no trouble and keep to the schedule.  I sit in the booth and ogle cute dancers, of which there are many, but I'm really not in contact with them like I am with theater companies; I basically get my cues and stay away from backstage.

So today when I got there my boss said, "They're showing up and we're not ready for them yet; go out and keep them from getting in."  We had something else this morning which had run late, so things weren't set.  And the dancers were early.  Plenty early.  They always are.  So they were milling around in the lobby and I had to go out and stall stall stall.

Usually my tactic there is to find a few adults who look reasonable and enlist them.  This isn't my first rodeo.  The dance mothers can be pains in the ass, but I pick the ones who look the least pissed off that I'm telling them they can't come in.  Today, there weren't that many people there, mostly the older kids who were behaving themselves reasonably well.  But there was an older guy, old enough to be my older brother but not my father, who looked like he was going to kill me when I told him we couldn't open the doors yet.  Not him.  Pass him by.  I found a few unwilling but reasonable accomplices and managed to keep things calm until we could let them in.

I'm going around setting things up inside when I hear a cough behind me.  "Excuse me," says a man's voice.  I turn around, and there he is, guy who hates my guts.  Except he looks rather sheepish.  "Um, I'm really sorry I snapped at you," he said.  "I shouldn't have.  We were early and you're just doing your job."

Will wonders never cease?  "It's okay," I said, lying a little, although honestly it really didn't make any difference to me at the time other than knowing who was not to be chosen to help my stalling.  "It gets pretty hectic out there."

"No, really, I'm sorry.  I shouldn't take stuff out on you."

"Seriously, sir, it's fine.  If that's the worst thing that happens to me today..."

"You're nice to say so.  But I was out of line."

Jesus, take the hint.  "Okay, apology accepted.  Don't let it happen again."  I wagged my finger at him because when trouble strikes I diffuse it with comedy.

He laughed.  Looking at him through a lens of, "look at this fellow human being," rather than, "who's going to be a pain in my ass," he was pretty cute.  Father of dancer, married, taken, whatever, but a gal can look, right?  Besides, I've been up to my eyes in teen girls for the past few days, so a cute guy is a welcome change of pace.  Plus, when he laughed, he softened up a little, lost the stony exterior, and seemed more reasonable.

"Can I do anything to make it up to you?"

Oh yes, sure you can.  Leave your wife, come with me to the Casbah.  This guy was not picking me up.  He was being nice.  "Nah, unless you've got amphetamines to get me through this evening."  See, comedy.  Weak, weak comedy.  It's a wonder anyone ever talks to me.

"Tell me about it," he said, sighing.  "I bet it's ten times worse having to deal with all of it.  All I have to do is sit here for hours."

"It's really not that bad.  You guys run a pretty tight ship."  This is true.  I have dealt with way, way worse.  Amphetamines were not needed, other than the fact that I would mainline speed if I thought it would help me feel more awake at any time.

"I guess so.  Still, got to be annoying."

"It's not so bad.  I get to see some pretty dancing.  I've been paid to do worse."  Go away now.  I have a job to do, and unless you're going to rip my bodice off... down girl, just because you're sex-starved and bored doesn't mean everyone's out to fuck.

"There is that."  He smiled.  "Well, if there's anything I can do to make your life easier, let me know.  I'm Evan, by the way."

"Lexi."

"Nice to meet you, Lexi."

And away he went.

And during a break, back he came.  With a can of soda.  "Thought you might appreciate a drink," he said.

I don't drink soda.  At all.  But I'm not rude.  "Thanks," I said.

"Caffeine isn't speed, but maybe it'll help a little."

I didn't tell him that caffeine is useless on me.  I just laughed.  Bad joke, but hey, I had already made several and he'd laughed, and I appreciate a callback.  And we chatted civilly, me trying very hard not to be forced to open the can of soda and drink some of it to show my appreciation for the gesture.  His daughter is in advanced dance classes.  Still too young to drive.  Bummer.  That sort of thing.  What do I do?  Oh, this and that.  Blah blah blah.

I don't want this to sound like it was some amazing conversation.  It was a lot of him talking and me nodding, or me talking and him nodding.  Awkward small talk.  I still had no idea why the fuck he was talking to me, except maybe... well, actually, I think I do know (and it's not the reason you think, although as we shall see that's not a bad guess).  Here he is, in a room with a bunch of women.  I'm the only one who isn't either a crazy dance mother or a crazy dancer/teacher.  I'm not made up to the nines.  I'm doing a job, I'm not cavorting around, I'm not yelling at kids.  If I had been my boss, he probably would have struck up a conversation with my boss instead.  He didn't belong there.  He was seeking out someone who wasn't going to drive him crazy with dance.  Plus, hey, cute girl who isn't part of the dance studio can't have hurt.

Me, why am I being nice?  Why am I being social?  I don't know.  Boredom.  Despite it being a fairly easy gig, it's a pretty boring one.  And I wasn't having to put in a lot of effort to make the conversation happen.  I'm not great at starting them, but once they happen, I can hold my own, and if it's not a terrible conversation I can enjoy basic human interactions.  I'm not a hermit.  I'm introverted, but that doesn't mean social stuff is off the table, just that I don't like seeking it out.

As an aside, I know it seems like I'm crazily extroverted sometimes, but I'm a sexual extrovert.  Regular social things are not where I shine.  I wasn't shining here.  I was just having a conversation with someone.  Plus, I hate to say it, but it's nice to be interesting to someone.  He was making an effort, and while I probably wouldn't have pursued it if it came to a conclusion, it was nice.

During the longer break, I even felt confident enough to start the conversation with him as he sat in the lobby.  "How's it going out here?"  That sort of thing.  He had to have been way more bored than I was because he wasn't even allowed to be in the theater and watch.  No parents allowed beyond those who were acting as wranglers.  I guess if they let the parents in the rehearsals, it gets unpleasant.  I get that.

We talked some more.  It became less awkward, because we moved on from small talk to pop culture.  We like some of the same music.  Our taste in movies differs but we can agree that the Star Wars prequels should never have happened.  He called me a baby for not having seen the originals on the big screen, then admitted sheepishly that he had only seen Jedi writ large, and couldn't really remember it anyway.  So not so much older than me.

Down girl.  He's married.  Has a daughter in her teens.  That speaks to a long marriage.  You don't break up marriages.  If you can help it.  He's cute.  You're horny.  Watching girls running around in tutus doesn't help.  Damn it, down.  Just enjoying another human's company.

Back to work.  He'll take his daughter and leave.

Only after rehearsal was over, there he is in the lobby, scowling.  "What's wrong?" I asked.

"My daughter left with her friend.  They had a sleepover planned the whole time and no one bothered to tell me."  He growled, then shook himself.  "Sorry, sorry, doing it again, and I promised I wouldn't.  Not your fault.  I just feel stupid."

"Jeez, I'm sorry.  You could have gone home and not had to waste your time."

"I wouldn't call my time entirely wasted.  There were 15 minutes or so where we were talking, for instance."  He smiled.  A different smile.  Hmmm.  "So, guess I don't have anywhere to be."

"Home in bed?" I laughed.  I was genuinely not making any kind of entendre.  Just a bad joke about where I wished I could be.  He took it another way.

"Come on now, we just met," he said, mock-horrified.

I blushed.  Yes, I do blush.  Frequently, when I make an ass of myself, which I had just done.  And I stammered something.  He laughed.  "Just kidding.  No, I'm a night owl.  Won't be going to bed for a while."  It was still pretty early.

"No book you've been meaning to read?"  Why was I trying to talk him away from me?  Married, nothing could happen, down girl.  I was trying to talk him away from me because as fun as conversation is, I kind of wanted to get out and go home myself.

"You want to get out of here.  I understand."  He looked a little sad.

"No, no, just that I don't want to make you stick around here any more than you already have."

"Why stick around here?  You hungry?  I'll buy."

Is he picking me up?  I tried to ignore the raging hormones for a moment.  Maybe he's picking me up.  Maybe he's just looking for company.  Fuck it, I am hungry, and he's paying.  "Give me a few minutes to close up shop."

Shop was closed remarkably quickly.  My boss had left.  He doesn't stick around for things if I can handle them and he doesn't have to.  No complaints; more hours for me.  Evan was waiting for me.  We settled on IHOP.  Yes, he wasn't picking me up, I was sure.  No booze at IHOP (I've heard that that's not true everywhere, but it certainly is in my neck of the woods) so he's not trying to get me drunk.  And we didn't drive together.  Just two acquaintances getting better acquainted.  Down girl.  You're just hungry.

I know the protocol in dating situations is that the lady orders something small and light to convince her gentleman caller that she's petite and trim and other such bullshit.  I've never gone in for that.  I mean, I've done it a few times, but I always felt stupid.  Everyone knows it's bullshit, right?  There's no point in pretending.  But in this case, I wasn't looking for a meal, and anyway something smaller is less of an imposition on the wallet of my benefactor and also will be finished quickly, because this isn't going to go anywhere but talking and really, I did want to eventually get home.  Appetizers.  Definitely appetizers.

But we were getting along pretty well.  It was a nice conversation.  If the place had been crowded, I would have felt guilty for hogging the table, but we sat and talked and so forth long after the food was gone.  Finally, he said, "I feel like we should have picked somewhere with drinks.  I could use one."

"It's okay; I'm not much for bars.  And I've got to drive."

"I've got some very good Scotch at my house."

Okay.  Time to pull the ripcord.  "Won't your wife be in bed?"

"She's on a trip this week.  Why else do you think I'm the chauffeur?"  He looked like it was no big thing that he was inviting me back to his house with his wife away.

"So you're inviting me to your house for a drink?"

"If that's okay.  If you've got to go, no problem."

Here's where I come into my element.  "For a drink?"

"Whatever you'd like."  And he looked at me, straight in the eye.  "I think we've gotten to know each other well enough."  Was that a callback again?  Whatever he was doing, it was working.  And frankly, why not?  I'm not proud of the way I can be sometimes.

I followed him to his house, quite close.  No car in the driveway.  Lights off.  No wife in sight.  I let him offer me a seat on the couch, let him sit next to me with two glasses.  Had a few sips of mine.  It was good Scotch, at least as far as my uneducated palate could tell.  Smooth.  I wasn't looking to get drunk.  "Evan, what's the deal?" I said, finally, after too long a silence.

"Deal?"

"I'm not going to beat around the bush for another hour and then go home."

He turned to me, put down his glass.  "Would you like to go to bed?"

"With you?  Yes, I think that could be fun."

He grinned.  "Okay, that was easy," he said, looking relieved.  "You weren't kidding, were you?"

"Look, I don't care.  I haven't had a man in too long.  You're cute, you're asking, I'm agreeing, let's do this."

"Usually women are more worried about me being married."

"That's your business."

"Wow.  Where have you been all my life?"  And then he leaned in and kissed me.  Forcefully.  Tongue in my mouth before I could react.  Okay, he likes to be a little dominant.  I'm okay with that.  Less work for me.

We kissed for a few moments, his hands pulling me closer, one on my ass, the other migrating from my back around to cup my breast.  And I was turned the fuck on.  Wet: forget it.  So ready for cock.  We broke off and he led me to the bedroom.  He rooted around in a briefcase and came out holding several condoms.  "I'm not going to lie; I do this on business trips sometimes," he said.

"Always be prepared," I laughed.

"You're prettier than most of the women I meet like this."  I think he was lying his ass off, or at least he was saying it because he hoped it would flatter me.  And it worked.

Didn't take long for us to be in our underwear.  I was inwardly cursing that I wasn't wearing something prettier, but he didn't seem to notice or care if he did.  Can you blame him?  He was wearing navy boxer briefs which were a little loose on him.  His physique wouldn't win any prizes, but he was reasonably fit, a little bit of a gut but nothing major.  And he was pitching a nice tent in those boxers.  He didn't say a word when I crawled over to him and pulled them down.

Jackpot.  Nice cock, not huge but perfectly respectable, thick shaft, swollen head which looked just right for fucking.  I had it in my mouth and licked around the head slowly.  "You haven't had a man in a long time?  I bet I've got you beat," he said with a sigh.  "God, I haven't had a mouth on my dick in months."

I sucked him, pressed him down my throat until he gasped, "Holy shit Lexi!"  That's what I like to hear.  He pulled me off of him after a moment.  "I'm not going to go off in your mouth.  I want to fuck you."  Hair trigger.  Shit, I probably wasn't going to get mine this evening.  Ah well.  Any port in a storm.

He kept complimenting me as he (with some help) took off my bra, nuzzled my tits for a moment (too short a moment) and then pushed me gently back to the bed and pulled my panties slowly down my legs.  "Are you ready?" he asked.

Sure.  I mean, I could have used more foreplay, but I was wet and wanted cock, so if that's how this was going to go, get in there.  "Fuck me," I said, with my best little-girl fuck-me voice.  That was the right choice; he practically fell over grabbing a condom off the nightstand.  Put it on himself; I let him because hey, I was being submissive.  Got between my legs, aimed, and then into my cunt he went.

"God, you feel amazing."  A girl likes to hear that too.  "You want more?"

"Please."  Don't judge me.

He thrust in, spreading me, filling that ache.  Speaking of ache, I was doing pretty well in the ache department and thought I might be able to get off, if he could last long enough.  He leaned down, pressing his body against mine, my legs wrapped around him, and we kissed as he pumped short, sharp thrusts into my pelvis, his cock grinding deep.  Not bad at all.

But it didn't last.  "I'm sorry, I can't hold it," he said.  Then he pulled back, pulled off the condom hurriedly, and shoot rope upon rope of semen onto my belly and tits.  "I'm so sorry," he said after he finished.  "I usually last longer, but you..."

"It's okay, it's okay," I said.  "It's a compliment."

"Give me a second," he said, getting up and leaving me lying there spread wide, cum cooling on me.  He returned with a towel.  "Sorry again," he said, his breathing under control.

"Really, it's fine."  No, it wasn't.  Seriously, some foreplay.  But whatever.  I wiped myself up a bit.  I could have been sexy and cleaned myself up, but I wasn't feeling like he deserved that, at least not yet.  "Got another in you?"

"Oh hell yes," he said.  "I was afraid you were going to leave."

"If you've got another go, I'm getting another," I laughed.

"You're incredible."  A lady likes to hear she's appreciated, especially if it means round two, hopefully longer this time.  "I was just really wound up."

"Babe, you should have said something hours ago.  If you were just buying me dinner to get into my pants, we could have skipped that."

"No, it's not like that.  I was having a good time.  Were you?"

"Yes, or I wouldn't be here."

"But... you're going to think I'm a creep."

"What?"

"Honestly, being around all those girls... I'm not saying I'm attracted to girls, but all those pheromones in the air..."

"You don't have to tell me that.  Why do you think I was so wet?"

"Really?  You don't think that's creepy?"

"No.  It's natural."  A little creepy, maybe, but then I'm creepy too.

"Honestly, there are a few of the older girls... damn, in a few years, they're going to break some hearts."

I find myself in these situations.  Lying naked with basically a strange man in the bed he and his wife share, talking about teenage dancers.  Lest you think that this is going somewhere, it's not; we just agreed that there were several very hot teen dancers.  And then he said, "Now, I'm going to make up for everything I've done wrong this evening.  Lie back and let me get you off."

Gentlemen, if you're ever looking for a good thing to say in bed, that's a decent choice.  I was perfectly happy to let him get between my legs and go to town.  Decent pussy-eating skills.  Definitely had some practice, although probably only with people who were interested in making him feel good for trying, because he needed direction.  I didn't give him much, just some hints, because I was still feeling submissive and letting him do his thing.  But the orgasm I had wasn't faked, although I made it out to be more than it was.  It was a decent orgasm, don't get me wrong.  And it was great that he was willing to eat me out until I came, which did take some doing.

As a reward, I proceeded to suck him, although he didn't need much prep.  And then, "How do you want me this time?"

"I want to get a better look at that ass."  He rolled me over and I got on my knees and then he was behind me, one hand guiding his cock into my waiting, dripping pussy, the other holding my hip.  It felt nice to be taken.  I didn't even mind the slight feeling of the condom.

He lasted much longer this time, long enough to push me down to the bed completely until I was lying with just my ass poking up and he was fucking in and out, long strokes, his hands on my hips holding me tight.  I wasn't getting close to cumming, but that's not the goal, really.  I was just really enjoying myself.  This was different from inexperienced young cocks.  It was nice to have a man inside me.

"Getting close," he said.  "Have you cum yet?"

Why do they always ask that?  Don't ask that.  If we wanted you to know, we'd tell you.  "It's okay," I said, because this time it really was.  "I probably won't.  Come on up though; I want to get some in my mouth."

"God, you're amazing," he said.  "Most girls don't even want me to cum on them."  He pulled out, stripped off the condom, and I rolled over and sucked him until he groaned and filled my mouth, another nice load even after the first one.  I gave him a bit of a show, I'll admit, rolling it around on my tongue for a second, then swallowed.  "Wow," he said.  "Seriously, where have you been?"

"In a booth bored out of my skull," I said.  See, always with the jokes.  But he laughed.  Charity, but he was getting to fuck me, so he'd better laugh.

I was all set to go, figured that was about it and I wasn't going to spend the night no matter how much he might like it.  It wasn't that late.  I could still get home.  I think he could tell.  "You've got to go?" he asked.

"Probably should."

"I can go down on you again, since I couldn't get you off..."

"Honey, I'm not going to get off again.  I'm not saying I wouldn't enjoy trying, but it's not likely."

"Can you say for a bit longer?  I'll be ready again in a few minutes..."

He wasn't giving me puppydog eyes, but it was close.  And hey, he was saying he would go again.  When was I going to get another chance like this?  "Can I tell you a secret which will maybe speed up your recovery?"

"What's that?"

"Ever fucked a girl in the ass before?"

His eyes perked up.  "Are you saying..."

"I'm saying if you get hard, you can fuck my ass."

That worked wonders.  He was stroking himself immediately, like he was hoping he could will himself hard.  It took as long as it was going to take though, so we kissed and cuddled and he fingered me and sucked my nipples until I wasn't at all sure I wouldn't be able to cum again.  But honestly, the first one had hurt a little and I wasn't interested in chancing it.  I just enjoyed it.  And when I suggested he maybe slip a finger or two a little lower, he lubed up the outside of my asshole with my pussy juices a bit.

"I've never done anal," he said.  That was pretty obvious, given how squeamish he was being about actually sticking a finger in my ass.

"Don't worry, I have.  You won't hurt me.  Go on, stick your finger in my butt and see how tight it's going to be on your cock."  I was full-on dirty-talk mode at this point.

He eventually got over his nerves and had his middle finger firmly inside me, up to the knuckle.  "God, that's really tight."

"It feels amazing.  You want me to get you ready?"

He did, so I sucked his stiffening cock back to life.  One more condom, lubricated thank goodness, and I inwardly regretted having eaten before this and hoped nothing unpleasant would happen.  Then I got on my knees, head down, reaching back and pulling my ass apart.  "Just ease it in," I said.

I have pretty decent control over my anal muscles; I can't gape on command or anything, but I can definitely make it easy on a novice.  His head popped in with no trouble.  "Go deeper, you feel incredible."  It doesn't hurt to encourage.  He needed no second bidding, and pressed like he was expecting me to reject him, finding himself quite quickly bottomed out in my anus.  God, it did feel incredible.  Three times, with anal, even if the first had been short.  I don't get that often enough any more.

Once I convinced him he wasn't going to hurt me, he started slowly thrusting, starting with grinding but then when I encouraged him stroking in and out.  Sometimes a grind is nice, but in anal I do like long thrusts, and he gave them to me.  He even got into it and pulled all the way out a few times, then pressed all the way back in.

It was over too quickly.  He pressed in, and then said, in surprise, "Oh shit, I'm gonna cum."  Didn't make it out; he just filled the condom.  I let him flee to the bathroom to clean himself up, hoping I hadn't left too much of a mess.  But that's what condoms are for, and he didn't complain.  I wiped up a little and then put my underwear back on.

It took a little convincing to get him to realize that I wasn't going to spend the night.  No, his wife wasn't expected, and his daughter was going to school straight from her sleepover, but I still wasn't going to spend the night.  Yes, I knew, he might be up for round four in an hour, maybe less, and yes, I knew, I was incredible and he couldn't believe how tight my ass was and how good it felt.  I was cutting it off.  No, I wasn't leaving because I hated him or regretted anything.  I just wanted to go home before it got too late.

He eventually got the message.  It wasn't that he was trying to force anything, just that he was really trying to convince me.  And honestly, had he not gone three times, I might have stuck around for another.  But after three, I felt like I'd had what I was going to get.

We cordially parted, and no plans were made or information exchanged.  I don't know if I'll see him when the dance company comes back next week.  Kind of hoping not.  He was nice, and cute, and the sex was pretty great, but I don't need to be someone's side piece.

Still, I got fucked, came, got anal, and while yes, there's a part of me which is guilty that I was helping this guy cheat on his wife, it's a small part.  I've been the other woman too many times to feel too guilty about it.