A Slip Up

A Slip Up

Dedicated to those who can distinguish when a word is a noun and when it is a verb

June 07, 2024

Peter began this night much like all of his nights. He was young and single and liked to mingle. His local watering hole no longer held the lure he was looking for. Instead, he dressed the part of the young lawyer he was and ventured, solely by the first direction he heard the weatherman say, west. It took nearly twenty miles until he found a new bar, full of new people, in which to rub elbows.

Mary was as excited as she looked. She finally saved enough to purchase a new vintage dress, complete with all of the retro 50’s style accessories she cherished. She threw caution to the wind by adventuring outside of her comfort zone to a new bar on the east side of town. No one knew her there and she could become the woman she always wanted to be, but only dreamed about.

Fate intertwined that night at Henry Thorton’s, a mildly upscale dive catering to those who wish not to be held back by previous choices gone bad. This was a new opportunity establishment where even if one was not a doctor or an astronaut, one could be one, if one could play the part convincingly.

Peter’s reconnaissance proved this as fact. For Mary, it was only a hope. Either way, it took merely 15 minutes for fate to intervene and bring the protagonists in close proximity.

Small talk aside, Peter did tell Mary he was indeed a lawyer in a small firm. He, however, informed her he worked in the capital and was only here for the night. Mary found the opening advantageous and declared she was a personal assistant, not a secretary, for a country singer and had only tonight off from a busy schedule beginning at sunrise.

With their cover stories intact and unchallenged, both found a dark corner in which to make further small talk as a prelude to the no-questions-asked inevitability of actions.

Mary went from twirling her hair to brushing Peter’s hand with hers. Peter responded positively and reciprocated by leaning toward Mary with a series of suggestions usually reserved for a 3rd or 4th date. After her 2nd appletini, Mary countered with a locale of choice that rented to such travelers without luggage. She was as serious as a heart attack when speaking. Peter sensed her change in demeanor, no longer seeing the crimson in her blush, but feeling her hand on his crotch.

The bill was paid and the die was cast. Consenting adults consenting. Leaving hand-in-hand, Peter gave a thumbs up to the bartender. Mary gave a wink to the waitress. The universe was synchronized as it should be under the circumstances.

Mary paid for the room as Peter held her lower back, hand encroaching upon her rear, unchallenged, and most welcome. Just another night for the innkeeper collecting the cash from a purse with visible credit cards.

Mary gave Peter the key as a last effort for chivalry prior to defilement. Being the gentleman, Peter opened the door and escorted Mary inside. The room afforded neither the amenities of class or decorum, but it was close and it was available.

Neither Mary nor Peter set their hopes even that high tonight.

As a pretext, Peter took Mary’s hand to dance once, then spun her. She landed in his arms before they began to kiss. Mary wore the right amount of lipstick so as not to smear onto Peter. Her red lips would remain red during all of her oral nocturnal ministrations. Peter wasted no time in making Mary’s duties easier to begin.

While on her knees, Mary indulged Peter as if he were the King of the castle. Her hands moved across his loins as his hands guided her pace and depth. Mary was new to this, but watched enough videos to remember how to relax and how to moan when both were needed most.

Peter disregarded finesse in lieu of force never once considering his actions. At the conclusion of round one, Mary required a few moments to catch her breath. Peter used these moments to pressure a cleanup on aisle 1.

Mary removed two small bottles of Vodka from her purse. One was for now, one was for later, if Peter caught her meaning. By the smile on his face, he did indeed.

By this time, round two, Peter wanted Mary to make herself more comfortable. Mary was willing to oblige. She instructed Peter, now naked, to relax by laying on the bed while she performed for him. Slowly she hiked the hem of her dress to reveal the garters attached to the stockings she wore. After doffing her heels, she removed both her stockings and asked Peter if she could tie his hands to the bedposts. Peter could not, nor would not, say no to any suggestion of Mary’s at this or any other point in the night.

Once accomplished she witnessed Peter rise to the occasion, ready and waiting. Mary took this time to remove her dress, revealing her white satin slip as the only deterrent against impending intercourse. This would leave her against the direction of gravity. Her last words spoken to Peter indicated the absence of panties.

The police would arrive by morning to the yelling of a young male lamenting his participation in the previous night’s activities. Paramedics remained professional despite frequently smirking as they cut the nylon stockings binding his hands. The rectal balm would take nearly an hour to reduce the swelling. The itch would last the weekend. The memory would last forever.

Peter, while needing the second bottle of vodka that night, swore never to drink vodka again.