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From: "Paris Waterman" <the_panda@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Girl From the Village:  Part 3
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The first installments of The Girl From the Village elicited strong 
commentary from my readers, more so than anything I’ve done to date. 
Here is the conclusion. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

Summary of the first 2 parts: Bruno’s a guy in his early 20’s, bouncing 
around New York on a hot August night. In a Greenwich Village bar he 
meets Ginger; a girl with dirty blonde hair, high cheekbones, luminous 
gray eyes and a perfect narrow nose. She also possessed a slight over 
bite and pouty lower lip, but that only added to her appeal. It was a 
mouth made for uninhibited love. Bruno rescues her from the abusive 
Charlton. They leave and take a passionate cab ride to Brooklyn and fuck 
each other on an abandoned house’s filthy porch. At the height of her 
passion, Ginger cries out she wants a woman, enraging Bruno, who slaps 
her. Although emotions run high, Ginger agrees to meet Bruno the 
following night to help her search for a woman to satisfy her.

The Girl From the Village: Part 3

By Paris Waterman
Copyright 1998

Bruno called Ginger before setting out to pick her up. She answered on 
the second ring. He could hear the tension in her voice as she said 
"Hello?"

"Hi, it’s me." He said conversationally. "Are ya almost ready?"

"Almost. Are you in the neighborhood?" This last was less tentative, as 
Ginger began to relax a little.

"I . . .I . . . maybe we should forget this idea," she closed lamely.

"Ah . . . let’s talk about it when I get their Okay?" Bruno sniffed, it 
was the middle of summer and he was catching a cold. "I’m, err . . . in 
Jersey, but only ten minutes away."

"All right," Ginger said, "I’ll see ya in a couple then."

They hung up and Bruno set out in his Mustang toward the Village.

Ginger lived alone in a four-story walkup, and Bruno was starting to 
sweat from the heat and the climb. Ginger helped things go well by 
having an iced soft drink waiting for him as he came through the door. 
Bruno accepted it and drank deeply. "Thanks, that hit the spot."

He also drank her image in. She was wearing a "Fuck Me" kind of gilded 
brown lace top that had a metallic floral design embroidered throughout 
and a pair of tight jeans. As she moved about the room her breasts 
jounced around and almost climbed out of the scooped top. Bruno had to 
restrain himself from grabbing them. Ginger was pleased that the blouse 
was having the effect she’d sought when shopping that afternoon.

Bruno put the drink down and reached for her. Ginger tensed, not knowing 
what to expect as he pulled her close in an embrace.

"I thought about you all night," he said huskily, taking in the 
fragrance of Ginger’s just shampooed hair.

"I want to kiss you, would that be all right, I mean tonight’s . . 
.well. I’m not on the menu tonight." Bruno cursed himself for being 
awkward.

Ginger saved the day by replying, "Please . . .Bruno . . . a kiss would 
be very welcome." Bruno took her face in both hands and slowly brought 
their mouths together. It could have been their first kiss---soft, with 
an easy exploration ending with tongues greeting one another. It was so 
sweet a kiss the molten lust they both felt was forced to linger in the 
background, simmering.

"Ginger," he said his voice cracking, "ya look like a different person. 
Yer look beautiful and that blouse

. . . wow!"

They had been smiling, looking in each other’s eyes, but now Ginger’s 
eyes fell downward as she struggled to read any meaning in his words 
other than what he appeared to have said. She found none.

"I’m ready," she said happily, looking up at Bruno again, "where are we 
going again?"

"A place over in Hoboken called Fria’s. His clientele is kinda what I 
think yer lookin’ fer."

Ginger complemented his Silver Mustang as he held the door for her and 
moments later they were racing through the Holland Tunnel headed for 
Hoboken.

Bruno parked the car four spaces from Fria’s club. After he pulled up 
the emergency brake, Ginger put her arms around him and kissed him with 
a certain degree of controlled passion. It wasn’t long before his hand 
was in her crotch, lightly cupping her vulva.

"Mmmmm, that’s nice," she purred as she reached out and gripped his 
cock. "But we better do what we started out for before I chicken out," 
and with some reluctance, she released it.

"Right. Last kiss for a while then," and they clinched passionately for 
the next minute. She dug her fingers into Bruno’s muscular back and 
kissed him ravenously, claiming his mouth and tongue with a possessive 
need. Bruno kissed her back, welcoming the onslaught of Ginger’s tongue, 
his own lips surprisingly soft and compliant. Ginger moaned and pressed 
herself against him and regained her hold on his erection. Bruno darted 
his tongue into her mouth with renewed passion, also placed his hand on 
Ginger’s for a brief moment and then gently guided her hand to the 
juncture of her thighs, and left it there. Then he opened his fly and 
fished his boner out.

"Would’ ja look at this?" He grinned at her.

"Oh, you would," she said and bent down to take him into her mouth. His 
hands moved down her sides, around her back and caressed her tight 
buttocks. She whimpered softly, writhing against his exploring 
fingertips and found herself pressing against his hand as he began to 
stroke her. She gathered as much saliva as possible and bathed his rock 
hard prick in it. Licking the underside of his massive cockhead and then 
sucking on it as though it were a huge lollipop. Ginger giggled as that 
thought crossed her mind, and playfully popped the prick from her mouth 
before devouring it again deep into her throat.

Ginger thought to herself, "Boy that’s one thing I’m really good at. 
Nobody ever complains about the way I give head." She sighed as she felt 
his hand reach into her gilded brown lace top and free a breast.

Bruno eagerly bent to suck the distended brown nipple into his mouth.

Ginger casually removed his cock from her mouth to say, "Bruno . . ." 
and he reached out taking her face in both his hands and kissed her 
again. Ginger responded hungrily, her mouth mashed against his; their 
lips and tongues frantically exploring; their bodies crushed together. 
The allure of each to the other was hypnotic. Bruno motioned for Ginger 
to climb into the back seat; and she demonstrated her athletic ability 
as she easily vaulted over the seat and lay down as Bruno clambered into 
the back with more tenacity than grace. Ginger let out her pent-up 
breath in a long sigh and leaned towards him. He did not kiss her again 
as she had expected. Instead, he reached down and curled his fingers 
around the top of her jeans and tugged them down below her hips. The 
back of his hands grazed over her damp panties as he sought the elastic 
at her waist. His hand caressed her belly before moving lower, his 
fingers moving in slight, wet circles. She pressed against him, taunting 
him, keeping her jeans from exposing her pussy to his sight. He kissed 
her and she leaned back in surrender as the jeans slid down to her 
ankles and with a flick of her foot, to the floor. He ripped her panties 
off with two violent jerks. They kept kissing as she moved his hand 
between her legs, and then she pressed it hard against her and began 
moving it up and down. The tips of their nipples touched and she moved 
even closer, feeling his hardness against her, she reached out for him 
and finding him traced her nails along the veins of his hard prick with 
a featherlike touch. She ground her head into his shoulder and burst 
into a peal of raucous laugher as she realized the car was rocking in 
time with their movements. Her body muscles were trembling as he 
fingered her cunt faster and faster, and she arched her back slightly 
and stiffened crying out silently as her first orgasm hit.

For several minutes afterward they lay together moving slowly to the 
sound of her sighs. Then Ginger felt the rush of another orgasm about to 
overwhelm her and began bucking her hips in a series of convulsive 
movements.

"God," he groaned into her mouth, "slow down."

"I can’t," she whispered. "C-can’t! Ooooh, shit!"

She began to grind against his hand, trying to stoke his rigid prick 
faster and he began to move with her

hand. She was trembling now; she sucked in her breath and jerked her ass 
up off the seat losing her grip on his cock. She groaned at the loss of 
contact and reached about feebly, groping, frantically trying to capture 
his elusive prick. In seconds she would cum. She concentrated on that 
feeling as it built up.

He could feel her trigger getting harder and wetter under his slippery 
fingers until she cried out, thrusting against his hand, her legs 
quivering with spasms.

"Oh muh God, ohhhh muuuuuuuh Goooood! Here I cum! Oh, Bruno! Sooooo 
goooood! Oh,shit! I’m cumming again! Ooooooooooh! Baby! Fuck me! 
Ohhhhhh, please . . . gimme that cock . . . .ooooooooh! Shit yesssssss! 
Oh, baby! . . .baby!

He was on top of her, leaning over her, his eyes closed. His biceps were 
twitching, as he guided himself into her. He took in a breath and held 
it as he started pumping into her deeper and deeper. She reached up with 
both arms and wrapped them around his neck and rolled him over so that 
she was on top of him. She began sliding her hard nipples up and down 
his chest, straddling him, then, rising to the point his cock almost 
left her over-heated hole, she guided him back into her; and leaning 
forward trapped his cries with her mouth.

As the tension of his approaching climax became unbearable, he felt her 
wet-velvet muscles closing around him. He slid his hand down between 
their stomachs, felt her clit grow even harder as he stoked her. Ginger 
stiffened, stopped breathing for several seconds, then thrust herself 
down on him and cried out and began to shudder.

"Naughhhhhh! Unfuckinbelievable . . . . .Here I cum again! . . . 
.Ohhhhh! Shhhiiiitttt!. . . . Great! Great! Your cock got a mind of it’s 
own. Nauggggh. . . . Yes! You . . .you . . .ke . . .keep. . . hittin’. . 
. my spot!

Oh . . .ohhhh . . . ohhhh . . .fuck me . . .fuck me!

Her response overwhelmed Bruno to the point that he spun out of control, 
felt one spasm rack his loins, then another and another, and still 
another, before he exploded into her.

"Arrrggggggh! He roared out with primal intensity.

Ginger was awed, she was lost in time and space, and the waves began to 
build again.

"Oh, God," she cried, falling down across him and stretching out her 
long legs, tightening them and keeping him trapped while they kissed 
until, finally, she came again. Then they lay quietly, his semen leaking 
out of her and onto his leg, eventually staining his backseat forever. 
It would remind him of that night for all the years he kept the Mustang.

"Ooooh," she mumbled several times. He lay under her, arms around her 
holding her tightly. Gradually, he began to lightly scratch her back, 
and then in a frenzied reprise, she felt him slide deeper inside her and 
then out, slipping against her, and she began to tighten again. Her 
disheveled hair fell across his face as she twisted her head from side 
to side; both were moaning in unison as their ballet of the backseat 
surged into it’s finale.

Finally she cried out, then fell limply across his chest. Slowly, she 
regained her breath and finally slid one leg and then the other down 
until she was stretched out full above him. She lifted her head until 
they were nose to nose and she swept the tip of her tongue across his 
upper lip.

"God," she whispered, still breathless, "that was so good, how did we 
ever manage to fuck up last night?" She answered her own question before 
Bruno formed his response. "Never mind. That’s history," and she placed 
her mouth against his ear and whispered, "Not that I care, but we’re 
buck naked in the backseat of this car and people are lookin’ in."

"Fuck ‘em, they can’t take a joke," he grinned at her and then started 
looking for a cigarette.

"Ginger," he began in a more serious note, "Last night . . .I was . . 
.well, horny and with you bein’ on the rag an all . . . when you said . 
. . well it wasn’t goin’ so good for me at the time . . . I’m truly 
sorry I whacked ya."

Ginger’s tongue flicked out and licked his nose before his tongue 
searched and found hers and they almost started again. "Hey, we gotta do 
somthin’ ya know," she said. "Shit or get offa the pot as they say. 
Where is this place?"

"This here is the place," Bruno said pointing casually at the club as 
Ginger having donned her clothes busied herself reapplying her lipstick. 
She glanced up over her mirror and saw the Armentieres Club for the 
first time.

It was squatting off a short alley the locals hardly ever used after 
dark. The neighborhood around the club was almost safe. The outside was 
painted in Day-Glo colors like something taken from the set of a Paris 
street in some old-time musical. The name was spelled out in neon above 
the door, and again in the stained glass of the upper half of the front 
window. Long, long ago the club had been a tailor shop, and then a 
flower shop where you could buy a cellophane packet of green weed that 
made a dreamy smoke. After that it had been a two-bedroom whorehouse in 
back and a coffeehouse in front where bad poets read bad verse to young 
high school and college kids, looking to be cool. Now it was a theme 
club for the gay trade that was losing its World War I atmosphere 
because more women were patrons than men. There were still some World 
War I groupies playing dress up and the women who tended to dress in 
leather or just normal attire were resented because their presence 
spoiled the illusion, but they conceded without them the little club 
would probably have closed its doors.

"Interesting place. It’s like I never left the Village," she mused 
quietly as her body calmed down. "How’s my hair look?"

"Pretty good considerin’ the work out it just had," he grinned." And he 
responded to her previous statement. "Yeah, well the Village is right 
across the river there." And he gestured in that direction. "Let’s go 
in," and putting his hand in the small of her back he guided her into 
the darkened club.

The proprietor was a florid Italian, with a pencil thin mustache and a 
jovial disposition. He was heavy armed, fat bellied and incredibly 
strong. This was Fria. Fria enjoyed passing time behind the bar by 
leaning his hands on the scarred bar, his head resting between his 
hunched shoulders. His "wife," Carla, perched on a stool in front of an 
old cash drawer dressed in black bombazine, with white pleated lace at 
the throat to conceal "her" prominent Adam’s apple, but not the shadowed 
jaw. A large cameo was pinned between the swell produced by heavy 
padding and clever straps. Carla kept scanning the room while collecting 
for meals and drinks and smiling beneath the shadow of a mustache, her 
scarlet lipstick all askew from recent attention to Fria’s now flaccid 
penis.

As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, Ginger noted the name of the 
establishment was spelled out in pink neon above the bar in case you 
hadn’t caught the gag outside which had to do with the old song that 
went "Mademoiselle from Armentieres, parlezvous."

The club was crowded and filled with smoke. A small group of romantics 
played at being other men from another time, lounging in their uniforms 
beneath patriotic posters of wounded war heroes. The rest of the crowd 
consisted of women who sat at small round tables with their heads close 
together, laughing with their arms around one another. A few sang along 
with the record when there was a singer and words to the song.

Bruno and Ginger slowly made their way into the dimly lit Armentieres 
Club, Fria spotted him and froze for a moment; a look of concern crossed 
his face and was replaced by a small smile.

"Hey, Fria," Bruno called out in greeting.

"Bruno!" How the fuck are ya! I ain’t seen ya in years."

This was true enough. The two had played baseball together in their 
early years in high school and gone their separate ways thereafter.

"I heard ya opened this club an I thought I’d drop in and spend a pound 
or two wich ‘er," Bruno said extending his hand to clasp Fria’s. Bruno 
noted the stench of dried sweat drifting towards him from Fria. He 
ignored it, recalling the locker room year’s back.

"Good tuh see ya, good tuh see ya," Fria croaked, beaming. "Nothing like 
seeing an old friend. Hey, first drinks on me."

Introductions were performed, but Fria did not bother introducing Carla. 
(Fria had quit school to get married, he was straight back then and had 
married a stunning blonde who left him for another beautiful woman. 
Eventually as he continued to balloon in size, Fria turned gay himself.) 
Fria poured everyone a shot of scotch and they toasted to good health.

"A man needs his health," Fria said somberly, as if he knew what the 
future held in store for him.

"So what really brings ya tuh my place Bruno?" Fria asked from across 
the bar.

"Lookin’ for a little action for the lady here," Bruno replied easily. 
"Got any leads?"

"It’s early yet. Take a table and we’ll see what happens. Maybe you’ll 
find someone yourself."

Putting his arm protectively around Ginger, Bruno started to make his 
way across the club floor to an empty table in the far corner. Passing a 
crowed table with several lesbians standing alongside, Bruno bumped into 
a drunken dyke in leather jeans and jacket, who had her name picked out 
in small reflectors over the pocket "Dandy Jacque," who spun around at 
the contact and mouthed off a threat.

"Who the fuck wants to fight? Who the fuck ya think yer pushin’ around? 
You asshole enough tuh think ya got balls enough to take me on? I mean, 
shit, take a look, I got tits. I’m nothing but a girl. How tough can I 
be? Ya wanna find out how tough?"

The crowd closest to her pushed back away. What could you do with 
someone like that? Stay away, don’t make eye contact.

"For Christ’s sake don’t encourage her," Ginger pleaded.

"Encourage it." Bruno corrected. "Dandy Jacque. Jacqueline?"

"I heard you asshole. Jacquenette!" the drunken dyke shouted. " An you 
don’t know fuckin’ nuthin’"

Bruno looked at her without expression, not trying to catch her eyes. 
Not trying to avoid them either.

"Wat the fuck you lookin’ at you? Yeah, you with the bitch on yer arm!"

"Look away," Ginger whispered, putting her head in close, clutching 
Bruno’s arm.

"Oh, goddamn, here’s a gazoony wants tuh fight." Dandy Jacque made like 
a boxer, dancing around on the toes of her cycle boots, hands made up 
into fists held up high, bobbing and weaving, coming in, going out, 
grinning derisively. "Come on you faggot son of a bitch, put up ya 
hands."

Bruno just stood there with Ginger dragging on his arm.

"Hey, hey," interrupted Fria, waddling towards them from the bar. 
"That’s enough!"

Dandy Jacque was living for this moment. She was going to kick his ass, 
and she lashed out a jab with her left hand. Bruno didn’t move. He let 
the blow catch him high on the cheekbone.

"I’m gonna hurt you," Bruno said softly.

"Sheeeeeeit!" Dandy Jacque roared, and flicked out a hand again, 
slapping Bruno on the cheek, bringing a flush of color.

Not many saw it as Fria arriving at the scene, kicked out once to the 
kneecap. When the joint shattered, Dandy Jacque let out a grunt that 
turned into a scream and fell. Fria, defying gravity with his great 
girth, leaned over Dandy Jacque and with one hand hoisted her up and 
into a chair

"Christ Fria, ya had no need to do that." Dandy Jacque whined tenderly 
holding her ruined knee.

"I went easy on ya, ya stupid bitch."

"Shit," Dandy Jacque muttered, wincing in pain.

"Jody," Fria called, and a gaunt dishwasher appeared from the kitchen. 
Handing him a set of car keys, Fria told him, "Take her to the hospital. 
Ya didn’t see anything, ya found her like this. Got it?"

Jody looked at Fria with dead eyes and nodded, "Yeah, Fria. Found her."

"Dandy Jacque," Fria said, his massive proportions still leaning over 
her, as he looked her in the face. "Ya make up a good story for the 
cops. I don’t want no trouble over this, understand?"

Dandy Jacque groaned out a painful yes.

"That’s it then," Fria said, "shows over folks," and aside to Bruno, "Ya 
gonna be a good boy, ya can stay, ya wanna fuck around some more, I’ll 
have ya busted up so’s ya mother’d never know ya." Bruno, remembering 
the reason for coming to Fria’s said, "Right Fria. Sorry, I forgot tuh 
mind my business. I’ll be cool, no sweat."

They made their way over to one corner of the room and sat at a table 
both were still shocked over what had just happened and the manner in 
which the patrons had continued on about their business. Before Ginger 
could comment on what had happened a waitress with definitely mannish 
ways suddenly stood next to them. Her attention was on Bruno as he 
ordered, but her eyes were on Ginger. When she went away to get the 
drinks, Ginger leaned forward.

"Brrrrrrr, she gives me the willies," she said softly about the waitress 
and in the same sentence switched to a comment about the bull dyke. "I 
can’t believe that woman. Was she crazy?"

"Naw, just drunk," he said and paused before following with: "Ginger, ya 
got second thoughts about this we can leave after we have a couple 
drinks. Ya don’ haf’ ta commit to this idea, ya don’ want to," he said 
reaching out and taking her hand in his and rubbing it softly.

"Let’s wait a while and see, okay?" Ginger was pleased with the concern 
he was showing her. Here was that nice guy again. She wondered why she 
couldn’t figure him out, and began to relax for the first time since 
entering the club. Their drinks arrived with no overt action on the part 
of the waitress and Ginger eagerly took a large drink. Holding her glass 
up to her mouth she took a moment to survey the area around them.

Two tables away, a dark complexioned woman in black leather kissed a 
blonde waif in a short dress. The next table offered Ginger a look at a 
Southern magnolia who probably had a pussy that tasted of limes, and 
while Ginger gaped in shock, ran her long nails along the thigh of a six 
foot transvestite squeezed into mesh stockings and shoes with spaghetti 
straps.

Standing in the secluded corner, a couple of Sapphites swapped tongues. 
Small perversions unnoticed by most patrons, but not Bruno and Ginger.

"Will you bail me out if it gets to much for me?" she asked. "I’ve got a 
feeling this might not work out."

"Yeah—sure," he almost stammered.

"You see the way she was lookin’ at me?"

"I think she fancies ya," Bruno said.

"Oh, my God," Ginger said, pleasurably titillated. "I hope I don’ have 
to go use the Johnny."

"She’s be right behind ya ready to pat ya on the ass," Bruno said 
smiling. "Is she kind of your type?"

Ginger peered into his face. "Ya know, you’re different all of a 
sudden."

"Different?"

"Relaxed. I don’ know how to describe it. Like ya feel comfortable 
here."

"Why shouldn’t I be comfortable here?"

"Well, I mean, these people are very strange."

"Not our sort, ya mean?"

"Don’ get pissed at me," Ginger said, not wanting to provoke him.

He smiled at her and she almost melted. Ginger moved a bit closer to him 
so she had to tilt her head back a trifle and look up at him from 
beneath her brows. He could feel her body warmth. He knew if he touched 
her her flesh would be resilient, resisting his fingers before giving 
way. Ginger glanced discreetly across the room toward the entrance where 
a woman had entered the club. Ginger’s mouth glistened in the neon 
reflections. Bruno missed the moment when she’d wet her lips. It had 
been neatly done. He was swaying towards her as though powerless in her 
gravitational field.

At the same time, the well-groomed woman in her thirties, wearing a 
white blouse, champagne linen slacks and a matching vest, eased into a 
chair at a table next to them. She casually hung the jacket that 
completed the outfit and a linen envelope purse over the vacant chair 
next to her. She looked like a million with her flowing brown hair. She 
was forever touching it back into place and doing no good at all. It was 
in her eyes more often than not. The woman reached over and withdrew a 
cigarette from her purse, paused and rose to approach their table and 
Ginger. Bruno was ignored. As far as the woman was concerned Ginger was 
alone at the table. Bruno took a moment to assess her more fully. A 
taunt, tight ass filled the slacks. Her breasts were average sized and 
he found her very attractive.

"Excuse me," the woman said, "would you happen to have a light?" Ginger 
fished her lighter from her purse and with a trembling hand, handed it 
to the woman who lit her cigarette. Drawing in a lungfull of smoke and 
then exhaling, the woman said, "Thank you. I haven’t seen you here 
before, are you new in town?"

"Yes," Ginger replied and more boldly then she’d ever dreamed she could 
be followed with, "Why not sit down and join us? I’m Ginger and this is 
my friend Bruno."

Acknowledging Bruno for the first time, the woman said, " Thank you, I 
will. My name is Maria," and extending her hand she shook first Bruno’s 
and then Ginger’s, lingering there a little longer than necessary.

Ginger started to talk in an animated fashion. Bruno lit up another 
Camel and the Maria exhaled a stream of smoke through her nostrils.

"There was quite a bit of excitement here just a couple minutes ago."

"Really?" Maria replied, "Here in this quiet place? Fria doesn’t allow 
too much in the way of excitement in his place. All those drag warriors 
looking to relive the war and all."

"Well," Ginger continued, "this butch named Dandy Jock or sumptin, was 
trying to bust our . . ."

Marie interrupted. "Dandy Jacque?" She’s a tough bitch."

"Oh yeah, she is," Ginger said. "But Fria kicked her knee and he chewed 
her out. Some guy from the kitchen took her to the emergency room." 
Ginger had become quite animated as she described the action that had 
taken place.

"Fria intervened?"

"Yeah."

"That’s unusual, mostly he lets the action play out and then throws 
everybody out that was involved and they can’t come back for a month." 
Marie gestured toward the bar; "His wife Carla keeps track for him."

"Maybe it was ‘cause Fria and Bruno are old friends," offered Ginger.

For the first time Marie turned to Bruno, "You and Fria?"

Bruno, a little disgruntled at being ignored stamped out his Camel 
before replying. "Yeah, High School. We played some baseball . . ." He 
let it drop.

"That’s very interesting. I never met a friend of Fria’s before. What 
brings the two of you here?"

Both Ginger and Bruno started to answer. Bruno waved toward Ginger as 
though giving her permission to continue for the both of them.

"Well, Bruno and I haven’t known each other all that long . . . and . . 
." Her eyes darting wildly between Marie and Bruno, Ginger burst out 
with, "I’m looking for a woman, and . . . and . . .Bruno was kind enough 
to bring me here where I might meet one."

Smiling broadly, Marie took Ginger’s chin in her hand and turned her 
head so they were eye to eye.

"One what?"

Ginger tried looking to Bruno for assistance, but he was blowing rings 
at the ceiling, oblivious to her situation. Feeling forced to respond 
she blurted the truth out. "One who’ll want to be with me . . .a lover."

Almost masochistically, Marie squeezed Ginger’s cheek, leaving a red 
flush that would last through most of the evening and continued her 
interrogation. "And you think I’m that type of woman?

"I . . .I . . .don’t . . .know." Ginger started to sob pathetically.

Bruno seized the moment to straighten things out. "Hey Marie," he said 
casually, making no overt move in Marie’s direction.

"What?" She answered releasing Ginger’s cheek.

"She don’t mean nothin’ personal. Remember you joined us after getting a 
light. I bet’cha got plenty of matches in your purse and that means ya 
wanted tuh meet her. Lemme sum it up here. Ya like ‘er, fine. We’ll take 
from there. It’s a long evening. Ya don’t wanna bother with ‘er, move 
on. Ya got no problem wit us.

Ginger was cowering from being intimidated and from the fear this 
beautiful woman would leave her when she wanted her and wanted her 
badly.

"Bruno," she managed to plead, "don’t. We all get along, right?" And 
turning to Marie, "Don’t we Marie? I mean we jus met and all. Right?

Marie sat down and shook out another cigarette. "Where’s he fit in 
this?" she said jerking her finger at Bruno.

"He’s the guy that brung me," Ginger said simply.

"That’s it? He’s not part of the deal? No mangy trois? Or whatever ya 
call it?

Bruno spoke, " I’m here tuh make sure Ginger don’t get hurt and tuh take 
‘er home whenever."

"I don’t do guys," Marie stated without equivocating.

"I unnerstand," Bruno quietly responded.

"Well, awright then," Marie said crossing her long legs carefully to 
maintain the crease in her linen slacks.

And smiling at Bruno, Marie said, "you kin watch. Come on Ginnie, you 
and me’re gonna get it on."

"It’s Ginger, not Ginnie," and smiling broadly she stood, leaned over 
Marie and kissed her softly on the lips.

"I’ll settle with Fria and meet cha outside," Bruno said, as the girls 
gathered their belongings and headed for the exit. Bruno was glad the 
matter had been resolved. Then realizing they might be gone by the time 
he paid the tab, he tossed a twenty on the table and hurried after the 
two women.
You know Celeste's creedo, give the writer a blow job if ya liked 
his/her stuff.
I can be reached at the_panda@hotmail.com
or visit the website:  http://members.xoom.com/Pandas Pen/index.html
Note the space between Pandas Pen.



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