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I'm the one who can fade the heat, The one they all say just can't be beat.
I'll shoot it to you straight, and look you in the eye. So gimme just a minute, and I'll tell you why, I'm a Rough Boy.
ZZ Top.

Tracy's such a pain in the neck. Why do I want to fuck her so much?

She better put out...

***********

Huge brown eyes grew even bigger when Tracy saw our music room through the dingy porch window curtains. Nick and I used a small folding table in the kitchen for eating, because we had stuffed the dining room with a drum kit, an upright piano, portable PA system, guitars, bass, and three guitar amplifiers. Various effect pedals, microphones, recording equipment, sheet music stands, harmonicas, French horn, and a saxophone completed the scene.

As we entered the house, Tracy exclaimed, "Ray! What are you? Some kind of Rock Star?"

I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic, so I kissed her, my favorite way of responding when women confused me. I remembered she wanted nice, so I made it nice, lightly holding her face in one palm while intertwining our fingers with the other hand. When we broke, Tracy rested her head against my chest and gazed downward for an entire minute.

Finally, she looked up with moist cheeks. "When you kiss me that way, I feel like I'm the only woman in your world."

I hadn't thought about Alice since we went in the home, but Tracy's words gave me an idea. I picked up my guitar, perched on the piano bench and announced, "Tracy, I have a song for you."

I noticed she had kicked the sandals off her bare feet as she squatted on the floor. She looked up at me. "A serenade? You're soo romantic, Ray."

More sarcasm?

It was a little cheesy, but I thought Tracy appreciated the sweet things I did. I hoped she didn't require them like Alice.

I played "She's The One" for Tracy. Perversely, I felt more guilt about singing what I considered to be Alice's song, than I did about kissing Tracy. Physical intimacy was bad enough, but doing special love things with Tracy seemed like a far worse betrayal.

When I finished, Tracy stood up in a twirl. I don't think she was capable of moving without a flourish. "I loved it, Ray. You wrote that for me?"

I nodded. "Yes."

Shit, even my lies are unfaithful.

Tracy plucked a string on my guitar. "Is that the kind of music you usually play?"

"No, we play bluesy punk rock."

Technically, the song I had performed fell into the punk genre. After all, it was the Ramones, but I had made it into a ballad. I played a few more riffs, then put my guitar away.

Time to get down to business...

Tracy smiled. "That sounded cool, Ray. Do you play all these instruments?"

I waved around the room. "Everything except the drums. Those are Nick's. He plays for about fifteen minutes every night, but he went out with a girl. We have the house to ourselves tonight."

Tracy picked up a drumstick, gave the cymbal a whack, then remarked, "Hmm. You're very unusual. Any more surprises?"

It was a good question. I could take her to the backyard, where my topless, black-flamed, 1970 Thunderbird lurked.

Most women enjoyed riding in the open car, making it a great after-sex option. I also thought about showing her one of my film school projects, but setting up the projector and screen took a long time.

"No more surprises, Tracy. Let's sit out front."

I retrieved two wine coolers from the fridge, where Nick and I always kept a supply for our female guests. Thankfully, Nick had recently mowed the normally overgrown front lawn, so we would have a nice view.

On the way, I grabbed our antique portable record player, and The Best Of Sam Cooke LP. I had a very nice component stereo in the house, but we liked to use the garage sale turntable for oldies. Nick said the tinny sound and static made it more "authentic."

Tracy nodded in approval, then we went outside to make out on the fresh sheet-covered couch. Her lovely olive skin glistened with an oddly attractive light sweat from the warm, pleasant evening. Despite some bumps, our date had become worthwhile.

The porch opened to our lawn, with a four-foot-high brick wall that gave us some privacy, and the red light bulb over the couch provided a dim romantic setting. Candles, plants, and a wind chime completed the mood. When I had purchased the used sofa for our new place six months ago, Nick had asked, "Ok, smart guy. How are we going to get it through the front door?"

I had laughed, "Dumbass. This is the make-out couch, it stays on the porch. Look, I bought a blanket for chilly nights."

Nick had been skeptical, but ended up using the couch almost as much as I did.

We drank our wine coolers and chatted, then I nicely kissed and nicely groped her. Tracy's tiny breasts were inaccessible through the dress and bra, so I ran my fingertips up the inside of her leg, pausing a half-inch from her panties. I gently kneaded and stroked her upper thigh, waiting to see if she would close the gap. It took Tracy a few minutes, but she finally shifted herself onto my waiting hand, almost involuntarily.

I let Tracy control how I intimately touched her, because she seemed hesitant about being this sensual on our first date. I fully intended to be inside her soon, and my passive-aggressive foreplay often proved helpful in bringing an indecisive woman's desires up to speed. It let her feel in control while also telling herself, "He overwhelmed me, and there was nothing I could do..."

Tracy's excited moans gave me confidence to advance towards my goal of carrying her to bed. I pulled her dress up around her waist and lovingly kissed the inside of her quivering thighs, when she suddenly cried, "Someone is here!"

Tracy gasped when the top of my head grazed her crotch, as I looked up and saw Nick getting out of his truck. He was supposed to be out with a girlfriend, so obviously something had gone wrong.

I greeted him. "Nick, you remember Tracy from her party. What's going on, did you see Celeste?"

Nick glared at us. He was a fan of Alice, and didn't understand why I had not married her, much less why I cheated on her. Especially with a seemingly unimpressive woman like Tracy. He didn't see her appeal the way I did, and I understood, but he was being rude, so I gave him the "Come on, man," gesture.

Nick growled, "Hi Tracy, you look nice," then went inside.

It was as much as I could expect, but Tracy seemed offended. "What's Nick's problem? He doesn't like me, does he?"

I sighed. I really didn't need this.

What I need, is Alice...

I said, "Never mind Nick, he's a good guy."

Tracy scowled, then hopped on my lap and kissed me aggressively. Guessing she had enough of the nice, I stuck my fingers in her silky straight hair, formed a fist with as much as I could, and slowly pried. At first, Tracy just made a slight squeak, but as I levered harder, it became a breathy sigh. My other hand slid up her dress, barely brushing the damp panties. I planned to tease her again, but Tracy thrust her hips to press hard against my hand. As I felt her small bud stiffening with arousal, I mused, "It's probably as cute as the rest of her."

Hopefully, I would find out soon enough.

I kissed her neck, while tugging her hair harder than I thought she would want, and Tracy squealed, "Ray... It hurts, but don't stop!"

When I alternated pulling and releasing her hair, Tracy eagerly matched the rhythm with her hips against my other hand, then sang out a lovely, warbling, soprano moan. With my lips on her throat, I could sense her vocal cords vibrating. I had never felt anything like it, and wondered if Tracy was aware of her unique sensuality.

With my rising excitement, and Tracy so close to orgasm, I had a hard time coordinating my two hands, but I slid her panties aside and...

CRASH, THUMP THUMP-A BANG CRASH!!!

... Nick's drumming startled us, as he settled into the fast shuffle beat of our punk version of Sam Cooke's "Twisting The Night Away." I smiled when he nailed a tricky fill, with a matching guitar lick popping into my mind.

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Tracy jumped off my lap, her face red with rage. She sputtered, "Wha... Why... Ray! Is he doing that on purpose?"

I hid my laugh. Of course it was intentional. He was goofing on my seduction music, he didn't like Tracy, and something had gone wrong with his date.

Tracy directed her anger at me. "What are you doing, Ray? Make him stop!"

Tracy was fortunate I still found the situation completely hilarious, otherwise she would have received a harsh response from me. Nothing physical, but I would have put her in her place. Nick lived here, and she was just my guest. If he wanted to practice his drumming, too bad for her.

It wasn't even a Bros Before Ho's thing. If she had been Alice, I would have told him to stop. Actually, I wouldn't have to. Nick would have chatted with us, then politely left the house for an hour. It's exactly what he did when I brought Alice home on our second date.

I took Tracy's hand, then led her off the porch, "He'll be done in about ten minutes. Let me show you the backyard."

Sitting in the Thunderbird's bench seat would be a decent substitute for the porch couch, and when Nick finished drumming, I could take Tracy into my bedroom, then make love to her. She had shown me a bit of her passion, so I was expecting good things from my unusual... what, girlfriend? I had more raw feelings for Tracy than any other sidepiece, but she was no Alice. That could change, because after sex, I might have a different view of Tracy, always a risk with infidelity.

Tracy yanked my arm and stopped me. "Ray! You're really just going to let him do that?"

I gave up. With a sigh, I went inside the house, grabbed her purse and shoes, offered Nick a wave, then headed back out to a glaring and pouting Tracy. She stared with dainty hands on her hips as I strolled to the Riviera, opened the passenger door, and tossed her things inside.

I gestured for now sulking Tracy to get in, then took a moment to consider my options as I sat behind the wheel.

I should take her back to our restaurant and end our date...

Nah. I'm taking her to the Travelodge, then fucking her brains out...

Tracy in no way resembled a prostitute, yet the turbaned clerk would probably think she was, just like he had with the other four women who had accompanied me to his motel over the years.

First, I needed to comfort Angry Tracy. I pulled her across the seat to me and held her tight. Her body stiffened with tension, but then she quickly relaxed in my arms.

Tracy tapped my cheek in time with singing, "Ray, you-can't-make-it-all-better-by-holding-me-like-this."

Even her scolding was cute.

I started the car and teased, "I know, I know, Tracy. I just need to make you feel good enough to...you know..."

Tracy sat with her legs crossed underneath, and she carefully lifted the dress to get to her foot. She had put her shoes back on, but slowly removed one while sternly watching me. She was still overwhelmingly cute as she gracefully flipped the shoe at my head, not hard enough to hurt, but it surprised the hell out of me. Still staring me in the eye, Tracy pointed at the shoe by my feet, and held out her hand.

I had seen all kinds of behavior from women, but this was new. I was appalled, creeped out, annoyed, confused.

  And totally hard...

I handed her the shoe, and after putting it back on, she slid over to kiss me. "I'm sorry, Ray. My ex-boyfriend always put me first. Until he didn't."

What am I supposed to do with that?

At the next red light when I kissed her nicely, she gently pulled my lower lip with her teeth when we parted.
She went on, "I know I'm already second to Ah-lissss, but when you put your asshole roommate ahead of me, it was too much."

Ok, this was familiar territory. She just needed some reassurance, right up my alley. "Tracy, I stood up Alice to be here with you. You're getting all of me. There's something special I feel with you, and you've got me so turned on, I can hardly think!"

It was a decent performance, hopefully good enough for Tracy to accept without feeling too stupid. She looked at me suspiciously, put her hand on my lap, and blinked. "Ok, thank you. You're telling the truth about being turned on, at least."

I tousled her hair and laughed.

***********

As we approached the motel, I slowed down, but Tracy shook her head. "No, Ray. This night is shot. I'd love to try again soon if you want."

Another date like this? Uh, no thanks...

I passed the ball back to her. "Open invitation for you, Tracy. Just say when."

She actually pulled a tiny calendar out of her purse, then flipped through it. After a minute she tapped the book to her lips. "Hmm. I'll have to get back to you on that."

I couldn't tell if she was kidding or not. Everything was like a Broadway play with her. I loved it.

When we arrived at our restaurant, I parked in the back of the lot, and we made out for a few minutes.

One last try. "Tracy, I know you're still turned on, and I am too. We can have a quickie right here, right now."

As always, the danger of having sex at work added to my excitement. I needed to stop being so reckless.

She laughed, "No. We'll do more next time, I promise."

************

After Tracy left me unsatisfied, I sat in the parking lot, and considered visiting Alice's apartment to ravish her. I guessed she would reluctantly let me fuck her, but then would never want to see me again.

While trying to decide if it would be worth it, I watched with great interest as Wendy exited the restaurant.

Hmm. Maybe Wendy wants to fuck. Wow, look at those tits!

She waved, and I thought she was headed to her car, but she got in the Riviera with me. Wendy gave the interior a quick survey. "How long have you had this car, Ray?"

I really liked Wendy, but any woman who inquired about the Buick was a friend of mine.

"About three years."

Has it really been only three years? I've had so many memorable good times in my car, that it doesn't seem possible.

Wendy chuckled at my wistful expression. Her laugh delighted me. "Lots of women in it?"

"You're the first, Wendy!"

I think I joked around with Wendy mostly to hear her laugh. There was something about it that seemed to make everything better. It also made her breasts jiggle, which absolutely made everything better.

She asked, "How did it go with Tracy? She bought that dress for your date."

I thought about Tracy playing panty peekaboo in the back seat. "Yeah, I liked the dress. It was fun."

Wendy raised her eyebrows. "Fun?"

I didn't feel like discussing my Tracy Time with her. "Wendy, do you want to sit here and chat? I'm not ready to go home."

We talked for a couple of hours about our lives, and it was nice to share my personal thoughts with someone. I wouldn't have expected it to be someone who looked like Wendy, and we had a couple of moments when we might have kissed, but let them slip away. She had begun dating another coworker a day earlier, and I had Alice and Tracy, so it just wasn't our time. In the meantime, we could be friends, because it turned out we had much in common on a deep level and greatly cared for each other.

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