#787) Stranger in a Bar

My friends and I got together in a bar to blow off the psychic debris from a hard workweek on Friday night. But they were all wussies and left before midnight, whereas I was just getting started. Not wanting to monopolize a big booth any longer without others to fill it, I moved myself and the cosmopolitan I was nursing to the bar. I sat next to an attractive redhead who seemed as plastered as I was.
“You know,” I said, “there are news items lately all proclaiming that it’s good for one’s mental health to strike up conversations with total strangers…”
“Is that so…?” she returned, and we were off in a colloquy.
“Yep, in the newspaper the other day, and I heard it on NPR, too… Say, do you know you have a gorgeous head of hair?”
“I’ve heard that a time or two… thank you!”
“You know, redheads are statistically rather rare, I think only two percent of the total population of the world is redheaded…”
“You’re just full of information, aren’t you…?” she smiled seductively. Her face was just inches from mine. I liked the close proximity.
“I don’t know everything,” I whispered back, my mouth so near hers I could feel her breath, “but I like to learn, which I do by asking questions. For instance, with such a luxurious, full head of red hair, do you trim your pubic bush, or let it grow into a forest…?”
First that pretty mouth curled into a smile, then it moved still closer. I found that I enjoyed kissing her. When that kiss ended, she whispered back, “I think we ought to exchange names, mine is Circe…”
“Circe, I’m Danielle, friends call me Danny…”
“Well, now Danny, now that that’s out of the way, why don’t you come back to my place to find out about my snatch…?”
“That sounds lovely.”
She gave me her address, I followed her in my car. We were both too drunk to drive, but that was only the first of the sins committed that night. We both arrived at her nice brownstone without incident or accident.
I learned a lot that night. I learned that Circe had never taken scissors or razor to her pubic bush, that she couldn’t have worn a bathing suit because it exploded out of her crotch in all directions, but being fair, that really wasn’t a concern. She really wasn’t much of a sun worshiper. I learned that so massive a pubic bush exponentially increases the feminine scent. I learned that her pussy was incredibly pink beneath all that bright red hair, tasted as sweet and strong as it smelled, and that Circe ate pussy as well, if not better, as I did. Then I learned that this was about all we shared.
“You want me to what? Hit you?”
“Not violently, not with a fist… I like to be spanked…”
“It is violent!”
I found I couldn’t argue. Sooner or later, I’d be asking her for more than just a light patty-pat spanking. She wasn’t a spanko, was, in fact, a pacifist. I put my clothes back on. I kissed her with a kiss that said I wished we could share so much more.
“I’m sorry…” she muttered.
“Don’t be, it’s just not who you are…”
“But it really IS who you are, Danny?”
“It really is. Bye-bye…”

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