“Let go to that little club I’ve been telling you about,” you suggest to Rebecca.
“Okay lets do it, I’ve been meaning to got but never had anyone to take me,” she says as the two of you say a final goodbye to everyone before leaving. You walk arm in arm back to Rebecca’s car and head off.
The bar is called “The Little Trumpet” and has been home to a number of struggling artists that have gone on to make it big over the years. Pictures line the walls as Rebecca and you enter the building. The main room of the place is dimly lit. A small stage opposite the bar dominates your attention. Around it is about forty chairs with a dozen or so tables mixed in. The sides of the room have private booths situated in little shadowy alcoves. The one ceiling fan does little to disperse the cigarette and cigar smoke that hangs thickly in the air. You show Rebecca into one of these booths as you go to order some drinks. The barman comes up to you and you give him your order, “Vodka martini and a margarita for the fourth booth over there.”
The barman nods and starts taking down glasses from the shelves, “Be a couple of minutes. I’ll have one of the girls bring it over to you.”
You leave some notes on the bar and head back to Rebecca.
Rebecca slides over on the seat giving you enough room so you can both still see the stage. A three-piece band is playing some pretty mellow tunes that mix nicely with the atmosphere. It’s composed of a drummer, a bass player and a very attractive lady about 20-21 playing a muted trumpet. The waitress arrives with the drinks as you both keep listening. Your margarita tastes awful. Lemon, salt and an over powering taste of tequila. You didn’t have a clue what it was before you ordered it, but asked for it anyway to seem cool. Rebecca seems to like the martini though as you mask your dislike for the drink.
The pair of you remains ensconced in your both together for the better party of the next three hours. Rebecca is on her way to being a good bit tipsy and you are feeling rather merry yourself. You have been making out together and allowing your hands to run freely underneath the table. Rebecca helped you to get her panties off and then stuck them in her purse giving you the freedom required to finger her to an orgasm. She in turn has undone your fly so that she can stroke your shaft under the table. You about ready to cum into Rebecca’s hand when the waitress come up to your table to tell you the place is closing. You quickly fumble yourself back into your pants so as not to get sprung. The same waitress shuts and looks the door to the bar behind you, turning off the neon as she does.
Two things are on your mind as set foot onto the street. One, you are dying to cum and secondly how on earth do you get home. Rebecca is too intoxicated to drive and you’ve also had your fair share of drinks, even if you not showing it. Just then the sound of two people arguing draws your attention to a side door into The Little Trumpet. The trumpet player you saw playing tonight burst onto the sidewalk followed by a trumpet case and a shower of notes. “Here’s your money and don’t ever think your playing in my club again,” a male voice from inside calls out, as the door is slammed shut.
“Fuck you and your club.” the girl calls back as she bangs on the door. She stops and kicks the stack of garbage bins next to the door sending trash everywhere.
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