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Sober, she’s a shy wallflower; drunk, she’s definitely not
Parts of this story are based on truth, blended with a healthy dose of fiction.
I don’t know why John decided to throw a party. He didn’t usually. Well, I didn’t need to know the reason, and anyway I had no choice but to go, he being my best friend and all. He’d asked me to help out at the party.
“Sure thing. Whatever you need,” I’d said.
“Great. Thanks, Bill. Just make sure everyone has a good time, especially the ladies,” he’d said.
So, there I was at the party. It was about an even split, men and women. People seemed to be enjoying themselves, but one girl spelled trouble. In her mid-twenties, she just stood by the wall, watching everyone else, talking to nobody, and drinking, well more like sipping, a Coke. She was the classic wallflower.
The other girls at the party tried their best to look pretty and sexy, and by and large they succeeded at both. If they had big boobs, they wore push-up bras and/or tops that showed off some nice décolletage. If they had a sweet ass, they wore a tight skirt, or skin-tight jeggings. If they had a pretty face as their main asset, they wore just the right amount of make-up in just the right way, to accent high cheekbones, a gorgeous smile, whatever.
The wall-flower had made no effort – none – to highlight whatever nice features she had. She was wearing loose clothes, had no make-up on (not even lipstick), and she stood by the wall avoiding eye contact with others. She just looked sad.
Well, it seemed clear to me she needed some male attention, so I went over to her. “Hi, I’m Bill.”
“I know,” she replied. “You’re helping John make sure everyone has a good time, and here I am, alone again, standing by myself, back to the wall, looking pathetic, right? So doing your job, you’ve come over to cheer me up, right?”
I was a bit stunned, but recovered, and said, “Yeah. You’ve got that right. Can I get you a drink?”
“I have a drink, thank you,” and she held up the Coke bottle. It was one of those old-fashioned bottles, with an hourglass shape, that always reminded me of the curves of a woman.
“I meant a real drink, uh… what’s your name?” I asked.
“Anna. I don’t drink alcoholic beverages, but thank you for the offer,” she replied.
There was my opening. “Religious taboo?” I asked.
“No,” she said, and I saw the first hint of a smile.
“Recovering alcoholic?” I asked. She actually let me catch her eyes with mine!
“No,” she said, and this time I detected an amused smile. It was subtle, but it was there.
“Allergic reaction of some kind?” I asked.
“Nope.” A bigger smile now; she was enjoying our little game.
“Acid reflux? Indigestion?” Perseverance, that’s me.
“I know! You’re on medication, and alcohol is counter-indicated?”
“You have a good imagination, Bill, is it? But no, sorry. You won’t guess it,” she said.
“Memories of hangovers?” I tried with my sixth gambit.
“Not really, no, but you’re getting warmer,” she said.
“Want to just tell me?” I tried.
“No. Does it matter? The point is, I don’t want anything other than Coke,” she said.
“I’m going to die of curiosity,” I said. Anna smiled, this time a broad, engaging smile. She said nothing. I considered it a triumph, having gotten her to smile.
“You’re very pretty when you smile,” I said.
“Am I like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman?” she asked.
“I haven’t seen the movie. All I can say is that you sure are pretty when you smile,” I said, and then I checked out her body for the first time. Well, it wasn’t the first time; I’d already checked out the bodies of every woman at the party, but I’d checked out none of them carefully. A careful inspection of Anna’s body, somewhat obscured by her clothes, indicated that it was nice, even very nice, indeed.
I was careful and subtle when I checked her out, but apparently not subtle enough. “Like my body, do you?” Anna asked.
I blushed, I’m sure, and I was all over myself apologizing. Now Anna was smiling broadly. She really did look pretty when she smiled.
Changing the subject, I asked again for her to tell me why she won’t drink alcoholic beverages. She refused, again.
“You don’t like the effects it has on you?” I asked.
“You’re finally close enough, even if you’re wrong,” she said.
I showed my puzzlement. Anna took pity on me.
“I don’t drink because I absolutely love the effects it has on me,” she said.
“You’re speaking in riddles,” I complained.
“It’s like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Sober, I’m Dr. Anna. Drunk, I’m Little Miss Slut. One of my ex boyfriends used to call me ‘Dr. Anna and Ms. Slut,’ in fact. There. Happy, now?” Anna clarified.
“That means you love being a slut?”
“No, of course not. I’m not a slut unless my Dom wants me to be. I’m a submissive, okay? Getting drunk lets me be who I really am. Why on earth am I telling you all of this?? Excuse Escort Bayan me, Bill: I have to go cry,” she said, and she ran away for some privacy.
I circulated in the party, dancing with some girls who weren’t dancing enough, chatting up others who weren’t chatting with men enough, and basically helping John, just as he asked of me. I didn’t see Anna again for around an hour. I finally spotted her, standing in the darkest corner of the party (which wasn’t all that dark), her back against the wall and talking to some guy. The guy seemed to be entering her personal space; I just knew Anna would be backing away from him if she weren’t stopped by the wall.
I made my way over to the two of them, surprised to see Anna holding a glass of white wine. Just as I got close, the guy left, carrying Anna’s now empty glass of white wine. “He’s getting me a Scotch and soda,” Anna said. Her eyes were bright, and her body language was screaming ‘I’m in lust!’
“Tell John he needs to serve a better-quality white wine,” Anna said.
“The red wine is better,” I said.
“No, it’s not. I hope the Scotch is okay,” she replied.
“I thought you were off alcohol?” I remarked.
“I decided to take you home with me, Bill. I wanted to get drunk to be able to show you a good time,” she said. “I’m half-way there.”
“Why do you think I want to go home with you?”
“Oh shit, he’s coming back with my Scotch and Soda. He’s making a play for me, Bill. He’s the third one so far, not counting you. Follow my lead, okay?”
“I wasn’t making a play for you, Anna,” I said. Anna smiled in response; maybe it was a smirk. She knew I was interested. I noticed she had removed her vest, and I could see her bra, plain as day, right through her camisole. I guessed she was a C cup. I stood corrected: She did wear sexy clothes; she had just had them covered up until she was drunk enough for the transformation from Dr. Anna to Little Miss Slut.
As if she were reading my mind, Anna said, “Yes, Bill. I’m a C cup. He’s here.”
“Eric, this is Bill. Bill, Eric,” Anna said, and Eric and I shook hands. “Bill is my new boyfriend, Eric. I’m drunk, so he’s going to have to drive me home in a bit.”
Eric’s face flushed, realizing he had wasted time and energy trying to pick up this cute, sexy little number known as Anna. I also noticed her skirt seemed quite a bit shorter, too. How’d she arranged that? She had lovely, sexy legs, with hints of curves in all the right places. She was wearing heels now, too, which added two or three inches, and showed off her calves magnificently. So, breasts or legs, she was there to please. I wondered about her ass, but her back was still to the wall. I figured she had brought a change of clothes. Had she planned on becoming Little Miss Slut, or was she just prepared in case it happened?
Eric made an excuse and walked away.
“What’s your last name, Bill? Write it down, okay?” Anna asked, and she fished a notebook out of her purse. “Sometimes I don’t remember the next day,” she said and she giggled nervously. I wrote my name: Bill Guggenheim. (No, I’m not related to those Guggenheims. Trust me.)
“Do you do this often, Anna?” I asked.
“First time. Since I moved to Indianapolis, that is. You should be honored. I had sworn never again, back in Louisville,” she said.
“Often then, in Louisville?”
“Often enough,” she replied, and she giggled again. “I had a good time in Louisville. I’d thought I’d got it out of my system.”
“What changed?” I asked.
“I met you. You’re different. I like you, Bill Guggenheim. No relation, right?” Anna said.
“No relation,” I confirmed.
“Thought so. You’re too perfect to be rich,” Anna said.
“Nobody ever thought me perfect before,” I said.
“I don’t know why; it’s obvious you are. Probably, they just never told you. Of course, not everyone has my taste in men. You have kind, but lascivious eyes. It’s a perfect combination. I’ll bet you’ve never tied up a woman, stripped off all of her clothes, dripped hot candle wax on her, then fucked her ass while you pummeled her cunt with a dildo, all while she screamed for you to stop, right?” my shy little wallflower Anna said. My father had told me once, “It’s always the quiet ones.” I never knew what he meant, until that very moment.
“You see? You’re shocked. That’s a good thing, Bill, in case you were wondering. I got all that out of my system with the Louisville Sadists. All I want now is some approximation of a normal man, whatever that is. You’ll fit the bill nicely, so to speak. Hey, Bill fits the bill,” and Anna laughed.
“You’re drunk, Anna,” I said.
“Hey, you’re observant, too! Look Bill, in case you’ve got ethics on top of everything else that makes you perfect, right now I’m still sober enough to give consent, and I do, for the next twenty-four hours. Look, in case you don’t want to wait, we can go to the garden and have some fun right now,” Anna said.
As usual, Anna surprised me. I just Escort stared at her.
“Your cock is hard,” she said, looking directly at the right spot of my pants. “We wouldn’t be the first, or even the third couple to get it on in the garden tonight. The preferred place is behind the gazebo.”
I just looked at her, dazzled in incredulity. “People might see us?”
“Yes, that could happen. Is that a problem for you?” Anna asked.
“Isn’t it a problem for you?” I replied.
“You’ve done it before, haven’t you? Had sex outside? For me it will a first. Want to be my first, Bill?” Anna asked, batting her eyes and smiling, as she enjoyed teasing me.
“Martha, dancing with Mike over there, and Sally, dancing with Steve, both got it on already in the garden. Everyone seems to be having sex tonight. There’s a waiting list for the upstairs bedrooms,” Anna said. “You can help out a poor, lonely wallflower, you know? If you don’t, there’s always Eric, but seriously, Eric? I want you, and nobody else.”
I looked over at Martha and Mike, and also Sally and Steve, and the two women were plastered flush up against the men they were dancing with. They had that just-fucked look in their eyes, sort of blissful and playful, both. Boy, my wallflower sure notices everything!
“Why, Anna? You hardly know me,” I said.
“I want you precisely because you say things like that. Look, Bill, I’m a woman in heat. I may not be Scarlett Johansson, or Kate Upton, but men don’t seem to complain. No sane man can resist a girl like me when she’s in heat,” Anna said. She managed to look demure and shy throughout this amazing conversation.
I never thought I’d say this, but I said no to the garden. “Let’s go back to my place.”
“No, Bill. Let’s go to my place, okay? No time like the present,” she said.
“Dance with me, first,” I said. Anna came to me, put her arms around my neck, and plastered her body flush against mine. I could feel her boobs right through her camisole, her nipples poking my chest, and she ground her abdomen against my hard cock. We swayed to the music like that, and I became consumed with desire for that incarnation of my lust.
Once we were at her place, she offered me a selection of bourbons. She had ten different ones, all top shelf ones, too. “The Louisville influence?” I asked.
“Yes. Kentucky men seem to love bourbon. I don’t know why. I’m a Scotch whisky kind of girl, from way back,” she said, as she poured herself quite a healthy glass of Scotch whisky.
“Bourbon goes smoother down the gullet,” I said.
“Maybe so. Men sure like to take shots off my abdomen, with me naked and lying on the bar, I can tell you that,” Anna said. Anna smiled, as she watched me imagining her naked body lying on a bar, somewhere in Louisville, with all sorts of men drinking shots of bourbon off her abdomen, probably spilling some so that it would dribble down to her pussy…
“It sounds like you were quite the wild woman down south in Kentucky,” I remarked.
“You got that right, honey. Now, please excuse me, while I slip into something more comfortable,” Anna said. I had waited all my life for a woman to say something like that, and now, as if Anna could read my innermost thoughts, she was saying and doing all the right things. She was pushing all my buttons.
Ten minutes later she had returned. She refilled my bourbon, which was delicious, put on some music and pulled me up to dance with her. She plastered her now braless body against me, and I could feel her boobs through her thin and almost transparent camisole top. She put her arms around my neck and I put my hands on her ass. We kissed, for the first time.
Anna may have projected wallflower status, but she certainly kissed like she meant it! Minutes later I had her naked and we were still kissing. Her kisses alone were making my cock as hard as it had ever been, and possibly harder! She was naked but I was still dressed. She was making no move to undress me.
I began to undress myself when Anna stopped me. She had just received a text. “Can you shoot a gun?” Anna asked.
I looked at her, once again shocked, and also befuddled.
“Well, can you, Bill? It’s a simple question,” Anna said, very calmly.
“This is Indiana. Of course, I can shoot,” I said, not mentioning that I had won a few shooting contests in my dissolute youth.
“Here, take this. Act tough,” Anna said, as she handed me a Luger P08. “Be careful. It’s loaded, so whatever you do, don’t shoot it!”
I looked at her, a thousand questions in my eyes, when there was a loud banging on the door. “Ignore it,” she said.
“Anna! I know you’re in there. Open up! We need to talk,” a man was shouting through the door.
“The last time we talked, you raped me,” Anna said. “Go away, Mark!” Anna screamed back.
The two of them carried on for a while, until Mark threatened to break down the door.
“Hit him on the head with the gun when he comes in. Then aim it at his pathetic Bayan Escort moronic self,” Anna whispered to me.
“I’m in here with my body guard. He’s dangerous. Go away and forget about me, Mark. Go back to Kentucky. There’s nothing up here for you,” Anna said.
“You’re mine. You’re my slut. I own you, you bitch,” Mark screamed. “I’m coming in!”
Anna sighed and opened the door. Seeing her naked body, her gleaming eyes, her hard nipples, and her moist pussy must have combined to fluster the animal apparently known as Mark. He stopped still to stare, and I hit him on the back of the head with the handle of the Luger. He collapsed to the ground. Anna tossed me some rope she kept in a wicker basket near the door. “You ever a boy scout?” As I nodded yes, she said, “Of course you were. Eagle status, right? Jeez, Bill; you’re just, quite simply, perfect! Tie up the asshole, and use your best knots. He’s dangerous.”
“Did he really rape you?” I asked.
“We used to be a number, the two of us. He really is a moron. I got tired of his Caveman stupidity and I dumped him. It was a new concept for him. He’s supposed to dump the woman, not the other way around. He doesn’t handle rejection well. As for me, well, sex with him is addictive, you see. Last week he stopped by, to talk, he said.”
“I let him in, and we talked, and he realized I truly was serious about being over him. He really is stupid. Hell, I moved up here at least in part just to get away from him. I had an offer from the U.K. Albert Chandler Hospital in Lexington, too. Anyway, once I confirmed ‘we’ were no longer ‘we,’ he got angry and he overpowered me and fucked me again. I said no, repeatedly, but you can see how big and strong he is. He has a thick, long, cock, and he fucks rough, which I crave, so I had a climax, and he didn’t understand how that could have happened and yet I’d still be mad, because it was nonconsensual. He thinks if the woman climaxes it’s not rape. I’ll take the gun, now,” Anna said, and she held out her hand as I finished tying him up. I had made sure the gun’s safety was on.
“You knew the sight of you greeting him naked would freeze him in confusion, didn’t you?” I said.
Anna smiled. “And when he wakes, you’re going to fuck me right in front of him.”
“No, Anna, I’m not. I’m not going to be used like that. I’d love to fuck you, but not to make a point in front of another man, especially another man like this thug Mark. I’m sure my cock is not big enough, or thick enough, for you, anyway,” I said.
“Okay, okay, I’ll call trash removal for Mark. And Bill, I don’t care what kind of cock you have, as long as it’s yours. I want to fuck you, the man, not your cock. As long as it works, I’ll be happy. I’m sorry about this whole thing with Mark. Excuse me while I make a call.”
I did wonder what a classy girl like Anna was doing with a thug like Mark. I confess; it gave me pause. I found out later that she was tired of dating other med school students and predatory doctors, and wanted the sexual thrill of dating a Caveman. She got it, too, but she never realized her exit strategy was flawed, until it was too late. She had bought the gun when she had become scared for her life. I had to admit: Mark was a scary man.
Fifteen minutes later two burly men arrived. Anna wore a robe as a cover-up over her nude body, to greet them. She gave each man $1,000. “Dump him at the ER at St. Mary’s hospital in Louisville. It’s at 1900 Bluegrass Avenue. Ask for ‘Nurse Hannah’ to take a look at him. He has a suspected skull fracture and a concussion. She’ll know what to do. Use chloroform during the ride down. He’s not a happy man, and he can be dangerous,” Anna said.
The two men never spoke a word, only nodded, and they each pocketed the thousand dollars.
“He’ll be fine. It’s only a three-hour drive to Louisville, and ‘Nurse Hannah’ is a friend of mine; she knows Mark too, of course. The asshole will be fine.”
“I need a drink. Tell me about yourself while I recover from all this excitement,” I said.
Still dressed only in a thin robe, Anna went and got me another bourbon. We sat together on the couch, while I slowly drank my bourbon. We were the pretty little Dr. Anna and Ms. Slut, both of them, and me. Anna was a medical doctor, a recent graduate of the University of Louisville Medical School. She was taking a vacation, before beginning her residency, at St. Vincent Hospital in Indianapolis.
As she went on, explaining how she grew up in a remote corner of California, went to the University of California in San Diego (La Jolla), and from there to Louisville, I was drinking her bourbon and remembering how she looked stark naked just a little bit ago. I would see the occasional flash of luscious boob as her robe would gap, especially when she leaned forward.
Suddenly, Anna began describing me. “Correct me when I’m wrong,” she said, but she wasn’t wrong. She knew I grew up on a family farm in Indiana, that I went to Purdue and majored in Electrical Engineering, that I had not yet married, even though I was 30, and that I used to wear a beard.
“How do you know all that about me? We just met!” I said.
“It wasn’t accidental we met tonight. I arranged it,” she said. “I want you, Bill Guggenheim.”
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