Getting her bikini off

Added: 11/27/2006

She was working at a little dance club where she worked her butt off, and boy was that butt looking good shoehorned into a too tight bikini walking across my path toward the beach. Hot was not the word for it, en fuego, yes, most definitely, that was the word. She was too hot for the English language. I was going to watch her in that bikini, and if there was a God, she was coming out of it.

I had to put up with a lot of crap from the customers at the restaurant I was working in, but I was paid well, so I didn't complain much. I always got called in on my days off, but the tips were really good on those days. I'd say I brought home close to two hundred dollars a night. One day, I believe it was a Tuesday, it was supposed to be my day off, but they were short handed and called me in. That was when I met her. It was like she stepped out of some Spanish daytime soap opera. I had seen her in the bikini a few days before. I’d seen a lot of girls in bikinis, but she jumped out. She had the kind of body that could stop a heart dead, and that cold black hair, well built. She had a nice, firm rear. She watched me as I waited my tables, then when my shift was done, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I walked over. Her big, brown eyes sparkled. Her name was Maria. We exchanged phone numbers. A week went by. I sent flowers, candy, and once, even a limousine to pick her up. We ate and went dancing and to some clubs. She started calling me every night.

I thought she was shy, yet, there was something else. Something dark and mysterious, and then there was the sight of her in that bikini, that damn bikini that tortured me into submission the second I saw it. I was doomed to do anything she wanted and I knew it.
She didn’t like my best friend Tommy. She said he put off a bad vibe like when you watch a scary movie and you know what is about to happen before it does.
She warned me to be careful, but I smiled and told her not to worry so much. She frets over the smallest things. But I fret over not seeing her in the bikini, or out of that bikini if I kept Tom around, so I stopped seeing Tom so much. We looked out for each other.
On one date we drank two glasses of Champaign, and then we talked a little. Everyone in the bar knew we were falling for each other, and they probably knew I was whipped though we had never even got past second base. We danced and were carefree and walked beneath the moon, letting the night devour us until we tingled at its chill. “I have to change.” She said. She had a short skirt on that exposed those luscious brown legs and made it tough to concentrate. I was upset that winter was coming. Old man winter always rained on my parade, or snowed on it I suppose. Now the skirts would get longer or worse yet become pants, but she could make anything look good. Of course, the bikini would disappear for several months. That bummed me out. We walked back to Maria’s place and I waited in the living room while she went to change. Her roommate Irene was out for the night, wouldn’t be back until the end of the weekend. Maybe this was the night, we were having such a good time and she was hanging all over me, becoming possessive of me, but I’d though it might be the night before and was completely rebuffed so who could tell.

“I’ll just be a minute.” She said. “Maybe we’ll watch a movie or something.” I didn’t care. I thought we were going to walk some more but it really didn’t matter. So long as I was with her, the night wouldn’t be a total loss.

“Maybe we can go dancing later.” I hollered to her. She loved to dance, maybe some wine, again, who knew?

“I don’t think so.” She said as she emerged from the bedroom. She was wearing the bikini, at least half of it. “I saw you watching me in my bikini that day at the beach.”

Who knew?

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