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Encounter in the Restroom


It was the week after Diwali and the countdown to Varun’s birthday party had begun. It was always on the first last in October, and it was a big event among our circle of friends. It’s a slow time for our business, which is why he spent almost all his time decorating his house. At last count, he put up something like twenty-four fully decorated beer kegs, ranging from a few inches to a trio of monsters in the living room that topped 5 feet.

So I was surprised when Varun asked if I wanted to have a drink with him at the Planet Bollywood Club. It was Tuesday, and I’d planned to stop by after work, but I thought I’d be alone. With Varun along, I knew I’d end up listening to the party menu, again. He was my friend, however, as well as my business partner, so I was more than happy to have his company.

We arrived shortly after they opened, and the bartender was pouring our whiskey before we had even rounded the railing at the top of the stairs. Varun headed for the couch and I relaxed into the comfort of my favourite easy chair. The weather had turned cold and stormy, and I was still chilled from the short walk into the restaurant. There was a fire burning in the fireplace next to my chair, and I was happy for the warmth. The Old Monk would go a long way towards warming me as well, and I took a sip, letting the warm liquid roll over my tongue. Warm on the outside, warm on the inside, I thought to myself.

I began the comfortable ritual of packing my pipe as Varun launched into his favourite topic of conversation.

“I just got the spices I ordered,” he said.

“Spices?”

“You know. I told you about them last week.”

I shook my head and used the pipe to gesture for him to explain.

“The spices dipped in the chocolate?”

I shook my head again.

“The ones that look like little tuxedos?”

“Oh, right. I remember now.”

Varun seemed satisfied, and I lit my pipe, puffing contentedly as he talked about the chocolate-dipped fruit. I settled into the padded luxury of the chair and savoured the flavour of the Old Monk. Varun began chatting merrily about the Spices, and I nodded at the appropriate times.

As Varun talked, I gazed out the window; the weather had turned decidedly ugly by the time I was halfway through my first glass of rum. Dark, wind-whipped clouds had moved in, and the forecast called for scattered snow showers before midnight. So I wasn’t surprised that the bar was filled with only a smattering of patrons. I was surprised to see the leggy hottie and her friend coming up the stairs.

The week before, they had both been at the bar, enjoying an after-work drink. I’d imagined that it was simply a one-time-only girls’ night out, since I’d never seen either of them before. After the hottie had purposefully given me a glimpse of her well-trimmed pussy, I hadn’t expected to see them again, either.

But there they were, and the two seats at the end of the bar were free, just like the week before. They sat down, neither of them sparing a glance my direction, and I turned my attention back to my pipe.

As Varun talked about the Fat Witch brownies he’d ordered from Khalsa Market, I once again studied the hottie. She was wearing an elegant suit of dark pinstripe fabric, a white dress shirt, and a patterned red tie. The skirt was cut to mid-thigh, and showed off her tanned, elegant legs. The form-fitting jacket hugged her trim stomach and accentuated her breasts, and I found myself mesmerized by her figure.

Truth be told, I was hoping for a repeat of the previous week’s teasing, but she never looked my way. So I quietly resigned myself to enjoying the memory. She chatted with her friend, crossed and uncrossed her long legs, and occasionally brushed her hair back. I simply watched her, with only half my attention on Varun and the Berger chocolate he was talking about.

I was most of the way through my second drink when I felt the need to use the restroom. I set my pipe down, took the last sip of my Old Monk, and excused myself. I knew that when I returned, another Rum would be waiting on me and smiled to myself at the thought. I walked past the hottie and her friend and headed downstairs without a backward glance.

There were two women waiting in line to use the women’s restroom, but the men’s was unoccupied. I stepped inside and turned to shut the door. Just before it latched, I felt resistance, and when I stopped pushing, it swung towards me. I stepped back, prepared to politely tell the man at the door that the room was occupied, and then froze mid-step.

The hottie stepped into the restroom and her eyes met mine.

“I didn’t feel like waiting in line,” she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Her voice was a higher than I’d imagined, but rich and smooth.

“Sure,” I said. “Be my guest.”

I stepped towards the door, preparing to leave, but she leaned against it, her hands on the knob behind her. The door latched, and then with a start, I heard the click as she pressed the lock.

Her lips quirked into a teasing smile as her eyes smouldered, and I wondered what she had in mind. My penis began to stiffen, but the uncertainty of the moment kept it from doing more.

Her eyes flicked to the toilet and then back to my face, and she arched an eyebrow at me. “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked.

“No.” I looked her in the eye and measured her reaction.

She didn’t flinch. “Then don’t let me stop you.”

I’d gone to the bathroom in front of women before, but all of them had been long-term girlfriends, not women I’d just met. I hadn’t even really met this woman, I thought to myself with a rueful chuckle. I arched my eyebrows at her, as if to say, “Are you sure?”

She merely looked at me, an unreadable expression on her face. I took a step towards the toilet and lifted the seat. As I straightened, she moved towards me. She pressed herself against my right arm and I felt the swell of her breasts through the fabric of her jacket.

“Here,” she said, steadying herself with a hand on the small of my back. “Let me help.”

She deftly lowered my zipper and reached inside my chinos. With only a slight pause to undo the button on my boxers, she extracted my tumescent member. Once she had me out, she held me firmly and gazed at me expectantly.

I felt the stream of urine surging up my shaft, and she expertly directed the flow into the water. When I was done, she shook me gently and then bent to tear off a short length of toilet paper. She delicately wiped the tip of my penis, removing the last vestiges of urine, and dropped the crumpled paper into the bowl.

When she didn’t immediately tuck my penis back into my boxers, I looked at her. Her hand still on my manhood, she grinned and began to stroke me slowly.

“Mmmmm. Thick,” she said. “I like thick.”

I continued to expand under the ministrations of her insistent fingers, and she absentmindedly moistened her lips. I cocked my head at her, wondering how far she was going to take things.

“We’d better put him away,” she said with a slight pout, “before he gets too big for his britches.” She grinned wryly at her own joke and ran her hand along the top of my shaft. She nimbly tucked my length back in my boxers and refastened the button. Then she cupped the lump in my shorts fondly and withdrew her hand. “There,” she said brightly, as she zipped me up. “Back where he started.”

She gently pushed me back and then lowered the toilet seat. Without preamble, she pulled her skirt up and sat down, not bothering to flush first. I caught the barest glimpse of her trimmed pubic hair as she sat, and then I heard the hiss as she began to urinate. She closed her eyes and smiled at me. When she was through, she wiped herself and stood. She smoothed down her skirt and turned to flush the toilet.

She stepped towards the sink, and I marvelled at the surreal chain of events that had led to this moment. I joined her at the sink and we companionably washed our hands, neither of us saying a word. She handed me a small stack of paper towels and I dried my hands. When we were done, she turned toward me and her eyes smouldered again.

I stepped forward suddenly and pressed her body against the door jamb with my own. In heels, she was nearly as tall as I was, and I had to bend only slightly as I moved my lips towards hers. When they met, she melted into my arms. I pulled her close and her mouth opened, allowing my tongue to explore, darting against hers. When I pulled back, we were both breathless.

“I knew you’d be a good kisser,” she said dreamily, her facade of control momentarily banished.

Her pink tongue darted over her lips and she drew a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, they glittered mischievously.

I was just bending to kiss her again when I heard the lock click as she turned the doorknob. With a coquettish arch of her eyebrows, she stepped forward, pushing me back, and opened the door.

As it opened, we looked up to see the scandalized expressions of an older couple who were waiting for the restrooms. The hottie didn’t pause as she headed for the stairs. I blushed as I passed the shocked couple, but resolutely followed her.

When we reached the bar, she turned to me and smiled.

“Thank you very much,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“You’re welcome. Any time.”

“I’d better get back to my friend.”

I opened my mouth to speak. She looked at me expectantly, but I didn’t know what to say.

She smiled wryly and stepped close, nearly touching me. “Thank you again,” she said.

“It was my pleasure.”

“Have a nice night.”

“You too.”

With that, she turned and walked back to the bar. I watched the gentle sway of her hips as she moved, and smiled to myself.

“What was that all about?” Varun asked, when I sat down.

“Hmmm?”

With a toss of his head, he indicated the hottie.

“Oh. There was a line for the restroom, so she wanted to use the men’s room. I let her.”

“She got impatient, huh?”

I looked at him blankly, and then nodded.

“Humph,” he snorted.

I know it should be a criminal offense to do what I did next, but I simply had to do it. I picked up the fresh glass of Old Monk and downed it in one gulp. I set my glass down and caught the waitress’ eye. The bartender began to pour my fourth drink as I picked up my pipe and relit it.

“So I was thinking about Walkers Shortbread Fingers for the… ,” Varun began, picking up where he’d left off before I’d gone to the restroom.

I wasn’t paying a bit of attention to him or his Shortbread. My eyes were on the hottie at the bar. She turned once and our eyes met. We shared a smile and then she turned back to her friend.

Impatience.

I sipped the rum the waitress had set in front of me and puffed on my pipe. I closed my eyes and savoured the tastes, the aromas, the sensations.

Impatience.

It was better than any drug.

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