Almost instantaneously I felt my cock get out of control, change into a stalk. Down boy, down boy. But it didn't want to go down. No way. It wanted to slice right between those beautiful soft, creamy thighs, and slide right into that fresh young pussy. It was as if all I had to do is close my eyes and I could feel my prick going into this juicy young piece of quiff. Right then I decided it was time to cop out.

I got up. She didn't look more than twenty. I could see her real well now. Maybe she was a couple of years older in the daylight but this wasn't daylight.

"Wait a minute," she said. "I want to talk to you."

She didn't sound like a hooker, nor did she look like one, but who can tell these days with so much hot pussy running around.

"I gotta go," I said. "Take it easy."

Her hand caught my wrist. "Please." There was a pleading tone in her voice. I told myself not to sit down, but damn it, the next thing, of course, I was sitting down. Maybe you just can't change old tomcats completely, especially when birds land right in front of them.

She was wearing a little lipstick. The trouble was right there, she smelled nice. I liked the soft odor of perfume in her hair.

"O.K" I said, "what's the gimmick?"

"No gimmick." She was still holding my wrist. Her fingers were cool and slim. Her finger stroked the vein in my wrist, and I felt the blood rush up my arm and the vein pulse and jerk like a hooked worm.

"What'll you have to drink?"

It was the waitress, standing right behind me. I turned my head and looked at her over one shoulder and heard the blonde speak: "Rum and Coke, please."

"Seven-Up," I heard my voice say mechanically.

"Seven and seven?"

"No, plain Seven-Up."

"Hmmmmph," said the waitress and went away.

"Are you sick?" said the blonde. She peered at me strangely.

I didn't say anything.