Daisy - Sex Stories

Daisy

... but this giggle-box seemed a little too wired.

“You like what you see?” she asked, running the tip of her pink tongue over the top of her ruby red lips. Pete eyed her from the chin up. He took her in, from her freckles to her brown eyes, then down the bridge of her nose where he noticed the inflamed skin around her nostrils. She wiped at her nose several times and fidgeted on the barstool, agitated visibly by his delayed response.

“So, whatsup? You looking to party?” she pressed. The lime-colored martini had been placed before them. Her hot pink nails plucked the red stem of the cherry and pulled it up from the center of the glass. Her tongue uncurled and she ran the cherry over its tip before drawing it into her mouth. He looked away and smiled. With an amused shake to his head, he drained the rest of his beer.

“My name is Candy. I taste like it too,” she purred, then threw back the drink as if it were lime Kool-Aid.

“So you’re a hooker?”

Her eyes narrowed. She bared too many teeth, in anger. “Fucking hick. Fuck you! Fuck off!” she huffed and stormed away. The eruption of anger drew the attention of the few patrons lined along the bar. Pete flushed with embarrassment. He glared after her. So what did he say to piss her off? The truth?

“Never call a hooker a hooker, sweetie,” A soft voice broke from the other end of the bar. This time, a blonde with sparkling eyes and a heart-shaped face looked up from her drink. She gave him a seductive wink. Rising from ...

... the bar, she tossed a tip to the bartender.

“So she was a hooker?” Pete asked.

The woman headed down the length of the bar. “Welcome to Vegas. Hookers and gamblers are just the appetizer.” She looked him over and then directly back into his eyes. “You look green. What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Green? Why, because I’m not interested in buying a whore?”

The woman laughed. “No, because you let her stiff you with that drink.”

Pete looked to the drink. “Shit,” he groaned.

“I’m Andy, by the way.” She extended her hand.

He looked her over. She wore too-tight jeans and a black tank under a jacket that showcased her nicely proportioned chest. “I’m, um, Pete,” he said, shaking her hand.

“Well, Pete, don’t worry. I’m not a hooker. They call me X-tacy when I’m on stage. You know, with an X?” She traced the letter in the air between them with long, blood red fingernails. “Come check out my show. There’s something in it for everyone.”

“No thanks!” said Daisy. She stepped up to the bar with her hands to her hips. Pete shifted on the stool uncomfortably. The last thing he needed was Daisy getting worked up. For one so pretty, Daisy turned mean as a rattler if jealous.

The one called Andy looked from Pete to Daisy. Her smile spread evenly over her lips, her eyes assessing. “Like I said, welcome to Vegas, sugar. Maybe you’ll change your mind.” She eyed Daisy. “Maybe not.”

“Move on, okay!” Daisy snapped. Andy nodded and walked away tossing her yellow-gold locks ...