Fast as You Can
The girl preparing to sing is nothing to look at. She’s a pale, blonde girl with a choppy haircut, bangs falling into her eyes. She doesn’t even have a decent rack, though her hips jut out nicely from her small frame and her ass, best as I can guess, is plump and tight in her jeans.
She’s set to sing Fiona Apple’s “Fast as You Can.” We don’t get much chick rock in the local karaoke bar that has a low-key queer night on Saturdays. Just a lot of horny butches and the occasional questionably straight girl like this one, who I’m not getting a read on.
“I let the beast in¦” she croons, winking at the audience. She hits the first notes right on, sliding through the quick timing and even getting a little of that sultry, gritty tone in. She’s a ringer for Fiona Apple, at least in terms of voice, I admit. I tip my pint to her and keep drinking.
Warming up, she sheds her men’s dress shirt to reveal a slinky black tank top that just barely nestles her breasts. She cocks her hips out, strutting back and forth a little on the makeshift platform, making eyes at the audience. She stops in front of me, after the instrumental break, and opens her bow-shaped mouth again. I’m listening to the gravelly voice — the voice that’s so much weightier and more mature than the thin body it comes from, the voice that seems old and worldly beyond this girl’s years. It’s a voice that knows good sex, a voice of many lovers. She sticks with the long notes, and skips lightly over the pacing. She could have practiced this song for hours in some bathroom mirror or shower; she’s dead-on. She finishes to a round of applause and takes a seat at the bar, out of my view.
I motion Patsy over and tell her to bring the girl a drink on me, whatever she wants. Patsy swats me with her dish cloth. She’s seen me chase after innumerable women in this bar, but none lately. She comes back a few minutes later to tell me the girl’s ordered a tequila shot.
“Rosa’s her name. And she told me to get two shots, if I didn’t mind and to invite you over to join her. But only if you were the muscular, lanky one in the Cubs cap.”
I say I guess I better go and walk over to Rosa. Up close I see she’s slight but muscular, and her smile betrays a mouth of perfect white teeth and a tongue piercing. We clink glasses and swallow fast, and the biting taste shocks me.
In another round, Rosa says, I’ll be feeling all right. So I order another, and she gets up, tugging at my hand. We walk to the bathroom. I’m half-wondering if she’s got drugs when she leads me into the stall and locks the door. I tell her we can go to my house, if she’d rather.
No, Rosa says.
She lifts one leg up, wrapping it around me and reaching her arms around my back. Almost nervously she bites me lip. I place my hands on her narrow hips, lift up her slutty undershirt, and begin to stroke her hips and back. She smiles, urging me to go on, as fast as I can. So I plunge my hands down her pants and grab her ass, squeezing it firmly, and she only squirms into me more, reaching her hand up to take off my baseball cap and run her fingers through my buzz.
I ask her what she wants. She shrugs. So I shrug back, looking into her pale brown eyes, slowly lower her pants down to her ankles and rub the front of her delicate, lacy pink underwear.
I say it might be fun to tease her like this, staying in here until the line outside the bathroom begins to scream and some enterprising butch breaks the door in on us. I say she’s not that hot, when she’s not singing, that maybe I’m changing my mind. What kind of little slut wants to be fucked in a filthy bathroom stall?
You wouldn’t, Rosa says. She’s grabbing at her breasts. If you won’t, I will, she threatens, sliding her other hand under the waistband of her underwear. Then you’ll just have to watch me satisfy myself.
I watch her reach deep inside herself, groaning as she thrusts, then withdraw and rub her clit. Her fingers are sliding all over the place.
Would you like to watch while I please myself? she asks.
I can only nod; I slump down on the toilet and watch as she lowers her undies and walks toward me. I keep my eyes on the small thatch of pubic hair and her fingers slipping around. She braces one hand against the wall behind my head. The sex washes off her and gets in my nose, giving me blood lust. I want to rise up and pin her against the wall and fist her till she’s on the verge of splitting apart. But then I won’t be able to watch.
Soon, she’s bucking over and around her quick little fingers, biting her bottom lip with her teeth so she won’t make noise. When I whimper, Rosa looks down, remembering me.
Are you sorry? she asks. I nod. This seems to please her. She thrusts her pussy in my face, and guides me head to it.
You know what to do, she tells me. I reach for her with one finger, twisting it in there, and lock my tongue on her throbbing clit. She tells me to be gentle, to take my time. Right about then the women start pounding on the door. I close my eyes and concentrate on my finger gently turning through her insides and on my tongue, lapping at Rosa’s body.
I want to make her sing, this time for me.