Crystal’s Persuasion


My girlfriend Crystal is from the suburbs; malls, nice homes with lots of grass, and three cars in every garage (the Beamer for the kids, don’cha know). Me, I’m from the city; discount stores, row homes on pavement with aluminum siding and car alarms going off in the street. She’s 25, and white. I’m 30 and black. I work with computers, and play music part-time on the weekends. She’s an auditor for a brokerage house, and used to spend money on the weekends. We met while I was playing, but it took an unusual catalyst to get us together: my ex-girlfriend, Pam.

Pam is drop-dead gorgeous, a walking wet dream. She’s about five-four, with blonde hair (sometimes it’s curly, sometimes not). She has bright blue eyes, and a slender, firm body that inspires thoughts of rabid, mindless marathon sex. She’s a city girl, and works as a cocktail waitress at one of the clubs we play regularly at. Pam’s aggressive if she sees something she likes. She’s not afraid of anybody. Pam’s been around the block a few times, and is wiser than her 23 years. She’s almost the exact opposite of Crystal. Crystal played the coy little girl "notice me" game with me, while Pam... Let me tell that story first.

I had been playing every other weekend at the club where she works for about three months. Being an average, under-sexed male, I noticed her like all the other men who walked in the club. I drooled, too. Unfortunately, I couldn’t even try, since she was clearly off-limits. It’s bad news for a band to piss off the staff at a club, and unwanted advances are the easiest way to do that. That will get you fired faster than almost anything else. One Saturday night after closing, I was waiting for the owner. Pam sat next to me, counting her money. I heard her say, "Excuse me, Don."

"Yeah, Pam?" I tried to be nonchalant, but my heart started racing.

"Why don’t you just ask me out instead of looking at me with puppy dog eyes all of the time. I am an equal opportunity dater," she said sweetly. My jaw bounced off the floor twice. "Let’s do something after I ring out," she suggested. After all business had been taken care of, she and I walked out to our cars. That is where I found out what her definition of "something" was. Pam produced a rubber from her purse. ("Just in case I meet somebody -- interesting.") She looked deeply into my eyes, and I got lost in hers. "My place or yours? This is what you’ve been wanting, right?"

We never even made it out of the parking lot. After kissing frantically for about five minutes, she and I climbed into my van. Pam pulled my pants down, put the rubber on me, and removed her panties. I felt her settle onto my erection. "You look shocked," she panted. "Isn’t it what you expected?" She began to pump her hips, sliding ferociously along my dick. I had no brain; Pam’s scent, her facial expression, and her enthusiasm were more than enough to make thought impossible. It didn’t hurt that I was living out a most recent, extremely recurrent fantasy. I didn’t care that Pam was essentially masturbating herself on me. It didn’t last long, either. "Now that you’ve had the fantasy, will you call me next week? I think you’re cute." She sat next to me, still dressed in her tuxedo top, miniskirt and fishnet stockings.

"You’re kidding, right?" was my response. "Why in the hell wouldn’t I call?"

"Because you already got what you wanted," Pam replied. That wasn’t quite true. She had masturbated herself on me while I watched. That was considerably less than what I wanted. "So." Pam let the sentence drop with that one word.

"Pam," I started, then stopped. "I’m sorry you’re so cynical, but I’m not like other guys." I ran that back through my head. "I guess you’ve heard that before," I said sheepishly.

"Uh-huh. But--you are the first guy since high school to look at me with puppy dog eyes. Maybe you’re not lying." Pam kissed me on the cheek. "Bye." She got out of the car, smiled and walked leisurely to her car. I called her the next day, and that began a six month romance. Much to Pam’s pleasure, I was a much more active lover than I had been in the van. Our after-work van encounters continued; at first, they were the subject of gossip at the club, but then became accepted fact, hardly worth comment. For about five months, it was great.

The last month felt wrong. The sex was still incredible, but conversation had dwindled to virtually nothing. Finally, we had the inevitable discussion. I brought it up over dinner one night. "It’s not working, is it?" She looked up at me through surprised blue eyes.

Lowering them before speaking, she sighed, "No..." She cleared her throat before resuming, stronger this time. "No, Don, it isn’t. It’s been fun, but you’re right."

"Anything I can do?"

"No, I’m sorry, but I don’t think so," Pam ruefully replied. "Please don’t take this personally, but, I’m afraid I’ve gotten bored with you." She quickly added, "Except in bed. You’re pretty creative, y’know?" She smiled sadly. "What you need is a nasty streak." Regarding me fully, she continued before I could say anything. "I mean, I’m about to go into diabetic shock, you’ve been so sweet. I guess I’m looking for the spice of danger."

"A nasty streak? I just wasn’t brought up that way. And I doubt that I can change, even for you," I stated.

"See? There you go again." Pam patted my cheek and leaned closer. "You can’t hurt me. I really do like you a lot, and I want to be friends." She paused. "Really, I don’t think I could have this conversation with another guy. I think about all the times you made me laugh, and I value your advice. Can we--be friends?"

I looked at her with all the seriousness I could muster. There was hope written all over her face, and the entire apartment was silent. My voice was quiet, deep; grave. "Wouldn’t this be a hell of a time for me to get that mean streak you just talked about?" Pam was stunned for an instant, then she read the laughter in my eyes and laughed herself.

"That’s why it’s been fun," she chuckled. "I knew there was a reason I wanted to go out with you in the first place." Pam leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Then she nibbled on my ear and whispered, "Wanna do it once more? For old times’ sake?" It turned out to be more than once, lasting into Sunday afternoon. Pam is still a walking wet dream.

Our discussion continued over coffee in bed. Pam explained, with loving care, exactly what she felt had gone wrong. If anything, I hadn’t been possessive enough, and too acquiescent to her wishes. I asked her how she had become so wise in her 23 years. "Bimboism isn’t terminal. I know, ‘cause I used to be one. I’m smarter now -- I hope."

I really care for Pam a lot. She’s a good friend, and I learned a lot from her, especially after we broke up, which brings me to Crystal.


I met Crystal at the same club, three months later. She and a couple of friends walked in and sat at the front table. Since it just happened to be audience participation time, I decided to have some fun with the newcomers. I hadn’t really noticed Crystal at that point, I was just doing my job. "Hi, how y’all doin’ tonight?" I asked over the microphone. Two of the people at the table immediately got embarrassed, which made them prime targets. I sauntered over to their table. "This is front row night. Y’all got any requests?"

Crystal was not intimidated by the mike. "Yeah! Play something nasty! I wanna hear some dirty blues!" I’ve got a live one here, I thought. Her companions tried to become invisible.

"So you want to hear something dirty? Look out guys, there’s a naaasty girl in the house, and she’s right here at the front table! Better watch out for this one..." Crystal blushed, caught off-guard. Her friends tried to shrink into nothingness. The band played two Clarence Carter songs, finishing the set with "Strokin". I waved at Pam as I came off the stage. "I’ll buy for the front table of three. They were really good sports." Pam nodded and sped off to deliver her drinks.

I was checking my tuning near the end of my break when I heard a female voice say, "Thanks for the drinks." I turned and looked at Crystal. She wore her black hair straight, and her eyes are also black. She wore a floral print dress that came just below her knees.

"No problem," I said, "you and your friends were really good sports. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much. My name is Don."

"I’m Crystal, and those are my friends Beth and Scott. We’ve never been here before."

"Please come back. We like new fans, and this band is here every other weekend," I supplied. "Oops, time to go back to work," I said as the guitarists and harmonica player stepped on the stage. At the end of the night, I packed up and went home without a second thought to the raven-haired woman.

Two weeks later, at the same club, I heard my name called right after we broke. I turned to see Crystal waving energetically at me. Scott and Beth were also at the table. I went over to do some more public relations. "Hi! I’m glad to see that you came back."

Crystal asked how the band was doing, and Beth pushed a chair over for me. Scott said hello, and then flagged Pam down. He ordered drinks, and said he’d pay for me. "Shouldn’t you be playing instead of acting like a paying customer?" Pam asked sweetly. I smiled and blew her a kiss after a few seconds. She returned both gestures. I gave her a little squeeze around the hips as she turned to leave. Pam relaxed into my grip, and waited until I let go before leaving the table. Scott’s eyes, which had been fixed on Pam, nearly left their sockets.

He said, "Whoa," in a much louder voice than he had intended, because Beth looked very annoyed at him. I was amused, but the "Time To Leave Tactfully" alarm went off in my head.

However, before I could get up to leave, Beth, a pretty, buxom, and slightly blitzed blonde, grabbed my arm. Looking at me with unfocused eyes, she asked, "Is that your girlfriend?" It was obvious that she was trying to get Pam out of Scott’s head. Unfortunately, I couldn’t give her the answer she wanted to hear.

"We’ve gone out a couple of times, but we’re just really good friends," I replied. Silence descended on the table, and it gave me a chance to make a graceful exit. "She’s right about getting back to work, though. See you folks again, OK? Thanks for the drink, Scott." The three of them stayed until closing, and I wished them all good night as they left.

Pam handed me a glass of water as the last customer departed. She nodded toward the door. "The girl with black hair? She likes you. She tried to get your attention all night." Pam ran a finger around my shoulder and down my chest. "I think she’s curious, being a county girl and all."

"You’re kidding. She hardly said a word when I was at that table."

"No, you’re just dense. I watched her. I saw all of the signs," Pam lectured. "The only thing she didn’t do was talk to you. I guess she’s a little scared of you. That county thing, I guess." Pam leaned closer, making me forget Crystal. "If I were you, I’d ask her for her phone number next time."

The next time I saw Crystal, she was with William. I was much more conscious of her presence, thanks to Pam’s constant reminders. William seemed perplexed by Crystal’s taste in music, but he was patient enough to endure the break she spent talking with me. They left shortly thereafter. Pam gave me Crystal’s phone number after the gig. "I figured you wouldn’t ask while she was with another guy, so I did while she was waiting for the bathroom. She’s really excited that you’re interested." Pam waved a finger in my face. "Don’t be too nice to her."

Crystal and I went on a date that week. Nothing happened, and it ended with a hug. Crystal was alone at our next gig. She was waiting for me outside when I started to haul my gear out. "Are you waiting for me?" I asked playfully.

She looked around nervously. "Umm... yeah," she said shyly. "I was thinking we -- umm -- we could -- like -- umm... talkorsomething." The poor girl was nervous. I felt sort of sorry for her, but I knew all too well that exact nervousness.

"Listen, I have one more trip to make to the van. Why don’t we meet at The Grill? You don’t have to leave now, do you?"

"Umm... no. I can -- go to the Grill..." Crystal hesitated. "Where is it?" I snickered, because this reminded me of an old comedy skit. She looked hurt, and started, "Well, I usually go to the Wharf with my friends after we leave here."

"You’re so cute," I said, the playfulness in my voice hiding the sincerity of my statement. "I can see where the Wharf would hold its attractions for you. But I’d like to show you something -- different." Quickly, I felt compelled to add, "If you want."

Crystal nodded eagerly, and she followed me to the Grill. We caught the tail end of another blues band. Crystal stayed very close to me, and she wasn’t very talkative. I thought she might have been a little intimidated by the type of crowd. Although a few yuppie types were there, most of the people were city folks, in various stages of inebriation. I wondered if I had made a mistake until I asked her to dance with me to a slow song. I started out dancing politely, and then my hands slid to her lower back. Crystal collapsed limply onto me, burying her head in my neck as we moved very slowly.

"I like the way you slow dance. It’s so -- romantic. The guys I know spin you around the floor like they’re ducks on drugs," Crystal said as we left the floor. She squeezed my hand. "Guys from the county don’t dance like that at all."

"There are lots of things I do that county guys don’t," I stated. It was a fact, and I didn’t realize the implication until...

"Are you asking me to come to your place?"

I dragged her away from the music so we could talk in quieter surroundings. "I’d really like that sometime. But all I want now is a good night’s sleep. I’m really beat," I confessed.

"Well, it’s kinda late, and it’s a long trip home for me. I better go now," Crystal said. "Unless I can crash at your place," she finished. End of discussion. She waited outside my door while I unloaded the van, and she carried a bass in for me. I gave her the quick tour, and grabbed a pillow for the sofa. She followed me, and looked at me quizzically.

"No, Crystal, you can sleep in the bed," I explained. "I’ll be fine on the couch."

"I was gonna give you a back rub for being so nice," she yawned. "Come on," she cajoled, "it’s something you can probably use. Am I right?" Score one for the lady. We went to bed together. I was unconscious before she finished the back rub. Sometime during the night Crystal had wrapped her arms around me. I gingerly removed myself from her embrace, went to the john, and returned to a not-quite-asleep young lady.

"Mmmmmmm," she purred as I started to give her a gentle back rub. Crystal turned over, regarding me sleepily with her jet-black eyes. It made her look very sexy. Rolling back over, she said, "That feels really good. Ohhh, you’re wonderful." My hands travelled down her back, and briefly roamed over her rear end. Crystal stiffened, but said nothing. I began to massage her buttocks firmly, and she moaned. I slid my hands back up to her shoulders, and leaned across her back. She could feel my growing erection press against her. "It’s Sunday -- mmmmm -- morrr-ninnng," she whimpered.

I kissed her earlobe, and then her neck, and felt her tremble a little in response. "So what?" I whispered, nuzzling her neck again. She kissed me on the cheek. I rolled off of her, and she rolled on top of me, driving her tongue into my mouth. She pulled away after a few minutes of necking, a little puzzled by my lack of urgency. "Don’t stop now, I was having fun," I said.

Crystal looked at me, then sat up. "Ummm... Are we going to... "

"All good things in time, Crystal. Be patient," I gently reprimanded her. Crystal’s schedule was a little faster than mine. She removed her dress, revealing matching pink bra and panties. I reached out and stroked her tummy lazily. Crystal sighed, and started to fondle my erect cock. "Not so fast," I complained, and moved her toy out of reach. "Let’s just play with each other’s bodies and senses for a bit longer."

Crystal was definitely baffled now. I ran my hands along her inner thighs, and played with her breasts, avoiding the nipples in the bra. I stroked her face and neck, played with her long black hair, and kissed her slowly, sweetly, but teasing, never letting it last too long, or go too deep. I made her moan and gasp quietly a few times, but she never caught on to the game. Crystal would touch me from time to time, but it was clear that she wasn’t ready to pay attention to anything other than my cock.

I stopped, then kissed Crystal sweetly on the lips. Then I got out of bed. She looked at me, face full of confusion and desire. "Aren’t we... I mean, I-I-I want to..." Crystal spluttered. Poor thing, she hadn’t a clue.

"Crystal, the answer is no, we aren’t. Not now, anyway. You’re in a hurry, and I doubt that it’s mad, spur-of-the-moment lust. I really think you’re just curious. If you aren’t just being curious, I’d love to spend some more time with you and your body. But it works both ways. You’d have to spend some time getting to know me and mine."

Crystal blinked rapidly. The way she looked at me said that she had been curious, and I’d caught her. Suddenly, she was embarrassed by her exposed skin, and began to put her dress on. She didn’t say anything until she got to the door. "Aren’t you the least bit -- interested?"

"Interested in what? I’m interested in Crystal; not her creamy white skin, or her soft, pink pussy. I’m not curious about white women; can you honestly say the same thing about black men?" She tried to look away, but I gently held her chin and pulled her gaze back to me. "Be honest with yourself, Crystal. It doesn’t matter to me if you are just curious, although I would have some -- regrets. You’d be surprised at some of the things that get said and done to me at clubs. I’m afraid this isn’t new to me."

She turned to leave. She abruptly turned back to me, and said, "I’ll... ummmm... callyou?" She hesitated before pivoting and leaving. Yeah, OK, I thought as I waved goodbye. I called Pam and invited her over to dinner, hoping for a little friendly fuck. Of course, Pam asked me about Crystal, and I told her the circumstances of Crystal’s departure.

"You did what?" Pam exclaimed. She started laughing, "If that doesn’t drive the little rich bitch wild, I don’t know what will." I looked at Pam, totally confused. "Oh my God, you did it by mistake! You are so dense..." She gave me a hug before settling down. "Don, you just turned her down. No county boy turns any pussy down. She was curious before, now she’s going to want to know what makes you tick." I looked at her incredulously. "If you keep letting her know that this is on your terms, she’ll be your pretty, rich bitch girlfriend, ‘cause she’s found a guy her pussy can’t tame." Pam sat down, eyes aglow. "She was curious. Now she’s," Pam leaned back and waved her arms dramatically, "in loooove," she exaggerated. No, I didn’t get the friendly fuck I was looking for.

This story copyright © 1993, 1997, The Flying Pen

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