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My husband usually ordered drinks from the bar downstairs, but tonight I decided to head up to the second floor, partly for the all-encompassing view, and partly to give a good old-fashioned pussy/ass flash with each step I climbed (I was wearing a very short white tied at the side crochet skirt and a purple tank top over it, guaranteed flash from the left hand side and behind).The bar was darker upstairs but with the ultraviolet lights, coupled with clubbers oft-white clothing, it was easy to see where the people were at. I slid up to the bar and leaning over the bar so he could hear me and promptly flashing everyone standing behind me, I asked the bartender for a coconut rum and orange (they look at me strangely when I order it for some reason). A large ebony rastafarian wandered over and stood behind me dancing to the music that was pumping all around us, pumping so hard it even made the barstool vibrate where I was perched waiting for my drink. I swiveled the stool and slightly. She could feel them both behind her."Joan," said Eric.She didn't respond."Joan, look at us," said Sally.Joan turned and saw they were both holding out their hands."If you want us -- all of us: me, Eric, Christine -- all you have to do is step forward and take our hands. And love us. That's all we want," said Sally in a soft voice.Joan could barely see through her tears as she almost fell into the arms that were waiting for her."Hello Mr. Solberg," said Ken walking into the garage.Eric's father was standing by a work bench and Ken could see two pairs of legs underneath the car that was in there."It's Davyn, Ken," smiled the older man as he took Ken's hand in a crushing grip."New apprentice?" asked Ken, nodding at the legs."My wife. And one of your friends, actually," smiled the man. "I gotta say, they're both smart and real easy on the eyes," he whispered conspiratorially.Just as Ken reached out with his senses to see who it was, Sandy scooted out from under the car, her face, hands.
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