Lucky Thirteen

This is my thirteenth story. There may be more...

... if I'm lucky.

My thirteenth story for this site happens to coincide with Halloween, so here we go. And it's a slow build.

***

One good thing about having a rich friend like Peter Fisher is that he has a pool room in his house. Wednesday night we got bored in an empty pub, so I ended up playing pool there with him and beer. I broke the rack and soon sank the ten, so I was bigs. I lined up the thirteen for a simple shot and missed.

"Fuck that was an easy one," I complained.

"Bad luck," Peter said like he didn't mean it. I'd given him a chance and he took it. And proceeded to clean my dial.

"Beer usually helps me shoot straight," I complained.

"And helps you shoot straight in the other sense?" Peter smirked. This was one of our long running conversations. Is beer our psychological enabler, helping with our social confidence versus its effect on our performance? And the careful balance to get the two right. This was about talking to women we didn't know. We had experimented with wine, mixers and rum, as well as vodka and other straight shots. And what they wanted to drink. Since the results were inconclusive, we usually returned to beer because we like it better.

Peter put on a CD after flicking through his stack for a moment. The Doors sang Love Me Two Times. "So what's your success rate been like recently?" Peter asked me, getting into the mood of the music. I set up the rack for him to make the next break.

"It's not about numbers and keeping score," I complained. "It's about finding the ideal partner and building a meaningful relationship."

"And in the absence of this mythical meaningful relationship thing, how are you scoring?" he chortled. "Come on, this is important for our chronicles." And he got me another beer.

So I got serious. "You know about Lacy, the love of my life..."

We had done this routine before. "Your first. I liked her."

"Shame that her parents decided to emigrate and took her with them. Next, Lisa was the rebound. Apologies to her. And then the two one night stands that followed, Marella and Juni."

"The old story. Man goes from monogamy to spreading it around. Suddenly from keeping on the path, there are no rules. Next you two-timed Trina and Paulina."

"I never did find out how they both found out at the same time." I gave Peter a questioning look.

"One of life's mysteries. You really didn't like either of them," Peter concluded with a poker face.

I nodded at that so he continued. "Then there was the longest time with the other Lisa," he added.

"I liked her, shame it didn't work out." As if on cue, Jim Morrison started crooning You're Lost, Little Girl. I smashed the white inclusively into the rack hoping that something would go in. Nothing did.

"She didn't like your friends," Peter reminded me.

"She wanted babies, everything else was secondary. You were just collateral damage. But there was a determined side to her that was scary."

"Especially for a commitment avoider like you," Peter observed. He sank a couple of balls and started to show a bit of a swagger.

"Haha," I joked. "Like you're Mr Reliable, an example to me, not. I had a pause then got back onto the scene. Since then it's been Tinder time with Mavis, Fleur and Ulrika."

"Which brings us up the present." Peter watched as I caught him up with some pretty good potting.

Morrison sang Hello, I love you won't you tell me your name.

"Add two others that I'm not going to tell you about so the total's twelve."

"Not bad," Peter conceded. "I'm up to seven. I wasn't into the Tinder scene for too long, but inspired by you, I must say that something may be developing with Cindy who has come into my life from that site." He showed me her photo on his phone, and I of course approved. "You will meet her. She has unfortunately gone away for a few weeks."

"Which means that you are going to stay at home this weekend, waiting for her to return?"

Peter looked at me incredulously. "Sure it's only Wednesday today. But we've got to plan. You know what Friday is?"

Yeah, clubbing night after work. The usual.

"The date, you idiot. I'll give you a hint. It's the day after Thursday the twelfth."

"So?" What was he on about?

"What a perfect time to land your thirteenth."

I thought about it and shrugged. "Yeah," I drawled like it didn't matter, "who's counting?" Yeah, I was.

+++

And so the two of us stood outside The Wild Duck, part of a slow moving queue and dressed for the occasion. Both of us in calf-length leather trench coats, broad-rimmed black hats, the black boots and best of all, tight black pants. While standing outside, we learned that The Duck was charging $13 to get in, that the first drink was free and others in the queue were getting excited about what they heard was happening inside.

Soon enough we were inside, a regular club transformed into a gothic den. The room was lit by long tapers in wrought iron holders. They had painted the walls black, hung with ornate mirrors. The DJ looked down on us from an ornate wooden pulpit that may have been purloined from a real church. The sounds of what the two of us agreed was from Bauhaus's first album resonated throughout. Peter happily pointed out that everyone else inside had made at least as much effort to dress up as we had. I soaked in the people watching as we sipped our free beers. Two go-gothic dancers writhed in their cages above us. In the spirit, they wore little other than black heels and stockings, bustier tops and dark feather shawls. Which Peter and I agreed was absolutely a good thing.

Peter offered to go to the bar and buy a round of drinks and I didn't object, I got some solitude to check out how everyone else had turned out. I noticed a woman leaning against a pillar by herself, dressed much as the caged dancers. Since she was alone I kept staring. When she caught my eye contact and scowled at me, I smiled back. She allowed me that as her scowl turned to an evil smile. I felt good.

At that moment, Peter came back with some foreign wheat beers. "You're not going to guess how much they're charging for drinks," he exclaimed.

"Let me guess."

Oh, how we laughed.

I realised that the woman who may have been a go go dancer was still alone. She appeared to have forgotten I exist. This was not fair. "Peter, I need to leave you alone for a moment. If you see someone you want to talk to, go for it." I walked over and asked her if she was going into the cage.

She denied it, but admitted her name was Cathy. "I'm not a dancer," she advised. Then she looked up to the cages saw what they were wearing and twigged. "I guess men are going to ask me that all night," she sighed. "I'm not even into this whole superstition thing. But a night out's a night out." She yawned. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Unsure whether she meant in general or invading her space, I accidently blurted the truth. "I'm trying to meet a woman to take home," I told her. "And I think you're funny and attractive."

"That's nice," she replied without emotion. "Bold, possibly a bit presumptive, but to the point." But then she smiled, just a little bit warm.

"Thinking of?" I wondered.

"Picking up some guy for a fuck. Sure."

"You would be my thirteenth," I advised her.

"Haha, so funny and gallant. And romantic too." She let me feel small for a moment and then laughed. "What if I told you that if I let you take me home you would be my thirteenth?"

"What?" Was she making fun of me?

"Yeah, it's funny because it's true." She gave me an enquiring look.

"We better get to know each other in that case. What do your friends call you?"

"Kat."

"Of course they do. And your parents?"

"Katerina. Katerina Black."

"Katerina Black." I enjoyed saying it. I reached out to touch her, but she pulled back.

"Not yet," she admonished me. "And not in this place. I know people here. And I need privacy, your place and a bed with clean bedsheets in order to get turned on. Do you have any problems with that?"

I shook my head. You can always fake clean sheets. "If I can't touch you, I'm going to admire you."

"Like?" she teased, as she pulled a pose that showed a lot of one of her breasts and the shape of her legs.

I slowly walked around her. "The feather shawl is a nice touch. Without it, your bustier would be starkly exposed. There is a hint of mystery about your bust even though you are showing a lot of white skin in your décolletage."

Kat rolled her shoulders back. "Yes, my bust. Men seem to like it." Now even more visible, I could almost feel the soft curve of her breasts rising off her toned chest.

I walked behind her. "And you seem to have forgotten to wear pants or a dress. Your arse is mostly bare if not for those sheer panties. And it's nice, looks firm."

Kat slinked back to her normal poise. "I'm glad you like it. It seems to serve its purpose."

"You work out? You're in great shape." I felt powerful in my cloak and my tight pants.

"Any more talk like this and we will need to go onto the dancefloor where the music is too loud for me to hear your weird and laboured descriptions of me." I felt a connection and it seemed to me that she did too.

So we strode to the dancefloor, arriving in time to sway to what could have been Nick Cave singing I Put A Spell On You. And similar stuff that followed.

Later we found a couch in a quiet corner. I reach a hand around her shoulder, but she slapped me away.

"Talk," Kat ordered.

"Were you here alone?" I asked, mesmerised as her breasts threatened to spill over her bustier.

"Look at my face every so often," she suggested. I did for a moment before getting distracted by her bare thighs as she crossed her legs. "Face," she reminded me.

"Only if you stop doing that."

"You came here with a friend," Kat reminded me.

"I did. You noticed."

"I notice a lot. Do you have to go home with him?" She ran a hand down her side and let it dangle over her crotch.

I made the huge effort to look only at her eyes, realising that they were accentuated with black eyelash extensions. "Peter. He's a fanatic. His mission is my pleasure."

"And what is his pleasure?"

"He's rich and lives in a big house. He seems to get his pleasure whenever he wants it. In other words, he can look after himself."

"He sounds like he may be a better catch than you." Kat uncrossed and crossed her legs to remind me about them.

"Fair enough. You're probably right. But I think you'll get tired of all that comfort and material wealth after a while."

"And what do you offer instead?" She leaned forward, interested in my reply, and exposing a lot of her bust to me.

I swallowed the view. "Spiritual nourishment of course. Or as I was assured by ten of my previous loves, the chance to fuck up their lives. I've been working on the selfishness thing. Oh, and clean sheets."

"What about the other two?"

"I don't talk about them. Anyway, I thought you'd be more interested in the admitted disasters?"

"I'm not taking that bait. You won't get me reciprocating with any stories of my past, so I'm happy to gloss over yours. You'll have to find other ways to get to know who I am. And I'm not going to be your analyst, I'm just a goodtime girl." She leant into my armpit and looked up at me with a sly smile.

I looked back at her with some seriousness. "We've got to do this before midnight."

This time she smiled warmly. "I suppose you're right. What time is it now?"

"Just after eleven."

"And how far is it to yours?"

"Believe it or not, walking distance. I'm just down the road and round the corner."

"And there's clean sheets?"

"I promise."

"Well, let's go. We're on a deadline."

As we walked out of the club and down the road, the man with the bat cape and the woman in the catsuit, I searched for something to say. Something that would not be cloying or over-confident or otherwise off-putting.

"Do you mind if I don't talk?" I asked Kat.

"That's a good idea," she replied and reached an arm around my waist. So I did the same to her and felt content.

She laughed when she saw my street number. "Why would I expect it to be any different?" she chortled. When inside, Kat walked through into the hallway ahead of me, her head back a bit. I realised she was sniffing.

"The place smells clean, for a man," she concluded. She led me onwards. "Is this your bedroom?" she asked, standing at a doorway.

"It's only me," I told her.

"So we can't be interrupted," she smiled. "Pity." She faced me and removed her feather shawl which meant that I could be impressed with her figure, her milky white skin accentuated by her black costume. The bustier came loose somehow as I removed my cape. "Ah," Kat realised as she got the full effect of my tight pants. I moved close to her so she could grab my crotch. "If only I'd noticed this earlier there would have been less hesitation."

We were soon on the bed, soon naked. I ran my fingers gently over the dark tattooed glyphs that ran down her left side. She moaned at that. "I'll translate for you later," she promised in a husky tone. We fondled and soon were using our mouths on each other, getting hard and wet.

"Can I put my penis in?" I asked.

"That's what it's for."

I rubbed the head of my cock a few times along her slit as she lay on her back. Kat then raised herself up on her elbows.

"Why don't you get on top?" I suggested. "That way you can control things like how quickly we go and how deep. I want to get to know you and what turns you on. And I want to see your face and your breasts and..."

Kat put her hand over my mouth. "Thanks for the speech, but that was where I was going anyway." And she pushed me onto my back, making her next actions clear.

It was amazing how quickly we got into the right rhythm, with her bouncing on top of me as I thrust up from beneath, running my hands up her sides and her breasts. Eventually, I dragged her face down for the best of passionate kisses we could share.

Kat raised herself back up to look at my face. "Is that good, my lucky boy?"

The only thing I could say was "I'm so close to cumming."

"So am I," she whispered. "Let yourself go."

As I came, she counted the thrusts. First they were earnest and full. As men do, I started to fade away. Kat thrust hard down on me. "Two more," she demanded. I just about made the last two worthwhile. After those I looked at her face. She cracked up. "You know how many times?" she laughed.

"You are kidding?"

"It had to be done that way."

Kat got off me to lie at my side.

"I like you," I blurted.

Kat looked more composed. "We really don't know each other yet. Why don't we spend the time between fucking to get to know each other? Maybe we can find out if we are likely to get on."

"Sounds like an idea."

"You've got thirty minutes."

"So no pressure."

Kat trailed her hands all over me. "I have great expectations of you. I have needs and desires. You actually have no choice here. But I suspect you'll be up and ready to go in half an hour. Am I right?"

I smiled back at her. "It can be done."

She looked serious "You should be scared of me."

"Why?"

"Don't you think you should be worried that this situation could be a little dangerous?"

I'm not sure I was on the same wavelength. "Should I?"

"An attractive woman appears from nowhere and lets you take control of her until she takes control of you. Didn't this all happen a little too easily? You noticed that there were none of the social necessities and awkwardness that normally goes on? Do you know what a succubus is? Or a gorgon? Bilquis, the Queen of Sheba?"

"Ah, you are a supernatural apparition, come for me." I smirked.

"And my name. Do try to be serious when I am tormenting you."

"Kat Black." I tried to stop smiling to look at her from a concerned point of view. She seemed so benign, pale and thin and warm. But with her long thick dark hair. And those symbols on her side. I started to wonder whether I should be worried.

She laughed. "Well, I'm none of those. I'm something far more dangerous. I'm a confident young woman who knows what she wants. And I have needs now."

She reached down, fingered through my pubic hair and confirmed what I already knew. "That was quick," she admired.

"Thirteen minutes, I reckon." I had to say it, but it wasn't important because we were embracing again. Embracing and ready and together and starting again, fucking again, at a minute to midnight. I think we knew what to do.

++

For those who care, there are 13 x 13s [not including these ones] in the story, eight overt ones and five intentional ones that are hidden to various degrees. Collect them all!

++

If you think this story has any connection with Halloween, it's in the competition, so please throw some salt over your shoulder and vote.