Walking around the town centre was a unique experience; twice I nearly got mown-down by on-coming traffic because I was looking the wrong way when I crossed the street (we drive on the left in England, so traffic is usually coming from the right, and I kept forgetting myself and looking right as I stepped out; only Rick’s reflexes saved me several times from getting smeared, until I figured-out that the cross-walks were probably the only way to cross the street safely).
I was amazed at the width of the streets; back home, Carlisle is a medieval city, or what’s left of one, and like most English cities, the street plan echoes the village streets and ancient cattle tracks they were 900 years ago; the grid pattern of the streets here fascinated me, it all seemed so logical and well-ordered.
Rick and I wandered through shops and a few small pedestrian precincts, taking in the sights and sounds of a major American city (well, bigger than Carlisle, anyway!) noting familiar names like McDonald’s and Starbucks, and just soaking up the atmosphere of somewhere so foreign and yet so familiar; I’d seen American cities so often on TV that it all looked very familiar indeed, but to be suddenly surrounded by that accent as well, for real, was almost overwhelming.
We’d just stepped out of a real, genuine doughnut shop, munching something called ‘bear-claws’, when in the alley at the side we spotted a young guy, probably my age, being worked over by three guys; he was giving a fair account of himself, not just cowering and letting them beat him, but there was only going to be one outcome. I was just deciding that it was none of our business when suddenly it was.
I heard Rick bark “Help him!” as he brushed past me, and as one of the three looked around in surprise, Rick punched him on the side of the head, sending him sprawling.
Now I had no choice; a second one rounded on me, so I belted him as hard as I could, the first time I’d ever hit another human being, and watched in gratified surprise as he folded without a sound. The guy who had been taking the beating grabbed the third one and spun him round, smacking him face first into the wall, hard; I heard the crunch of bone and saw blood spurt from his flattened nose. From the boneless way he slumped forward I could see that he’d lost all interest in the proceedings.
“Are you okay?” I heard Rick ask the guy whose party we’d gate-crashed, and he grinned back at us happily, even though he had an abraded cheek and a split lip.
“Never felt better! I’m sure glad you fellers decided to step in; I thought I had them there for a while, but…!”
I had to grin at his breezy confidence, as did Rick.
“What was that about, anyway?” I asked, looking curiously at the quite well-dressed trio we’d just disposed of, and he grinned.
“That guy over there’s in college with my girl; he wouldn’t leave her alone, I kicked his ass, so he and his friends were returning the favor, then you guys jumped in, so thanks, guys, I owe you one!”
One of the assailants was stirring and the guy we’d rescued walked over, lifted him by his hair, and jabbed him smartly in the jaw, watching his eyes roll up as he passed out again.
“Goodnight, John-Boy!” he grinned, patting him on the cheek, then stood up and stuck his hand out.
“Hi, my name’s Leon, Leon Shoemaker, thanks for jumping in when you did, my girl’s gonna be real pleased you were here today!”
Rick and I introduced ourselves, and he cocked his head at our accents.
“English, hey? So’s my boss, that’s why I recognized your accents. Can I buy you guys a drink, or maybe a coffee? It’s the least I can do to thank you for saving my ass!”
We nodded, so Leon dusted himself off, ran his fingers through his dark golden hair and walked with us out of the alley and into a coffee shop. Over a Skinny Latte he told us about himself; he was Lead Mechanic in a specialist auto shop, working on classic and performance British cars. He had a few days vacation coming, was going home for a few days, and had come downtown to buy a gift for his mother, who lived in a nearby town, Oneonta; he’d stopped-off to get a coffee, then he got jumped, and then we happened along.
We got talking about our respective work; we told him we had just started a property renovation business in the North of England, and he told us about his job here in Albany.
“I tell you, my boss knows every Brit sports car that was ever made; he’s like a genius, any one of us comes up against some dumb, stupid fault that makes no sense, he’ll get in there, re-route a cable and tighten a bolt, and she’s running sweet as can be; he says it’s because low-volume Brit sports cars were built by loonies, sorry, ‘eccentrics’, so you gotta think like one, and sometimes the only cure is to take out the ashtray, tap it twice on the dash, and put it back in again; he doesn’t know why that works, but you know what? It usually does, and it’s fucking weird…”
Rick and I laughed out loud at his description of our proud motoring heritage, and I decided I liked him; the girls would like him, too, so I invited him to have dinner with us that night, and to bring his girl, so she could see not everything from Britain was skewed off-centre!
We chatted for a while, telling each other a little about ourselves, about our girls, about our impressions of Albany so far, and finally parted with a promise to meet again at the hotel at 7 o’clock, and we’d take it from there. With that, Leon headed back to his car, while Rick and I retraced our steps until we found The Colonie Center. On the way there I asked Rick what had prompted him to jump into the fight, and he looked strangely at me.
“Because you told me to, Bobby, why do you think? You shouted ‘Help him!’ so I did!”
I looked at him in puzzlement. I remembered it differently, I remembered Rick shouting ‘help him!’, I distinctly heard him say it, and I told him just that, but Rick was adamant that it was my idea to jump in, when I knew damned well it wasn’t me. I was feeling unsettled about the whole incident until I saw the girls, weighed-down with bags and packages, and looking shopped-out and very pleased with themselves, so I put it out of my mind; now was not the time to tell Shari about getting into a fight, knowing as I did how sensitive she was about violence of any kind.
Shari jumped up and hugged me, eager to show me what she’d bought me, shirts, cufflinks, belts, that kind of thing, and a bag from somewhere called “Victoria’s Secret”, which sounded familiar.
“That’s for a special occasion, Bobby, just for you!” she grinned, possibly the dirtiest grin I’d ever seen, and now the combination of that grin and her pressed against me was making all sorts of nice things happen lower down.
“Down, boy, we have all evening, pace yourself!” she grinned, surreptitiously tweaking the end of my cock, making me gasp and grin. Yaz had a similar bag, so I assumed Rick had just got the same message from her, to judge by the goofy grin and slightly glazed expression on his face. I hailed a cab to take us back to the hotel, and while we were loading the mountain of bags and boxes into the cab, we told her about our little adventure, Shari clucking when I told her I’d hit someone, but telling Rick and me she was glad we’d helped someone who’d needed a hand. Both girls seemed eager to meet our new friend at dinner that night.
Once back at the hotel, Shari made dinner reservations at a Malaysian restaurant recommended by the hotel, Yono’s on Chapel Street, then closed and locked the interconnecting door between the two suites, and grinned at me.
“We have reservations for 7. 30, that’s over two hours away, we’re in America, Americans are big on contact sports, so do you want to tackle me a little, baby?”
I needed no further encouragement, not after that little display in the Colonie Center, almost breaking the world record for getting out of my clothes. Shari smiled mischievously and dropped her jacket on the ground behind her and kicked off her shoes as she advanced on me.
“I think you need to help me, Bobby, I can’t remember how to get this thing off!” she pouted, pointing at her blouse, so I obliged, kissing her neck every time I popped a button, until it was completely undone, her two small, perfect little breasts cradled in her lacy white bra. She shrugged the blouse off her shoulders, giving me something more to kiss as I popped the fastening on her jeans and hooked my fingers in the waistband, pushing them down.
“Thank you baby!” she breathed, that grin on her face again. “I couldn’t figure out how to get those off either; you’re so multi-talented, Bobby, I think I’ll keep you!”
That earned her a pinch on her tight little bottom, making her squeal and jump; lucky thing I was there to catch her!
Now she was down to her bra and panties, and as she unsnapped her bra and slid her panties down I got to see once again for myself just what a beautiful girl she was; long, lithe, endless legs, slim, shapely hips and buttocks flaring out from her tiny waist, high, proud little breasts with delicious dark coral nipples, the whole package beautifully set-off by her faintly golden-tinged ivory skin, pale, creamy and exotic. Add to that the face of an angel, and you could see why I stopped dead to just drink her all in, enthralled by her beauty, and once again wondering how a girl like that could even have time for me, let alone love me the way she did.
Shari snapped her fingers, jolting me out of my reverie.
“Up here, Bobby, my face is up here! What are you staring at baby?” she murmured, and I grinned at her.
“I was just thinking you’re not too shabby yourself; I could see myself hanging on to you a while longer!”
She smiled as she closed the distance between us and poked me lightly in the chest.
“There are so many ways you are going to pay for that, mister, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about last night either!”
With that, she pushed me backwards, and as I fell backwards onto the bed, she landed on top of me.
“Gotcha, now do things to me, baby, you owe me!” she growled, nipping my chin and kissing my throat as her hands squeezed her favourite part of me. She didn’t need to worry about that; from the second I’d pulled her jeans down I’d been solidly erect, my cock almost supernaturally hard as I contemplated my girl, and she knew it. There was one thing I wanted to do before all else; I wanted to taste her again, I wanted to kiss and lap her pussy and lick up her sweet juices and immerse myself in her tangy sweetness. Shari saw it in my eyes, and grinned, biting her lip as she slid herself up my torso until her knees were either side of my head, and her beautifully bare little pussy-slit was right above my mouth. As she leaned forward to rest her hands on the wall above the bed-head, I clamped hold of her taut little bum-cheeks and pulled her against my mouth.