We had only gone there for a bit of a laugh really; nothing serious, a few drinks, a few girls and sure, if any of us got lucky, actually met someone nice, someone we wanted to spend a bit more time with then that would be an added bonus. The others would leave them to it and head off to a club. Simple.
But all of us knew it was never going to happen; no-one ever meets anyone speed-dating!
So the six of us signed up the week before figuring we’d have a couple of drinks, turn up, go around the tables chatting to the girls for three minutes each and see afterwards if anyone clicked. How long was it going to take? A couple of enjoyable hours spent in the company of 15 girls who, like us, were single and horny.
We met up at seven o’clock and cabbed to the venue. Tony, as usual, was a little the worse for wear. I reckoned he’d probably already downed most of a naggin of vodka. Nerves always got the better of him when it came to talking to girls and, by the time he’d conquered those with alcohol, he was too insensate to make any sense. It was a real shame because, of all of us, he was the gentlest and most artistic soul. If anyone was going to treat a woman like a princess it would have been him. The problem was that nobody but his mates ever got to appreciate what a good guy he was.
Me, I definitely wasn’t expecting anything from speed-dating. I never had any trouble meeting women. Even though I’m pretty shy I enjoy women’s company. I don’t think I’ve ever approached a woman with the idea of dating her I just kind of naturally fall into conversation with them and, sometimes, that conversation lasts for a month, or a year, or, in the case of my last girlfriend, three years. Six months out of that and I still hadn’t met anyone. The guys were getting worried about me; for all I knew this whole night had been designed to get me a date!
To be honest I had no idea how I was going to approach a three minute conversation, the whole idea of trying to gauge someone’s personality in such a short period of time was completely alien to me.
When we got to the venue we were given name-tags with our nicknames on them, a voucher for one free drink at the bar and our running order, what table to start at and where to go next. It was pretty regimented and that made it even more daunting for me. I thought I’d better cash in that voucher!
Standing at the bar we checked out the girls. They were seated at their respective tables looking at us with the same curiosity. That they all looked as nervous as I felt made me feel a little better though I still felt completely at sea.
I won’t bore you with the details; let’s just say that I apologise wholeheartedly to the women at the first six tables. I was terrible. At the seventh table I thought I started to get to grips with the concept and started to enjoy myself a little but the second I sat down at Table Number 10 my night was turned upside down.
I just had time to notice her dark pixie cut before the largest, most intense green eyes locked with mine and she asked:
“What do you call yourself?”
“Antman!”
“Not your nickname Sweetie and not your birth name either, because that’s not what you call yourself, is it? Not when you’re all alone.
So, tell me, tell me your real name!”
I couldn’t tear my gaze away from those incredible eyes. I couldn’t lie to her, she’d know! It was like she already knew and was just looking for confirmation. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do!
“Katie” I whispered, dropping my eyes to stare at the table-top with the shame of my secret revealed.
Her fingers under my chin pulled my eyes back to hers:
“Hi Katie, it’s nice to meet you. Has anyone ever said that to you before?”
I started to tell her about my Ex but she stopped me short.
“Katie, we’ve only got three minutes here so I need you to keep your answers brief and concise, okay? Like the psychiatric test, answer without thinking, first thing that comes into your head. Has anyone ever said that to you before?”
“No”
“Good. How long have you been dressing up Katie? I presume you do dress up?”
I nodded, blushing: “10 years, Miss, since I was 14”
She smiled when I called her Miss.
“What’s your favourite colour?”
“Purple”
“Favourite outfit?”
“Schoolgirl”
“Sexiest lingerie?”
“Panties”
“Are you wearing some now?”
“No, Miss”
“Are you here with friends?”
“Yes”
“Yes Miss” she corrected with a smile, reminding me that I’d been the one to call her that in the first place
“Yes Miss, sorry Miss”
“Have any of them ever taken advantage of you?”
“No Miss!” I protested just a little too loudly. That brought another smile to her face. she lent in closer:
“But you’ve thought about it, haven’t you Katie? Thought about their cocks?”
I didn’t know that I could blush any deeper
“It’s okay, you don’t have to answer that, just now. I bet you like toys, don’t you Katie?
I paused before answering. I didn’t know this girl at all, hadn’t even seen her name-tag, couldn’t tear my eyes away from hers. I was aroused, confused, upset, totally overcome by her and in a very, very fragile and submissive state. I shook my head to try to recover some of my wits, but she had me in a mental vice. I was completely open to her. I’d even called her Miss and not just because I didn’t know her name. I just accepted she was my Superior! This kind of person had never happened to me before and now it was all taking place in just three minutes. I had to have time to think; but that was exactly what I couldn’t have.
“I asked if you like toys, Katie, come on, we don’t have much time”
A little impatience was beginning to show in that intense stare.
“Yes Miss”
“Tell me about your toys Katie”
“I have two dildos and a vibrator Miss”
“No boy toys? No masturbatory aids? Fleshlights? Cock sheaths?”
“No Miss”
“A true girl in all things”
“I try to be Miss”
“Do you live alone?”
“Yes Miss”
“Time is up Antman, my nickname is Wasp. Mark it on your scorecard and you will see me later. Fail to mark me and you will never see me again. I don’t think you want that to happen…” and she leaned across, breaking eye-contact with me for the first time in three minuses, and whispered: “…do you Katie?