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Story - "Blind Date"
🕑 Added 2020-09-02 03:25:41 +0000 UTCBlind date, story by: Denidrax
Had so much fun reading this story, hope you enjoy it too ;)
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“Ding!” your phone announced a new text. You glance down and see its from your buddy, Ed.
“You doing anything tonight?” he inquires.
“Not rly. Y?” you answer. Your phone rings – its Ed calling.
“Hey,” Ed says as you answer, “Maggie and I have a date tonight, but she says her friend is feeling sad. I need a wingman, bruh.” You groan, imagining an evening with a needy, probably ugly girl.
“No, no,” Ed adds hurriedly, sensing your skepticism, “She’s really cute.”
“Then why,” you start to ask.
“I dunno. Look, just take her to dinner is all. I will totally owe you, ok?”
“Fine,” you answer with resignation. “Tell her to meet me at Clyde’s at 7:30.”
“You’re the best!” Ed declares appreciatively and hangs up.
You text him, “What’s her name, genius?”
“Lol. Aimee.” He writes back, “Thanks!”
You head over to Clyde’s, purposefully arriving fifteen minutes late and hoping Aimee will have given up and gone home. The restaurant is not crowded and as you walk in, you see a girl sitting on a bench. She’s not ugly – actually, she seems kind of cute, as Ed promised. She’s biting her lower lip nervously and her eyes immediately flash to you as you enter. She stands as you walk over to her.
“Aimee?” You ask.
“Hi…uh, yes.” She responds uncomfortably. She’s wearing an oversized top that suits her broad shoulders. Her oval face is framed by slightly teased strawberry blonde hair. She crosses her arms across herself and shies away from your critical gaze. You realize you were pretty blatantly checking her out and feel a little embarrassed.
“Let’s get a table.” You announce, breaking the awkwardness. You are shown to a table and sit across from each other. The waiter brings menus. You order a burger with onion rings and a beer. She gets a salad.
“That’s all?” You ask. “Aren’t you hungry.”
“I’m trying to watch my weight.” She answers.
“You don’t seem to need to.” You tell her, honestly assessing her figure.
“Thanks.” Aimee responds. Your compliment puts her slightly at ease and her runs her fingers through her hair over her left ear. You recognize the flirtatious gesture. As she does, her oversized brown shirt slips to the side and reveals a surprisingly muscular upper arm.
“Wow!” you exclaim. “You’re ripped!” Aimee looks aghast and quickly covers herself and sinks back into her seat.
“What’s the matter?” You ask, “Did I say something wrong.”
“No…I…it’s just…” She stammers uncomfortably. “I know I’m not very…” She trails off again, “Guys don’t like women with muscles.” She finally blurts out. There is an awkward silence.
“Actually,” you say somewhat hesitantly, not sure if you should admit this, “I…I find muscular women really attractive.” There’s another pause in the conversation.
“Really?” She asks shyly.
“Oh, yeah.” You say enthusiastically. Sensing an opportunity, you reach toward her with your right hand. “Can I?” Aimee slides her shirt over, again revealing her thick left arm and bulging triceps. You lean across the table and put your hand around it, giving it a testing squeeze. It is tight and firm.
Aimee cocks her arm and you feel her bicep contract into a softball-sized mound of muscle. Your fingers press into it. “Wow. Hard as a rock.” You announce as you let go and sit back into you seat.
Aimee lets out a sigh of relief and for the first time tonight, smiles. Her smile seems to light up the room and for the first time you notice her big, hazel colored eyes, perfect teeth and smooth skin, how her strong chin accentuates her oval face…”You’re gorgeous.” You breathe.
She smiles even broader. “You’re pretty good looking, yourself.” She replies in kind. “And you’re the first guy I ever met who isn’t intimidated by me.”
Your food arrives and you both start eating as the conversation continues. “You must work out like crazy.” You observe.
Aimee nods, “Yeah, I put in my time at the gym. But a lot of it is genetics, too.” She says modestly. “So how do you know Maggie?”
“Ed and I have been friends forever.” You answer. “How about you?”
“Oh, Maggie and I work together. She’s really nice.” Aimee tells you. Now that she is no longer trying to conceal herself, you notice that even her subtle movements, like lifting a fork to her mouth, set off a cascade of muscle twitching. On most people it isn’t noticeable, but the more you look, the more you see how her loose-fitting shirt is trying to conceal a fantastically-muscled torso.
“Want a drink?” You ask as you both finish dinner.
“Actually, it’s a nice night for a walk.” She invites. You nod with a smile and pay the bill, for which she thanks you graciously.
Once outside, you start down the sidewalk and slide your arm around her broad shoulders. Her frame is like solid rock, but she nestles up against you in a very girlish manner. It strikes you as a strange but very nice combination.
After walking a couple of blocks, you stop for a red light. Aimee looks up at you with her large eyes inviting. You lean in and kiss her, which she returns enthusiastically. Her arms wrap around your waist and you fail to suppress a slight “oof” as she squeezes you.
Your kiss lasted through a cycle of the traffic light, so when you disengage it’s red again. Aimee looks up at you and licks her lips. Glancing at the traffic signal, she reaches out to press the button to call for a change of the light. Looking back into your eyes, her finger distractedly breaks the button, plows through the box in which it is housed, and the entire lamppost creaks as she absent-mindedly begins pushing it over.
The creaking snaps her out of her dreamy contemplation of your face and she quickly pulls back her hand. The button and its housing fall to the ground in pieces. The lamppost is leaning over the street at a thirty degree angle and continues to creak ominously. Aimee reaches around the pole with one hand and pulls it back upright. The concrete opens into a spider-web of cracks at the base of the pole as she straightens it.
You stare at her, your mouth hanging open.
“I told you I had good genetics.” Aimee reminds you. “I just didn’t say how good.” She raises her arm and cocks it, showing you her softball-sized bicep again. But this time she flexes hard and the second head of her massive bicep pops up. Without asking, you wrap your hands around her arm. You try to squeeze it, but it is too hard to even dent and too big to get your hands around.
In a single motion, Aimee slides her arm around you and pulls you toward her, literally sweeping you off your feet. She delivers a devastatingly passionate kiss.
“My place is just another couple of blocks. I think you’re coming home with me tonight.” She announces. It’s not a question. Her single arm holds you – gently, but you can feel so much power in it that any thought of escape is absurd. You nod at her.
Aimee sets you back down – you hadn’t even realized your feet were dangling off the ground. As she does, the damaged lamppost begins to fall over.
“Well, that’s not gonna work.” She says. Wrapping her fingers around the pole, Aimee lifts upwards. The pole was anchored five feet deep with a concrete setting that Aimee casually rips out of the ground as the sidewalk around the base explodes open. She sets the lamppost down on the sidewalk gently and smiles as she picks small fragments of concrete out of your hair.
“You’re so cute.” She coos as you stare, unblinking, trying to comprehend this impossible night. She slides her hand into yours and with an iron grip beckons you to walk with her. You stumble a bit as she again pulls you off your feet, but quickly regain your footing and walk with her.
“I definitely owe Maggie a favor…” Aimee says as she leads you into her apartment for the night…
