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Nate took a deep breath, looked at the computers and skimmed through the tracks. Nate smiled and clicked on a track. The Beatles’ ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps,’ started playing. The 49ers in the bench rolled their eyes. Then Jay-Z’s ‘What More Can I Say’ started playing over The Beatles. Robinson shrugged. ‘Not bad, not bad. I’m gonna hit the floor,’ Robinson said, sliding out of the booth. Robinson moved down with Turner and Chalmers following him. When Jay-Z finished Robinson poked his head around the computer. ‘Hey rookie — how bout’ something really old school?’ Robinson asked. Nate nodded. Led Zeppelin’s ‘The Song Remains the Same’ began to play. Robinson raised his hands at Nate. Nate smiled and dropped KRS-One’s ‘Attendance’ over it. Robinson smiled and started dancing with a red head while Chalmers and Turner chuckled and turned to find girls. After an hour or so Robinson came around and clapped a hand on Nate’s shoulder. ‘You’re okay rookie — you really are,’ Robinson. She pivoted on her toes, slipping her body in between me and the railing, and then she brought her leg back down smoothly on the other side of the handcuffs. Now we were facing each other, she with her back to the street, and me with my rock hard cock and balls up between her thighs, handcuffed to the railing that pressed against her ass. Our bodies could not be any closer without actually fucking. Her smile was electric. Her smile changed from manic to sexy, teasing. She glanced down at the cops and then back at me. She squeezed her thighs together, sandwiching my lubed erection and forcing it up against her pussy. Only the dripping, sheer, thin cotton of her boxers was between us. Her perfect breasts pushed through the gaping hole she'd torn through her flimsy see-through top and she gently brushed her erect nipples against my chest. I must have looked panic-stricken because every time she looked at me, she smiled, thoroughly enjoying herself and my predicament. I was totally at.
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