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Oak Room

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Years ago my favorite watering hole in San Fernando Valley was located on Ventura Boulevard at the intersection with White Oak. To the best that I recall it was called the Oak Room. It was a nice place with elaborate oak paneling, etc. However, to say the least it was a very interesting establishment. During week days it did a very brisk business lunch trade that always required a reservation to get in at that time. After that however was time for the potato peeler crowd – housewives (MILF) who wanted to play in the afternoon but had to be back in time to be home to serve dinner to their family. In the evening it was a pick-up bar – a real meat market. But none of those was why it was my favorite. It was also a classic New York style piano bar where the full grand piano was flanked with a bar and chairs. The pianist, who had raspy voice from cigarettes and drink, played old favorites. I, loved to go in and sit next to the key board with a bottle of cabernet and listen. One night, a several months after Linda, my first wife, moved out of our home, I went in to the Oak Room – sat by the key board and ordered my wine. I was part way through my first glass of wine when I saw Linda come in. She was wearing one of my two favorite of her dresses. A very finely knit dress that showed that showed every bulge and line. I had always tried to get her to wear it without underwear, because the panty and brazier lines really showed. She never did – she was to shy. That evening she was wearing the dress the same way she always had. She took a seat at a table across the room. I was thinking of going over to her, but I was concerned she would think I was there just to pick-up someone. I then realized she was there to get picked up. Before the waitress even came to take her order, a guy brought her a drink. I wondered if the guy just took a chance on what she wanted, or whether he already knew and the meeting was pre-arranged. I just sank back in my chair and tried to loose myself in my wine and the music. I was already feeling low when before they finished the second drink, my wife and the guy left together. It was like someone hit me in the gut with a baseball bat. I sank deeper in my chair and after a little while I ordered a second bottle of cabernet. About an hour and a half after she had left with her first bar fly, in came Linda again. This time she was not wearing any underwear – no panty and brazier lines at all. The only bulges showing were her nipples which greatly protruded and obviously they were rock hard the way they got when we were having sex and for a while thereafter. She again took a seat at a table across the room and was soon thereafter joined by bar fly number two. Shortly after being served their drinks the second bar fly reached under her dress and started finger banging (masturbating) her right there at the table. It seemed like she almost exploded in an orgasm that everyone in bar know she had. I could not help but wonder if bar fly number one had just shot his wad and left her hanging in desire. After Linda got off, it looked like her new bar fly was going to fist her, but Linda grabbed his hand and led him out of the bar leaving their dinks on the table. A very short time thereafter two guys came into bar saying that they did not believe it some guy was banging a blond on the trunk of a car. As I ordered a cognac – and then another. When I final left and got to my car I noticed a cum deposit on my trunk with some sliding down the back, as well as a big snail trail were Linda had slid off the trunk. It seems at least part, if not all, of the time Linda knew I was there – She should have surely known the hurt she was causing. I just sat in the car and cried myself to sleep. As of then, and for at least six months thereafter, Linda was the only woman I had ever had sex with. Obviously, that was not the case with Linda. That was also the last time I ever went to the establishment.

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