Paul turned up the collar of his light jacket and stuck his hands in its pockets to ward off the chill of the bitter wind that had come with the late November dusk. This part of the city was unknown to him. He had been walking the streets aimlessly since mid-afternoon trying to recover after having his heart and dreams shattered.
The day had been warm and sunny earlier on and on impulse he had skipped his afternoon architecture class at the university intending a surprise visit with his fiance Kathy, hoping the balmy weather might have put her in the mood for a quickie. The door of her apartment on the second floor was open. He entered and heard a rhythmic thumping from the direction of the bedroom. The door was closed but when he approached he heard the screeches and wails of a woman in the throes of pain or pleasure. Panic took him. Was Kathy being raped? He flung the door open looked over the foot of the bed to see his prim and proper young blonde fiance naked, facing him, straddling the groin of a naked man lying on his back. She was anally impaled on his long thick cock, riding it hard and loving it, grimacing and squealing, eyes glazed over in her wanton lust.
Paul stood gaping, horrified. The man let out a lusty grunt of satisfaction and Kathy answered with her own shriek of orgasmic delight. His cock slipped loose from her tight pocket and a creamy fountain of cum spurted up across her belly and breasts. Inevitably her eyes cleared and fell on Paul, standing there open mouthed. She didn't say a word, just smirked, took the ring from her finger and tossed it in Paul's face. The man raised his head and peered around Kathy to look at him and grinned. It was Rex Richter, quarterback of the university football team, unregenerate sexist, suspected serial date rapist. He was often the subject of Kathy's "feminist" rants.
Words seemed pointless. He backed out of the room and fled, down the stairs, out into the street and just started walking. Full darkness had set in. The nip in the air cleared his mind a bit and he realized he was not only cold but famished and most of all in need of a stiff drink. He looked around. Nothing but dark residential streets. He was lost. His hand went to the pocket where he kept his smartphone to find it empty. Must have left it in the car. He thought of perhaps knocking on the door of one of the houses to ask directions but didn't want the embarrassment or any trouble. Nothing to do but walk on.
He picked a direction at random, looking left and right at each intersection. After several blocks he looked to his right and about a block down the street dead ended and there was a what looked like a restaurant or bar, at least there was a wooden sign out front lit from above. It was an old stone building with a few stone steps leading up to a heavy wooden iron bound door. As he approached he could see the sign said "Lilith's"and in smaller lettering below "Steaks, Seafood, Spirits, Sisterhood". He puzzled a bit over the last word but shrugged and climbed the stairs, opened the door and entered. In his hunger and thirst he hadn't noticed the small sign next to the door saying "Private. Members Only."
He was in a bar room. Off to the right was a bar, to his left were a few tables and a hallway leading to the restrooms. Straight ahead was a wide opening in a stone wall and he saw tables and chairs, a restaurant obviously. On its back wall was a large fireplace burning brightly serving as muted lighting for the room along with candles in sconces along the walls. A few tables were occupied, all by women, dressed in leather or furs. The bar to his right was L shaped and ended in a dark corner along the wall that bounded the restaurant. It was unoccupied. That seemed perfect for a man in his straits and he headed for that corner taking the last stool. There was nobody behind the bar at first but then a tall young woman with short blonde hair entered through a door in the back bar. She glanced his way and a frown crossed her face as she approached him, pointing toward the door.
"This is a private club mister and I'll have to ask you to..."
"It's OK Elsa, he's with me. I invited him earlier today. Let him have whatever he likes on my tab."
The voice came from behind him, a woman's voice, low pitched, sultry with an accent he thought must be Russian.
The bartender's expression changed instantly to one of respect as her eyes turned to the woman who had spoken.
"Of course Ms. Rostova. I'm so sorry. It seemed like he had wandered in uninvited."
Paul spun around and felt a warm flush and a fluttering of his heart when he saw the woman who stood there. He looked up into a face of regal arrogance, strong chin, wide full lips, perfect nose, large wide set dark eyes under heavy arching bows, high forehead. A cascade of chestnut hair fell over the shoulders of the long sable coat she wore. She was tall, taller than his own six foot and one even without the tall black stiletto heeled boots she wore. He guessed she was somewhere in her early forties, mature yet youthful, in the fullest flowering of her womanhood.
But his initial shock wore off after a moment and her turned away. Women weren't high on his list of favorites just then and he felt annoyed at having strayed in to a den full of them. But the memory of the cold outside and his thirst for a strong one took hold and he took advantage of the offer from his new benefactress and ordered a double scotch straight up. When it was served to him he tossed it down at a gulp, asked for another, gulped the next one too and held out his glass again.
He heard the stool next to him scrape on the floor as it was moved and from the corner of his eye saw the woman settle into it.
"Having a bad day are we now? That whiskey will have you on the floor before I even get a chance to know your name. I think some wine would be better. It will soothe your spirits without putting you on your back."
She held up her hand to stop the bartender from serving his third whisky and asked for a bottle of Merlot and two glasses instead. Paul sat with his face averted leaning on the bar, stubborn in refusal to acknowledge her even after her kindness.
"Please. My name is Anna. I think you owe me at least a bit of courtesy. You could be back out in the cold by now instead of warming yourself with good whisky."
A hand fell on his shoulder, a gentle touch but one that made it clear there would be no relenting until she had her way.
"It's clear someone has hurt you, a woman no doubt. Please don't tar us all with the same brush."
Her low soothing tone of voice softened him a bit and then he felt the tip of her fingernail under his chin. He allowed her to raise his head and turn it, compelled by a will he could tell was much stronger than his own. He found himself with chin perched on the tip of her index finger looking into knowing brown eyes bottomless in their depth.
"That's better. Now your name please."
He stammered an introduction as the whisky started taking hold, softening him, making tears come.
"Now tell me, please, what happened?"
He blurted out the story of his sad day choking back sobs while glancing up occasionally into eyes soft with compassion. Then he set his jaw and passed his sleeve across his eyes to wipe away the tears.
"Damn! You must think I'm such a crybaby!"
"I think you're a very attractive and sexy man who's not afraid to show his feelings. There's no shame in being sensitive dear. The shallow, fickle little slut was unworthy of you."
She reached out a hand to touch his cheek. "There's another kind of woman Paul, a kind that knows how to appreciate a man like you. You've just met one and she's dying to know you better. Come along. Let's get a table. I'm famished myself and if I don't get some food in you soon I'll have to carry you home with me."
Hearing those words about himself from this stunning beauty who had appeared in his life from the blue made him shed his sorrow and loneliness and follow her into the restaurant walking on air.
Anna had been in the restroom when Paul walked into the bar and came out just in time to see him slip into the shadows of the corner. But she could see him clearly enough that he piqued her interest, a fine looking young man, sandy-haired trim and fit, manly but with an air of sensitivity. And there was a subtle "something" about him, a glow. She was smitten. She couldn't be sure but her feeling was strong. Divine Mother willing he might just be her next husband. She was married already, for seven years and for the third time, and happy in the way only a woman of her kind could be but that predatory instinct was always there. Here was a young man who might bring new excitement into her life. He sparked a craving for more and better always just below the surface even in the midst of her day to day contentment. It seemed an omen that he had walked into the private retreat of her an her sisters seemingly out of nowhere. She had stalked toward him, a tigress on the hunt.
They reached the table, one in the corner of the room and cloaked in semi-darkness, lit by only three candles, and sat down. A waitress came and Anna ordered the same thing for both of them without even consulting him, rare porterhouse steaks baked potatoes, salad and more wine. He wondered why she kept her fur coat on but noticed the old stone building was a bit chilly and drafty.
She filled her glass with wine and he held his out to her.
"No Paul. Wait awhile, until our food comes at least. I can tell that whisky has taken its toll already and there's so much more I want to know about you. Tell me more about yourself."
He looked into those big eyes gazing at him as if in rapt attention and soon he was pouring out everything, rambling. She took the role of perfect listener, keeping eye contact, nodding, sometimes asking questions or breaking out in a lusty laugh at his dry witticisms. All the while his eyes were riveted on her and he mentally pinched himself over and over wondering if could really be true that this goddess-like creature could find him so interesting.
