She sat in the bar, apparently reading her book and sipping coffee, but really she sat people watching. The evening was drawing in and the bar was turning from a quiet daytime haven into a busy social hot-spot. She considered leaving soon, since the attractive barman she had been watching for the last hour had obviously finished his shift and left for the day. She made a mental note for future reference and drained the last of her coffee.
Then she saw him. In through the door swept an interesting prospect -- an over stylised, cocky looking young man, hair messy on purpose, clothes obviously carefully chosen, aftershave wafting after him, with a clear purpose about him - not stunningly attractive, but quite lean and presentable. She beckoned over to a nearby waitress and asked for a mineral water.
She watched him sidle up to the bar and exchange words with the pretty blonde barmaid -- although his eyes didn't move from the girl's chest once during his exchange. The Huntress pulled a neat leather bound note book from her bag and began to take notes.
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He had hurried to catch the tube but had taken too long getting ready and was already 20 minutes late. As he sat at the bar he thought to himself how wonderful those breasts would look from beyond the tight little black top the bar-maid was wearing. Checking his watch he tried to relax and settle, hoping he hadn't missed his chance.
The young buck had a date - one of many! He had found this one on an Internet chat site. She lived within a few miles, but not so close as to cause him any problems if she got all needy. She was pretty enough for him to want to fuck her and didn't seem overly clever. He knew he would be in with a good chance of getting his leg over tonight. He had spent the last few nights sweet talking this Plain Jane and knew he could do more or less whatever he wanted with her, as long as she turned up. Each time the door opened he looked across to see if it might be her.
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The Huntress remained in her seat, occasionally sipping at the water, watching his every move. He seemed a little agitated -- perhaps nervous. A first date, perhaps? Still he eyed the blonde barmaid with hungry eyes and fidgeted in his seat more than would be normal. Ah, he's a clock-watcher too! She observed as he repeatedly checked his watch. He's growing impatient... but for what? She did not know.
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He had grown warm in the comfort of the bar and decided to remove his jacket. The barmaid moved away from him, feeling unsettled by his constant stares. Checking his watch again, he realised it was now well over thirty minutes since the time he had arranged to meet Plain Jane. He was getting a little annoyed. She wasn't really worth all this effort but he wanted sex! He decided to give her another fifteen minutes.
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As he peeled away his jacket, The Huntress, noticed the triangular shape of his torso. He was tall and fairly slim but had nice broad shoulders. She wondered whether he would be hairy or smooth, although she suspected he would be privately well groomed if his outward appearance was anything to go by. Suddenly, his phone beeped and she watched him look at the screen, then bang the phone down on the bar. He looked rather pissed off.
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Flapping one of his hands in the air to attract the attention of a less attractive, red-headed, barmaid he ordered a large whisky. That bitch, Plain Jane, had cried off! How bloody dare she?! His chances for sex, tonight, had rapidly reduced to zero. He was gutted. He downed the drink in one and worked his way through the contact list in his phone for suitable alternatives. Most of his mates were away on holiday with their partners and he had run dry his short list of fuck-buddies recently. It started to dawn on him that, realistically, he was at a loss. He really should take more care and effort when trying to satiate his own sexual hungers.
"With the compliments of the lady, sir." Said a dark haired waitress as she gestured across the bar.
He looked around and saw a rather pretty woman looking in his direction. She was sat with two female friends. His luck might well just have changed. He raised the glass of whisky as a toast gesture, but the pretty woman looked straight through him. He realised she was smiling towards another of her friends who was at the bar beside him.
Puzzled now, he looked around the bar, wondering who had bought him the drink. Two businessmen sat huddled around a laptop -- no, it wasn't them. A rather non-descript woman sat writing something in a book -- no, it can't be her. A couple of students sipping on shandy -- no, it can't have been them. He was confused. He looked for the waitress but she was gone.
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The Huntress had noticed his efforts to locate who had bought him the drink and had, purposefully, ignored him. Continuing to write her short notes about him she considered if he would be worthwhile sport for the evening and possibly beyond.
She watched him walk towards the toilets and requested for the waitress keep an eye on her things. Following his direction, she made her way to the door marked "Gents" and moved inside.
Standing at the urinal, he was glad to see they were clean and the room was empty. He always felt a little unnerved having to get his tackle out in the full view of other men. He heard the door swing open behind him and hoped his stream of piss would hurry up so he could put himself away before the bloke entering stood beside him.
