I stood off to the side of the bar with my drink in hand, twirling it around watching the ice knocking against one another. I knew he was watching, every fibre of my being alive with the awareness of his stare and my cheeks burned a fierce shade of red. Thank god for the darkness of the Club. It had been like this for weeks now, seeing him, knowing that he watched me. I remember the first time I saw him. I had leaned over the bar and asked one of the other bartenders there for a vodka and orange juice and saw when he nudged the guy out of his way and came across to attend to me.
"Hey there, what can I get you?" god he had a great pair of lips and a sexy ass voice ... was I staring.. shit
"Umm yea, I'd like a screwdriver, easy on the OJ" I managed to fumble out
"What's that? Sorry can't hear you that well over the music"
"A Screwdriver, easy on the OJ" I repeated again. He smiled and nodded that he heard, damn, he even had nice teeth, straight and pearly white. I watched him covertly as he prepared my drink. He looks like he's over 6 feet tall with brown wavy hair, startling blue eyes, a strong jaw-line and a dimple on his right cheek. Wow, did the temperature suddenly rise in here? My eyes traveled over his broad shoulders and trim waist moving down until they rested on his snug jeans. What an ass! I licked my lips nervously and noticed he was looking at me as I watched, weighed and measured him. Fuck! I really do need to work on my subtlety skills.
"Will that be all?" his eyes kinda crinkled at the side... was he laughing at me. Oh god, mortification.
"Yes thank you, how much do I have for you?" I asked quickly
"Nothing, its on me" he replied smiling
"You can't do that" I protested
"Yea? Who says... go ahead – I've got it" he laughed and ran his fingers over mine as he pressed the glass into my hand.
"Thank you" Smile you idiot, smile for the nice man – groan!
I smiled at him with what I hoped was a sexy secure smooth type of look. Oy Vey!!! He was fucking hot and I wanted to taste those lips of his and then suck gently on his... mental shake there... ok down girl, downnnnnnnn. I wobbled off to join my girlfriends on the dance floor, and I felt it. I felt his eyes on me. My movements slowed and became more provocative as a slow bluesy number came out of the speakers.
In my mind, there was just us, and I was swaying and dancing for him. My ass fitting snugly back against his hips as she swayed in time to the music. I could feel his cock moving in response and my knees started to buckle a bit.
"Lisa... Lisa?" some small part of my brain registered that someone was calling my name, but god I didn't want to stop my little fantasy... go away!!
"Lisa? Woman are you listening to me?" sigh – so much for my fucking fantasy. I watched my best friend Myra moving closer to me.
"Yea? What?" I snapped out probably a little harsher than I should have
"Easy Bitch don't bite my head off – that man is watching you" Man? Watching me? Could it be?
"What man?" ok she had my attention now, who the heck was she talking about.
"The one that just served you at the bar, the cutie with the tight ass" Back off woman that's my tight ass fantasy fuck. My eyes narrowed in on her and she must of noticed because she started to laugh hysterically.
"You are so easy to read, and even easier to bait"
Fucker... I loved her to death but sometimes I really wanted to pop her one right on the kisser. We'd been best friends since we were five and she knew me about as well as I knew myself. She was a hot one, with long straight black hair that stopped midway down her back, a slender figure with delicate curves here and there, not big in the breast department but then we always joked around that I had enough for the both of us to share. She had a butt that would inspire any cockstand within a 5 mile radius. All round and firm and shit, lucky bitch. We were as different as night and day. She was nearing 5'11" and I was at best 5'2" (ok 5'6" in heels – thank heaven) – I had brown curly hair which defied all attempts to tame it, hazel eyes to her blue ones and more curves than I knew what to do with. Some might call me voluptuous but obviously these people never tried sleeping on their stomach with a 36C pair of breasts hindering you. It was like parting the red sea to try and get comfy enough to sleep sometimes. We both never had a problem getting dates or compliments from folks. But lately I was feeling restless and wanted something more. The men I had dated were ok, good looks, great jobs, but there was something lacking. Their level of sexuality and eroticism just not touching that part of me that was so dissatisfied. I needed more.
The night dragged on and I found myself moving closer and closer to the bar to watch him as he worked. As far as I could tell, he was pleasant without being flirtatious and quick and efficient in his movements. No wasted moves on his part. Precise and in control. He has beautiful hands, with long fingers that I mindlessly pictured sliding in and out of my wet pussy. Yes... I can say with a certain degree of confidence, that my panties were indeed damp from watching him. Of course, he would choose that particular time to look up and see me watching him, me and my damp panties. Was it possible for my cheeks to get any redder. I looked away quickly.
"Oy woman don't look now but he's coming over" Myra whispered to me.
Screeeeechhhhhhhhhh what the fuck do you mean he's coming over??? I now know how a deer feels when its trapped in someone's headlights.
"Hi" I heard my Stud say to me.
"Hi" I managed to croak back
"Enjoying yourself?"
"Pretty much so far"
"You look good out here, but you look kinda distracted as well, anything wrong?" Was he for real, wrong? Of course something was wrong! I was thinking about jumping his bones in all the worse ways possible and I'd just met him.
"Umm thanks and no nothing's wrong" well at least my brain was still functioning – thank god.
"Oh.. ok" he drifted away. Idiot!!! Why the fuck didn't you prolong the conversation.
And so began the mating ritual. Week after week, we would go to the Club and I would see him and we would share some meaningless conversation back and forth. I had noticed that he never allowed anyone else to attend to me, at least that was something. The more time that passed by and the more opportunity I had to watch him, the more intense my feelings of lust became. He was the subject of every sexual fantasy that I had and quite often ended up pleasuring myself with the thoughts of him ramming into me hard. If I didn't see some action soon I was gonna pull my hair out, strand by painful strand. I secretly wondered if he thought of me at all and if he did, what those thoughts were. Off and on I caught him just staring at me, his eyes travelling along my body, watching my face, it was almost as though he was trying to memorize every little detail. Little did he know that like him, I was doing my fair share of watching and learning and committing to memory the details. Details are important I think, like the way his right lips always inched up a wee bit more than the left when he smiles, or the way his eyes rolled when someone was giving him a tough time at the bar, even the way he meticulously fixed his work area and cleaned constantly. He ran a tight ship that one. It was erotic to watch him and study his movements when he wasn't looking, it made me want him even more. It made me wonder what his hands would feel like upon my body, how he would touch me and where he would start. I was aching to touch his lips and slide my tongue against his, to taste him, to feel the warmth of his breath against my neck. I was becoming somewhat of an expert fantasizing about that. Sigh... I need to get laid, and soon... by him!
Friday night, back again and I was looking hot, I have to admit. I was sporting a brand new short white mini skirt with a pink halter top and topped it off with leather strappy 4" heels. I'd gone to the hairdresser and cut my hair shorter than normal so that the curls framed my face and accentuated my cheekbones. As we entered the club, I made a mental note to myself, go for it. Excusing myself from my group of friends, I walked across to the bar and looked around for him. What the hell! He wasn't there – where the hell was he. I bent across the bar trying to signal another bartender to find out if he was sick or what, when suddenly I felt a hand on my back.
"Hi there Lisa, looking for someone?"
Spinning around I looked up and there he was... my Stud. I stood there staring at him, fuck he looked sexy. Tonight he wore a pair of black pants that snuggled around the curves of his ass like nothing I've ever seen before and a red fitted jersey which stretched across his broad shoulders and beautiful biceps.
"Umm Hi there" Wait, he called me by my name, how'd he know.