A realtor and an attorney walk into a bar.
He is tall and good looking. In his sexy suit all dressed for court, the realtor notices a few women check him out. (And okay the bartender, Tim. She always knew he played for the other team!)
She's curvy and pretty in a girl next door way. She's got a black wrap dress on, and heels -but not too high, just right. Everything about her is just right. Nice tits but not too big, just right. A little waist that flowed out into shapely hips, not too big, just right. And the ass... okay the ass was big- but not too big, just juicy.
He wondered if her pussy was juicy.
He wondered if he could MAKE it wet and juicy.
"Meeting some one here?" he murmured as he takes the bar stool next to the one she's just slipped into.
She turns and looks over.
"No, thankfully. I've been with a horrid client for the last two hours. I'm here for a drink and some quiet."
"Is that so? Define quiet. No talking at all or are whispers acceptable?"
She smiles. "Let me guess? Lawyer?" she asks, and he registers a husky southern drawl.
"Why yes. Is it obvious?"
"Defining the parameters set forth before even ordering. You're a dead giveaway counselor."
"But you're not answering. And I'm very interested. Do you want it all quiet or are whispers okay?"
Suddenly she was aware of the fact that he maybe wasn't talking about conversation. Or at least conversation that would stay just at this bar.
"I actually like whispers," she said. "Don't you? A whisper changes an entire meaning of a question."
"Example?" he asked.
"Well," she says, slipping glasses out from between her cleavage where they were formerly tucked, "ordering a drink." She opens the drink menu perched on the bar. "If some one asks 'what would you like to drink?' in a volume others can hear, this is obviously a simple polite question that may or may not have meaning that the asker intends to buy or prepare said drink for the person they asked. But if they ask 'what would you like to drink?' (she lowers her voice to a whisper) this suggests not only do they want to get the drink but the asker also wants to know what else they want. Like maybe not just a drink awaits. You see?"
She peered up at him over the rims of the sexy glasses she had slid on while she delivered her explanation.
She bit her lower lip while he cupped his mouth with one hand, leaned toward her ear and whispered "I do see. Or, I want to see. Those gorgeous tits for starters. What do you want to drink? And while we are at it, what do you sound like when you cum?"
He saw her tits rise as she sucked in her breath. "Oh," she whispered, as she blew out a little breathy sigh. "I wasn't expecting that."
He pulled back and met her gaze. "Too much?" he murmered, "Too straightforward? Too......sexual?" He put emphasis on 'sex.'
She parted her lips and he saw her tongue come out and touch the center of her top lip. Then he heard her whisper, "No. Not at all. I....I like sex."
His grin was quick and his eyebrows rose and with a wink, he replied. "Looks like the start of a beautiful friendship. Now let's get you that drink and you can start by telling me about your bad day."
The spell was a little bit broken. She felt herself sit up straighter, and gathered her wits a little as she quickly shook her head. As if she was trying to shake off the sexy thoughts he had just put in her mind.
That tongue again. It appeared and ran out of her moist lips and again he saw the tip touch the center of her upper lip. She sucked in with a breath and again peered over her glasses.
"I promise you don't want to hear about my awful client. They are entitled, pretentious and wouldn't know style if it bit their ass!"
"Now now. Don't be giving me ideas."
A laugh rushed forward. She cupped her hand over her mouth. He noticed the color rise on her cheeks. Holy shit. She was so fucking sexy. But also cute. And her laugh was adorable.
"You're trouble. I can tell," she said.
"You know what else I am?" he asked. He watched her eyes get a little wider. "Thirsty," he whispered, "Now, what can I get you to drink?"
She looked right at him and he saw the relief. Okay, he mentally told himself, she likes to flirt but not too much at once. Note to self.
"I'm just going to have a mocktail," she decided, "the mango mocktini."
"Tim," the sexy man called, "a mango mocktini for her and a Red Stripe for me." Tim nodded and slid a Red Stripe down the bar. The counselor caught it easily and waited until he poured the icey mocktail into a frosty martini glass. "What should we toast to?"
She clinked her glass against his beer bottle. "To whispers," she said with a sly smile. "To whispers," he replied.
"So," he said, giving her his full attention. "Terrible client. Out with it."
"Oh, it's just ridiculous. I have client. A dear friend. And she's trying to sell her condo down here. It's beautiful. And priced fairly."
"Sounds perfect."
"Right? It's SO perfect! Anyway," she continued, "I have another client. New. A referral. We met today for the first time and they wanted downtown real estate. Exactly what my friend has listed: open concept for entertaining, two bedrooms, multilevel, roof access."
"Roof access?" he whistles, "nice."
"Well they didn't think it had the right view. They were irritated they couldn't see the river. And while that's true, the city lights are gorgeous. AND the price reflects that. They aren't even pre approved for the price of a condo with river view!"
He liked that she was so feisty. He liked how her tongue would sneak out ever so briefly when she'd pause for a breath. He liked watching her fingers trail up and down the stem of the martini glass. He wondered how they'd look trailing up and down his dick.
"Well, how did you leave things? With the new client? And your friend client...the owner? Are they unhappy because the showing went nowhere?"
"No. No one is mad. I'm going to talk to new client's loan officer about reevaluating her assets to see if we can't raise the her amount she qualifies for. And my condo owner friend is out of town. Only comes in once in a while. We won't talk for a few days and hopefully by then, I'll have shown it again, and have better news."
He took a sip of his beer. "Let's practice," he said. "Show me."
"Excuse me?!" she practically choked on her mango martini. "Come again?"
"Oh that's the idea," he whispered, as he lowered his head. "Let's go. Back to the condo. You can give me the spiel. Show me around. I bet the view is even better at night."
She bit her bottom lip. Fuck. Why did he keep looking at her mouth?
"I....I don't know," she whispered. "I just met you. I don't take strange men home."
"Lucky for you, I'm not strange. And we're not going to your home."
That laugh again. Quiet, breathy. A little nervous.
"Listen," he said, "names Cooper. I'm a good guy. I'll keep my hands where you can see them at all times. Tim can vouch for me."
As she started to speak, she heard his voice rise: "Tim! Hey man, socccer practice? Tomorrow at 9am? Or are we moving it?"
