The bar was structured such that in order to get to the bar itself, one had to walk past all the booths and tables first. So when the door to Harry's Bar opened, and the woman in the black dress walked in, all eyes were on her by the time she got to the bar.
The woman was luscious. She looked to be about twenty-five, slender and toned. Her legs traveled up and up from her four-inch heels, past the hem of her dress and did not seem to end until her armpits. She had a succulent ass that was hugged closely by the dress, and her narrow waist gradually tapered up to full breasts the size of melons. Her hair was long, black and gleaming, and her eyes were a stormy blue with long black lashes. Her body screamed come-and-get-me.
A whole host of men were already getting to their feet, preparing to jockey for her attentions. But she walked with a purpose that gave them all pause. She slid onto a bar stool next to a man already seated there, nonchalantly pulled out a cigarette and asked, "Got a light?"
The man had been nursing a drink. He was moderately attractive, but seemingly way out of her league. He looked startled, fumbled around in his pockets for a few moments, and then regretfully shook his head no. She had just asked, "So what's a guy like you doing all by himself on a Friday night?" when one of the would-be pursuers flipped out a Zippo and held the flame up to her cigarette, which was still in her hand.
"Allow me," he said. He was one of those men who had been a stud in high school and college, with a buffed-to-the-max body and a gorgeous face. He was well dressed and had a silky smooth voice. The man on the bar stool next to the woman was about to accept defeat and slink away quietly, when the woman spoke.
"Excuse me," she said in a venomous tone. "Can't you see I'm trying to carry on a conversation?" She then turned back to the man on the other side, who was frozen in his tracks, half on and half off the stool. He offered a weakly triumphant smile to the other man, who stamped away, obviously upset.
Another, equally attractive man from the same crowd approached her, and said, "Hey, baby, this guy's a loser. Why don't you come hang out with us?" He took a swig of his drink and smiled suggestively. He held out his own lighter.
She let him light her cigarette, and took a deep drag, forming a column of ash on the end. Leaning closer to him, she lowered her lashes, and he grinned, sensing victory. She then shocked him by tapping the column of ash into his drink, dropping the rest of the cigarette in whole, and watching as it fizzed out. "Get lost," she said in a sultry tone.
The man at the bar was stunned. "I'm Lisa," she smiled at him.
"John," he said in an unsteady voice, and offered her his hand. She took it, and held it a bit longer than necessary.
"So, John," she purred. "What do you say we disappear?" She looked at the men she had spurned a moment before and their friends, who were still staring. "I'd like to get to know you better, if you don't mind."
He managed to say that he didn't mind at all, and would she like to go back to his place? The two exited Harry's Bar, climbed into John's small Ford and drove off toward his nearby house. No sooner had they entered the front door, than Lisa slammed the door, slid the bolt home and turned to John with a wanton look on her face.
"John, I have wanted you since I saw you. I have to have you, now."
His eyes widened and he pulled her toward the bedroom. "Let's get, uh, more comfortable," he suggested.
They almost didn't make it. She pounced on him halfway there, kissing him feverishly. He managed to drag her along with him to the bedroom as she unbuttoned his shirt. Lisa's dress seemed to be one smooth continuous piece of material; it was hard to find a grip on it to try to tug it off of her.
By the time they'd reached his room with its king-sized bed, she had his shirt entirely unbuttoned and halfway off. John broke away from her long enough to tug the remaining sleeve down his arm and let the shirt fall heedlessly to the floor. She reached for him again, but he stopped her.
John pushed Lisa, fully clothed, back onto the bed. He fell next to her and began to feel her up through her dress. His hands began exploring her upper body through the thin stretch material. Lisa's body felt perfect-there were no signs of any figure flaws. It felt like she was not wearing underwear, either.
"Let me help you," she said seductively. She reached down and pulled the dress over her head in one fluid movement.
Her body took John's breath away. He had been wrong about the underwear; she was wearing an ultra-thin bra and a garter belt to hold up her black stockings. No panties. He took a moment to drink in this incredible woman before him.
The sheer material of her bra held her breasts up high, although they were obviously firm and needed no help. Her nipples pushed at the fabric, straining to stand up. Her stomach was flat and well toned, with just a hint of her ribcage visible. Lisa's hips flared outward, accentuating her small waist and ending in her long legs. The garter belt fit low around her hips but did not hide her mound, which was perfectly shaved and smooth. She still wore heels.
