He had been sitting at the bar for a while when he saw her enter. He had been watching the entrance ever since he had arrived. And she was noticeable indeed, dressed as she was in a skin tight, strapless red dress that clung to her body like a second layer of skin almost. She walked slowly through the dimly lit, smoke-filled lounge towards the bar. Her hips moved sinuously as she maneuvered between the closely set tables and chairs. Her breasts seemed to strain the bounds of her dress with her every step. He paused from staring at her, to take a quick glance around the 'happy hour' crowded bar.
He easily saw that he wasn't the only male taking notice of the beautiful woman in red. Her dark hair was piled atop her hair in a careless cascade of curls, some of which had escaped to caress the sides of her long neck. She wore no jewelry to distract from the splendid display of her nearly naked breasts. He thought to himself that she had the look of a very classy woman, perhaps a very high-priced hooker, or even a woman who had money to spend any way she pleased, with no one to answer to. When she reached the bar, she seated herself near the center of long teak wood bar.
Watching her seat herself on the tall chair was an enjoyable event. She had to ease the tight skirt upwards until she could raise her right leg enough to reach the stools lower rung with her high-heeled foot and ease herself upwards onto the padded leather seat. He got a very enticing glimpse of stocking tops, and what appeared to be an actual garter on one thigh. Once seated, she set her small matching red purse on the counter top. She smiled when the bartender came over, asking her what she wanted to drink. He couldn't hear what she said, but whatever it was, it made the middle-aged, a bit rough looking bartender smile as he turned away to fulfill her request. He decided he would wait a few moments, and then signal the bartender and buy the lady a drink.
She turned nervously, looking back towards the bar entrance for a few moments, then faced back to the bar. She shifted on the stool, her skintight red dress was more than just form fitting, and it actually was a bit restrictive to breathing. It was the boning in the bodice that caused that problem, but that also allowed the low cut top to stay up without any shoulder straps also. But she also had the distinct sensation that her full breasts could very easily spill forth from their red velvet prison, if she happened to breathe, or maybe cough, a bit too deeply. She was impressed with herself that she had managed to walk across the lounge, to say nothing of the walk across the lobby of the posh hotel where the bar was located, from where the cab had left her at the main entrance. Her long brown hair, which was artlessly piled atop her head in a spill of curls that was mostly curtailed, except for a wisp or two that fell down to caress her naked shoulders, felt precariously near to total disaster, as did the front of her dress. However, her hairdresser had assured that two hours spent achieving this careless look would withstand nearly anything, barring a romp in bed, he had joked. Sitting here now, she just hoped she could keep the dress up, her hair up, and maintain some level of composure until he arrived.
She smiled again when the bartender returned with her "Blue Hawaii" that came complete with a small, silly little paper umbrella. She had gone blank when he had asked her what she wanted to drink. She had never been much of a drinker, and had stretched her memory and luckily come up with a tropical drink she had had one time while on vacation in Hawaii with her cousin. She sipped from the small straw in the drink, her nose bumping the umbrella, before she removed it. She noticed that her bright red lipstick left a definite stain on the straw. Perhaps she had applied it a bit too heavily, but she had wanted it all to be just perfect...
She decided that perhaps she should try to smoke a cigarette. Therefore, she opened the very small purse she had with her, and pulled out an unopened pack of cigarettes. She fumbled with the wrapping for a minute, her very long, and new, red artificial nails getting in the way, before she finally managed to pull forth one of those long, skinny cigarettes adorned with little flowers in a ring near the filter. She didn't smoke, but she had thought that smoking a cigarette would be appropriate in this setting, so she had stopped and bought this one pack.
She finally had the cigarette out, and was holding it her red-tipped, neatly manicured hand when she realized she had forgotten to get a lighter. She frowned for a moment, wondering if she should just forget the cigarette idea, or ask the barkeep for a match. Suddenly, a masculine hand came into her range of vision, holding a lit match. Carlie turned and saw a bald-headed man seated next to her. She was a bit startled to have been offered a light by anyone, let alone a stranger. She started to shake her head no, when she remembered the unlit cigarette in her hand.
From the end of the bar, seated as he was in the shadow, the woman had not seen him. He watched as she fumbled about with the purse, the cigarette, and now the offer of a light. Bill could see the other man sizing her up with his eyes, as he lit her cigarette. He smiled when the woman coughed a bit when she inhaled on the cigarette. It was obvious to anyone she didn't smoke regularly as she then hurriedly set the cigarette down once she stopped coughing. He could tell the other man was offering to buy her a drink, and he saw her shake her head no. He also could see that the bartender was watching the woman more than he had watched any of his other customers since he had entered the bar earlier. The bald man said something else to the woman, and she frowned and again obviously said no, shaking her head negatively to reinforce her answer. The bartender moved closer as if to suggest he was willing to come to the woman's assistance, should she need it. Then the man laughed ruefully, and moved away from the bar.
Bill shifted on his barstool as he watched the beautiful woman again readjust herself on her own chair. She was "stacked" and looked like she had been poured into that red dress she was wearing. He watched as she coughed again, and he wondered at the sturdiness of the dress that she wearing as her lovely, round breasts pressed against the velvet cups that held them prisoners. He could easily imagine his own large hands moving upwards from her waist to slowly enclose those full, round breasts. He would cup them for a moment, squeezing her firm globes at first, and then he would ease the dress down and those big, beautiful breasts would pop right out. He felt himself getting hard at the vision he was having of himself with the woman in the red dress. He found himself wondering about that garter he had caught but a small glimpse of when she had pulled her skirt upwards.
He signaled the bartender and then he ordered a "Long Island Iced Tea" for the woman. The bartender frowned, but he went ahead, fixed the drink, and then proffered it to the woman. Bill watched as she looked from the drink, to the bartender, and finally down the length of the bar, into the shadows towards himself as the bartender indicated the buyer of the drink. Her eyes met his down the long bar. He watched as her face stayed emotionless for a moment, and slowly, a slight smile curved her luscious, red-painted lips. He slid off his chair and moved slowly over to where she was seated. He nodded his head in greeting.
"May I join you?" Bill asked her softly.
She smiled more openly, and turned towards him as he seated himself. "Hello, my name is Carlie." She offered her soft hand in welcome to him. "Thanks for the drink."
Bill smiled, and told her his name. He sipped his rye whiskey as he felt her soft brown eyes travelling over his own well-built frame, encased in a new gray suit he had just bought. Her eyes paused on the dark red silk tie knotted at his throat, and then she met his own blue eyes. She blushed, realizing he had been aware of her detailed scrutiny. Nevertheless, he just smiled as a bright flush stained her cheeks. He held out a gold, engraved lighter, flicking it open. She laughed as she realized that he had her seen mishap with the cigarette. She shrugged her bare shoulders.
"No thanks. I don't smoke regularly."
"I figured that out... I was afraid I might have to rush over and pound you on the back." He paused as he watched her nervously finger the unlit cigarette. "But I was more afraid that if I did that, you would spill right out the front of that dress." He enjoyed the bright stain of blush that rushed once again her cheeks, and this down her long neck. He wondered if he reached out and touched the blushing skin, if it would feel warmer than the rest of her pale, unblemished skin.
