The bar was crowded and smoky. The sound of the jazz band playing softly added to the ambiance of it. It was dim and quiet, with just a few older and very handsome men sitting at the bar.
Kelly's clit tingled, the delicate skin sending out sharp little buzzes of desire as she surveyed the scene. It was perfect, not too many guys, and not too few. Only a couple of women in sight. The perfect hunting ground for a night's pleasure.
Her heart hammered hard in her chest as she stepped up to the bar to see her reflection in the mirror behind it. Her blonde hair was down and loose, curling just a little around her shoulders. She had her smoky eye game down pat. Her lipstick was a bright splash of scarlet on her wide mouth. The dress, a cleverly draped thing of jade green, revealed both her toned shoulders and the deep curve and high thrust of her perky tits.
Perfect. She looked absolutely perfect she thought as the bartender gave her a long once over and then ambled over. "What can I get you darling?"
Darling. How sweet. It's already starting. Her pussy tingled again and she deliberately leaned against the bar letting the skirt crawl up the back of her thighs just a bit. "Whiskey and soda please. Light ice. Lemon." She let her thick lashes fall to her cheeks as she spoke and ten popped them back up in a move she had practiced soften in her mirror it came off as wholly natural. She also left her lips open, letting her gleaming white teeth show in a small smile. "Thank you."
He nodded, an answering smile cracking his mouth. He turned to put the drink together. The man closest to her gave her a covert inspection in the mirror, making sure not to turn his head while he did so. He wasn't fooling her, she knew very well when she was being checked out thank you very much.
The drink slid across the bar. The man who had been checking her out said, "Put that on my tab, would you?"
He spun the chair he was sitting in just a bit and tilted his glass, filled with amber liquid, in her direction. "If you don't mind."
"I don't." She let her red-tipped fingers linger on the sides of the chilled glass. "I'm Becky." She lied.
"Tom. Nice to meet you." he gave her another once over, not even trying to hide it that time. "I'm curious. What brings a girl like you into a place like this?"
Trite, but okay. She sipped her drink then ran her tongue over her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth. "Oh it looked nice from the front."
His left eyebrow tilted up slightly. "It is nice. But you look like you might like a club better."
She let her body lean against his, let the smell of her perfume drift over to him from her war skin. She saw his eyes widen and his lower body shift a bit, all telltale signs that she had just turned him on. "Are you saying you don't think I belong here?"
Tom studied her face. He was about thirty-five, in good shape, and under the jacket he had on a crisp white shirt and very tight tie.
The typical upper management type. He came in there because it was quiet and not known as pickup spot for sex. One glance down at the ring on his hand told her the rest. He was married and that was also why he was there. The other women that were in there wore suits, they too were clearly in their way home after a hard day in some miserable little cubicle or windowless office.
Tom sipped his drink and then set it down on the bar. "I'm just surprised."
"I like surprising people." Her smile was coy. His was too. She sipped her drink a little longer, still rooted in next to his chair but she was beginning to get the feeling that Tom was not going to bite the bait. Maybe he was worried she was a plant, someone sent in by a jealous wife, or a wife looking to get proof so she could get a bigger settlement check.
It happened.
Becky said, "Well, it's nice to meet you."
He taped the bar with one finger. The bartender came over with the check and Tom signed it. "You too Becky. Maybe I'll see you around."
He was gone, leaving her slightly flummoxed but not discouraged. This happened sometimes. Guys were often scared off by the prospect of her.
She ordered a second drink. It came and she took it, sashaying away from the bar and toward the small raised dais the band was playing on. She let her eyes rake over them. The one was younger than the others, and really ht. he was jamming away on his guitar, wringing melodies from it and she let her hips sway in time to the beat. The guitarist looked at her, smiled and kept playing.
Her ass moved right and left, the silk of the dress cupping her pert cheeks and taut waist.
The guitarist was watching her now and pretty intently. She tossed back a swallow of her drink and turned to see a man with a head full of chestnut colored hair coming toward her. She smiled at him. "Hi."
"Hi yourself." He didn't bother trying to be polite. His look was direct and frank, it ran over her body with real relish. "How are you doing?"
"Good, you?"
"Better now. You look like you want to dance."
"I'd love to dance." Her smile was inviting. Her lashes hit her cheeks and swept upward again. She ran her tongue over her red lips and then took another swallow of the drink. "I'm all yours."
His smile was wolf-like. He took the drink from her hand and set it on a small table and then gathered her into his arms. He was nicely built and there was a definite bulge in his slacks, one that poked and prodded at her belly and made a slim band of heat rise and rush into her cheeks. He clutched her closer still. The band played on, some slow thing that made her partner feel even bolder because his hand traveled down the hard knobs of her spine and rest just above her full ass cheeks. He murmured, "Maybe you want to get out of here."
"Sorry," she disentangled herself with real and practiced ease. "I can't. I'm waiting on somebody."
The few patrons all had their eyes pinned on them and he knew it. If it had not been for that he would have protested. She could see that he wanted to protest but he did not dare. He likely worked with a few of the people in that small and tired bar. He said,
"Maybe next time."
"Maybe, thanks for the dance."
He nodded. Becky reached for her glass and tossed off the last of its contents as she watched him walk away. Her body felt moist and ready and she knew that her nipples were pressing urgently against the bodice of her dress. She took a deep breath and turned toward the small hallway that led to a set of bathrooms just as the band announced a break and stopped playing.
The hallway was dim and very quiet. The bathroom door marked for women opened under her hand. She stepped inside to see it was a plain little rectangle of space, no sofa or chairs anywhere, just a short counter with two sinks and a single stall behind a door on the opposite wall.
She took a deep breath and checked out her reflection again. The door opened. She stood still, not moving as the guitar player entered. He was hotter up close. His hair, a sort white-blond, was slightly damp from his having been under the stage lights and his white shirt was slightly crumpled over his toned body. The sleeves had been rolled up to reveal tanned wrists and the dark sacks were a little creased from the guitar body rubbing against them.
Becky said, "I think you're in the wrong bathroom."
He lifted a hand and brought it down on the knob. The lock made a distinct little click. "I don't think I am. I think you came in here to wait for me."
She watched him approach her in the mirror. Her heart was beating like a drum and her pussy went damp and then damper still. Her nipples strained and tautened against her dress and she swallowed hard as he stopped right behind her, his eyes going to her backside, the ass so clearly outlined by the two halves of her tight dress.
She said, "Why would you think that?"
"Because you look like a woman who wants to get fucked."He was whispering as she had. Becky's pulse picked up and raced, its beat tattooing against the delicate flesh of her wrist and throat.
She swallowed again. She could barely breathe, she was that excited but a little cool tendril of fear worked its way up her body as his hands pressed against the sides of her body, sliding down the silk fro her waist to her flanks and pausing there. She wriggled a bit and turned to face him. His dark blue eyes studied her face as intently as the eyes of the men inside the bar had. She said, "I do?"
