Playing Along

Even surrounded by the crush of the packed hotel bar, she looked a million miles away. That's what drew me to her. She didn't look

bored--

not in the least-- rather like she was dreaming. I imagined it was the look of creative spark, that she had captured a beautiful idea in her cupped hands, but-- like water-- it was escaping. In her mind she held an idea so important-- a story, a song, a drawing-- that the rest of the world was fading away as she began to wrestle it into shape.

Who

was

she?

Her gray eyes crackled like a thunderstorm a mile offshore. Even at a glance, even at a distance, hers was an exhilarating intelligence. I had to know more, and by pure luck the chair next to her was open. I slid into the seat in a way I could only hope looked smooth.

"Get you something?" I hated how high my voice was. I was not in the habit of approaching strangers-- gorgeous, mysterious, artistic strangers. I was a little nervous.

Does she know?

Of course she knows, stupid. Your hands are shaking.

The woman looked up at me. As her eyes met mine, the full force of her captivating storm washed over me. She was searching me for something I couldn't begin to understand. She smirked, looking somehow both shy and completely in control.

"Why don't you order me your favorite," she said, "and let me learn something about you."

I don't think I

actually

gasped, but damn.

I once saw a nature documentary that included, in part, a jaguar on the hunt. It had stalked its prey for

miles

through the jungle before it actually struck. This really stuck with me--

why

did she do that? She was always right behind, hidden, so it wasn't like she needed all that time to draw close enough to strike.

Was there something she wanted to learn? Was there some tactical advantage I couldn't discern?

Or, was the truth much simpler: did she just enjoy the hunt? Did she derive pleasure from her total control?

When I looked this beautiful stranger in the eye, I couldn't escape the feeling that I was on the forest floor, and my captor was having a magnificent time.

Just like that, she had me completely wrapped around her finger. I gestured for the bartender, and when she took her eyes from mine to accept the glass I took a moment to look her over now that I was closer.

Her arrow-straight blonde hair hung just past her jaw, held out of her eyes by a headband with a floral arrangement, giving her an almost

Gatsby

-like appearance. She was wearing a dark navy halter dress, so dark that it was almost black in the bar light. It clung to her chest tightly enough that the contour of each breast was visible. As she ran her fingers along her glass, I took in her nail polish-- dark blue, with silver glitter and thin wisps of purple. They looked like the night sky.

The headband straight out of the 1920s, the nails from the bridge of the

Enterprise

, the dress that somehow oozed sex appeal while covering everything but her arms-- she was so many things all at once, and I wanted all of them.

I could

also

see, just as I'd hoped, that she wasn't wearing a ring.

"Alice," she answered to the question I hadn't asked. Immediately, she had me back on the defensive. She raised the glass.

"Uh, Kit," I stumbled, meeting her drink with my own. She smirked at the slip. The jaguar again.

Alice, I learned, was a local art historian working for Virginia Commonwealth. I had studied English, but I'd taken some art history as electives, so I held my own in the conversation.

Despite my underqualification, Alice and I fell into a very easy rapport. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. At one point she laughed so hard at one of my jokes-- I wish I could tell you what it was-- that she placed her hand on my thigh for support and the joke was immediately driven from my mind.

"I need to ask," I said, "what is someone like you doing here? I don't know many art historians coming to a bar like this."

"If

only

you knew what art history department parties were like," she scoffed sarcastically. "If I told you that I came here every Friday waiting for some handsome stranger to sweep me off my feet by talking with me about the portraits of John Singer Sargent, would you believe me?"

"I don't think I would," I laughed.

"Ah, sad," she said. "Come up to my room anyway?"

---------

You, reader, are understandably confused. Maybe you searched for a tag and found this story, or maybe you liked its description. Maybe a minute ago you scrolled up to the top of the page to check that you hadn't clicked on the wrong thing.

Let me explain.

Or, well, no, sorry. I won't explain. Not just yet, anyway. But I will promise you that you're in the right place, and I'll ask you to trust me. You need to understand this moment, and this barfly, to understand the rest.

---------

Alice was just as inscrutable in the elevator as she was in the bar. She didn't speak the entire time, but whenever I looked over she was already looking at me, wearing a smirk. She kept her hands folded in front of her, until I suddenly felt nails run up my leg when I wasn't looking and I jumped.

"All good?" she asked rhetorically, her first words of the journey. A moment later, I stole one more look at her.

Busted. Damned Smirk again. I was coming to realize that this was Alice's world, and I was just living in it.

I couldn't wait for what came next.

When the door rang, she stepped out of the elevator without a word or a look. She stretched her arms as she started down the hall, allowing me to appreciate the way the muscles of her bare shoulders moved around the halter dress. It was only when she took a corner that I realized I was in danger of falling behind.

As we reached her door, Alice spun to face me and backed up to the door, and it was only then that she made eye contact. The fire in the glance answered all of my questions.

I was coming inside, and-- frankly-- I didn't really have a say in the matter.

"You gonna open the door, cutie?" she asked.

We were so close that I could have kissed her up against the room door. Jesus, I wanted to kiss her. But, knowing-- hoping-- what lay in the room beyond, I reached into my pocket for the room key and shoved it into the card reader while resisting the urge to pin her to the door instead. As it beeped, Alice reached behind her and twisted the handle.

Just a moment before she disappeared into the darkness beyond the door, I saw her reach up and begin to work the knot at the back of the halter dress. I eagerly stepped after her, but she had already vanished into the inky room. Even after I crossed the threshold, the lights remained off. I shut the door behind me. The dark of the room was a physical force pressing against me.

"...Alice?"

With a click, the room was thrown into full illumination. And there, not more than a foot in front of me, was Alice. I gasped, both startled and aroused.

Her dress was pooled at her feet as she stood before me in a navy bra and pantie set. They were solid-- not lacy-- but had a silken sheen to them. Her hand was behind her, starry fingers caressing the lightswitch. I can't say I'd ever been jealous of a switch before, but I certainly was at that moment. In that position, her chest was ever-so-slightly towards me. Her eyes were wide and fiery. She was wearing that same Smirk-- not a polite smile, or even one of happiness. Rather, one corner of her mouth was turned up in the sexiest grin I had ever seen. It was a look that told me that the jaguar had finally decided to pounce-- her prey had walked right into her, really-- and now the fun would begin.

"You are so fucking hot," was what I wanted to say.

"Wow," was the only sound my stupid brain could try to articulate in the moment.

"W--," was as far as I got in reality before she was on me. Her lips crashed into mine-- wet, sloppy, and heavy. She left her feet, throwing her arms around my neck. She started to fall, bringing me with her, before I caught her and took all of her in my arms-- digging my fingers into the flesh of her ass in the process. She moaned, hard, into my open mouth. She was appreciably smaller than me, but her lunge so surprised me that our combined weight crashed into the wall behind me in the narrow entryway before I could fully process what was happening.

"I need you to fuck me," she breathed into my ear before nibbling lightly on the lobe.

Well, what would

you

do with an invitation like that?

I gripped her ass harder, pulling her into me. I took my lips from hers and left trails of fire down her chin, her throat, her chest. She squealed when I ran my mouth over her left breast, willing the damned bra to disappear.

"Bed. Now!" She gasped. I carried her across the room, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of somehow being led while holding her entire body in my arms. Before I could set her on the mattress, she lay her hand on my chest, dainty but imperious. The message was clear, and I set her down. She immediately worked at the buttons on my shirt and, when she was done with that, dropped to her knees to remove my belt, button, and fly. Then, with an impatient tug, she dragged both my pants and boxers to my ankles and had my cock in her mouth in a span of mere seconds.

She was on fire, and I was only too eager to watch her burn.

She blew me like she was on a mission. She wasn't torturing me, and neither was she going as fast as she could. After all, this was just prelude to the main event. She didn't want me to cum in her mouth, she wanted to get fucked. She quickly descended as far as she wanted, lavishing my shaft with her tongue, before slowly drawing back up. I felt her lips trace over every vein and contour of my dick until just the head remained in her mouth and her tongue worked the sensitive frenulum. She held me there for a moment, feeling how much I grew, testing if I was ready to penetrate her.

Then, apparently convinced there was still work to do, she began her scintillating descent all over again.

I lost count of how many times she completed this circuit, but I

do

know that I was soon absolutely delirious. I started to subconsciously rock myself into her mouth when she grabbed my hips.

"Uh-uh," she said, pulling back from my cock, "I'm not gonna let you cum like that. I need this inside of me"

I gaped down at her. I felt desperate, primal.

I must have looked it, too, because all I got back was The Smirk.

"Think you can do that for me, stud?" she continued.

"I'm just getting started," "I'm gonna ravish you." Every stupid one-liner, come-on, and scrap of bedroom talk collided in my lust-addled brain, creating a traffic jam before any of them reached my voice. I needed her, but she had me so spun up that the English language had long abandoned me for a more sensible boy who might better appreciate its talents.

My body, though, was up to the task. I seized her wordlessly under the arms and threw her onto the bed behind her. She squealed with surprise and then delight as her body crashed into the mattress, legs splayed around her in an erotic kaleidoscope. She wiped her hair from her eyes just in time to see me pounce on her. She gasped as I took her in with my eyes, my fingers, and then my mouth.

I needed to fuck this incredible stranger-- and I

would

fuck her.

But there was something else I needed to do first.

I reached behind her, pushing her arms out of the way, and unhooked her bra. Her breasts, which had been taunting me all night behind her dress and then her underwear, were now free. Gravity pressed them gently into her chest, but her nipples stood proud to the ceiling. Next I seized her panties and pulled them off in one stroke, down her legs and off to some distant corner of her hotel room. When I saw that she had neatly trimmed her pubic hair, I couldn't help but laugh.

Every little moment this evening had clearly unfolded exactly as she had planned it. She was in charge of that blowjob, right up to ending it just before it went past the point of no return. She was in command, even during our feral, molten, almost-violent makeout session at the door. The façade that it was careening out of control was just that-- an illusion. She called every one of her own shots, and precisely anticipated mine. She had lured me in at the bar, and she had gone there specifically planning to get laid.

At what point had she chosen me for that purpose, I wondered? Was it when I walked over? Did she plot on me from the moment I walked into the bar, comfortable in the knowledge that I would come over-- before even I knew it? My heart fluttered at another possibility: had she been sizing me up before that night? Had she seen me out and about, had we accidentally brushed elbows, and she decided that she had to have me? Had the jaguar been stalking its prey for longer than I realized, waiting for the right instant to set a trap she just

knew

I would be unable to resist walking into?

That's why I relish that I genuinely took her by surprise with what happened next.

I grabbed her knees and forced them apart, her vagina now totally exposed to me. I could see that she was already dripping, and I absolutely had to taste her.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried with surprise and recognition as I dove onto her, just before my lips touched her. Her next sound was a shaking, broken gasp as I kissed her clit.

"Jesus," she breathed. She was already so wet that foreplay was discarded. I attacked, parted her lips and drank of her. I took her hood into my mouth, running my lips around her. I took my tongue and explored her, wrapping it around and across her throbbing clit.

"Ah, ah, ah!" she called with increasing volume. I felt her legs wrap tightly around my head and her fingers tangled in my hair. I took the cue and pressed my mouth and tongue onto her with added pressure, drawing a sigh.

"God, does every stranger in every bar know how to eat me out like you do?"

"First time hooking up with someone like this?" I withdrew from her long enough to ask. I could scarcely believe that this vision, this coolly confident temptress, had never walked into a room and plucked whoever she wanted. But then she bit her lip and nodded, suddenly either as shy or as turned on as I had ever seen a woman. I decided to press my advantage.

"Let me guess, you never do anything like this? Some stranger making you cum? Then fucking you silly?" I teased. She whimpered with every word. By the time I finished my questions, she was practically panting.

"Let me make sure I don't disappoint, then," I concluded.

I pounced back on her, taking as much of her into my mouth as I could. This time, though, I ran my middle finger gently up her quivering inner thigh. The touch drew a groan.

"Baby, if you put that in me, I am going to fucking explode." She laughed as she said it, like she could hardly believe how turned on she was. I took the finger and stroked the sensitive skin of her leg with my nail. I ran it across her steaming lips, and then pressed it into her up to the knuckle.

And, as she promised, she fucking exploded.

"Shit!" she cried. Her legs squeezed tightly around my skull while I continued to both suck on her clit and pump my finger in and out of her. Her hands danced through my hair while they twitched spasmodically. She was hanging on for dear life while simultaneously pulling me in as deep as she-- and I-- could go, as if this orgasm would drop her into the dark ocean unless I kept her afloat.

It was a remarkably intimate moment for two people who had met three hours before.

Just a moment before the pressure on my head moved past "erotic" and into "uncomfortable", she released me and we both gulped in greedy lungfuls. She must have been holding her breath through her release. I lifted my head, which I'll admit was a little selfish-- I wanted to watch her tits heave on her chest. She looked down at me, and our gazes met. All of her composure was gone. The jaguar was gone, all that was left was Alice. Her face was red, and her eyes were wild. I was feeling rather smug that I had cracked her façade so thoroughly. But, even then, she had one more request of me.

"Inside me?" she said between gasps, "Please?"

Who was a gentleman to refuse?

I started to straighten up, but she put a hand on my head to bid me stay still. She unfolded herself from our tangle and reached into her bedside table to take out a condom-- yet more evidence of her preparation for her hunt. As she tore the tiny package open, I rolled and settled onto my back. She returned to me, made an appreciative noise at my full mast, and unrolled the latex onto me.

She pressed her palm to my chest, silencing my intention to be on top before I even realized I had it. She threw her legs over me and leaned down into a hot, desperate kiss. Her nipples felt like they were cutting into my chest. While we made out, she reached down between us and pointed my erection skyward. She held my cock at her entrance, and then-- to my surprise as much as hers-- I plunged nearly to the hilt.

"Jesus Christ, you've got me wet," she sighed into my ear. Alice arched her back, tossing her hair behind her as her breasts-- God, her

perfect

breasts-- pointed to the ceiling. She straightened back out, placing both palms on my chest-- squeezing those tits between her arms in the process. She began to rock her hips back and forth, digging her pelvis into mine as far as she could. Her movements were long, deep, protracted strokes. Even though she just came, the pressure on her clit quickly had her breath short once more. Her composure began to falter again. A flush rose up her chest to her face. Her eyes shut, she bit down on her lip, and her nostrils flared wide. Her hair, which she had just placed behind her, was quickly flying wild again. Most paramount, however, was the way her rocking on my lap was completely losing its rhythm. She was fucking herself faster and faster on my cock.

"I pick up a stranger and he's gonna make me cum twice," she laughed atop me. She half opened her eyes and The Smirk returned once more. "You fucking stud."

To be clear, I was right behind her and crumbling fast-- and her words, while playful, were nevertheless accelerating me towards that cliff. At some point my hands rose up to seize her hips and pull her down onto me just as much as she was pushing herself down. We were in a zealous, desperate race to take the other to the finish line first.

"Here I go," she whimpered.

I won.

Alice's whole body locked up and her fingers dug into my pectorals. Her legs squeezed tight, the pressure she had applied to my head a few minutes ago was not reproduced on my flank. Her nipples were as hard as diamonds. Even through the latex condom I could feel her body pulse as she came forcefully. After about ten seconds, she gasped for air, like her orgasm was so powerful that she had forgotten how to breathe.

"Oh my G- hmmph!"

Before she could finish the thought, I sprang up at her and took her lips with mine. I spun around and pressed her front into the mattress, her ass in the air facing me. I grabbed her waist and plunged back in. I was absolutely wild, desperate to cum. I pounded into her as fast as I could, slamming my hips into her ass with each thrust. I had so much blood racing in my ears that it took me a minute to realize Alice was saying something.

"Fuck! Me! Fuck! Me!"

Each syllable was punctuated by one of my thrusts in perfect rhythm.

"Fuck!"

Slam

"Me!"

Slam

After what felt like an hour, but was probably no more than a minute or two, I felt myself slip past the event horizon. I dug my fingers into her hipbones-- I would later worry that I had hurt her-- and I sank my cock as far into her as I could. Alice cried in delight as she felt me pulse into the condom over and over.