Big Night Out Ch 02

He saw her across the room.

She was holding a drink delicately in one hand. She was smiling, a tight sly smile that said she was waiting for a chance to insult the speaker. Her eyes were dark and expressive and somehow soft, inviting.

She said her piece and he heard laughter. She didn't join in- just a momentary nod to acknowledge their appreciation, and then she moved away, her eyes flicking around the party, and finally- oddly- settling on him.

They made eye contact. He felt himself frozen, felt her eyes open him with a surgeon's precision, felt himself sinking.

He jerked away. Wow. That was unsettling. He took a long pull from his drink and resolved not to look back. No one who could do that with a look was worth messing with. Not safe at all.

Stick to brown liquor and blonde women, he thought, and finished his glass. As he lowered it, he noticed that there was another bourbon- neat- sitting in front of him.

"Bartender-"

"Lady at the end of the bar sent it. Said you should come by."

"Thanks Ed."

God dammit. Those eyes- but then, that body, those full red lips, the tight curve of dress, the delicate swish of her skirt as she turned-

He stood, preparing himself internally for the hunting dance of seduction. Metaphorically, this was the point where he decided to make toast in the bathtub.

"Been in the city long?" Her smile was broad and open, a hearty invitation with just enough challenge to keep him interested across the narrow table in the booth. He wondered, teasingly, what she'd feel like beneath him, what those pale full breasts would look like while he had her on all fours.

"No, just in town on business. Yourself?"

"Pleasure. I'm dreadfully bored with my new location, thought I'd come into the city and see what it had to offer." Or who.

"Where is it?"

"Uptown. I'm staying at a hotel while my..." her voice trailed off so he had to lean close- "hubby is away." He glanced down, to see her gently rolling a golden band between her fingers, back and forth, hypnotically.

"He's a very lucky man. Away on business, I imagine... much like myself."

Her eyes said everything that needed to be said. He pictured cold valleys between sleeping bodies, maybe some persistent trouble in the below the waist area. Marriage for money led to the most intriguing infidelities, and her look promised all of them.

Then she said, "Really? What kind of business are you in?" God, she was intoxicating. He made some sassy answer, and she laughed-

-Time passed-

She was smiling, laughing, looking away for an instant. He cast a nervous glance at his drink. How many had he had? Where had everyone gone?

The bartender was smiling at him. He stood up, and was shocked to find he was almost totally sober. He could remember the taste of bourbon- how long- where was everybody?

Well if there was no one around, there was no one to see, no one to tell her husband.

He leaned forward, his mouth fitting around the words, silver tongue and velvet voice, all his charm poured out before her intoxicating as wine. His words were prosaic but he knew his eyes, meeting hers- sky blue meeting the wide, seductive darkness- would say everything he wanted them to.

"It's getting a bit dead in here."

Her sly, conspiratorial smile. "I've noticed."

"If you're not too busy tonight, I think you and I might be better off seeking some other entertainment."

"Hmph. You're awfully forward," she said, leaning back with a expression of mocking solemnity.

"I don't mean to be. There are plenty of things a man and woman can do together at this time of night... Platonically."

"I sincerely doubt that, and even if there were, what would be the point?"

"Look who's forward now."

She smiled, giving him the point, accepting his little victory while her own piled around her.

"I'm not a woman who likes to waste time. Are you trying to seduce me?"

"The idea had crossed my mind."

"Then hurry up."

The impulse was wild, but so was he. He leaned across the narrow table and kissed her, hard, his lips meeting hers with abandon. Her stiff shock melted in an instant, and he noted that she kept her eyes wide open- kept that same secret invitation even as she feigned surprise at his suddenness.

When he broke the kiss, she didn't move away, and her hand insinuated behind his head kept him a word's span away from her lips. He felt the slight tickle of her breath as she whispered, "you're definitely coming back to my place."

The ring rolled between her fingers, a glint of gold and then forgotten.

He swallowed, silently, still looking in her wide and challenging eyes. Forbidden fruit, he thought, then grinned inwardly. People should know better than to forbid me anything.

The ride to her hotel room was predictable- two people stealing moments together with all the dignity that implied. As soon as he slipped into the back seat- having held the door for her, gentlemanly, a touch of old world class that made his intentions seem less predatory- she was on him, her dress riding up as she straddled his thighs, her mouth against his savagely, her tugging at his lower lip while her eyes met him, laughing and warm, challenging-

The heat that radiated from her body was incredible, he thought, as his hands found her back, touched her skin. It was hot and dry, perfectly smooth and soft but arid. He hoped she wasn't that way all over-

She answered his question without him even asking as she took his hand and guided it to her thigh- smooth but hard, tense with muscle, the body of a woman who kept herself in good condition- and then pushed it up, until he felt her wet and smooth between her legs. Oh good, he thought to himself, and lost himself in her, touch for touch, as the silent cab moved on into the night.

The ring- a cheap pawn-shop imitation- rang sourly as it struck the cement gutter and rolled in the storm drain, the prevarication already discarded.

There was that odd thing again- time passing, and he was lost, he had no idea where they were now- walking down some dark street, empty, moonlight drifting down between the buildings, the rows of hotels casting small squares of light. She was almost pulling him along, her eyes when she looked back brilliant with desire, and he couldn't feel anything but lust. Something savage and animal was free in him and it was turning him crazy.

She whispered in his ear "I can't wait any longer," and then she was laying back on the hood of a very expensive car parked on the street, her legs spreading and then locking around him, her mouth soft, her tongue teasing his while her eyes defiantly open struck laughing sparks from his. He found himself rock hard and as soon as he drew his pants down he was inside her, slipping in his full length in an instant as she let out a bark of pleasure, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, her hands falling away to either side as he started to fuck her evenly, smoothly. Then she began setting up a rhythm against him that was bringing her with astonishing speed to orgasm, ignoring his movements and slipping against him in the drumbeat of her own sensation, wild and precise at the same time. As she came, tightening down around him, her body lifting and pushing against him, he watched the wild-eyed release on her face- not noticing the curls of red paint building up under her fingernails, or the tiny, shining silver dents in the car hood where her hands had been resting when she came.

He moved to keep going but she stopped him. "Not yet, big boy," she said, grinning, pulling her skirt down, "I've got plans for you."

Another blur and they were upstairs, a luxurious suite, and he was laying back on the bed. She had stripped him down, languidly, and now she was wearing lingerie- corset, glossy black panties, stockings, somehow she had put all of this on- and she was on top of him, smiling a slow lazy smile, holding his still erect cock in her hands.

She was stroking him gently, as he writhed a little under her ministrations, her teasing, hardening even more. Then she said, "lover, I want to do something."

Anything. She had him now, he was putty- well, not putty- in her hands. "What is it?"

Her voice a low whisper, tawdry, ashamed of herself, something so filthy- "I want to tie you up... please?" She rang a fingertip over the soft skin of his sac, all the way up to his tip, and lowering her mouth she licked the single gleaming bead of precum away.

"Oh god... yes, do it, whatever you like..."

There was something so triumphant, so viciously successful, in her grin- and something wrong with her teeth, too. "Thank you..."

The cuffs were professional, expensive, leather. He struggled a little and couldn't budge them.

"Now," she said, laying against him, "for the real entertainment."

She brushed her panties aside, and for the second time he felt the tight heaven that was her cunt, the pleasure of her wetness, as she gaspingly slid down his length, her mouth open-

Her teeth were very sharp, he noticed suddenly, and her smile awfully broad.

She took a handful of his hair and pulled his head slowly back, and lowered her mouth to his neck-

There was an instant of startling agony, a terrible heat and pressure. Everything became staggeringly clear as her teeth slipped into the hot salt flow of his throat, as her wetness encompassed him-

The tiny mew of surprise that emerged from him could barely be heard over the shifting of their bodies, but she lifted her head anyway.Her grin was crimson, unbearable. Her teeth were very sharp.

"I like you," she said, cocking her head to the side, then ran her tongue over her teeth. The blue neon of the sign outside shone off them, as clean and hungry as before. She rubbed herself against him, her breasts warm against his naked chest, her hand sliding up his thigh to adjust him inside her. "I think I'll kill you slowly..."

When she moved down his dick he felt the pleasure of her tightness, when she moved up he felt the suction of her mouth. The two sensations were friction against one another, building sparks in his mind- and there was something else. He should've been fighting back, should've been terrified, should've been screaming and thrashing and trying to get away. He certainly shouldn't have stayed hard, and his hips shouldn't be straining upwards against hers, savoring every inch of her cunt that she gave him.

The truth was that it didn't feel bad. Endorphins, something, the merciful surrender of the prey to the predator. His life leaving through his throat didn't hurt nearly as bad as he thought it would. The pain and pleasure finally arced through him with the suddenness of lightning and he came, shooting his load inside her, filling her cunt with his seed as he released himself. Not having long to live, he had nothing to be concerned about.

He thought she'd let him die after that but she had different plans.

Her mouth opened the veins in his thighs, his arms, and blood began to stain the mattress -airing him like a bottle of wine, getting the smell in the air. . Her wet grin alternating sated red and starving silver, the shifting light illuminating her eyes. Finally he struggled, a bit of the terror he should be feeling starting deep inside him, as she grinning took his cock into her mouth.

"Don't worry," she said, "that's not my style at all. Like I said... I'm gonna kill you slowly."

It was something he had never been prepared to feel. The abandon, the imminent danger, the way she deliberately teased him with the razor points of her teeth on the delicate skin of his cock.

He responded instantly. In a second, he was panting- a few minutes later and he was rock hard again even as the blood left his body in red rivers.

She mounted him, slid onto his length, grinned down on him as she fucked him, cupping her own breasts through the lingerie before slipping one hand down the front of her panties. "Guys like you..." she cooed, "I guess you're used to being the one doing the fucking, huh?"

He had always heard death described as a slipping away. Instead he was centering, pulling into himself, feeling her completely- as though there was nothing left in him but the feeling of her, the sight of her, even graying as it was.

"I bet you'd make a good one of us," she said, as she dipped her fingers in the blood running from his arm and let him lick them clean, his mouth moving slowly, fading in and out of consciousness even as the sight of her burned itself into his vision, into his mind.

Pleasure was building and there was less and less of him to resist it.

Her too- his absorption into her gave him preternatural sensitivity to the minute tightenings of her cunt, of the way her breathing accelerated, the high quick moans he recognized from the hood of the car (now he remembered the handprints in the steel, the incredible strength of her thighs pulling her into him)

And now she was coming, asking him to come with her, her voice breaking-

He gave up, coming again, intensity beyond what he could even imagine, his mind burning out in a blaze of pleasure-

He awoke in a hospital bed. There were well-wishers around him- old lovers, old friends, well-wishers. The face he wanted to see wasn't there.

The doctors said car accident. A cab found twisted, he in the back, they always said drunk victims had great luck in car accidents, the way they bent to pressure. Cuts and bruises, the doctors said, shaking their heads in that way that indicated both great luck immensely undeserved.

The driver was dead, but he was alive.

And she wasn't there, but there was a card, and in it a hotel room key with a date written on it in a delicate feminine hand. There was a kissmark and a signature, and the kissmark was red, red, red, fading to black where it had started to dry.