Indulgence

"I said, can I buy you a drink?"

Farah looked up from her phone, annoyed. Suitors here were a dime a dozen, not that that was particularly different from her usual experience at public events. But then again, this wasn't exactly a public event. One would think that a scientific conference of this magnitude would provide some respite, however brief, from the incessant influx of male try-hards, but to Farah's dismay, it had only served to bolster them. As a freelance journalist, she was here on assignment, but it seemed that not many in attendance shared her work ethic.

The source of her latest disturbance waited expectantly with a sheepish grin on his face. She glanced down at the name tag attached to his chest: Dr. Sebastian Murphy.

'Hmm,' she thought to herself. 'This one may actually have some usable intel.'

Straightening up from her slouching position at the bar, she sized him up. She could tell that he was young; His expression of unabashed hopefulness seemed to suggest a naiveté that life had not yet gotten a chance to snuff out. His days old stubble and sunless complexion, however, served to age him a few years. He looked like the type that didn't get out much and his shameless approach left her doubtless that he had no idea what he was doing. Harmless enough, she decided.

"Sure, why not," she said returning to her original position.

Grinning like a schoolboy, he turned to the bartender. He was about to place his order when he realized that he had no idea what she'd like to drink.

Turning to Farah, he cleared his throat. "Uh, so," he began. "What'll it --"

"Whiskey, straight," she interjected. "On the rocks."

Nodding, he turned to fulfill her order before realizing that he also needed the brand.

"Um, --"

"Jameson," she said, once more engrossed with her phone. A flash and buzz indicated that she'd received a new message.

It's

just like you to act like you cared what day it is,

the message read.

I should have anticipated this, I guess, but save the shit for someone who doesn't know you.

Letting out a deep breath, Farah rubbed her head in irritation. She considered how best to respond. Undecided as to the best course of action, however, she opted to put her phone on silent. When had men become such little girls?

"Trouble in paradise?" Dr. Murphy inquired jokingly as he turned to hand her the drink.

"You have no idea," she replied, accepting his offering. "Thanks."

"Try me," he said, donning a look of what he assumed was interest and sophistication.

"I'd much rather ask you about this event," she redirected, putting her phone in her purse.

"You're not a...a journalist, are you?" he asked incredulously.

She nodded and pointed at his name tag. "Indeed I am. Farah Ammad. And you're a doctor. Are you presenting anything tonight?"

"No, I'm, uh, fairly new to the project, actually," he said, looking at the ground. "To be honest, I...probably shouldn't be speaking to you..."

"Ohhh, nonsense," she said, taking a sip from her drink. "The information will be public knowledge after the keynote speech, right?"

"Well, yeah, most of it," he said, taking a long swig of his cocktail.

"Most of it?" she repeated.

"Yeah," he said. "If you're here, you know that the conference is based around recent breakthroughs in the field of genetics. So I mean, there's stuff that I'm not at liberty...to disclose."

Farah considered him for a moment, placing her bag on the floor. 'I may have found a little something,' she thought to herself. 'Entice.'

She was sure that the way that she'd been leaning against the bar, he'd been afforded a nice look at her backside. Most of the time, she found that it was foolproof bait while on assignment. As it turned out, not many would suspect a journalist hiding behind such voluptuous curves. Now, she turned to face him, providing him with a full frontal view of her body, tightly constricted as it was by her cocktail dress. It was easier to glean knowledge from the hapless men who fell prey to her display than to continuously move about the area in search of tidbits of information. One of her earliest lessons in journalism was to use all of the assets and resources at her disposal in order to obtain information. She understood from a young age that her appearance would be able to tip most scales in her favor. Whereas others might feel conflicted by this approach, she accepted her looks as well as her sexuality wholeheartedly. To deny them the access that they could grant her when working in tandem with her mind, would be akin to running a race with weighted legs. No, Farah liked it better when the story came to her. She took a step closer to her subject.

"Well, Sebastian- I'm sorry, Dr. Murphy," she began slowly. "I definitely wouldn't want to get you in trouble. I just thought that you might appreciate a little bit of spotlight. You may be a new research fellow, but I'm sure you've worked just as hard as your peers and I didn't want that to go to waste. I understand your limitations, though. So...thanks for the drink, and good luck with your work."

She bent down to pick up her bag, providing Sebastian with a gratuitous view of her bust. She smiled to herself in satisfaction as she recognized the audible gasp that let her know that his reconsideration was but seconds away.

Straightening up, Farah turned to leave.

"Wait," he said, stopping her in her tracks. "Just...wait a minute. You know, you're...you're right. I'm sure we can figure out...you know, something that I can share with you. It's just, your source has to be kept anonymous."

Farah smiled. "I'll take whatever you can give me, Sebastian."

He laughed nervously, unable to form words. Instead, he resorted to a series of squirmish movements that let Farah know that she would get all of the information that she could possibly extract from him.

"So...I guess that now we, you know, exchange numbers? Maybe we'll meet later this evening...dinner, perhaps? I know a...a few good places."

"I can't wait," she lied.

After the exchange, Dr. Sebastian Murphy left hurriedly. 'Probably went to change his underwear," Farah thought, shaking her head. Retrieving her phone from her purse, she saw that she had three missed calls, all from the same person. She felt guilty; As far as Farah could tell, Anthony was a solid guy. She contemplated returning his calls but what was the point? He was right; It was Valentine's Day and she could care less. Her work came first and her contract had made it clear what would be expected of her: primarily, the need for her to travel and work during a weekend that was normally reserved for lovers and romance. Sure, the offer had come in at the last second and hadn't allowed for much time to weigh options, not that it would have mattered anyway. Nine times out of ten, she wouldn't have passed up the opportunity. Nothing would or could keep her from her work and she thought that she had made that clear when she got into...whatever she was into with Anthony. She had neither asked nor expected him to make plans to celebrate their two months of suggestive texts, weekly dinner-and-a-movie dates and late night booty calls. How could she know that he'd try to flip the script on V-day and propose that they go steady? That wasn't who Farah Ammad was anymore. It would never be again if she could help it.

Reassuring herself that she had at no point in their situationship led Anthony to believe that they could be something that they were not, and was therefore not responsible for any of the subsequent emotional fallout, served to clear Farah's conscience somewhat. She mapped out her game plan for the remainder of the day. She would stick around to hear the keynote speech for the conference, then return to her hotel to prepare for whatever evening Dr. Sebastian Murphy could cook up. Her proclivity for pessimism made her shake her head at the possibilities but she reminded herself that it was for the sake of her work.

The speech was soon to start. Farah made her way to the far wall of the outdoor section of the venue where the main event would take place. She didn't care much for the press section. She preferred to remain inconspicuous should she be approached once more by an unsuspecting data mine. Besides, no expense had been spared, and she was sure that the sound system and abundance of accompanying monitors would ensure that she missed no part of the speaker's presentation. She looked around at the crowd that was beginning to amass. She was relatively far from the stage podium but she liked the positioning that it afforded her. Her eyes continued to scan the area until they locked in on a couple in the far corner of the courtyard.

The woman's movements were strange. She was positioned in front of the man, whose hands were placed securely on her waist. She appeared to be rocking back and forth. The man's face held a subtle expression of delight. He leaned in over her shoulder, presumably to whisper something into the woman's ear. Her expression of focus cracked, giving way to the pleasure that lay beneath. Farah couldn't believe what she was seeing. Not only were they fucking in public, but at a closed science conference during the middle of the keynote speech. The booming sound of the speakers masked their furtive lovemaking, and they were far enough away from the crowd that they didn't attract any attention to themselves.

Farah's heartbeat quickened as she continued to watch. She had forgotten all about the speech; the words had become no more than distorted sound. She looked over at the people closest to them, waiting for someone, anyone, to turn around and catch these exhibitionists in the act. She became anxious for them. The woman reacted as if sensing Farah's feelings; She picked up the pace. Her dress zipped in the back, and pulling the zipper upward allowed her legs to spread even further. Now she was holding onto the man's wrists, steadying herself as she rocked back on him in short, aggressive pumps. The man's back was against the balcony. He simply steadied himself and allowed her to control the pace. Red color was seeping into the flesh that covered her chest and neck, spreading and deepening by the second; She was flushing from the effort of remaining as quiet as possible. Her self-control was admirable because Farah found that she could hardly breathe watching the scene unfold. Thunderous applause snapped her out of her reverie. She removed her drink from the bar and began to move towards the outside of the crowd.

Slowly, Farah navigated her way closer to the couple. She was sure to walk around the back of anyone she came into contact with. She did not want to attract attention to neither her movements nor her destination. The woman's legs were shaking; She was at her limit, her climax eminent. Her lover sensed it as well. He clamped his left hand tightly over her mouth, trying his best to stem the sounds of pleasure that were undoubtedly escaping her. Peeking from behind a large potted plant, Farah tried make out the words that he was whispering to her.

'Just wait,' she read from the movement of his lips. 'Not yet. Just wait.'

Farah felt a bead of moisture trace its way down the inside of her thigh. She needed this, what this woman had. She felt flutters in her stomach as she silently willed on the woman's release. Suddenly, the courtyard broke into a second set of thunderous applause. The man, using the hand that remained on her waist, sprung forward, sheathing himself completely inside of her. Her eyes clamped shut and her body seized as the orgasm took her. The patrons nearest to the pair turned around.

Farah gasped, but they were ready. Their faces broke into bright smiles as they clapped in unison, closing their legs tightly together. Frowning, the onlookers returned their attention to the podium as the keynote speaker made her way off the stage to the sound of continued applause. The man zipped her dress and fixed his pants. Gathering their things, they rushed passed Farah out of the courtyard. Farah watched them as she finished her drink, her feelings teetering between longing and envy.

~

"I'm sorry? I was told that the reservation here was for 8pm. It should be under the name Murphy."

The hostess felt nervous. It was her first evening working at the restaurant and it already appeared as if universe was conspiring against her. Despite making a conscious attempt to arrive early and make a good first impression, she had arrived late due to unforeseen car trouble, which had earned her a searing reprimand from the night manager. Friday was already the busiest day of the week, but Valentine's Day? It was bad enough that she was new and would undoubtedly require some degree of hand-holding, but apparently she was a tardy slacker to boot. Her cohost assured her that the manager was just an asshole and that everything would turn out fine. The hostess allowed herself to be comforted by his words, as she was very familiar with the program that the restaurant used for making and receiving reservations. 3 large and disgruntled parties later, however, and she was already faced with a missing reservation. Though she had checked and double checked, the reservation was nowhere to be found. The customer in question had remained adamant that a mistake had been made. She was very attractive, possibly a model, the hostess thought. She was used to getting her way, that much was clear. She would demand to speak to her manager soon, and she was exactly the type of woman that that dickhead of a manager would likely side with. The hostess looked around. Her cohost was nowhere to be found. She would have to handle this herself, and fast.

"Again, I'm really sorry, but that name doesn't appear on our reservation list. Is it possible that another name was used? Or...that the reservation wasn't actually made?"

Farah narrowed her eyes. "Are you suggesting that I, or my date, is incompetent? Or that he's a liar, and I've been stood up?"

The hint of incredulity in the woman's voice was not lost on the hostess, though it was hard to argue otherwise. Anybody standing this lady up had some large balls.

"No, of course not," the hostess said quickly. "Look, your date hasn't arrived yet, right? You said that you didn't see him anywhere. Why don't you wait for him at the bar? When he comes in, I will

personally

get you all sorted out. So...I'll let the bartender know you're coming?"

Farah was silent, considering. There was no way in hell that she had been stood up. She refused to believe it. The man had practically came in his pants when she agreed to his offer for dinner. Besides, if he didn't come through for her, her story for the conference would be generic and lackluster, especially after her voyeuristic distraction at the keynote speech. The thought of it sent a pulse between her legs. She swallowed. No, this would work out. She just needed to be patient. A drink would certainly help in that regard.

To the hostess' relief, Farah nodded curtly and made her way to an empty barstool. She didn't have to wait long before the bartender made his way over.

"Well, aren't you something," he said in a southern accent, eyeing her from waist to face as he absentmindedly dried an empty glass. "I'm Johnathan. Rebecca told me to take good care of you and I would love to do nothing more. So what'll it be?"

"She must've told you to lay it on thick, too," Farah replied with a smirk. "Johnny Walker, straight."

"Oh, don't get me wrong," the bartender replied, retrieving a bottle from the top shelf. "You learn how to butter up your customers when you live off of tips, but I would be absolutely delighted to take care of you tonight, make no mistake."

'Here's a bold one,' Farah thought, peering over the rim of her glass at the bartender as she took a sip from her cup. He was very handsome and she was confident that he could give her a good fuck or three. And a good fuck was really what Farah needed. But she also needed to finish her assignment and could afford no more distractions. Following the keynote speech, Farah had returned to her room in a daze. Immediately stripping herself naked, she jumped into the shower. Turning on the hot water, she closed her eyes as the stream cascaded over her body. The bathroom filled with moisture while she soaked. Her shower had a ledge built into the wall and the nozzle was detachable. Sitting on the ledge, Farah had spread her legs lewdly and taking the nozzle in her hands, massaged her clit to orgasm repeatedly. Watching the couple fuck had made her feel filthy; she'd needed to purge. Sitting at the bar, she was reminded of that need. She was also reminded of men, and the power that they could exert over her if she allowed them to.

"I really do appreciate the offer, but I'm here on business," Farah responded with a sigh. "Maybe another time, sweetie."

"Yes, but what is life if we don't succumb to our baser instincts from time to time?" spoke a deep voice into Farah's ear, making her shudder. It resonated within her, thick and smooth. "There will always be a time for work, but we will only ever have this unique moment in the here and now. I say, we must learn to indulge."

Farah turned around to match the voice to its owner. Her initial thought was that the man was beautiful, but not in the traditional sense. He was beautiful like a raging fire was beautiful. Or a fathomless ocean. It alarmed her, how instantly attracted to him that she was. His smile was too familiar, too comfortable, though she had never met him before. He smiled as if he was in on a secret that she wasn't privy to. Well, whatever it was, she wanted in on it too.

"That's...true," she began, recovering from her initial shock. "But there's a time and a place for everything. Unfortunately for me, that time and place isn't now." A pause. "I'm meeting someone. For work, I mean."

He smiled. A tingle crept up Farah's spine. "Yes, I know. Ah, we must be ready!"

Confusion crept into Farah's face, but before she could ask, Rebecca the hostess joined them at the bar.

"Hello again, Ms. Ammad! Once more, we're very sorry for the confusion but I'll be seating you two now if you're all set?"

Farah couldn't speak. She looked from the stranger to the hostess. What the fuck was going on?

"I'm sorry, but I think there's been a --"

"Your apologies are not necessary," the stranger said, cutting her off. "The reservation mishap was all my doing. Please, lead the way."

Smiling brightly, Rebecca walked off towards the far side of the restaurant. Farah rounded on the stranger, but he beat her to the punch.

"Ah, ah," he said in a tone of mock disapproval. "Come, Farah, live in this moment. Indulge." He held out his hand to her.

"How do you know my name?" she asked, unmoved.

"Come," he repeated, simply. His command was like a mantra. "Let's sit down. I will explain everything, I promise."

Walking to the table, Farah's heart raged in her chest. Against her better judgment, she was compelled to see this through. She never could resist when her curiosity was piqued.

The stranger removed her chair from its resting place and waited patiently for her to be seated. Circling the table to his side, he addressed the hostess: "Ah, Rebecca, just some lemon water will do for now. Unless my companion would prefer another drink...?" He looked over at Farah as the question lingered.

Clearing her throat, she replied, "No, um...lemon water will be fine, thanks."

He returned his gaze to the hostess. "Please tell our waiter to give us a few minutes with the menu. I will signal to him when we are ready."

She nodded cordially and left the two alone.

Sitting down, he crossed his legs casually, his hands folded in his lap. He seemed to be waiting. Fine. Farah decided that she would get things started.