"So, I hear that you want to fuck me?" Clara said with a sneer.
"Well..." I began, unsure just how to respond. "Erm." I finished pithily.
She shook her head in obvious disgust.
"No chance." she spat, emphasizing the point by crushing her cigarette in the ashtray. Shaking her head again, she turned and walked haughtily back inside the bar.
I stood on my own feeling humiliated and somewhat betrayed. The whole scene had come about as a result of my explicit conversation, last Friday night, with Clara's best friend: :
* * * *
"I bet you'd love to fuck Clara over that table right now wouldn't you?" her friend had said with a conspiratorial whisper. The large, wooden table she referred to, formed part of the smokers seating area that lay just outside the bar. Her question aroused me, even though (if truth be told) I had no obsessive desire to do what she had suggested: It was the friend's proximity to me, her warm breath in my ear and the graphic nature of her words that excited me.
"Yeah, but I bet you'd love to watch." I responded with equal salaciousness, savouring the feel of her T shirt hugged breasts as they pressed against my chest. She didn't respond immediately, but after a long pause, pushed even closer so my right leg was now held lightly between her thighs.
"That's something for you jerk off to." she purred. "Later tonight, when your all alone in bed, you can cream yourself thinking of fucking Carla while I watch."
The tone of her whisper changed; it had a breathlessness to it. I leant forwards slightly, till the top of my thigh lay nestled against her crotch. I looked in to her eyes.
At that point the spell was broken: We were interrupted by other drinkers, who like us, had left the bar to loiter in the night air, each needing their nicotine fix.
I didn't manage to talk to her again that night, but did follow her prick-teasing advice and later on, masturbated feverishly in bed. Yet, as my lurid fantasy came to an end, it wasn't Clara I imagined writhing beneath my cum spraying cock, but her dirty-minded friend.
* * * *
But that same dirty-minded friend had, at some point during the week, revealed to Clara that I wanted to fuck her. So I stood there, in the warm summer evening, embarrassed by Clara's harsh rejection and now wishing I'd kept my stupid mouth shut.
An hour or so later, I had returned to the bar and was talking to my non-smoking pals, when the 'tale tell' girl walked up to me:
"Can we go outside for a talk?" she asked nervously.
I agreed with a surly nod and, noticing a disapproving stare from the watching Carla, followed her friend to the smoking area where, facing each other, we sat down. With a slightly shaking hand, she lit a cigarette and looked self-consciously down at the table.
"I'm sorry about the 'Clara' thing." she said breathing out a great lungful of smoke. "I only told her you wanted to fuck her because I thought it was kinda sexy."
I remained silent.
"I didn't know she'd get all weird about it." she added plaintively.
Once again we were interrupted by the appearance of a small number of nicotine starved drinkers.
"Lets walk." I said.
She followed me into a large manicured garden that lay beyond our table. The hazy moonlit night swallowed us up as we strolled through the lush grass.
"I feel so guilty about it." she continued. "I didn't want to hurt you."
I sat down on an old bench that lay tucked away in a tree shrouded corner of the garden. She sat next to me, so close that our arms were touching. I could tell she was genuinely sorry and had not set out to be deliberately vindictive.
"It's ok, I forgive you." I said with a shrugging sigh.
"Good." she said and pushed herself more firmly against me. We sat in silence for a couple of tip-toeing minutes, the distant smokers chatter, softened and muffled by the humid air. Eventually, her right hand rested upon my thigh.
