Traipsing into the bar purposefully, I felt dozens of pairs of eyes on me, as every head turned to gaze. What they saw was a sight to behold. The curves of my body were hugged by a backless gold evening dress, cut low at the bust, and high at the leg. I wore sheer stockings over my shapely legs, held up by black lacy garters, and flimsy black satin string-bikini panties. Black pumps added three inches to my five-eight frame, and added just the right wiggle to my walk. My wild chestnut hair swept down to my shoulders carelessly, making me look like I'd just been fucked, and my deep dark eyes, and full sexy lips, carefully made-up, told everyone I was ready to fuck again. The truth was, I hadn't been fucked in months, and it was time to end that streak. Coolly ignoring everyone, I sat at a table in the corner. I was on the hunt, but I would wait for my prey to come to me.
Why was I here? I asked myself that question over and over again, as I waited. If I had my way, I'd be home right now, making love to Mike. But he didn't seem to want me anymore. Our marriage started out beautifully two years ago; we did everything together, and made love constantly. Five months ago, Mike got a promotion at the ad agency where he works. Now he's at the office at least 60 hours a week, and when he's home, he's working, and I'm left alone in our bed, frustrated and horny.
Lost in thought, I almost didn't notice the waiter approaching. He had a tray with three drinks on it. "The margarita is from the gentleman at the end of the bar," he said pointing. "The strawberry Dachari is from the man with the red tie in the corner, and the white wine is compliments of the man with the gold-mine hanging around his neck." He smiled at me, and started setting the drinks down on my table.
"Could you take those back," I said somewhat embarrassed, "and bring me a diet cola, with no ice?"
"Anything the Lady wishes," he said, smiling again, and gathering up the drinks.
Hours went by, and I sat, nursing my third or fourth diet coke, getting more and more miserable. I'd sent back at least two other trays full of drinks from various benefactors. I'd come here to find a man, but this wasn't working. I suppose I wasn't playing the game right. The men bought me drinks, and I was supposed to accept them, and then they'd come over to chat me up. Those are the rules. But I just didn't like any of those guys. The way they leered at me, like I was just a pair of tits and a cunt. The way they waited in the shadows, sending the waiter, basically to ask if they could fuck me. It was just too sleazy.
My waiter came to collect my empty glass. "Closing time," he said.
I looked at my watch. "Oh, I hadn't realized it was so late!" And I almost started crying.
The waiter sat down opposite me. "Are you okay?" he asked with genuine concern. And I spilled my guts; told him all about my husband's neglect, how I'd gotten all dressed up in hopes of snaring a bed-partner for the night, and how much of a fool I felt like. He comforted me with soft words, and soon I felt somewhat better.
Brian, as I found out the waiter's name was, walked me to my car. He was so sweet. Just like Mike, when we first met. He was dressed simply in a red tee-shirt and jeans, and his dark hair was cut short, and carelessly rumpled. Our eyes met, as he opened my car door for me. His eyes were as black as night, and I thought I would be lost in them forever. Leaning forward impulsively, I pressed my lips to his. For a moment, he didn't respond, and I thought I'd embarrassed myself yet again. But then his strong arms wrapped around my waist, and he kissed me deeply, his tongue probing my mouth. Pulling him closer, and wrapping my arms around him, I kissed him with growing passion. I could feel his manhood growing rigid against my thigh. Brian ran his hands over the tingling flesh of my back, and I tentatively reached for his cock, rubbing it through his jeans. A low moan escaped from his throat, as his hand moved down to cup my ass, and he pressed his cock into my hand. I gave it a squeeze, and he moaned again. Leaning down, he tenderly began kissing my neck. My hands roamed over his body, under his tee-shirt. Pushing my legs apart, he pressed his body to mine, and I started grinding my crotch against his hardness. Breathing hard as he softly kissed a trail from my neck to my breasts, I could feel my panties getting wet, and I pressed myself harder against him.
God, if Mike could see me now, he'd have a fit!