I had seen Jessica many times before I finally got to speak to her. We lived in the same small town and with only two nightclubs I would see her most weekends and admire her from a distance as she sashayed around with the eyes of every man drawn to her.
She was a stunning woman -- mid length dark hair that shimmered in the light, a mischievous smile and eyes that could pierce your soul. She was certainly no girl next door type, and her tall heels and tight black outfits not only showcased her magnificent bottom and pert breasts that always seemed to be straining to get free, but also lent her a quiet air of authority.
Though she would have a group of girlfriends around her, Jessica also had a long-term boyfriend who would always be at her side. Every so often you would see another man try to chat her up, but they were always quick to give up and realise they had no chance. And when she got on the dance floor with her boyfriend, grinding their bodies against one another, it was quite clear that she was spoken for.
The night I first got my opportunity to talk to her happened to be on my birthday. I had been out drinking with friends since midday, and nearly 12 hours later, a small group of us staggered into the club in search of further drinks.
I was standing at the bar, waiting to order myself a Jack and Coke when she came up beside me. I don't know whether it was the alcohol that gave me the confidence, but I instinctively asked her if I could buy her a drink.
"I'd love you to," she replied. "But only if you will sit with me while I drink it."
Not wanting to miss the opportunity, I immediately agreed, and after ordering us each a Jack and Coke, we found a quiet booth to sit down. I started trying to make small talk, but she immediately cut me off.
"Listen, I'm not going to mess about here. I've seen your face around enough to know you aren't some kind of crazy axe murderer," she said bluntly. "My boyfriend left me last week and I'm really not in the mood for dancing tonight. I only came here because I'm desperate for a nice cock to fuck me."
Her confidence made me splutter on my drink.
"Steady on there," she giggled. "I just thought you might want to fuck me -- I've seen the way your mouth opens when you stare at me when you think I'm not looking."
"I'd love to," I replied, beginning to recover my composure.
"Good. Well let's finish up our drinks and head to my place," she said. "I only live around the corner."
I excused myself to freshen up and buy condoms from the toilet vending machine, quickly stopping by the bar to down a couple of shots for Dutch courage.
When I returned she was just finishing her drink.
"Oh, before we go, there's just one little thing I forgot to check before," she told me. "It shouldn't be a problem, but I do have certain limits. Do say now if your cock is less than 7 inches, because I don't want to waste my time."
To this day, I still don't know what came over me -- maybe it was the drink talking, but for some reason I decided to just outright lie, hoping that once we got back to hers she wouldn't really notice.