Philip walked in to what had become a regular haunt to him now. The week had been long, as had the day. His need to decompress from it overrode his need to just go home. The club wasn't overly crowded for a Friday night. That's why he liked it he supposed. Enough people to get lost in the crowd, but not so many that he'd feel claustrophobic. The dance floor had several couples on it as he sat and nursed his drink. He was driving, so he knew he shouldn't have too many. It was a comfortable place to him now. If he felt the mood, he'd do a little dancing, or more often than not, just sit at the bar and nurse a few drinks until he had fed his need to be around people. He had friends, good ones, but most were married now, with kids, and so, the weekend fun they used to have was far more occasional now. He'd been coming here enough that the bartender knew him by name. He sat for awhile at the bar, people watching as he nursed his first drink.
"Want another Phil?" He asked politely as he wiped the bar down.
"Sure, why not, one more and then I'll probably hit the road." When the bartender set the fresh drink down in front of him and asked what brought him in tonight, he wasn't really ready with a quick answer. He thought about it for a second; he really wasn't coming for the drinks, or for the people or even for the dancing. He settled on the answer, "for the company I reckon, or maybe just waiting for someone."
The bartender laughed. "Yeah, ain't we all." He moved on down the bar to the other patrons and that was it for conversation. Phil sat, looking out at the dance floor, watching the bodies move, sway, and grind to the music. When he turned his attention back to the bar and his drink, he noticed a woman had taken a seat just a few spots down from his. He tried not to stare, but failed. To his eye, she was stunning. The shimmering purple blouse she wore did nothing to hide her figure, nor did the tight black mini skirt. His eyes were immediately drawn to her legs, his weakness he knew. They were shapely, long, clad in sheer black stockings, or hose, he wasn't sure, and black stiletto heels that made him wonder how she managed to walk. She was looking around the bar while she waited on the bartender to get her a drink.
Phil tried to look around as well, to look anywhere in the bar but at her; but his eyes kept coming back to her as he saw guys already moving in to try their luck. She recrossed her legs and the skirt rose up just enough to reveal the change in hue that let him know she was wearing stockings. That made him squirm on the stool as his mind started to imagine the rest of what she might or might not be wearing. With that sense that women have when they are being looked at, she turned her eyes toward him. He tried to look away quickly, feeling like the kid who got caught with his mouth full of one cookie and the hand in the jar reaching for another. She didn't say anything, just gave him what he thought was a wicked little, knowing grin. By then the guys were coming up to her and she was dancing the dance that probably most single women at a club had to dance. "No, thanks, I already have one...no, I'm waiting for someone, but thanks for the offer...yes, I do dance, but not right now, maybe in a little while."
Phil sat and sipped his drink, failing in his attempt not to stare at her legs and curves. He, like the rest of the men had pretty much seen she wasn't there to be picked up. But he, like the rest of the single men there, and not any small number of the ones with a partner, couldn't help but look over at her. There was an air about her, something that just drew you in. After she finished her first drink and had the second in front of her, she looked over at him as she recrossed her legs again. "How badly are you aching now?" she asked him in a casual, slightly amused, but sensual tone.
"Huh?" He said, genuinely surprised at the question as he was feeling that throbbing burn and the familiar surge of blood to his privates. He was trying to control the thoughts he was having, the feelings, and felt like he almost had it when the question hit him. He wasn't sure what she meant, but, then again, was all to certain as well.
"You heard me, how badly are you aching for me now?" The tone got a little more stern, as she rose and moved the couple of stools over to sit next to him.
He wasn't sure if it was the words, the tone, the self-confident smirk, or her body in general that was making his cock, now even more erect than it had been, twitch in his pants, likely a combination of all of it. But, he was certain now that it was what she was asking about. "Uhm...well, quite a lot, actually, if you really want to know."
"Of course I do, it's why I asked, hon. And, would I be right in saying that you can't keep your eyes off of my legs? Hmmm?"
"Well, not really a question is it? I mean, you already know the answer..." His words trailed off, embarrassed, turning red, he could feel the heat in his cheeks.
"True, but I want to hear you say it. Admit it to me. My legs, my heels, my body have you aching, throbbing, needing, don't they?"
"Uhnnnn..." The groan was from her words, and her smile. He looked down, now the stocking tops almost fully exposed as she ran her fingers up her thigh. "Yes, umm..I can admit that. They do, and I am aching a LOT to answer the earlier question."