We had been talking for a long time and carefully testing the waters with each other and seeking out the safety of each other's needs and wants. Finding out what we can say and do to make each other insatiable and hungry for each other's touch. There were pictures, but it was the words that made the lust build and grow inside us and those words ebbed and flowed as we talked.
The first face pictures we shared were early, but easily forgotten in the torrent of words and desires that followed. Only then i noticed that you liked not knowing what my face looked like. The mystery around my looks meant that I could be anyone. I could be your waiter, I could be the man at the bar. I could even be the man you flirted with at work. This turned you on like nothing else. The mystery and danger of not knowing.
I told you I would come for you. That I would be on the lookout for you as I went about my life. That if I did, you would become my prey in that moment. That I would hunt you and draw you in. That I would tease you and play with you as I slowly brought you into the awareness of who I was to you. That I wanted to see the realization of it dawning in your eyes as the desire and need welled up at odds with the fear of having been caught.
We played that game for a long time. You teasing me by telling me which bar you had just left and me telling you what I would do to you when I finally caught you. You were bold in your teasing, sometimes surprised when I guessed your whereabouts by a detail in the background of a picture or an easily recognized cocktail. Even through the texts, I could feel your heart racing and your hot breath coming more quickly as you looked around for me, wondering if I had already arrived to take you. However, we were both just playing a game. Enjoying it and feeling the hot urge to make good on our boasting.
Until tonight....
Tonight, I was feeling exceptionally playful and teased you with sentences designed to consume you. To overcome your barriers and walls with rampant desire. I had done this before but you pushed right back with the things that you wanted to feel. The deep seated need to be taken and used, to be grabbed, held down and filled. To have your mind cleared of anything but the sensation of the melding of our bodies. The gripping, clenching, breath-holding tension building in both of us until we reach the moment of release.
You wanted that badly, more than you had ever wanted it before, while we were talking. My teasing from the day had brought you to the point of anger. You were so aroused, needy, swollen and wet that you were furious about not being fucked every minute of the day. You teased me right back but the tone was different. It was greedy and demanding. You were never one to beg, and today was no different. You demanded that you be fucked, bent over and rammed full of cock that would match you rampant desire.
I responded with amusement, and that only served to make you angrier. You wanted to be taken seriously, and used like the deep seated desire in your spine needed. I just laughed back, and teased you even more. I could feel the heat of your need growing and multiplying as you texted me violently and pushed me further and further.
Then, it happened. It was blatant, and clear. You sent me a picture of your crossed legs, hiding what I had already seen were thin red lace panties over a throbbing wet pussy, desperate to be treated roughly. The drink in your hand, resting against your thigh was insulated by a bar napkin with a very clear name on it.
You next text was, "Come and get it."
When I arrived at the bar, it was with the casual assurance I always carry into situations like this. I knew I had the upper hand and I also knew that you knew that. I was wearing a nondescript blue suit, loose in the pants and with an unbuttoned dress shirt under it. The cologne I put on was bright and fresh, just the scent for a summer evening.
I knew where you were sitting before I walked in, so I asked for a table at the far end of the room. You noticed me walk in and I could tell that. You wondered if I was the man you were hoping for but I ignored you and walked to my table behind the short blonde hostess. Another man walked in behind me, you looked at him the same way you looked at me. Questioning, hoping, a little afraid. The flush on your neck and cheeks giving away your desire.
The people you were with were like you, dressed for the office but clearly a few drinks past caring about the day and already seeking a way home. A glass of water and some sobering talk about things that didn't matter. You scanned the room, wondering if I was here. If I would come. If I would tell you I was watching you.
You checked your phone often. It was constantly in your hand. A little startled by every notification but disappointed every time. More people walked in, couples, groups, more men, some women. The bar was full and the music was starting. A mid week jazz group, sloppy but enthusiastic like a teenager at prom. Their tuning and riffing turning into music that filled the background of the night.
I sat there, looking at my phone and drinking my gin and seltzer. Finishing it and ordering another all while watching you. Your work friends leaving. Sitting there, looking around, starting to get angry and disappointed. I see you decline another drink but you don't ask for the bill.
So I text you.
"Your friends left you. Now you are all alone. So vulnerable."
I see you check your phone. You look up, and scan the room.
I ignore you. My phone face down on the table as I watch the band. You send me a text back, but I don't check it yet. The seconds tick by and you keep scanning the room, carefully searching each face. Mine too. But I un-focus my eyes and don't make contact with you. Your gaze moves on.
I look at your text. "Where are you?!"