Authors note : Taking a quick little detour from multi-part stories to stretch my legs (fingers? brain?). If you read it and enjoyed it, please rate it and leave a comment, doing so is the best way to keep people writing content that you enjoy. Thank you!
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The air in the bar was crisp and the crowd was boisterous as she sat there sipping her drink at the bar. The local hockey team was midway through the second period and was off to a great start, leading a division rival 3-0 and headed back to the power play. She watched as the groups of men gathered round to watch the game shouted excitedly at the tv, each one seemingly convinced if they were loud enough that the players would hear them calling for a shot. It had been quite some time since Erika had even been out to a bar, her surroundings felt almost foreign to her. With a couple kids and a husband at home she had no real need to pursue men or a hangover, and dancing had never really been high on her list of social activities. Still, at her husband's suggestion they had made plans to drop the kids off for a sleepover and go out for some wings like old times.
The flaw in this brilliant plan was that she had planned to meet her husband Chris at the bar when he finished work, and he had yet to even leave the office. After finally settling on which dress to wear, which earrings would go best with it, and which shoes would provide the best boost to her ass while still allowing her to walk without breaking an ankle, he had text her to let her know that he couldn't make it. The text had come ten minutes after she sat down at the bar, only moments after she'd taken a sip of the delicious cocktail the bartender prepared for her. Everything up until now explained why she found herself alone in the bar, sitting there, sipping a cocktail without anyone to keep her company. What it didn't explain was why she was still there.
She told herself that it would be a waste to not finish the drink, that she would go after she finished it. If she went home after that she could get out of the shoes, put on some comfy pajamas and find a good audiobook to fall asleep to. She told herself that they couldn't possibly be staring at her, a married mother of two, no matter how plunging the neckline or how much leg was showing at the other end of the dress. She told herself that one more drink probably wouldn't hurt anything, and that a little bit of attention never really hurt anybody.
Maybe it was the fact that she had been rather excited for her husband's plans for the night, no kids at home, no worries about making noise, where they could finally ravage each other and have some purely carnal fun. Maybe it was the little part of her that loved to flirt, even if it almost never went anywhere. Maybe it was that a handsome man at the other end of the bar had sent her over a third drink. Maybe it was a combination of those things, or none of those things at all, but here she was, sitting at the bar, her mind slightly buzzing and her body feeling positively electric as she continued to catch men taking glances at her.
She had caught the handsome man looking more than once, his eyes seemed unable to look away from the cleavage in the semi-transparent window at the front of the dress. It was the kind of dress that necessitated leaving the bra at home, and her husband had always agreed with that point. She contemplated asking if she could help him with anything, perhaps telling him that it was rude to stare, or going with the old "take a picture, it'll last longer" approach to shame him a little but even with nearly three drinks of liquid courage she felt somewhat paralyzed. She had to admit the attention felt nice, and she was sure he was picturing what she looked like out of the dress as well. Could he tell that she had decided to forgo underwear altogether?
Despite the man's hungry gazes, he remained perched on his stool, slowly sipping a whisky and checking in on the hockey game. Maybe it was the wedding ring she wore that had him staying at his end of the bar, then again maybe it was the ring on his finger keeping him out of trouble. She laughed to herself at how absurd this felt, in what world would a married man attempt to put the moves on a married woman sitting alone at a bar. Though as if to defy her laughter, he was now rising from his stool and headed her way. He strode confidently towards her, the gap between them disappearing almost immediately before he walked right past her and rounded the corner into the washrooms. Erika gave her head a little shake and finished off the remainder of the drink he'd sent to her, it was time to head home and wait for her husband.
"So, I have to ask, what exactly is a married woman doing looking like this, alone in a bar full of drunken fools on a Friday night?" came a voice from behind her. Turning, Erika watched as the handsome man sat down on the stool beside her and signalled to the bartender for another round.
"Well, I was waiting for my husband but it seems like he has better things to do tonight," she replied, her mind caught between declining the drink and staying to see exactly what this man had planned.
"Perhaps I could be his stand in then. What was the plan for the evening? Have some drinks, watch the game, stumble home and have drunken, messy sex?" he said as he flashed a devilish grin.
"Something like that, though neither of us really cheers for this team so it was more about getting out of the house and enjoying a few cocktails," she responded, choosing to disregard the last part of his question.
"So how about it then, I'm just passing through, we could have a few drinks and enjoy our evening. You're already all dressed up, it would be a shame to waste an outfit like that," he offered, this time without any crude offer to take her to bed.
Erika sat there contemplating the offer for a moment, looking him up and down as she did. He was dressed well, his shirt clinging tightly to his chest and arms, his pants highlighting muscular legs and a definitive bulge. The voice of reason telling her to decline and head home was growing quieter the longer she sat there, what harm could come from staying to finish this next round.
"Alright, I guess I can stick around a little bit longer," she replied, "But I need somewhere a little more comfortable to sit."
They collected their drinks from the bar and found themselves a booth nearer to the dance floor. As the night went on, this part of the bar would become packed but for the time being the bulk of the patrons were concentrated around the pair of TVs about to air the third period.
Together they sat there, sipping at their drinks, making small talk about how they had ended up there in the first place. As it turned out, he was from out of town on a business trip, first time in the area. He had a room in the hotel attached to the bar, and had opted to stay there rather than get a room in the city where he had meetings during the day. He said he preferred the small-town feel of the area, the quiet streets at night, the lack of noisy traffic, trains and emergency vehicles.
