Dan had never been to this place before. Fox Lake was not really one of his favorite places to play. But this bar was interesting enough. Situated right on the lake, Wokini's was typical of lake bars the country over. Darkened windows, bright neon lights flashing 'Budweiser,' 'Lite' and 'Southern Comfort.' The smell of stale beer and fried food permeated the air, as did cheap cologne. What brought Dan here were not the rave reviews from Metromix, but rather the fact that Donna Morgan frequented this place as a source of young men to satisfy her nasty debauchery. Dan thought, 'What's good for Mrs. Morgan may be good for other married sluts.'
Sipping his Budweiser ("When in Rome . . ."), he could see why. The patrons were typical of that which one would expect to find in a lake bar: beer swilling, overweight men in softball uniforms; bear swilling overweight women in softball uniforms. Of course, there was the mix of those just turned twenty-one, a few sailors, older couples from town or nearby towns, groups of guys in tank tops and Oakley shades looking for loose women, drunk old men in farm seed hats, and divorced women drowning their sorrows in Seven-and-Sevens. All in all, Wokini's was a pretty good place for a woman seeking the attention of a younger man.
Candace Taylor was just such a woman. At forty-eight, her husband had recently divorced her. Several times throughout their marriage, Candace – or Candy, as her friends called her – had failed to come home after nights out with her girlfriends. Don long suspected that she was cheating on him, and his suspicions were confirmed in spring 2004. Candy said she was meeting some friends at Wokini's, and when she wasn't home by midnight, he drove the two or three miles from their ramshackle home to the bar. He found Candy in the backseat of an old, decrepit Suburban. Her enhanced breasts were pulled from her spandex-like mini-dress, which was in turn pulled up to reveal her hairless vagina. Between the lips on her face was thrusting a six-inch cock belonging to one of Don's co-workers; saliva dribbled from her chin. Between the lips between her legs, an almost identical cock stuffed her vagina.
Don needed no further convincing. Without a word, he left Wokini's parking lot, and went home. He pulled two spare locks from his work truck (Don was a carpenter) and swapped them with the ones that were already in place on the home. By the end of the next week, Don's lawyer had filed for divorce, and by late summer his marriage to Candy was no more.
Obviously, sitting there, Dan knew none of this. All he saw was a trashy looking lady who appeared to be in her mid- to late-forties, though moderately well-preserved. Of course, he wouldn't have been surprised to learn of Candy's past history; she certainly looked the part.
The long blond hair sitting atop her head was obviously bleached; Dan could almost see the darker roots melding with the platinum dye-job. Big, gold hoops hung from her ears, framing eyes adorned with heavy liner and eye shadow and lips smeared in hot pink. Long, trim legs poked from beneath a sleeveless, lavender, cotton mini-dress; platform heels with black ankle straps encasing her feet. When Candy turned slightly toward Dan to order another drink, he was able to see gargantuan breasts – obviously fake – almost falling from her dress, her prominent nipples tenting the already stretched fabric.
While Candy was waiting for her drink, Dan got up from the table that he had been occupying alone, and went to sit down next to her. "Mind if join you?" She slowly turned her head towards Dan, and he was able to see the bored look in her eyes. "Tell you what: I'll buy you that drink."
She shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, whatever."
When the bartender returned with Candy's drink, Dan put a twenty-dollar bill on the bar. "Get me one of those, too, and keep the change." When the bartender went off for another Seven-and-Seven, Dan returned his attention to Candy, extending his hand. "My name's Dan."
"Candy," she said, taking his hand. "Nice to meet you, and thanks for the drink." Dan could feel long fingernails along the palm of his hand; looking down, he saw Candy's bright red fingernails – each extending well over an inch beyond the tips of her fingers – retreating from his hand. "You're not from around here, are you?"
'Oh, she's a bright one,' Dan thought to himself. Out loud, he responded, "No, never been up here before. I'm supposed to meet some friends up here, but they're running a little late, so I've got an hour or two to kill." A lie, of course. Dan wasn't meeting anyone up here. He came up here to see if he could latch on to a slutty housewife or nasty divorcee. Candy seemed to meet his requirements for nasty, and by the tan line on her ring finger, he assumed she was recently divorced – otherwise, she was married and on the prowl, and that was okay, too.
"Well, you picked the wrong girl to kill it with," she muttered into her drink.
"Why's that? You want me to leave?"
"No, it's not that. But look around you." Dan swiveled his head, and saw a few of the bar's patrons staring at them, some with smirks. A woman leaned over to her husband and whispered something in his ear, and they both laughed.
Dan turned back to Candy with an inquisitive look. "Why are they looking at you?"
"They're not. They're looking at you. You're obviously not from here, dressed like that," she said, bringing her drink to her lips. Dan's cock jumped seeing her long, fire engine red nails wrapped around her glass. "And they're wondering how long it'll take before you realize who you're sitting with and get up and leave."
"Well," Dan said, nodding toward her left hand. "I see a tan line but no ring. So, you're either married and on the prowl, or divorced. One or the other. So, if you're married, maybe your husband is some sort of Mafia kingpin?" Dan finished with a chuckle.
Candy laughed, too. "No, the other. I'm divorced. Recently. But you're sitting here with me, and most people in this town refer to me as the town whore." Candy said this with only a bare trace of shame in her voice.
"Really. I never would have guessed you were the town slut." He tried to say this with no sarcasm, but wasn't sure if he succeeded.
Candy's sideway's glance confirmed Dan's suspicion that he may have been less than subtle. She turned to face him directly now, swiveling on the bar stool so that her knees pointed towards him. "I was married until a few weeks ago, for twenty five years. I have two kids – both sons – but they're both out of the house now. My husband . . . he, uh . . . he caught me cheating on him last spring, and that was it." Candy downed her drink, and set the empty glass on the bar.
