I saw her at the bar when I walked in. There was a white spotlight behind the bar above the bottles in the rack on the wall. She must have sat there on purpose; but then again maybe not. She was not subtle to look at; but never underestimate a woman like her. There was just enough doubt that it might have been accidental. The ambiguity augmented her.
The place was about half full and she was sitting on the stool at the bar and she was turned sideways, so I first saw her in profile. She had a great nose and long black hair.
I walked across the floor to the bar to get myself a drink and she looked at me in a way that told me to sit next to her so I did. She took a cigarette from the pack on the bar in front of her and even though there was an expensive looking lighter next to it she looked at me and her eyes asked me to light her cigarette. I lit it for her.
She smiled, but it was a strange smile. Warm and cold at the same time. My drink arrived and the barman gave me a look as he placed on the bar in front of me. His look said lucky you and you're in danger. I liked it. I guess he knew her and it seemed like everyone in this place spoke with their eyes instead of words.
She was older than me. I'd say late thirties. I guess she likes young meat. I am a student, twenty-four, and every now and then I come down here to the rough side of town to see if I can get picked up by a nice piece of trashy council estate pussy, preferably over thirty five.
I like 'em well used. I go out and find one, or get found by one very few months. Nothing turns me on more than a beautiful, hot, rough and trashy chain smoking slut dressed up like a tart and looking like she fucks like a whore from hell. I am the trash collector.
I know. I need putting in my place. But that night I met my match.
You knew what she meant just by looking at her. She was wearing a black silky blouse and worn jeans and ankle boots with stiletto heels. Not quite a fuck me outfit; she was too cool for that, but ready and rough, and sexy. She had black piercing eyes and that fabulous hooked nose and her lips were painted with the reddest red lipstick and her fingernails were painted the same colour and long like cat claws. Her blouse was open down to her cleavage and she had luscious big tits that her bra was pushing upwards, pointing up to heaven where she would take you, but only as a stopover on the way to hell.
She asked me my name and I told her and we got talking and she told me that her name was Liz and she was divorced and she didn't have any kids.
We chatted for about an hour that way and drank three more drinks each. We were both on scotch. It seemed to confirm something. I ordered it when I arrived without knowing that she was already drinking it too. While we were talking I kept noticing her fingers. She had very long fingernails and a silver, or maybe fake, silver ring on every finger, and two thumb rings. She noticed me noticing and I saw her smile to herself when she thought I was still looking at her hands. I had a hard on the whole time. I wanted to fuck her so badly, but I was trying not to let her see, in case that put her off.
Then she said 'let's go.'
'Ok. Where?'
'You want to come to my house?'
'Yes.' I said.
'Of course you do.' She purred.
At her place I sat down on the sofa and she sat in a chair with her legs a little apart. Her jeans were tight and I could see the bulge of her pussy in the denim. Then she got up again and said 'what do you want to drink? Coffee? Beer? Scotch?'
Her apartment was just I had imagined it would be. White walls, black leather sofa and two armchairs and only one picture on the wall, a Gustave Klimt. It was the only unlikely detail. A pale grey rug on the floor before the sofa and a simple black coffee table to the side. And all of it a bit on the worn side. It was her.
'Scotch' I said.
'Good' she said.
She came back from the kitchen with two good glasses of scotch and the bottle. She put the bottle on the table and sat down on the sofa, not quite next to me. I could feel the air thickening in the room and I knew that I had to make a move soon or would lose the moment, but I was a little scared of her. I felt like she was going to eat me and I was hoping that she would. It was a bit scary too, but I liked it.
My cock was hard again, just from being near her and it was pushing up a little hill in the crotch of my jeans.
'You seem to be in good health' she said after glancing down and back up at my eyes again.
I just raised my eyebrows a little and smiled.
She smiled back, a little more knowingly, and she was a little more knowing than me.
Then she slid up the sofa so that she was right beside me and her hand was on the little hill and I heard the sound of a zip opening. Then I felt the ends of her nails on my helmet and then her fingers around the shaft and then I could see my cock poking out of my jeans and feel the warmth of my finger and the cold of her rings around my shaft. Then she stopped for a second and my cock sprang free and throbbed and twitched in the warm air of her living room.
