A Girl with a Dragon Tattoo

"One for the road?" Simon asked, placing his empty beer glass on the bar.

James checked his watch, despite the fact that he had nowhere to go other than his hotel after this post-work drink with his colleague. "Yeh, why not." He drained the beer from his glass.

"Two pints of lager, Stella Artois mate," Simon nodded at the barman. "So, how long will you be with us?"

James wiped his lips, feeling a little light headed from the two pints he'd already consumed on an empty stomach after a long day in the office. "Should be done in another month. I'll be around for the week after go live, just to make sure you lot don't fuck things up!" he grinned.

Simon chuckled in response. "We'll be fine mate. At least it's a user friendly system, for a change."

James smiled. He'd been onsite two months' already, configuring their data application, working alongside Simon, who worked for the client. He didn't normally befriend client's employees, natives as they called them, but Simon was an affable guy and they'd often stopped at this bar for a couple of beers after work. It had been a stressful project, and beers after work, before heading back to his hotel for a room service meal and evening of banal TV and a phone call home was a welcome piece of relaxation. He'd been client consulting for 5 years, more often than not away from home, and although he didn't mind hotel life, it did get tiring.

"Where you off to next?" Simon continued. "You got another gig lined up?"

James took a sip of his freshly poured beer and nodded. "Yep, another implementation with the same software company. Bit closer to home though, so I'll be able to commute. Be nice to be out of London for a while."

Simon grinned, handing a £10 note to the barman and saying "keep the change buddy." He took a large sip of beer and turned to James. "Good money though isn't it? Got to be worth it."

James considered the comment. It was true, consulting was paying well, and the software company he was currently contracting to was giving him plenty of work. But he'd spent most of the last three years in London; 400 miles from home and away from his wife and three children. He sometimes wondered whether he really benefited from the £600 a day he earned. "Has it's upsides, I guess" he replied simply.

Simon laughed. "Hey, gets you away from the missus!" He took another large gulp of beer. "Fuck, I'd give anything to spend 5 days away from mine."

James grinned and shook his head. "Careful what you wish for buddy. Though yeh, I do like the peace sometimes."

"You get to write off the in-room porn charges as an expense?" Simon laughed, not bothering to lower his voice.

"I wish," James replied, playing along. He'd never bothered with the in-room porn of course, but he had a laptop, and wifi. Being away from his wife had it's disadvantages, one being the lack of sex. And it wasn't like she made up for it at the weekend. Young children, tiredness, stress. It dawned on him it had been nearly six weeks since they'd last done anything remotely sexual. "What do you think of the Euro Championships?" he asked, changing the subject. "England in with a shout?"

"You're having a laugh aren't you?" Simon chuckled. "Same old shit. Out on penalties to the German's again most likely."

The two men stood for another 15 minutes or so, sipping their beers, chatting about the upcoming European Football Championships. By the time they were draining their glasses, they'd more or less agreed that France were the favourites. Simon slammed his glass down and announced it was time to go for his train. He slapped James on the back and rolled his eyes. "See you at 8 tomorrow for the round up meeting. Should be fun...NOT!"

They grabbed their suit jackets and made their way out onto the street, the warmth of the June evening engulfing them. The streets were busy, as was always the case in the heart of England's Capital city. They walked together for a few hundred yards, before Simon bid farewell to James and veered off towards the underground station.

James took a right, opting to wander the long way around to his hotel, through a pedestrianised area full of restaurants and bars, all with extensive outdoor areas. He quietly mused at the groups of people, the laughter, the clinking of glasses, the music. It was a world away from the sleepy village he lived in, where one pub served the whole community. His head felt light, and although he knew he needed food to null the effects of the beer, he didn't feel hungry.

From the corner of his eyes, he spotted a group of young men, in snappy suits, chatting with a group of girls in short summer dresses. He sighed. He was 42, and he realised he would have much preferred this London lifestyle, and his income, when he was in his twenties.

With his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, he continued at a leisurely pace through the crowds. His mind wandered. What would life have been like, in his twenties, with his current income? He wasn't really the party type of guy; he didn't drink a lot, and he had to concede he'd never really been confident around women. He'd only slept with the three other women before he met, and settled down, with Samantha at the age of 28. Married at 30, first child at 32 and two more since. The natural order of things. He sighed to himself. It wasn't ever worth asking 'what if?' Too depressing.

He turned a corner, into a narrower street, still pedestrianised, but a lot quieter in terms of the numbers of people milling around. A few hundred yards on his right was a bar he recognised from a previous contract spent in London. It had been with a Financial Services company, located just a few blocks away. This was a favourite venue of theirs. Non formal, plenty of open air space, loud music and cheaper prices than most of the other establishments. He cast his mind back. It was his first contract actually, and it seemed a world ago, despite actually being just three years back. It had been good fun. A young HR team, mostly female. He'd been more enthusiastic then and had enjoyed socialising with them on the few occasions he'd been invited. He cast his mind back over the six months he'd spent there, only just realising as he passed the bar he was now a long way off the route back to his hotel. He was lost in his thoughts when he heard his name called out from somewhere behind him.

"James? Is that you James?"

He stopped, and turned around slowly, unsure if he was the intended target. He saw a female walking towards him, and his memory bank vaguely recalled who it was. "Claire?" he replied, a little awkwardly at the prospect of getting her name wrong. He definitely recognised her though.

"Yeh, Claire Howard," she beamed back, striding to within a metre of him. "God, not seen you for ages!"

James smiled. Claire Howard. Of course. "I've just been remembering about working with you lot" he chuckled. He nodded his head at the bar. "I seem to recall birthday drinks for you in that very bar."

Claire grinned. "Fuck, that was like...what? Three years ago nearly huh?" She giggled. "That was my 25th. Seems moons ago."

James laughed back. "Yeh, was just thinking that." He offered his hand, instantly feeling awkward for the formality. She shook it gently and grinned at him. A host of memories came back to him. Although she hadn't directly been involved in the project, she was, how could he put it, a character in the HR Administration team. Not exactly classically beautiful, he instantly remembered the killer body she had, and penchant for wearing short skirts, tight tops and clothing generally on the borderline of office suitability. He forced himself to keep his eyes focussed on her face, but it was hard not to glance at the overly shiny necklace around her lower neckline, made visible by the zip of her black leather jacket being opened to the mid point of her breasts, a thin vertical sliver of lightly tanned skin, betraying what he assumed would be another of her low cut tops.

"How have you been?" he asked, returning his eyes quickly to meet hers.

"Yeh good," she replied, giggling. He could smell the sweet aroma of wine on her breath. "Just been out for drinks with some of the girls." Her brow creased. "Let me think...you'd know some of them. Ummm...Julie Wilson, Cara Harlop...ummmm...oh yeh, Diane Le Carver..." she burst out laughing. "You remember Diane don't you? Still the posh tart!"

James laughed, shaking his head. "God yes! Wow, those names are a blast from the past."

"What about you? You still working in London then?"

He nodded. "Yes, have been a lot since I finished up with you guys actually. Doing an implementation with a retail customer...same software provider from when I was at your place."

"Ooh get you" she grinned. "Still raking it in as a contractor then?"

He felt himself blush a little. They'd always teased him about being on a day rate that was the equivalent to two weeks salary for the some of the permanent staff in the HR department. He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, got to make the most of it while I can."

She swept a strand of hair from her right eye. She had a wide, pleasant smile, which showed a glimpse of the tops of her bright white teeth. Her cheeks bunched, almost hamster like he thought, framing a wide nose and narrow, dark eyes. Her hair was scraped back, and he recalled the messy pony tail she often sported. Her right ear was mostly covered by a sweep of hair, though he caught the glimpse of a gaudy silver earring, accompanied by an equally shiny and gaudy stud, paired with another in her left ear.

"You working on your own this time?" she asked. "Not with that...what was his name? Marcus wasn't it?"

It took him a moment, but he nodded and laughed. "Yes, thank god." Marcus was another contractor, and an arrogant, self effacing one at that. "He was a nightmare wasn't he? I saw him at a conference recently. Still in the pin stripes!" They both laughed, Claire nodding in agreement with his assessment of Marcus.

"Where you off to now then?" she asked, adjusting the strap of her handbag on her left shoulder.

"Just...back to my hotel," he replied. He chuckled. "Went for a couple of beers with one of the natives. To be honest, I've just been wandering. I think I'm about a mile away from my hotel now!" He shook his head in mock self pity. "Hey, I'm 42 now...must be losing my marbles."

She laughed loudly. "Bloody hell old man," she said in a teasing tone. She took out her phone and checked the screen. "Hey, it's like half an hour before my next train...fancy buying me a drink? Be good to have a catch up."

James nodded. He realised he really needed the loo, those three pints making their natural route through his body. And he remembered that Claire was always a good laugh to talk to. Far from shy, usually flirty and yes, a catch up about the enjoyable time he'd spent working on that contract would be a tonic. "Sure, why not?" he smiled.

She grinned. "Old haunt?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she turned and took a step towards the bar where her 25th party and a few other work night outs had taken place.

He couldn't help but glance down as she stepped away from him. Yes, as always, a short skirt, barely to mid thigh. He'd only just made out her black leather boots, tall to just below her knee when she looked over her shoulder at him. "I got a promotion last year. I'm now an HR Supervisor...get that huh!"

He felt his cheeks flush, wondering if she'd caught him gawping. "Oh, oh great" he stammered in reply. "That's brilliant, really good." He quickened his pace, falling into a stride alongside her.

She turned her head to him, an open mouthed smile across her face. "The pay is still shit, but it's still a good laugh. And that asshole Dave who was in charge has gone. The new guy is pretty cool."

James laughed again. Dave and Marcus had been kindred souls. Claire veered them to the left, walking through the tables and chairs towards the long bar. It was quiet, just a handful of couples and small groups, dispersed around the large area. He made eye contact with a barmaid and turned to Claire. "What you drinking then?" he smiled.

"Large glass of white wine...chardonnay please."

He nodded, adding "a pint of lager," pointing at a beer tap. He took a crisp £20 note from his wallet and handed it to Claire. "I really need to.." he motioned his head towards the toilets. "You ok to settle up? I'll be back in a minute."

She grinned, and he walked briskly towards the toilets. It was a strange arrangement, off a corridor at the back and hidden from the main bar. Rather than separate Gents and Ladies, as was the norm, there were about a dozen doors to individual cubicles. He recalled queues when the bar was busy, but the corridor was empty now. He passed a cigarette machine mounted on the wall and entered a cubicle. As he stood relieving himself, he mused about the chance encounter with Claire. How strange that it been right as he was thinking back about his time working there. How much she hadn't changed, in appearance or dress sense. Still, 25 to 28 wasn't a big change; somehow hitting 40 seemed to have a bigger effect.

He waggled his cock, draining the last of the urine into the toilet bowl. A memory of a conversation flashed into his consciousness. It had been with one of the tech guys, in this very bar he recalled. What had his name been? Malcolm. No, Michael, that was it. They'd been standing in the hallway outside, queuing for the toilets, when Claire had toddled past, in a tiny skirt and revealing top, a cheeky grin flashed at them both. "She's such a slut," Michael had said when she'd passed out of earshot.

"She is?" James had replied.

"Fuck yeh, she's proper up for it," Michael had laughed, with an intent typical of an IT 'dude' in his early 20s.

"Thought she was just...I don't know...flirty," James had said.

Michael had just rolled his eyes and chuckled. "She fucking loves cock, does that one. Seriously man, I'd do her. She's a butterface like, but I'd still do her," he added in a derogatory tone.

"Butterface?" James had asked, frowning.

"Yeh," Michael had grinned. "Everything but her face!" He'd winked, then a cubicle door had opened and Michael disappeared inside.

James realised he'd been waggling his cock for longer than he needed to. He'd put that brief conversation down to Michael being a bit of an idiot with brazen confidence fuelled by alcohol. As he washed his hands, looking at his greying hair in the mirror, it crossed his mind that an image of Claire's body could play a part when, as was inevitable, he masturbated alone in his hotel room later.

He exited the cubicle, walking along the corridor and back towards the main bar area. 'Butterface,' he thought to himself. "Everything but her face" he muttered under his breath. "Bit harsh," he chuckled.

"Over here!" he heard her shout. She was sat in a corner, her back half turned to an exposed brick pillar, on a high stool by a raised cocktail table. As he approached, he couldn't help but notice that her skirt had ridden up her thighs. She'd opened her leather jacket fully too, revealing a white top with a small v-plunge. It was cropped, about 4 inches of tight midriff visible, a simple belly stud glinting. The dim lighting meant he was nearly at the table when he realised her legs were clad with narrow netted fishnets. He immediately wondered if they were tights, or stockings; hold ups perhaps. As he passed the table to take the stool opposite her, he caught a brief glimpse of a black band just below the hemline of her skirt. He adverted his eyes, feeling a twinge as he realised that meant fishnet hold-ups.

He sat down and immediately took a gulp of his drink. He'd often wondered, whenever he'd seen her at work, if she'd been the 'stocking type.' He wasn't surprised she was. She certainly had the legs for it. A sense of nervousness came over him as he looked over at her. She clearly wasn't shy with her choice of clothing, and as he looked at her face, harsh and perhaps not strictly accurate, he realised what Michael had meant by the term butterface. He cleared his mind. That was unkind. And offensive. And they were here for a catch up.

"So, is the system still behaving itself?" he asked, the only topic of conversation entering his head being, he knew, a dreadfully boring one.

She laughed, sipping her wine. "Yeh, it's been alright, I guess. Some teething issues apparently but I'm not really involved in it. I'm more on the payroll side."

He nodded. "And...what...well...what else...what else you been up to for...well, the past three years?" His sense of discomfort was not showing signs of easing.

"Not a lot really," she replied cheerfully. "Just all the usual stuff I guess. Moved into a new apartment with a friend from school about a year ago...been going to the gym a lot." She took a gulp of wine. "Lots of partying of course," she added with a giggle. "Four of us going to Magaluf...well, shag-a-luf as they call it...in July. Should be mental."

His discomfort increased. Magaluf was renowned as a wild holiday destination, and had a reputation that suited personality types much, much different to his own.

"What about you? Got two kids, right?" she asked.

"Got a third one now," he replied, a sense of relief coming over him as she quizzed him about his family. "Another boy, he's just turned 1. Bit of a surprise really, but a nice one."

She smiled sweetly at him. "Awww, that's cute. That you done now, or more planned?"

"God no, three is more than enough. And hey, three boys is good, not sure I could cope with a daughter" he laughed, feeling much more at ease.

"Ha ha, I get you," she grinned. "Better playing football, than...ummm watching ballet, right?"

He nodded, and spent the following ten minutes telling her about his boys, some funny stories that made her laugh loudly while they finished their drinks.

As he emptied his glass, Claire stood up and smiled. "Same again?" Before he could answer, she was walking to the bar, patting down her skirt. He found himself staring at her legs. Firm thighs, just beyond slender, accentuated by her below-the-knee boots. Her jacket sat just below her hipline, the tightness of her skirt showing a clearly defined, pert bum. He felt his cock twitch. There was no doubt what would fill his imagination later.

She returned with the drinks, immediately talking about some of the people he knew from her workplace. Several stories about parties, affairs, promotions, sackings, new starters, people leaving and workplace incidents. He listened intently, focussing on her face, avoiding as best he could glances at her cleavage, midriff or the stocking tops that now and then came into view as her animated tales made her adjust her position on the stool. He purchased another round of drinks and they continued to talk, moving to her questioning him about the contracts he'd been on, the clients and the people. He felt relaxed, the three additional pints of lager bringing his total to six and with a lack of food, he felt the pleasant sense of drunkenness wash over him.

An hour had passed by, and a few more people had come into the bar, and the music volume had increased, making him lean forward to hear her clearly. She was talking about her holiday plans again, excitedly detailing the friends she was going with. He was under no illusion that it would be anything other than a raucous holiday.

"I'll get another round in," she grinned, sliding from the bar stool. Her skirt had been ruffled up and he got a clear view of her stocking tops as she straightened up. "Last train home for me again!" she giggled. James realised he was staring straight at her thighs as she spoke to him, the alcohol dulling his reactions. He felt his cheeks flush, but she just grinned and walked towards the bar. He took a deep breath then drained the remains of his beer. He was enjoying himself now. She was easy to talk to, and her clothing, and body, was a welcome pleasure from the monotony of his usual life. He took his phone from his jacket pocket, noticing with a groan that he'd missed two calls from home. He tapped out a text. 'sorry honey...ended up in a meeting, now having a beer with some guys. Speak to you in the morning x.' He knew his wife would be annoyed, but he had no intention of calling her from the bar. And anyway, Clare was walking back towards him with fresh drinks.