"We'll be closing in fifteen minutes," Marion called out into the crowd at the bar. She was behind the bar washing glasses, and she was dead tired from the long evening's work. She reached up on tiptoe to replace a glass on the rack, her tank top lifting to reveal her stomach and her short denim skirt riding up. She adjusted it, quickly checking behind her to make sure no one had seen a hint of her white lace thong under her skirt. No one. She sighed as she shifted her weight to relieve the pain in her feet; the stilettos were killing her.
"Marion," her boss called from the back, "I've gotta leave early. Can you close up?" He poked his head around the door, looking harried and tired. She nodded. He gave her a big grin and disappeared around the corner. She heard his car sputter and then start, and then the sound of gravel as he pulled out of the parking lot.
"Ten minutes!" she shouted, wearily picking up another glass to wipe. Looking up, she jumped when she saw a man sitting at the bar in front of her. He must have come in very quietly; he hadn't been there the moment before. He was tall and well-muscled, and a spicy smell of smoke and sweat drifted from his leather clothing. He lit a cigarette lazily, gazing straight at Marion.
"I'll have a whisky." His voice was deep, throaty. The voice of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question.
"I'm sorry, but we're closing soon," Marion replied. He smiled, his gaze traveling unhurriedly from her eyes down her body and then back up again. When his eyes met hers, she felt a sudden shock of fear. She crossed her arms, covering her breasts in the thin tank top. She opened her mouth to ask him to leave, but his hand shot out and grasped hers. She pulled away quickly, and discovered that she was holding a hundred-dollar bill. She looked at him in disbelief.
"What's this for?" she asked, bewildered and more than a little scared. Men had tried to pick her up before, always at closing time, and she suspected this guy was trying to pull something. The bar was emptying; everyone was gone except for one man who finishing up his drink at a table by the door. She looked back at the man in front of her. He was smiling.
"I'd like a drink," he said, "and I think you deserve some extra rewards. You must be tired from all that reaching." So someone HAD been watching! Marion blushed, and her hands went convulsively to tug her skirt lower. It didn't help much; it barely covered her round ass.
Her hands shaking a tiny bit, she reached for a glass and poured him a whiskey. She pushed it toward him, and their hands touched as he took it. He raised it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. She was suddenly aware of his broad shoulders, muscular arms, and strong jaw. A jolt went through her and her cheeks flushed a little.
"Come around and have a seat," he said, "You must be dying to get off your feet." It was true, and she lifted the bar and slipped onto a stool, her skirt riding even higher. She realized with chagrin that, except for the man still at the table by the door, she was alone in the bar with this man. Again, she felt a little thrill of fear.
"Now that we're on equal footing," he said with a smile, "I'll introduce myself. I'm Jared."
"Marion," she answered with a little smile. Wordlessly, he passed her his glass, and she drank, trying to still her pounding heart. She looked down into the amber liquid for a moment, and when she looked up, the man had left his table and sat down on the other side of her. He was a big man, wearing the same black leather outfit as Jared and smelling more of sweat. She smiled uncertainly at him, and he returned her smile, though his face seemed unused to the expression. Suddenly, she felt Jared's hand on her knee, cool and dry on her hot skin. She looked up at him, and he was smiling.
"You're very beautiful, Marion." It was a whisper, but the bar was dead silent. He leaned forward so that their faces were almost touching and looked into her eyes. Then he kissed her, his lips surprisingly soft. She felt paralyzed. It was a moment before she returned his kiss, but then she opened her mouth a little, letting him taste the inside of her lips.
She was beginning to relax when she felt his hand on her breast. Her eyes flew open and she jumped back, suddenly terrified. What was she doing kissing a strange man after hours with no one around? He could do anything he wanted to her! But as she recoiled from Jared's touch, she was blocked by the hard muscles of the man who had been sitting on her other side. He had moved around behind her while her eyes were closed, and now she was caught between the two of them and the bar.
In panic, Marion tried to push them aside and run for the door, but the big man quickly had her arms behind her in an iron grip. She struggled hard, kicking out vainly with her heels, but she couldn't free herself. As Jared moved close to her, she caught him in the shin with her stiletto, making him draw in his breath quickly. She kicked again, aiming for his groin, but he dodged her kicks and then she felt her ankles pinioned by the legs of the man holding her. He held her arms behind her back, forcing her back to arch. Her breasts were thrust out in from of her, quivering with her heaving breaths.
Jared leaned very close to Marion, smiling at her. She spat at him and it hit him in the face. Deliberately, he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face. Then he reached out and slapped Marion on the face, hard. The blow snapped her head to the side and the tears sprang to her eyes. He slapped her again, his hand leaving an angry red mark on her cheek.
Jared turned and grabbed a pitcher of water from the bar, and then he poured it over the front of Marion's shirt. She gasped from the cold, and her nipples immediately went rock-hard. The white tank top was thin, and she wasn't wearing a bra. Her pink nipples showed clearly through the fabric. Marion began to twist and struggle with renewed energy, but Jared slapped her again and she went still.
He reached for her nipples, pinching them hard. He rolled her breasts in his hands and then drew back and slapped them gently. They bounced with the slap, and he smiled. He slapped her breasts harder, and Marion gasped. The big man holding her grabbed her by the hair, forcing her head back, but she could feel Jared's hands traveling down her body. She heard him unsnap her skirt and it fell from her, revealing her white lace thong. She trembled.
