Two large brown eyes looked up at me over the screwdriver cocktail and then returned their interest to the contents of the glass. She was a good fuck. During the time I had known her I had seen her fuck for favor and revenge and that combined with intelligence and wit had seen her do well at the firm. Her dark hair was styled to flow and tantalise but would steady immediately to a professional demeanor. Her dress sense was perfect, a bespoke grey suit complemented by a blouse cut to reveal a subtle and highly sexual flash of her favoured lace bra.
She was a women at her sexual peak and I was a man sporting a well practiced cock, ample wealth and a powerful desire to impregnate her.
"There are only three men that mean anything to a women." my heart raced, she was so good at these games. My curiosity overcame me.
"And who are they..?" I asked.
"The bastard they marry, the bastard who broke their heart, and the bastard who took their virginity."
I paused...
"And which am I?"
She ran her tongue over some of the sugar on the rim of the glass, took some sticky granules into her mouth, smiled and returned her gaze towards me.
"Who says you mean anything to me?"
....Ten years earlier....
As a twentythree year old my life was perfect. I was a college tutor. I lived rent free, I had complete use of a gym which my body had grown to approve of and complete access to a stream of women undergraduates. All the women were under my charge in the event of "difficulties" in the college. I spent many a night talking to those who were finding college life new and frightening. I often comforted those vulnerable girls and eased many into womanhood in the process. Over the two years I had worked there I had refined my techniques as a bastard.
It was approaching the end of the Christmas term and I'd become an item with Julie. Julie was twenty, great looking, a good flirt but had the ability to say no. After three weeks my cock was growing weary of nights being wanked and the growing frustration had over spilled from a sticky hand to outright anger that Julie had not caved in to my charms. To make matters worse Julie had left for home before the end of term party leaving me with six days of frustration. The party was classic event to seal some business for many and I had had plans for Julie that night.
The college bar where the party was held smelt of spilled beer, cheap perfume and even cheaper aftershave. Girls collected in groups safe not only in numbers but protected by tight jeans and non-revealing tee shirts. Other women floated around in dresses, tight skirts and thin shirts. They were often on the tease or with their male in close proximity to declare their recent journey into sexuality. I carried a drink of whiskey and idly played the "which girl is on heat game". Bare arms, high heels, thick lipstick and a surplus of visible flesh were now obvious signals to me. I had often exploited these signals.
Ten O'clock. The music from the portable disco thumped a primeval beat as couplings between the women and men began to form. Debbie walked in. A young first year girl of eighteen with a pleasant face and a body to forget. Long dark hair fell down to the center of her back as the girl still hadn't left behind a hair style she had grown used to during her time at school. Debbie's friends followed all in tight jeans and baggy shirts. Scarves and sweaters protected the girls from the chill of the night and more importantly from the prying eyes of men seeking a glimpse of something that could stir a male groin.
Debbie was of interest. Some weeks earlier the rumors had spread to me that she had a "thing" for me. A naive social fumbling which had come to nothing. I had received an anonymous birthday card signed "With love". A check of handwriting with the college records had given me confidence that it was her. At the time I didn't act. Julie had preoccupied me. Now was different. A three week hard-on had caused my attention to drift to softer targets. Furthermore, despite the cold night, Debbie was wearing a sleeveless Laura Ashley dress and a poor attempt at heels. Subconsciously Debbie was giving off signals which she wasn't even aware of.
Debbie moved towards the bar for a drink and I swiftly finished the whiskey as an excuse to move. At the tightly packed bar the proximity of our bodies and a shared gaze caused me to smile and I won a smile back.
"It's a tight squeeze- looks like we've got a wait for our drinks."
Debbie smiled at the attention and I could sense her struggling to reply with anything meaningful.
"Yes." was Debbie's pathetic and unpracticed reply.
"What are you drinking?" I probed.
"Oh..nothing alcoholic .. just an orange." The attention had surprised her. Her plan for the night until this point had been simple.
"Let me..I'm closer to the bar." I offered to buy her drink.
The lights of the bar were dimmed to extenuate the effect of the disco. But if a voice could blush - Debbie's voice blushed.
"That's kind... I'll get you one back."
"No alcohol in it?"
"No thank you. I don't drink. I'm not used to it."
I took the orange and Debbie to a corner of the room away from the chatter and protection of her friends.
At one side of the room sat Amanda, a thin, but well groomed redhead who watched Debbie move with me. Amanda's recollection of our meeting at the start of term caused her to wince as she recalled the searing pain my cock had caused as it ripped through her hymen one night. Amanda moved to hold her boyfriends hand and tried to keep her gaze and thoughts away from Debbie and the night that Amanda knew was in store for her.
My conversation with Debbie was one way, a conversation stilted by teenage fear and lack of experience. I was led to questions about Debbie's past at school. A naive boyfriend - who was really a friend of many years who had made the mistake of trying to kiss her before she came to university and was now in the past. Beyond the sad dissolution of a long childhood friendship Debbie had had a term of little adventure and few friends.
If Debbie didn't watch her weight in a couple of years what now passed for a mature body would give way to fat. At the moment her body had sufficient curves to make her a daunting prospect for the scrawny teenage boys of her own age but extremely fuckable by a powerfully built male of twenty three. Whilst Debbie recounted stories about her time at school, crushes on teachers and passed exams my mind moved to preparing Debbie and her body for the next five days. I needed a pussy at my beck and call to work out my cock and I needed to break Debbie in quickly and cleanly to get her to a usable point.
After three quarters of an hour one of Debbie's stories became interesting but the increasing noise coming from the dance floor and the crowds coming into the bar were making conversation hard. I smiled at Debbie and took her glass.
"Another drink?"
"Yes...please."
I cast a glance over to the throbbing crowd waiting at the bar and back to Debbie.
"I could be a very long time." I smiled.
