Sports Bar Seduction

Note to the editor: My story requires special formatting as it uses italics for emphasis. No other special formatting is present. Thanks!

Nice Boys, Naughty Women: Sports Bar Seduction

Harold Mazakis squinted into headlights of the oncoming traffic as he made his way down the heavily trafficked highway. It was the sort of area that just about every medium sized city in America boasted at least one of: a four lane divided highway near the interstate which was lined from end to end with hotels, bars, restaurants, and strip malls. His gaze shied away from the bright lights, primarily because he was working on a decent tension headache. His current business trip had been more than incredibly stressful. So far he had been in this town for more than two weeks without seeing his wife or his kids, and there wasn't a day where he had started later than seven am or finished earlier than seven pm.

He glanced at the red digits of the car's clock, noting the late hour. He couldn't have left work any sooner than ten pm. The locals were the biggest bunch of intransigent, hard-headed, feet-dragging... He cut off his mental tirade before it could get his blood pressure too elevated, which certainly wouldn't help his headache. Needless to say he didn't enjoy working with them. Of course the coup de grace had come yesterday when his boss had called to tell him that he was thinking very seriously about having Harry transferred to this branch permanently. It just went to show that no good deed went unpunished.

A rumble in his stomach turned his attention from his inner fuming as he realized that he hadn't eaten dinner. Harry began scanning the neon signs along the strip looking for somewhere to eat. Even though it was late and he really ought to be getting back to the hotel to get some sleep, he was

really

sick of fast food. Unfortunately that seemed to be the lion's share of what was on offer. Finally he saw something that at least looked like an eat-in place bearing the name: 'Scorchers.' They had a couple of franchises in Harry's hometown and remembered their food being pretty decent, although this one's sign looked a little different than the ones he recalled. He hadn't eaten at one in years so he figured it had probably changed. Harry flipped on his turn signal and pulled into the nearly empty parking lot.

With a weary groan he slid out of the tiny rental car, not without some difficulty given his stature, and made his way up the front walk of the restaurant. No one opened the door for him and he let himself into the fairly dim interior. The inside was fairly typical sports bar decor with polished wooden tables lit by overhanging lights, a long bar, and dozens of strategically placed flat-screens which he imagined usually displayed a variety of twenty-four/seven sports channels. At the moment, however, the screens were dark and no hostess awaited him behind the wooden podium. He found himself glancing around the restaurant, but still not finding any signs of life. He wasn't sure whether to explore deeper into the restaurant or whether to turn around and leave. He guessed maybe he had caught them in the middle of closing and was leaning toward the latter option when a warm soprano called out from the interior of the restaurant.

"Be with you in a minute tall, dark, and handsome!"

Harold's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise at the somewhat strange nature of the greeting. Still, he waited politely and about thirty seconds later a young woman emerged from the interior of the restaurant.

Oh crap!

Harold remarked to himself as soon as he took in her outfit.

This must be one of those...those

places. Off the top of his head he couldn't remember what people called these sorts of places. The server wore skin-tight, high-waisted shorts which were cut off just below her buttocks and an equally skin-tight, low-cut tank top.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize..."

If her outfit had been the thing that first caught his attention it wasn't the thing that arrested his statement mid sentence. It wasn't the long, muscular thighs that seemed to go on forever, the creamy complexion, nor was it full, youthful bust that filled the tiny top. Instead it was the startling, bold green eyes that seemed to be twinkling with amusement.

"Didn't realize what the big red letters c-l-o-s-e-d meant, eh?" She spoke sternly, but the slight upward curve at the corners of her lips belied her mock seriousness.

I didn't realize this was a breastaurant!

He complained mentally, the name coming to him finally, though he didn't dare repeat the statement out loud. If his wife realized he was here... The silence dragged out between them and she gave a toss of her long, wavy black hair before breaking it.

"You tired Mr....."

"Harold, my name is Harold." He supplied.

"Well you look tired

Harry

." She responded, adding the diminutive he had borne his entire life until his wife had put the kibosh in it when they got married.

"Umm...I should be going..." he half stammered, feeling strangely unsettled by her gaze. He desperately wanted to break eye contact with her but there wasn't really anywhere between her face and his boots that he could safely stare at.

"Oh I don't mind," she smiled at him, "you must be hungry or you wouldn't have come in. Why don't you have a seat. My name is Katie by the way."

Reflexively he glanced down at the name tag pinned to her black tank top. It took only seconds to confirm that it did, indeed, read 'Katie,' but it took him several more seconds to drag his gaze away from her magnificent cleavage. Apparently it was also obvious to Katie that it was a few seconds too long for the purpose, because when his eyes returned to her face she seemed to be suppressing a half grin and the mischievous laughter in her eyes seemed to have intensified. Before he could reply she had placed a long-fingered hand lightly on his arm and begun guiding him toward a tall table by the bar.

As they walked, Harold continued to worry about what would happen if his wife found out he had visited this place. She

hated

these places. In fact, she was quite the prude all around and she was quick to jump on him if she thought he was even checking out another woman, much less having dinner in a place

designed

for the purpose. Even as he worried, however, the intellectual part of his brain knew that the odds of anyone he knew finding out he had come to a closed restaurant after hours in a city strange city were next to none.

While his mind considered all that, he couldn't quite keep his eyes off Katie's tight, swaying backside as she led him to the table. Shortly he found himself seated at one of the chairs.

"I'm afraid the kitchen is closed," she said wryly. "I think we've got a few grilled chicken salads left in the back. You want the breast or the thigh?"

"Umm, the umm...breast." It was a simple question and he was embarrassed by way his hesitation revealed more of his urges than he wished.

"Gotcha." She disappeared briefly toward the back of the restaurant.

Ok, now is your chance to get out of here!

His conscience prompted but even as he yelled at himself his butt remained firmly planted in the chair. However inappropriate his being here might have been, Katie was the first person in two weeks who hadn't been arguing with him or complaining at him and it was refreshing to say the least. Besides he really

was

hungry.

Katie strode, strutted really, back toward the table a few moments later bearing his salad. She laid it on the table in front of him along with a utensil packet and a few varieties of dressing.

"Forgot to ask you what kind of dressing you wanted." She laughed. "I guess that makes me a bad server, but I make up for it with my charm, wouldn't you say?" She completed the statement with a hint of sarcasm but managed to compose her face into complete seriousness.

"I agree of course!" He said matching her sarcasm with overdone enthusiasm and breaking into his first smile of the day.

"Good." She grabbed the chair from across his table and set it up at a ninety degree angle to him. She climbed onto it, crossed her legs, propped an elbow on the table, and dropped her chin into her hand. She regarded him curiously as he ate. Trying to ignore her staring, he dressed his salad and began eating.

"So where you from?" She started off the conversation and continued chatting with him in that vein as he answered between bites of salad. A few minutes later she asked,

"How long have you been married?"

Harold felt himself blushing crimson as she suddenly reminded him of his wife and what she would think of what he was up to. Katie's conversation had been such a pleasant change of pace that he had almost forgotten he was sitting in a darkened restaurant with a half naked woman.

"I...umm..." he stammered.

"Aww, don't get all shy on me now Harry!"

"I really should be going." He replied and started to rise but she placed a hand on his chest and prevented him from getting up.

"C'mon Harry, don't be such a spoilsport! Show me a picture of your wife. I'm sure you've got one on your phone."

Harold didn't want to force his way past Katie, who knew what she might accuse him of if he got physical with her? He decided the most expedient thing to do would probably be to humor her. He fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up a picture of his petite, blonde wife. Katie leaned down to look at the photo. As she did so her top slid down yet further and her bust spilled forward. Harold couldn't help but get an eyeful even though he quickly redirected his gaze to his wife. Katie snatched the phone out of his hand and manipulated the screen for a few seconds. He wasn't sure what she was about, but he assumed she was just adjusting the picture for a better look because everything looked the same when she handed it back to him after a careful scrutiny. She then straightened and clapped her hands together.

"She's

beautiful

Harry, you're

so

lucky."

"I am," he agreed, "we've been married for about 5 years."

"You must miss her then."

He nodded.

"How long have you been apart?"

"Two weeks."

"Two weeks! That's terrible, you must be

really

lonely." Katie had seated herself once more, though she had somehow managed to scoot her chair a little closer to him in the process. At the end of that last sentence she laid a hand on his thigh.

"I don't think this is appropriate," he said and tried to ease her hand off, but she resisted.

"I know what you came here for Harry," she said, her voice suddenly serious. He found himself gazing into her uncanny green eyes which now smoked with barely concealed desire.

"I don't...I'm afraid you're mistaken."

"Don't

lie

to me Harry, you aren't any good at it." Her hand began rubbing up and down his thigh. "Besides its nothing for you to be ashamed of." In spite of himself Harold felt a growing bulge in his pants. "You just came here to look. I know you don't want to cheat on your lovely wife. That's why I'm going to help you out."

"Help me?" He repeated numbly.

"Oh yes Harry, I'm going to give you just what you came here for. No touching, no

cheating

just a good, long look so you can get some relief from your

loneliness

." She climbed down from her chair and grabbed another, shorter chair from a nearby table. She set it in the middle of some open space and turned it toward him.

"Sit," she commanded, pointing imperiously at the chair. Somehow he found himself climbing down from his perch.

This can't be happening...I can't be doing this.

Yet even as he thought that he hesitantly lowered himself into the seat.

"Wait here for a moment." Katie commanded and strode over to the bar. He could already feel himself losing control as his swelling erection began to strain against his khakis. He couldn't tear his eyes off her swaying curves until she disappeared behind the bar. Moments later a driving, hip-hop beat began to thrum through the bar's sound system. Katie's hips swayed to the rhythm of the music as she returned from behind the bar, stopping a few feet in front of him. The song intensified and she began to gyrate and twirl. She turned away from him and then abruptly bent forward, shaking her rump just a few feet in front of his face before rising again and turning to face him. Harold found himself completely engrossed in her lewd performance and he ogled her unabashedly. Again she bent abruptly forward, allowing her long hair to cascade down into a curtain between them before tossing her head upward and locking her gaze with his. If her eyes had smoked before they blazed now and she smiled as his stare was drawn inexorably downward to her dangling, barely restrained breasts.

"You like these titties Harry?" She husked as she ran her hands over her toned belly, lifting her shirt ever so slightly to show a flash of creamy skin before letting it fall back down. Her hands continued upward to her bust, pressing her breasts upward yet further as she dangled them in his face. It all lasted only seconds before she straightened once more. Her hands found the hem of her tank top a second time and this time they gripped it firmly, slid it slowly up over her undulating belly and chest and finally off entirely. Harold didn't get much time to stare at her bra-clad breasts because she immediately turned away from him. She shook her tight booty in his face once more but this time her hands found the waistband of her shorts and began sliding them slowly down over her wide hips in a see saw motion. She revealed more and more of her muscular curves, which were obscured only by a tiny black thong, until her shorts dropped to the floor as well. She paused, tantalizing him.

"You want to grab that tight ass don't you Harry?" Reflexively he started to reach a hand out but she brushed it aside.

"No touching tonight Harry." She scolded with a teasing laugh. Without warning she whirled. He felt her thighs sliding across his own and her weight descending on his lap, and then she was straddling him.

"Mmm, you want to see these tits in all their glory don't you Harry?" Her breasts were just inches from his face, their fullness barely restrained by her lacy bra. Meanwhile her crotch had made contact with his throbbing erection and she began to buck her hips back and forth, sliding the slippery fabric of her thong across the bulge in his pants. Her groin was hot against his, creating a sensation that closely mimicked sex.

"Oh god," he gasped under the onslaught of sensations.

"Actually my name is Katie," she whispered in his ear, "but I'll forgive you for confusing me with a goddess." As soon as she completed that sentence she reared back and began humping him even more vigorously while her deft fingers undid the clasp of her bra and she tossed her hair wildly back and forth. She allowed the bra to slide off but her forearms swooped in to cover her breasts at the last possible moment. For a second the glimpse of a small, colorful tattoo on her smooth abdomen intrigued him but before he could examine it further she demanded his attention once more.

"Look at me Harry," she ordered and he obeyed, locking his gray eyes with her wicked green ones. "

I

know you want to see my titties, but I want to hear

you

say it."

She continued to hold his gaze, commanding him to obey and he was so aroused he would have done just about anything for her.

"I...I wanna see your titties," he gasped finally.

A surge of additional blood rushed to his groin as she revealed the biggest, perkiest pair of breasts he had ever seen. In fact he wouldn't have imagined such a combination was possible. Waves of pleasure rolled through his body now as Katie continued her onslaught. His eyes gobbled greedily at the sight of her small, dark, but incredibly hard and pointy nipples. She leaned forward slowly, her hands braced against his shoulders until those nipples were just inches from his wonder-struck visage.

"Oh wow I...nghaaah!"

The orgasm hit him without warning and he felt what seemed like gallons of his seed spilling into his pants. In retrospect he would recall that his body had given him ample warning. He had just been far too enamored with her jiggling assets to pay any attention to the building explosion. She seemed to realize what had happened and climbed off of him almost immediately.

"Well, that was fun," she giggled as she retrieved her discarded clothes. "I gotta go clean up in the back Harry."

He watched her thong clad butt sashay toward the rear of the restaurant as horror began to surge against the armor of his post-orgasmic bliss.

"Sorry to have to run Harry. I'm sure you can find your way out though. Do come back for another dance tomorrow night!" This last she called out over her shoulder as she disappeared into the gloom. His last impression was long, shimmering black hair swaying against bare white skin.

As soon as Katie disappeared it was as if a spell had been broken. The fast breathing of his arousal transitioned into the even faster breathing of panic. He practically sprang from the chair and dashed for his car at just short of a run. He couldn't believe what he had done and his mind gibbered a tide of guilt so powerful it never coalesced into anything intelligible. He dropped behind the wheel, banging his knee painfully on the steering wheel, but he hardly noticed as he put the car in gear and raced out of the parking lot.

Oh god oh god what have I done?

His wet underwear was growing cold and the discomfort of the clothes only amplified his feeling of uncleanness. When he got to his hotel, Harold sneaked in the back entrance, fearful that there would be a large stain on his pants that might be spotted by someone in reception. He scurried into his room like a frightened mouse and immediately collapsed on the bed too exhausted and overwrought to do anything further.

***

The following day was even more miserable for Harold than the preceding two weeks had been. All the same problems at his work remained which, in turn, had been overlain by a layer of terrible guilt. He had never even thought about being unfaithful to his wife before, never even been

dissatisfied.

Or at least he thought he hadn't. His shame drove him to text her sweet messages nearly the entire day. In between, however, he found himself assailed by flashing images of Katie and her gorgeous, naked body, which was just as athletic but far curvier than his wife's. Even worse was the memory of her invitation.

Do come back for another dance tomorrow night!

It beckoned to him like a siren's song even as he fought to suppress his increasingly frequent erections. It was true that he hadn't made love to his wife in nearly three weeks. Logically that should have meant that his release the night before would have helped with that problem. Instead it seemed to have whetted his appetite.

That night Harold found himself driving down the same stretch of highway and doing battle with his conscience. The more aroused he became, the more sense Katie's justifications began to make to him. After all it was

only

looking wasn't it? He hadn't even touched her. There was absolutely no risk of getting something nasty he could give to his wife and...it wasn't as if anyone would ever know, right? He wasn't going to do anything more. Later he could never be quite sure when he made the fateful decision. His conscience screamed and railed against the prison of convoluted logic to which he had confined it as he pulled into the parking lot of the Scorchers once more.

Minutes later, he pushed through the doors, his minded clouded by a fog of anxiety and anticipation and his countenance like that of a man reliving a half-remembered dream.