Lost in thought. Staring into the distance, eyes focussed on glimpses of memories. Flashes racing through my mind's eye. A passionate embrace, the urgent need rising from the deepest recesses of a woman's sex, the electricity running between writhing bodies. Heaving chests raggedly gasping for air in the throes of ecstasy.
"Another?" the bartender snaps me back to reality as I take the last swig of my beer that has gone warm in the time that I was caught up in my own thoughts. I push my empty mug towards him, turning to survey the room.
There are countless women who come and go. All shapes and sizes. Small perky breasts under backless and strapless tops. Heavy marble globes displayed by plunging necklines and sheer blouses. Firm round asses and legs, expertly displayed by tight leather pants or short little skirts. I have seen it all.
Blondes, Brunettes, but the Redheads. Oh, yes. They make my blood race through my veins. They take me back to the time I would have been referred to as a bard.
The storyteller in the village. Weaving a magical web with my velvet voice. Enchanting, entrancing, enthralling whomever I choose with my lute, lyre, and drum. Thumping out the rhythm of heartbeats around the fire.
Stirring the desire in the blood of the listeners. Working them into a frenzy. Until they cannot resist and give in to their primal urges under the moonlight. Hot, wet, wild, animalistic lust. That is my blessing and my curse.
The few that know my secret have jokingly compared me to the 'Highlander' from the movies. If only they knew.
My musings are interrupted by her walking through the door. She shakes her copper locks free of her helmet. Her brilliant green eyes warm as she flashes a dazzling smile to the regular patrons of the bar. Her ass swaying in those skin-tight jeans as she walks around the bar counter makes my cock twitch. She shrugs off her leather jacket and bounds over to come greet me.
Kelsey.
I drink in the subtle earthy lingering scent of the leather jacket and my head swims for a moment as the faint whiff of coconut reminds me once again of Gorse bushes and blooming fields of Heather growing on the rolling hills I hail from.
"What's up Liam?" she beams at me leaning on her hands on the shelf behind the bar counter and leaning forward slightly.
I steal a quick glance at the rounding of her breasts down her top, exposed by the angle between us. My gaze may have lingered too long delaying my reply as I become aware of the silence between us. I look away sheepishly.
"Like what you see?" she feigns offence and turn her attention to serving the other patrons.
"So fucking much," but I do not dare say it aloud.
She is the reason I took this 'job' as a 'struggling musician' in this deadbeat town. She is the reason I keep booking 'gigs'.
She is the reason I sit here sipping warm, stale beer hoping to catch her on duty every night. Hoping to see her smile and fiery red hair. Hoping to have a conversation or two and hear the infectious sound of her laughter.
I could enchant her with my voice, make her mine, make her bend to my will in an instant. I could have her any way and anywhere I wished. I could turn her into a quivering mess right here. But using my magic does not grant me the same gratification as when a woman genuinely wants me of her own accord.
Most nights I stay until her shift ends. Lingering just long enough to see her straddling the soft leather seat of herr cherry red 800cc cruiser and rev the engine as she disappears into the night. God, how I have wished it were me between those firm thighs.
The growing bulge in my pants causes me to shift positions in my seat. I order a shot of whisky, hoping the fire in my throat will distract me from the fire in my groin.
..............................
It has been two weeks since my last 'gig. Two weeks I have practised restraint in not going to the bar to see her. I had hoped that this yearning for her would start to fade, yet it grows even stronger. I have tried to ignore the fact that my cock starts throbbing whenever I see her, or even when I think of her.
Eventually I could not take it anymore and have given in to drunkenly and furiously jerking off to the image of her in my mind after too much whisky burned away everything but the building lust for her.
My resolve has weakened to the point where I MUST see her again. I slink into the bar and assume my usual spot. Tonight, I came in after her shift had started. Fearing that my resolve would crumble completely if I were to be in her presence for her entire shift.
Jimmy served me a draft while she was busy with other customers. I take a deep pull from the beer mug, staring at her perfect heart shaped ass over the rim as she leans on the shelf to talk to customers opposite me. My heartbeat quickens as I imagine her in that position naked, her pussy aching to be rammed into.
She bounds over to me with that dazzling smile, leaning over a little more than with the other patrons. I may be imagining it due to my arousal, but I could swear she pushed her breasts together with her arms to give me a better view.
"What's up stranger? Missed me?" she laughs and shifts her weight to her other leg.
"Why else would I be here?" I reply, trying to sound unphased by her proximity.
I cannot help myself and openly stare down her top, a sheer purple lace bra cupping those tits snugly. My eyes meet hers. She winks at me as I reach for my beer, and I swear I see her biting her lip as she turns to serve more new patrons at the opposite end of the counter.
Against my better judgement I try to dull the ache in my loins with whisky. In my drunken state I do something I promised I would not do; knew I should not be doing. I am focussed on her so intently I accidentally project my thoughts to her.
"God, you're hot."
You look around as if to see who said it, and whether you misheard or imagined it.
"Look at that perfect ass".
You cock your head slightly as if straining to hear a muffled sound, clearly not focussing your attention on the couple ordering drinks from you. You are looking around the bar now, trying to see who spoke these words and who else heard them. My dick stirs in my jeans and realise that I might do something even more stupid if I continue.
This has turned into a game. I had come to the bar most nights, like before. Some nights I would silently project my thoughts to her. Others I would try to act normal and have conversations with her. I have watched her closely.
She still cannot figure out where it is coming from, but all the compliments and sexual undertones are turning her on a little more each time.
"I bet you nipples are hard underneath that shirt." I have taken to adding a few grunts and moans in between as I can see you skin prickle with the shivers they send down your spine.
"Oh, I want to kiss you so badly."
Every time you search for the person who the voice belongs to more urgently.
"Are you getting wet for me, hmm?"
I can see you subtly squeeze your thighs together.
"I need you." I must stop myself from not repeating that line to her over and over and over. But there's no denying it. I do need her. I need to have Kelsey for myself.
I am losing my mind thinking of her, and the combination of her general demeanour towards me, and the reaction of her body when I send my thoughts to her has driven me to this point.
Tonight, I WILL have her. She WILL need me.
I came in early. Had a shot of whisky and am waiting for her to walk in the door. As she takes off her helmet, I shoot her the first thought, "I bet that engine vibrates against your pussy when you rev her."
Her cheeks flush briefly, she steadies yourself and continues with her usual evening ritual. As she bends over to serve the patrons opposite me, I moan inside her mind, "Oh, I want to slide it in deep."
She almost loses her balance as she tries to bend over the counter the way she normally does whilst subtly trying to clench her thighs together tightly.
"I need you."
