Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Red Shoes of the Duchess (Bar Fuck)

   Joe sat at the bar, drinking to get drunk.  It was a Wednesday, the day
after Christmas.  The bar was full of heavy hitters, if you measure
prestige in tolerance for alcohol and lack of self-respect.  There was one
other woman at the bar full of men.  She smoked her cigarette as though she
were performing a sex act.  And there was another woman behind the bar,
polishing a glass with a rag, repetitively, her eyes a glassed over with a
haze that hid a hungry void.

   Joe considered the drink in his hand.  The woman with the cigarette has
been eyeing him brazenly for a half hour, and this drew the intention of
the bartender in her white shirt and back apron, rubbing her glass, staring
with vacuous need at Joe, whispering little words with her pout lips that
couldn't be heard by a soul above the pounding drone of the jukebox.



   When Joe rose, her eyes widened and a smile goofy, knowing smile that
struck Joe as sheer idiocy dawned on her face.  As Joe rounded the bar, he
saw the red shoes that he didn't except.  High heels, six inches.  Red, a
glaring omission to night in nature, somehow a perfect accessory to the
dark.  Lost in the birth of some new intuition, Joe stared.  A cloud of
smoke billowed in front of his gaze and Joe glanced up to its source. 
"Fuck me," the cigarette smoking woman mouthed, then smiled.  "My name's
Laura," she said in a throaty voice.  "Buy me a drink, handsome."

   "What are you drinking?"

   "A man who doesn't know a whiskey when he sees one." Laura raised her
eyebrows.



   "Whiskey," said Joe to the bartender.



   "And a ginger ale," Laura added, pointing to the bar in front of Joe.

   The bartender winked at Laura then turned her gaze back to Joe, with
placid affection, watching him almost timidly as she filled their order.

   "She's sweet on you," Laura commented.

   "I had the same thought," Joe answered.

   "You like my shoes, Joe?" Laura wiggled her heel.

   "They're a part of you, an extension of your leg."

   "I think so too," Laura said with a smile, twisting her leg and dragging
the spike of the heel lewdly up and down Joe's leg, the red leather shining
like living tissue.  "I think that you know me from somewhere."

   "Do I know you from somewhere?" Joe asked.



   Laura dug the tip of her heel into Joe's leg, her lips pouting
beautifully.  "We've met.  But you don't know me.  Not yet."

   At that moment, the room lit brightly in a hazy glow of cigarette smoke.
"That's the night, folks," the bartender called.  "Go home.  It's
Christmas." She turned to Laura's inquisitive glace and Joe's implacable
lack of concern and winked with a sashay of her hips.  "You two are welcome
to finish these drinks," she said as she deposited the glasses before them.
"Let the others clear out of here and I'll give you some atmosphere."

   Joe asked for a cigarette, which he lit from a matchbook on the bar. 
Coughing out a cloud of smoke, he returned Laura's gaze.  Her eyes were on
the door.  The bartender's eyes were on Laura.  When the exit swung shut
for the last time, the bartender flipped a fiddled with the stereo behind
the bar and then flipped a switch on the way that cut the lights except for
the black light that ran above the mirror on the bar.  "You two make
yourselves at home.  Pretend it's my home.  I'll be out in a bit to see
what trouble you've started." With that, she punched one more switch on the
wall that started a trio of synced strobe lights.

   No sooner did the music start, a dark dance beat, than Joe dived for
Laura, pawing at her hair as he shot his tongue into her mouth.  She
responded eagerly, caressing his tongue with the tip of hers.  He gripped
her tightly, squeezing her tits between their two bodies.  When he finally
broke their embrace, Laura stared at him with a wily sort of condescension.
"You want me, baby?" she asked.



   Joe was too busy stripping off his clothes to answer, preening a bit as
he uncovered his flat stomach and deep chest, covered in sparse curls of
dark hair.

   "Tell me you want me, baby," Laura said.

   Joe didn't answer again.  Instead, he reached for her and forcefully
disrobed her, spinning her around, his mouth everywhere.  On her back, on
her shoulder, on her breasts.  As he was pulling her skirt down her legs,
inhaling the scent of her pussy, he gasped, "Leave your shoes on." Laura
smiled down at him.  "They're a part of me." Joe fell to his knees behind
Laura, delighting in the taste of her flesh, her ass that he kissed and bit
all around as his fingers worked her pussy, sliding his tongue into her
anus.  Then he pulled himself up her back, holding on to her large tits,
the nipples between his fingers, tugging on the and rolling, his hard cock
pressing into the crevice in her ass.

   "Grab the rail," he said.

   Wordlessly, Laura leaned forward as Joe's hands held her on either side
of her hips.  Balanced carefully in those lovely heels that she knew would
find her a fucking like this tonight, she swayed her ass enticingly for
Joe. The next thing she felt was his hard cock pushing through the lips of
her pussy, bringing a low groan from her throat as she was impaled, his
full invading thick cock stretching her open for the first time in weeks.

   "You're gonna love this," she heard Joe's voice say in a distant world.
What she loved was feeling sexy and whorish, desired behind anything Joe
had known in her heels that skittered a bit on the concrete floor.  Lost in
a warm cloud of alcohol and lust, she met Joe's thrusts as best she could,
adrift in her own allure.  But the sensation of his cock within her soon
woke her and she noticed the noises she was making, the gasps that were
hers, and they took over and she was crying out and the cries built on
themselves, adding to her pleasure as her pussy began to quiver until she
couldn't help but whine and buck as her muscles seized and gyrated until
the first waves of orgasm took her.

   Joe held his grip on Laura's waist as he legs went weak and she began to
lose her balance in her heels.  Her mind returned to her, though not
completely.  Satisfied but not sated, she began griding her ass back
against Joe's thrust, encouraging him.  Her hair tossed in the black light
in a series of still frames, beads of sweat pouring down her skin.  Her
lips pulled back in a mask of pleasure when the high-pitched buzz of sweet
pain in her pussy began to mount again.  "Say my name, lover," she told Joe
over her shoulder.  Joe didn't respond.  He placed a hand on the back of
her head and pushed it forward, mindlessly thrusting into the wet heaven
between her legs, his cock screaming for release.

   "Say her name, Joe," a voice called out in the dark.

   Joe turned to see the nude bartender advancing on him, her eyes feral
with need.  Intimidated, he pulled out of Laura.  The bartender grabbed his
cock and squeezed it with one hand and slapped his face with the other. 
Back and forth her hand flew, swatting him hard with the palm then the
back. His dick caught in the vice like grip of her hand.

   The bartender's lips were pulled back in a grimace.  "I hope you saved
your cum for me."



   Joe nodded, taken aback.

   The bartender's fist began pumping dick.  "You want my pussy, Joe?" she
asked.

   Joe nodded, too intimidated to shoot to the administrations of her hand.

   "You want to say my name, Joe?"

   Joe just stared at her, uncertain.  The woman advanced and Joe stepped
back instinctively, the stimulation of his cock sending tentdrils of
pleasure up and down the shaft, causing his balls to ache and pulse, but
offering him no release.  He found himself pressued up against the bar,
staring directly into the wide, burning eyes of the bartender.  She pressed
her fingernail into the viscous coating of semen over his piss hole,
inhibiting the release of more.

   "Guess it then.  And you can have my pussy."

   "Sally," Joe cried.

   "Cum for me, Joe," the bartender said in a husky voice.

   Joe groaned and his eyes rolled back in his head as his cock began
pumping forth streams of spunk that carassed the inside of his dick in a
beautiful massage of orgasm.