Article 110103 of alt.sex.stories:
From: dramis@cts.com (CyberSculptor)
Subject: Barfly [m/f, seduction]
Date: Tue, 28 Nov 1995 15:26:17 GMT

				Barfly
				  by
				 DYS

	Flattening your butt at a low-rent bar after work when you've
got a good wife isn't the smartest thing to do, so I was doing it.
This place, named with originality and creativity The Watering Hole,
wasn't exactly the summit of sleaze but it wasn't one of those
chrome-plated yuppie joints either, where movers and shakers had their
power thises and power thatses and decided what life should be like
for the rest of us. From my perch in an ill-lit corner I was absorbing
overpriced and watered-down booze while watching the cast assemble for
that evening's late matinie.

	All the characters were in their places: the 'tender
struggling to keep up with customer demands and keep one step ahead of
crushing boredom and finding the latter by far the greater challenge,
the businessmen looking down their drinks like microscopes, trying to
dissolve the day's frustrations in a solvent known as ethanol, the
bouncer, quietly and unobtrusively standing out like a lighthouse,
and...

	And the woman. There's always one, isn't there? You know her,
the one who gets your attention and then won't give it back. The one
who, without the slightest effort, takes center stage and makes it her
own, with all the spotlights, in the form of male eyes, fastened on
her like scales on fish.

	This one was right out of central casting: the face that would
launch a thousand ships even from dry-dock, the aloof and nonchalant
air, the cigarette held just so, the body sculpted by Phidias under
the direction of Rubens - the whole bit.

	And the dress! Talk about packaging that sells! This one was a
black number, a cocktail dress with a little lace trim around the
collar that gave just a hint of a French-maid look and sequins on the
bodice, in the middle. On either side of the sequins dwelt a pair of
breasts that needed no enhancement but were getting it anyway from the
clingy, conforming texture of the fabric which, even from my
relatively distant vantage point, displayed the nipple of her nearer
breast like a watch in a display-case.

	Of the eyes locked upon her in that dim-lit dive four were
positioned on either side of her, trying to get lucky and succeeding
the way the Congress succeeds at balancing budgets. Not for lack of
trying, to be sure; our heroine hadn't lacked for libation in a long
time and her cigarettes were always lit before she even had time to
ask. It's kinda sad to see a guy whose main emotion at a given time is
frustration trying to make like it's supreme confidence oozing with
power. I know; just like most every male who's hit puberty and
experienced it hitting back, I've been there. More than once.

	I knew that tonight I woudn't - I couldn't - limit my study of
this scenario to my usual armchair anthropology. Not with that
particular creature within the range of my eyesight - and with even
the remotest possibility of getting her in range of other things. Was
it right? No. Now that that's been discussed, let's move on...

	I knew that one of the wannabees would give up eventually, and
I was patient enough to wait. Sure enough, in time I felt the slide of
the vinyl as my rear took its place on the seat beside her and the
rest of me followed along.

	There was no reason whatever to think that anything I could
say would accomplish any more than what my predecessor and his
competition on her other side had said, so I tried anyway. "Like a
little company?" Original.

	"Why? You got one to sell? Or are you rich enough to give them
away?"

	Got a wit, I see. I tried to acknowledge that with a properly
impressed and pleased facial expression. If the message got through,
though, there wasn't a sign of it on her beautful, impassive face. I
could see a poorly suppressed glower on the face of the gentleman on
her opposite side; perhaps I was already getting more action out of
her than he had. The idea was reassuring. A little.

	What did men do to hit on women before language was invented?
Without clever opening lines to have to dream up, things must have
been a lot simpler. The cartoon image of the caveman dragging the
cave-lady to his cavern by her hair after clubbing her senseless came
to mind. Yep; a lot simpler.

	"I'm working on it. Have a bid in for General Motors."

	"Oh, yeah. How much?"

	"We're still negotiating. They want more than I'm offering."

	"No kidding! I don't suppose that's ever happened before. How
far apart are you?"

	"12.8 gigabucks. But we're narrowing."

	She snorted softly. "That's the entire stockholders' equity
for GM. That means your offer was zero, big shot."

	"Actually, more like about $150. I rounded off a bit. I wanted
to keep my Visa under limit."

	She had placed another cigarette between her sultry lips and I
didn't miss the cue. A match was on its way instantly. I noticed that
she never drew on the cigarette and got the distinct impression she
was a nonsmoker trying to look the part of the stereotypical slut, and
the cigarette was a prop. This isn't a bar, I thought. It's a stage
set.

	"I see you keep your eye on the Fortune 500," I commented.

	She fixed a withering look on me. "You think I sit home and
watch soaps all day? Wake up pal; think that the fact that I have tits
means I shouldn't care about such things?"

	I wasn't sure if this was her personal feminist manifesto or a
green light to more openly admire her highly admirable breasts. I
decided to chance it. Cautiously.

	"I had noticed them... er, that."

	"You're not the first. They do have a way of getting
attention. Maybe because my nipples always arrive where I'm going five
minutes before the rest of me does."

	She's toying with me, I thought with a visceral shudder. Cat
and mouse and she was playing her part to perfection. So, I realized,
was I.

	Helplessly, I found myself sputtering. "They are beautiful.
And the beauty doesn't stop there." Shut up, you moron! You're rushing
it; you'll scare her off!

	But her face remained as impassive and inscrutable as ever.
She motioned to the 'tender with the haughty confidence of a 19th-
century aristocrat summoning a domestic. Wordlessly, she nodded to her
empty glass and presently the jaded fellow returned with a fresh
edition of her preferred libation. Naturally, I paid for it.

	Some time passed and she said nothing. Too much time. I had
blown it, I was convinced; I overplayed my hand and she's freezing up.
I silently sighed. Perhaps it's just as well...

	She broke the silence. "You think so, pal? So what do you
wanna do about it?"

	My senses were jerked back into place with the impact of a
pile driver. Just as I was bemoaning my lost chances she had restored
them with what was nearly a direct invitation!

	"Well, whatever it is, it isn't going to happen here," I
breathed, trying to subdue the trembling in my voice. This lady's got
something, something that has me scampering by remote control. She's
got a leash around my neck and I can do nothing but follow her lead. I
momentarily marvelled at the power she had to compel me to seek out
her every wish and accommodate it.

	I hope she's more impressed by my in-control act than I am, I
mused. "Whaddaya say we adjourn to more, shall we say, private
quarters?"

	"Fine with me, big boy. Lead the way."

	My heart leapt. It was going to happen! This marvellous
creature was mine, at least for the moment. The sensation of walking a
tightrope, aware that the slightest slip meant a worse than painful
fall, was fully occupying my consciousness. But she had spoken the
words, broken the tension. She was willing to follow me, follow me
somewhere, and I was desperately scanning my brain cells for a clue as
to where that should be. I rose from my seat and took her proffered
hand and she made her way beside me to the door with a grace and style
that was obviously very well practiced. Rough-edged, I thought, but
there's a real lady under that shell, somewhere.

	We walked to my car wordlessly. Nothing that came to mind to
say seemed to be likely to accomplish anything but spoil it all, and
she seemed content with the silence. When we were seated I turned to
her and smiled, just to try to melt the ice a bit. I was more than a
little surprised when she returned the smile, then gently grabbed my
tie and drew my face to hers. Her eyes closed before I even realized
what my next cue would be, and in an instant, our lips had joined. She
had an aggressive tongue, something else clearly well-practiced. And
the fire she kindled with it was vigorous enough, I could see, to
consume me in mere minutes. And there was nothing I welcomed more.

	Trembling and trying not to show it, I turned the key. The day
had become hazy, as if my intense preoccupation with the woman beside
my was displacing the very awareness of the rest of the entire world.
What is it with her, and with me? She's just a stranger, a typical bar
dame. Why do I feel like a schoolboy on his first date?

	My attempts at conversation were short-lived and ineffectual,
but I wasn't worried. She had placed her lush body in such a way that
she could rest her head on my shoulder despite the bucket seats. I did
my best to make it easy for her and it paid off. Her fingertips were
tracing the length of my tie, now loosening it and my collar, now
unfastening the top buttons of my shirt. Presently I felt the contact
of her fingertips on my chest and the pounding of my racing heart was
becoming an audible drumbeat, my ears almost ringing with the
pressure.

	No cheap motel, I thought. This calls for something classy.
But what?

	Then I remembered. The company suite! My firm kept a swanky
apartment handy for lodging important guests. And I was in a position
to know that it was currently not in use. What better choice?

	"Where are we headed?" Her question, merging so perfectly with
my innermost thoughts at the moment, was jarring. But I landed on my
feet. "You'll see, and you'll like what you see."

	"Sail on, sailor!" She nestled her head even more warmly
against my quivering neck. I thought I'd explode.

	The lobby of the hotel where our suite was located was
precisely the glittering environment that the bar we had just left
wasn't. There were only a few especially elegant places in our city,
and this was one of them. I hoped she'd be impressed. In fact, I felt,
she'd damn well better be. It just doesn't get much better than this.

	We paused at the lounge for a quick one, partly to shift gears
from the dive where we'd met up to the standards of a real class
operation. She seemed to respond, shedding some of that gritty
exterior. I was beginning to feel transformed myself, as if the change
I saw in her was of my own doing. Pure fantasy, I knew, but I indulged
it. Why not?

	When a waitress that would have done justice to any New York
chorus line arrived to take our order, I felt a twinge of
embarassment. After all, my wedding band was in plain sight while my
companion's hands were completely unadorned. At the thought I glanced
at her left hand and got the fleeting impression of a cheater's ring.
I wondered, but not for long. There were more important considerations
at hand.

	If our server had noticed, there was nothing in her expression
to betray it. We absorbed our drinks amid quiet conversation, and I
was increasingly amazed at how warm and friendly she was becoming.
She's an emotional chameleon, I concluded, changing her style in
response to her surroundings. I hoped the surroundings on the fortieth
floor would bring about further changes - the right kind.

	Before I knew it, we were in the car of the elevator, and I
would soon find out. Exiting the car her step was eager, her pace
brisk, as if the compelling force that drove me on was at work within
her as well, even more strongly. She was actually laughing, a girlish,
plaintive laughter, as I fumbled for the key the concierge had given
me when I identified myself.

	"Dance with me," she said when the door had closed behind us,
in a husky imperative that left me not the slightest choice. I'm no
Fred Astaire but she made up for it, taking my awkward lead with the
same smooth grace she had shown on her way out of The Watering Hole.
In a minute I was actually comfortable, gliding to the music of the
sound system there and responding to the heat her body was radiating
into mine as she pressed ever more closely. I knew I was lost, lost in
this beautiful, amazing woman's paradise, and could have wished for
nothing better.

	Our dancing became slower, more intimate, and she was again
unbuttoning my shirt. The suggestion in this little action was far
more powerful than it had been in the car, and, only half aware of it,
I found my hands beginning to explore her body. She responded only
with increased ardor, completing her task and tossing my shirt to one
side. My palms were now freely roaming her perfectly rounded hips and
buttocks, tracing the contours of her forbidden regions with all of
Nature's driving urgency.

	When I moved to stand beside her and place my hand over her
breast she responded by drawing the fabric of her clinging dress
aside, placing my hand directly on the fleshy, warm, incredibly
inviting mound. It was dizzying, the pace that had taken over us, and
she clearly was as caught up in it as I. In a moment I had slipped the
shoulder straps of her dress aside and she then pushed me gently away,
signalling me to sit on the bed. There, my eyes at a level just above
her navel, I stared raptly as she began swaying that stunning body in
rippling, sinuous waves, fixing a seductive smile on me that rendered
me helpless - beyond helpless.

	Smoothing her hands over her breasts and hips she exerted the
exact pull necessary to draw the dress from her body. Stepping out of
it, I saw her clad only in a pair of silk panties obviously designed
strictly for the purpose of seduction. The dark region of her pubic
hair was plainly mapped behind the sheer fabric of the garment,
accentuated but not concealed by the wispy, decorative patterns
thereon. My gaze travelled from her glistening eyes to her seductive
mouth, then to the firm, perfectly-formed breasts and from there to
those hips undulating before me. My expectant cock was long since
fully erect, aching to be released from the confinement of my
remaining clothes.

	Her movements arrested me, and I became transfixed as she set
her nether regions into motion, sliding down her panties with
excruciating, delicious slowness. A millimeter at a time, she exposed
her flesh, finally passing the wispy garment to the floor.
Straightening up, she parted her legs and placed herself on mine,
grasping the back of my neck hungrily as she pressed her lips once
again against mine.

	If I had thought she was aggressive before, this outclassed
that time by light-years. She was like a being possessed, kissing,
sucking, drawing on me as if she wanted to pull me inside her. I broke
free and moved my lips and hands to her heaving breasts, savoring the
sensation of her nipple on my lips and tongue. She emitted a gasp of
pleasure, pulling my head more firmly against her chest, and I
responded automatically with more energetic attentions.

	Shortly she rose up with a sudden move, as if some new force
had taken over her. She pulled me to my feet and set about removing my
pants and shorts with demonic fervor. My cock, freed of its
confinement, sprang forth powerfully and she caressed it as if it were
a prize, sending one wave of ecstasy to my brain after another. I was
presently aware of a new sensation: the closing of her lips around my
rampant shaft. With perfected aplomb she ministered to it with her
lips and tongue, expertly managing to drive it, and me, to peaks of
pleasure without sending me over the brink.

	"Come on, big boy; let's see what you can do for a lady!" She
strode purposefully to the bed, taking me with her by the hand. She
lay back, the knee of her far leg raised, while she fixed alternately
smiling and pouty looks upon me and caressed her breasts.

	I wasted no time. I buried my face between those exquisitely
tapered legs and sought the point of her waiting clitoris. In no time
she was emitting a cascading series of moans and thrusting her hips
toward my face. She was out of control, and that made two of us.
Probing her clit, then her labia with my tongue while constantly
smoothing my hands over those splendid breasts, I felt the heat
rising, growing as it flowed from one of us to the other and back
again.

	It was time. I rose, kissed her again and felt her hands on my
back, drawing us together. My cock was a ramrod of quivering steel,
begging for the sweet environs that awaited it. And as I lost myself
even further in her embrace I felt the blessed contact of what is mine
and what is hers, and in a moment, the warm, wet sensation of my flesh
completely enclosed by hers.

	It was difficult, damn difficult, to keep control, but I
managed. She seemed to know me, knowing precisely when to hit the
accelerator and when to put on the brakes. Our union was timeless, at
once eternal and instantaneous. It mattered little where we were or
what was happening anywhere else. This was our moment, our own corner
of the space-time continuum, and there was not one part of me that
cared to be bothered with anything but that. And it was plain that the
lady who was one flesh with me felt precisely the same way.

	By force of will I managed to leave her body long enough for
her to turn over so I could enter her from behind. Her gasps and moans
increased as my loving shaft probed even more deeply in this position.
My hands moved freely from her buttocks to her breasts, tweaking her
nipples as I continued my mad thrusting into her sweet body. She was
meeting every stroke with her own movements and that precarious
control was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. I separated
from her once again and she resumed the traditional position.

	We were not merely united at our groins; our eyes, our mouths,
our entire beings were locked in the Dance of Oneness. The glistening
of her deep, inviting eyes seemed brighter than ever as my gaze meshed
with hers. There was no longer any thought of control or restraint; I
knew it would be over soon.

	She sensed that too, and began thrusting back with wild
abandon, speeding me to climax. I heard her reach a climax of her own,
then another, and yet a third as my own raced toward me. The pressure
in my loins was radiating throughout my being; I could feel it in my
ears and my eyes seemed to be ready to burst from the swelling waves.
In a gasp I announced that it was time and she responded with a low
moan that rapidly crescendoed into almost a scream. We were now
pulsing with jackhammer intensity and in seconds I felt that first
delicious contraction as my seed spewed deep within her. One after
another, each wave of orgasm passed over me, enveloping me, consuming
me. The spurts were rapid and deep, draining me it seemed, spilling
forth my entire essence into this incredible lady's body.

	Slowly, ever so slowly, the peak of passion subsided,
mellowing into a sweet, warm embrace. The smile she radiated would
have graced the finest of fine art, sweet and yet sensual, a melding
of the innocent and the passionate. I wished I could store that vision
forever, somehow keeping it where I could experience it again and
again.

	I collapsed beside her, my breath coming in deep, desperate
gasps. As she turned to nestle against me, I could see her fingers
trembling from the depths she had experienced. She fell against me as
if every ounce of her strength had been spent and I felt the rapid
cycling of her breathing against my neck. It seemed like hours, sweet,
warm hours, before either of us had recovered enough strength to
speak.

	It was she who first broke the silence. "They oughta make this
an Olympic event, so you could get the gold medal, big boy." I was
more than a little pleased with the statement, to be sure.

	"It's the company I keep," I responded, smiling.

	We must have fallen asleep; the waning afternoon had passed
fully into darkness when I was once again aware of my surroundings. My
friend awoke and joined me in the shower, where our mutual caresses
once again ignited our animal instincts. Barely bothering to towel
off, we leapt to the bed, rapidly resuming our sacred dance with
unimpaired gusto. The sensation of her flesh surrounding mine was
indescribable, and I knew this was right, proper, the way things
should be.

	It was after nine when we were once again in my car. "Shall I
drive you home?" I asked, automatically.

	"Good going, professor; how will I get my car home if you do
that?" There was just a trace of the bar slut in her sharp comment,
but it seemed almost an affectation; she was grinning when she said
it. I think she took it as a compliment that I was in a somewhat
addled condition. And little wonder that I was. It was a wonder that
I could remember the way back.

	The Watering Hole was noisy, harsh and glaring, and we gave it
just a glance on the way to her car. There we embraced, kissed and
parted reluctantly. I knew that this would not be the last time.

				 ***

	I took my time returning home. When I passed through the
living-room door, Lorraine was there, waiting for me without a trace
of concern over my lateness. I smiled warmly at her and she returned
the smile with that enticingly girlish manner she had. I really do
love my wife, and I hope you'll understand when I say that, as I took
her hand and we entered our bedroom, I felt no guilt. None at all.
Just gratitude for all of life's blessings, as I cast an appreciative
glace at the closet where her clothes hung neatly, focusing
momentarily on the black cocktail dress with a little lace trim around
the collar that gave just a hint of a French-maid look and sequins on
the bodice, in the middle...

CyberSculptor