It's All About Anticipation Ch. 2

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How do things move on?
1.4k words
4.35
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Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 08/22/2001
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He mouthed a hello over the din in the bar, and at the same time he cast a quick glance of appraisal over her face. She was inches away from him, and he could see the flecks of dark colour in her eyes as she replied. She wore a relaxed and easy grin, and the deep colour of her lipstick really brought out the shape of her mouth. She had obviously been here for a while, the heat and the noise had given a blush of high colour to her normally pale cheeks and for a tantalising split second he wondered if this was how she looked when excited. She had turned toward him, and although they stood shoulder to shoulder he couldn’t hear a word she said above the music and the hubbub of exuberant conversation that saturated the place. He leant down to hear her, placing his ear closer to her mouth. As she spoke, he tried hard to concentrate on the words, and not on her breath as it caressed the side of his face.

He caught something about drinks, realised quickly she was asking him to get her drinks order as well as his own and nodded in assent. She gestured to the back of the bar to show where she was sitting, and he promised to bring the drinks over if he ever got served. Half amused thoughts of a coroner taking pictures of his skeleton still standing at the bar waving the money at the barman a week from now shambled through his mind, and he turned his attention back to the miscreant who was now even further around the bar. Consequently, he was completely unprepared for her pinching his backside as she walked away, and by the time he had turned back to her she was edging her way through the crowd with a look of complete innocence on her face. Minx!

Juggling six drinks on a tray which felt as sturdy as a piece of tinfoil through this crowd was no mean feat, and he was thankful to get to her table in one piece. She sat with two friends, leaning back on a bench seat, arms out to the side, hands pressed palm down on the seat beside her with her legs crossed seductively. The trousers she was wearing did little to hide the shape of her legs, and the soft velvety material was just begging to be brushed by his hands. He barely noticed her friends, instead letting his eyes rove from her toes right up to her eyes, where she was watching him with an amused smile. He considered “accidentally” spilling her drink all over her top, and just enjoying watching it cling to her, but it was only a passing thought. Instead he politely set down the drinks, said hello to her friends and left to go deliver the beers to his by now impatient friends.

There was much beer drunk after that. The talk meandered idly through football; work, cars and all the usual things men talk of. He would occasionally catch a glimpse of her dancing or heading for the bar, and he smiled whenever she caught his eye. She certainly knew how to have a good time, and she looked to be enjoying herself tonight. He was glad for her, and only a little rueful that he wasn’t part of her group tonight. As the evening wore on, his group finally grabbed a table and he slumped thankfully into the seat. Typical barroom chair, no armrests, little padding, upright back, it was like corporal punishment, and he shifted endlessly as the conversation wore on.

It began to get late and one of his friends, not known for his drinking prowess, was soon slumped in his seat, eyes glazed, and he knew it would not be long until he was snoring face down on the table. His other friend had gone to get the drinks a few minutes ago and seemed to be taking his time. He stood up to look for him, and spotted him chatting to a tall redhead at the bar. Signalling his thirst, he finally made eye contact. His friend raced across the bar, dropped his fresh drink off, explained that he was “on a roll” and left again in a hurry. Charming. Well, this looked like a crappy end to the evening then.

He turned his attention back to her, where was she now? She was usually on the dance floor, so he looked there first, and although he could see her two friends dancing with a couple of guys, there was no sign of her. He peered through the darkness towards her table, and there she was, staring straight at him, grinning wickedly. She picked up her drink and headed his way. He watched her as she walked, amazed at how much he enjoyed just admiring her, and although she didn’t notice she caught the attention of more than one man in the bar. He straightened in the chair as she got closer, and pulled another chair out beside him for her to sit. She ignored this completely, and instead straddled his legs and sat down directly on his lap, again taking him by surprise. As she reached behind her to set her drink down on the table the fabric of her top strained across the fullness of her breasts, and his eyes were involuntarily drawn to them as if by magnets. After he broke his gaze, focused again on her face, it was too late, and she knew full well what he had been staring at. He’d had a few to drink and was unapologetic, and she asked him if he liked what he saw. He smiled widely, and they began a conversation that was all innuendo and double entendre. He was aware after a few minutes that she was shifting her weight on his lap almost constantly, and he suddenly realised that she was trying to get him hard as she spoke, but without being obvious. This was very subtle for her, and he almost laughed aloud at the realisation. It seemed like a fun game to play. He’d had enough beer to mellow him out, and he thought he could remain in control as long as he wanted, perhaps he could make it backfire and she’d be the one to end up all aroused and with nowhere to go. He shifted on the chair, and for a sudden moment he could feel his groin push fully and hard against her. Her eyes widened for a split second, and she swallowed suddenly. Oh, this was going to be fun.

By now, they were both aware of the unspoken tussle between them, and the ensuing movements, flirtatious remarks, reaching for drinks etc all took on a new significance. This was a battle of wills, but both of them would be winners whatever happened. She ground against him, he lifted himself up against her, he reached past her for a drink and pressed against her breasts, she adjusted her shoe straps, and all the time they pushed and rubbed and tried to elicit a reaction from the other. Eventually, he could stand it no more, and as he imagined being inside her in this exact position he could feel his erection suddenly spring to full hardness against her.

“Christ, at last. I thought you weren’t interested at all for a while there, and I’m so wet I’m worried it will show through these trousers.” With a final provocative grind against him, she shifted up and away and sat on the seat that he had pulled out earlier. There was a definite flush of excitement to her face now, and he could see how her breathing had quickened by the rise and fall of her breasts.

He squirmed a little until his groin felt somewhat more comfortable and a little less obvious to all and sundry. They fell into a conversation about their friends, who was pairing with who, how they knew each of them and so on. All inane stuff, but the tension between them was enough to keep them both completely engrossed in each other. She kept leaning forward to put her hand on his leg, he would absently stroke her wrist or her arm. Then the bombshell landed. She rose, made as if to give him a peck on the cheek, but as he turned his cheek to her she whispered in his ear…

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