Nate's Evil Exploits Pt. 05

*** Nate's Evil Exploits is the tale of a sex-crazed bisexual sociopath whose job (and passion) is sexually exploiting people during corporate downsizing. ***

Exhausted from a hard day of balling Zero Sum's employees, Nate decided to head to his favourite bar.

Mala Suerte Ciudad was like stepping into the heart of Mexico. Or, at least, what Westerners thought stepping into the heart of Mexico might be like.

The walls were lined with gaudy day-of-the-dead masks; skulls painted in garish colours or decorated with roses and bright floral designs. There was a shrine set up in one corner, with an effigy of some obscure armless, legless saint, draped in neckties and surrounded by bottles of tequila.

The walls were painted to look like cracked adobe, bathing the whole place in an orange glow.

On a Monday, you'd think things would be quiet - but not at Mala Suerte. Here, the music was bright and loud, the dance floor always full. It was mostly a gay bar, but like so many gay bars, straight women often frequented it, to get away from men like... well, like Nate.

Tonight there was a woman sitting at the bar who fit that bill. Her copper hair fell away from the crown of her head in a shiny wave, hiding part of her face from view. She was wearing a fitted white woollen coat that contrasted with the fall of amber hair that cascaded over her shoulders. If she'd just come from work, Nate was guessing it was organising private yacht sales, or selling million dollar houses.

Small pink diamonds glittered in her delicate earlobes when she turned her head, and she sat as if she was very aware of her body. And how enchanting it was to straight men.

He slid on to a stool next to her and ordered a drink.

"Hi." He gave her a brisk once-over, then turned back to the barman.

"No," she said.

He glanced at her. "No?"

"No, I don't want to date you, or keep you company, or fuck you, or suck your dick."

Nate paid the bartender and took his drink. "Just as well. That's his job."

He nodded towards a good looking guy on the dance floor.

The woman gave Nate a wry grin. "Does he know that?"

Nate sipped his drink. "I hope so. He's been doing it for six months."

His boyfriend, Rene, was lost in a drunken trance, grinding on some slutty kid wearing way too much makeup. Nate could tell he was already trashed. Just another Monday.

The woman tipped her drink towards him. "I'm Lila."

"Nate." He clinked his glass with hers. "What brings you to Bad Luck City?"

She set her drink down and spun it distractedly on the counter.

"Escaping, I guess."

"Escaping?" He took a swallow of tequila and let it burn the back of his throat.

"From life. Responsibilities. Being a woman."

Nate chuckled. "Is it that bad? Being incredibly hot? I know women who'd killed to be you."

She gave him a sharp glance. "You think I'm hot?"

"I may love dick, but I'm not blind. You're muy caliente." He gave her his best rendition of a Mexican accent.

"You're not bad looking yourself," she said. She shrugged off her coat and Nate did his best to keep breathing as if he wasn't getting hard just looking at her. Underneath her coat, she was draped in a black dress made from layers of chiffon.

"You just come from a party?" he asked.

She sipped her drink. "Every day's a party." The way she said it, make it sound like it was a really shitty party.

"You want to go sing some bad karaoke with me?"

She laughed. "What makes you think I can sing?"

"I'm banking on you being crap, so that I can feel better about myself." He gave her his best, disarming smile. "Come on. I can see you doing a great version of—" he squinted his eyes, "—rolling in the deep?"

She snorted. "Yeah. We could have had it all."

He put his hand on her arm, noticing with satisfaction that she didn't react.

"Lila, you clearly need cheering up. Let's go get plastered and sing songs about how shitty our lovers are."

She threw back her drink. "Okay."

The walked arm-in-arm up to a karaoke bar where Nate had a quiet arrangement with the owners. He paid in cash, and no one knocked on the door until he was ready to come out.

Lim Hee Hyo took the folded notes and led them to a room. "You want drinks?"

"Tequila?" Nate asked Lila.

She nodded.

"A bottle of tequila and two glasses."

Lim Hee gave him a wink, and disappeared to get what he knew would be billed to him as a two-hundred dollar, thirty-dollar bottle of tequila.

He handed a flip book to Lila. "Take your pick."

While she looked for a song, Nate dialled up his old go-to. Song number 1931, 'I want it that way' by the Backstreet Boys.

Nate performed it complete with the dance, while Lila giggled hysterically.

Nate knew his voice was good, but made sure he wasn't too good. When he finished, Lila was choking with laughter.

"Oh my God, Oh my God, does your boyfriend ask you to leave after you do that dance?"

Nate grinned. "No, if anything, he sucks harder."

She wheezed asthmatically, and jumped as Lim Hee knocked on the door. Nate took the tequila and glasses from her and thanked her, then gave her a nod. From here on out, they'd be given complete privacy for as long as he needed it.

Lila recovered and flipped through the book. "Okay, this one. Nine seven one two."

Nate keyed it in. "Shake it off. Old Tay-Tay, eh?"

She smiled shyly. "Now don't laugh!"

"What?" he said, putting a hand to his chest. "But you just burst a seam laughing your ass off at my efforts."

"Okay, okay, but don't be mean."

"I would never," he said, his brown eyes shining with sincerity.

She cleared her throat and held the mic ready, at chest height.

"No, no!"

Her eyes widened as his fingers closed over hers, guiding the mic towards her mouth.

"You gotta hold it like this."

He took his hand back, and gave her a charming grin.

She broke eye contact first, launching into a nervous rendition of 'Shake it Off'.

She was shit, and it hurt Nate's ears to hear her off-key wailing about players and haters, but he smiled encouragingly and joined in the chorus. Soon she was dancing around the room, and Nate could see the tequila was doing its work.

He danced along with her, the two of them freestyling like a couple of drunk cheerleaders.

She finished the song, and dropped to the floor and crawled between his legs, ending up in a heap of chiffon, laughing as she threw back another glass of tequila.

He dropped down on the couch and flicked through the book. He already knew what he was going to sing next, but it had to seem spontaneous.

He gave her a mischievous grin. "Got one."

He keyed it in, as she got to her feet and fell on to the couch.

The strains of Eric Clapton's acoustic version of 'Layla' filled the small room. He knew the words. He turned his back on the screen and sang it to her, while she watched, mesmerised, her brain drenched in alcohol.

His voice lent itself to the slower version, filling those low notes with deep longing. When he got to the chorus, he beckoned to her. She got unsteadily to her feet and stood in front of him.

He took her hand, dropped to his knees and sang to her.

A tear trickled down her face as he finished the song. He guided her back to the couch and sat her down with his arm around her shoulders.

"What is it, love?"

"I just... I just wish a real guy would sing to me like that."

"A real guy?" He pretended to take offence.

"You know what I mean!" She slapped his chest with her hand, then left it resting there, the heat of her fingers soaking through his shirt.

He gave her a steady gaze until she looked up at him. "Who hurt you?"

She licked tears from her perfect, rose-painted lips.

"His name's Sergio."'

"No it's fucking not."

"Yes, it is!" she said, giving him another playful slap. "He's a fashion designer." She rested her head against his arm, her fingers curled against his chest.

"Of course he is," Nate said dryly. "Have you seen his collection?"

She blinked. "No. He doesn't want his work to get in the way of our relationship."

"Uh-huh." Nate gently disengaged and turned on the couch to face her.

"Sweetheart, you know he's lying to you? He's probably pushing drugs and trafficking women in his spare time."

Her eyes widened. "What a horrible thing to say!"

He shrugged. "You don't know a fashion designer named Sergio. At least, not a straight one. Trust me."

She looked down at her hands, stroking her fingertips across her perfectly manicured nails. "Are you in love... with your boyfriend?"

Nate snorted. "Not likely. You know he'll be fucking that kid tonight? Assuming he's still capable of fucking by the time he gets home."

She frowned. "Why do you put up with it? If you don't love him?"

Nate put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his. "I'm kind."

He bent forward and kissed her, a brief brush of his lips against hers.

He pulled back and found her eyes were closed. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him again, and he pulled her into his lap so that she was straddling him.

They locked lips for several minutes, and his hands drifted to her breasts, plump and soft under all those layers of chiffon.

She pulled back, panting for breath, weaving in place.

"I thought you were gay."

"Did you, now?" he said. "How's that working out for you?"

He reached behind her and slowly inched her zip down, until her dress fell around her shoulders. Gently, he peeled it away, exposing her magnificent breasts in their Italian lace bra.

He cupped her breasts, enjoying the look of consternation in her eyes. She was enjoying herself, but she hadn't planned to. Now she wasn't sure what to do.

"I hate it when men take advantage of women," he said in a low voice, running his thumbs over her nipples until they pushed stiffly against the lace.

"I don't sleep with strange men."

"I'm not that strange," he said, leaning forward to nuzzle her. He kissed his way up the side of her neck and bit gently on her earlobe. "At least my name's not 'Sergio'."

He unhooked her bra and slowly slid the straps down her arms. As he pulled it away from her breasts, she put her hands across her chest protectively.

Unfazed, he ran his hands over her bare shoulders, down her toned arms, then kissed her throat, his lips moving over her pulse. He could almost taste it quicken.

"I shouldn't," she said.

"Yeah, but if Sergio said 'fuck me', you'd fuck him, wouldn't you?"

He gave her a sharp gaze. He'd avoided the tequila, pouring his into her glass when she wasn't looking. She was cut as fuck. He was sharp as razor blades.

He slid his hands up to her throat and rested them gently there. No pressure. Just the touch of his thumbs against her wind pipe. "You've spent a lot of time hurting yourself, haven't you, love?"

She stared at him, hypnotised. She put her hands on his arms, and he saw her pupils blow wide as her body told her what sheer sight alone hadn't. He was strong. His arms were muscular, snaked with veins. She'd missed that, concentrating on his brash charm, his harmless flirting.

He squeezed gently. She swallowed, but didn't try to pull away. He could feel her pulse throbbing against his right thumb as he dug into the hollow of her throat.

"Protect yourself," he said, giving her a dark smile.

Her grip on his arms tightened, but she didn't have the strength in her fingers to hurt him, never mind stop him.

He dropped his hands from her throat and shook his fringe back out of his eyes.

"Be honest. There is no Sergio. You're married. Miserably married to some wealthy wanker who owns more property than your parents could ever hope for you."

She dropped her eyes.

"I know your type, Lila. Married young, excited by the older guy with cash who seemed so much more mature than the boys that sniffed around you when you left highschool."

He ran his hands over her naked breasts while she clung to him, offering no resistance.

"And he was more mature. Being forty—"

She winced, and he paused.

"Fifty?"

Her face coloured.

"Being fifty, 'course he was more mature than the guys your age. Half his age."

He dropped his voice to a low murmur. "But now you're bored. You've been fucked in missionary so many times it sets your teeth on edge, had his cock nudge your asshole 'accidentally' more times than you can count, and his bad breath and receding hairline don't do it for you. His cash means nothing now you've got your own career. Your own cash. You don't need him."

He could see by her stricken expression that it was all true.

"Here's what I do with girls like you." He leaned forward and bit her neck gently, running his tongue between his teeth to leave a mark. He sat back. "What's the cuck's name?"

She swallowed. "Mark."

"Mark. Well, we're going to leave a little message from me to Mark."

He closed his arms around her tightly, holding her still as he bit her neck again, leaving another red welt.

"Please don't."

Tears ran down her face, even while her sixty-dollar mascara refused to budge.

Nate licked the tears from her chin, then kissed her again. Her lips parted, her tongue caressing his.

He broke the kiss. "You really aren't a nice girl, are you Lila? I bet you wanted to fuck me when you saw me back in Mala Suerte, and it just broke your cheating heart that I was gay."

"I didn't..." she stammered.

"Like fuck, you didn't."

He stood, and threw her back on the couch. He picked up her phone and started thumbing though her contacts. "Is this him? Your cuck husband?" He turned the screen to her. It showed a picture of a balding, middle-aged man in a suit, smiling into the camera, his teeth yellowed from years of smoking. The name read 'Mark'.

"Yes," she sobbed, holding her hands over her exposed breasts. "Please don't call him."

"Oh, I'm not going to fucking call him. You're going to do that."

He tossed the phone to her and she caught it with both hands, letting her breasts bounce free. Nate dropped to the ground in front of her.

"Call him."

"And say what?" She was crying for real now, terrified he was going to expose her.

"Anything you fucking like. Or I'll take that phone off you, call him, and make him listen

while I fuck you."

He waited until she pressed the 'call' button with trembling hands, then slowly, deliberately, stripped her dress down over her hips. She lifted herself off the couch so that he could slide it under her ass. Soon, she was sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of patterned lace underwear.

Nate heard the call connect, and smiling, slid his hands up her naked thighs.

"He... hello?" She stammered into the phone.

Being a smart phone, it didn't even need to be on speaker for Nate to hear everything.

"Hey honey, what's up?" her husband answered.

"I just..."

"Lie," Nate mouthed to her, trailing his fingers across her inner thighs.

"What's wrong?" asked the confused man on the other end of the phone.

"I just... I was feeling..." she broke off as Nate ran his fingers over the sheer crotch of her

panties, stroking her swollen lips through the fabric.

"...horny," she finished.

"I can't... I can't do this right now," said Mark. "Can't you wait until we get home?"

"Make him listen," mouthed Nate.

"I need you. To listen then," she said.

Nate pushed her lace panties aside and slid his finger inside her. She shuddered, and he lowered his head and began to slide his tongue up the side of her underwear, sliding inside to taste her juices.

As his tongue dug into her, she let out a moan.

"Are you... are you fingering yourself?" Nate heard Mark ask through the tinny speaker.

"Yes," she gasped. She held the phone one handed and pushed her fingers into Nate's hair.

He tongued her roughly, then sat back on his heels and pushed two fingers into her, stroking against her g-spot.

Behind them, the karaoke system decided it'd been dormant long enough, and came to life, playing Jane's Addiction's 'Irresistible Force'.

How appropriate, Nate thought. Banging and banging together.

"Where are you?" asked Mark, as Nate reached for the remote and turned the sound

down.

"A bar."

"A bar?" he asked. "How are you fingering yourself in a bar?"

"In the toilets," she said, and let out a gasp as Nate gripped the tops of her underwear and began to peel them down her legs.

Mark chuckled. "What if someone hears you?"

Nate could hear the lust in the man's voice. Mimicking a woman's voice, he said, 'I know, that's what Justin said!'

He stifled laughter at Lila's horrified look, and resumed fondling her soaking wet snatch as her husband hissed into the phone.

"Is someone else in there with you?"

"Yes," she gasped in a whisper. "Someone's in the stall next to me."

Nate giggled, doing a frighteningly realistic impression of a teenage girl.

"Fuck that's hot," came through the phone speaker. "Put the phone by your pussy. I want to hear you finger yourself."

Nate laughed to himself at how absurd that was, but he was happy to oblige.

He took the phone from Lila, and as she watched with a tortured expression, he held the phone by her sopping cunt and fingered her roundly.

Heavy breathing came through the speaker.

After a long moment or two of this, he handed the phone back to Lila, and mouthed up to her, "Tell him you're alone again."

"I'm alone again, baby," she said, her breathing quickening as Nate straightened up and started unbuckling his belt. She swallowed as he released his formidable cock, her eyes

devouring it hungrily.

"Fuck I wish I was there," said Mark. "You must be close."'

"So close," breathed Lila, as Nate pulled her to her feet. He lay down on the couch and caught her wrist, tugging her towards him. Still holding the phone, she climbed on top of him, straddling him. Nate glanced up at the security camera fixed to the ceiling and smiled.

"What are you doing, honey?"

Her husband sounded as though he was furiously jerking himself. Nate assumed he'd gone into the toilets; either that, or somewhere in the world women were turning their children away from the sight of a grown man masturbating himself in public.

"I'm alone now. I'm..." she trailed off.

"Fucking yourself with the vibrator from your purse," mouthed Nate.

He took one of her nipples into his mouth and circled it with his tongue.

"I'm... fucking myself with the vibrator I carry in my purse," she said breathlessly.

Nate cupped her breasts, tugging on her sensitive nipples until she let out a cry of pain.

"Ow!"

"What happened?" Her husband sounded alarmed.

"It slipped," she said, without thinking.

"Oh, fuck, that's hot.''

Nate guided Lila over his cock and slid into her. Her expression went from concerned to extremely concerned as he pulled her down on to his length, forcing her wet cunt to swallow every inch of him.

She grunted as he pulled her against him, so that her tits were pressed against his chest.

The phone in her hand lay next to his head on the couch. Nate turned his head towards it.

"Hey cuck," he said, "Guess who's fucking your wife?"

"No, no, you said you wouldn't!" Lila cried. She tried to hit him, but Nate caught her hands. He left the phone where it was, staring up at the magnificent girl impaled on his cock, her round tits swinging as she struggled to free herself.

"Who the fuck is that?" Mark's voice exploded from the phone. "I'm going to find you and I'm going to fucking kill you!"

"Good luck," Nate said. He nudged the phone off the couch. It landed face up, the call still connected.

"Asshole!" screamed Lila. "You've ruined my marriage!"

"I think you'll find cheating on your husband with multiple men might have contributed to that," said Nate calmly.

Still holding her wrists, he started to thrust into her, until she moved her hands to his chest to brace herself.