The Bar Scene

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They bring new meaning to the phrase "Happy Hour."
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Bar Scene

It was crowded at the bar when we got there. Martini's was a popular watering hole with the up and coming power players and the everyday hacks working in Denver's downtown office buildings. So by Friday afternoon, Happy Hour wasn't just a diversion, it was an obsession, and everyone who wanted to be someone was mixing and mingling in the crowds of the upscale bars tucked between some of the city's most venerable cathedrals of finance and politics.

Lana looked at me and shrugged.

"Just have to stand for a bit" she said.

Suits me I thought to myself, mentally running my mind's eye from her sexy ankle to the hemline of the micro-skirt that so barely covered her perfectly curved ass. The hint of a smile twitched her lips – I think she knew what was going through my mind. She'd already caught me staring at her perfect legs while she was sitting in the chair in front of my desk not more than a half hour before.

When I'd looked up and realized that she was watching me being mesmerized by the line of her crossed thighs disappearing under her tiny skirt, she didn't act as though she disapproved. In fact, unless I mistook the sign, she'd made a little promise when she pointedly made a show of uncrossing her legs which revealed the lacy black panties she was wearing, and recrossed her legs in the opposite direction. During this whole process, her eyes never left my face, and I could see what she was up to because she was far enough away from my desk that my field of vision was wide enough to take in the entire length of her from her head to her strapless sandals. That same twitch of a smile had played across her tastefully frosted lips then too.

Let me explain something about Lana. She was a few years older than me. Eight years, to be exact, older than me. She'd been a Playboy Bunny in St. Louis, Mo., and had caught Hef's eye. When he'd offered her the opportunity to "increase" her visibility, she politely declined, and was inexplicably offered to be shown the door not long after. She still retained the grace, poise and especially the beauty that Playboy Bunnies are renowned for, and a small solid gold Bunny pendant rested demurely at the base of her throat. The thin gold chain was all that adorned the long slender neck that could only be described as aristocratic.

Refined, articulate and sensual, all without seeming to work at being those things, Lana was a natural to catch the eye of any man, or woman for that matter, who appreciated natural intelligence and just a bit of enhanced natural beauty.

I moved away from her toward the bar, intent upon catching the bartender's eye. As this was our first date, if one could call it such, I wanted to show her that I was every bit the gentleman to her lady. I ordered drinks, Sour Apple Martini for her, Grey Goose Vodka Martini for me. In the half hour it took me to get them and make my way back to her, she had procured herself a seat on a barstool and was watching me elbow my way through the crowd. Her long back was three-quarters turned toward the bar, and she had those beautiful legs crossed again. I swear this time she did it on purpose, but as I approached her and could see more of her, she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, her eyes never leaving my face and that twitchy little smile playing across her lips. Once again, I was treated to a glimpse of those lacy black panties.

It occurred to me in passing that if I could see her panties, then so could anyone else around her who just happened to be looking in her direction – and a hasty glance told me there were a few other sets of eyes who had caught a glimpse.

By the time I'd reached her side, I was convinced that she knew exactly what she had done. And by reason of logic, it had been the same in my office.

My hands were shaking slightly, my heart was pounding madly and I know my face was flushed. I handed her the drink and smiled a smile that I hoped said "thank you" as she beckoned me to lean toward her. I turned my head so she could speak into my ear, but instead of words, she slowly ran her tongue from my earlobe to the crest of my ear, then kissed my cheek.

"Thank you for the drink" she murmured as her hand caressed my face, then slowly returned to rest in her lap.

"My pleasure" I replied.

And the pleasure wasn't just for the drink or her kiss. I could feel a stirring in my slacks. And as fate would have it, I was standing close enough to her that when she swiveled her stool toward the bar, her forearm, the full length of her forearm, rubbed across the front of my zipper. There was no doubt that she could feel the effect she'd had. And no doubt that she was happy with the effect she'd had. Those sensuous lips engulfed the edge of her martini glass, the tip of her pink tongue just visible behind her pearly teeth, and a sip of bright green martini disappeared.

The longer we stayed at the bar, the more and more crowded it got, until finally we were pressed tightly against one another, her sitting on her stool, me standing next to her. For nearly fifteen minutes, some part of our bodies had been in contact with each other. At one point I had reached out a finger to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, and as I withdrew it, she followed it and kissed it before I had fully withdrawn. Her warm soft lips curled around my knuckle and her tongue brushed my skin. She sat back up and announced that she had to visit the ladies room.

I stepped aside as she slipped off her stool. She turned her back to me to reach for her purse, and for more than just a brief moment, the full curve of her ass was pressed against my still hard crotch. She pressed her finger to my lips as she moved off saying "I'll be right back".

It took ten minutes. But by the time she got back, I'd calmed down a bit. As she resumed her stool, I leaned down and whispered "my turn" in her ear. She held my arm, for a moment and kissed me quickly on the mouth before saying "Hurry back, I don't want to be here alone".

"I'll be right back" I assured her as I straightened up. Then on impulse I leaned in and kissed her back. She didn't pull away.

It was probably ten minutes before I made it back to her side. As I pushed through the jostling crowd, I wondered if this time she'd do it again. Sure enough, as I approached her, she uncrossed those long golden legs again, taking far longer than necessary to reposition them. This time I couldn't suppress my surprise.

"When did you do that?" I asked her a few seconds later.

Instead of recrossing her legs and turning back toward the bar this time, Lana swiveled further toward me, and as I got close, she tugged my shirtsleeves indicating that I was to keep coming. Her knees parted and I stepped as close as I could get. I felt her ankles lock behind my calves.

She reached for my hand and guided it to her thigh.

"Touch me. Here. Now." she whispered. "I'm so close I want to cum. My pussy has been wet since I got up this morning, and when I shaved it in the shower I came twice. That's never happened before. Now I want you to make me cum."

The position was awkward. I could make contact with her soft smooth lips only with the back of my fingers. But I gently caressed her now bare pussy, for she had removed her panties when she had gone to the ladies room. It only took a few seconds before my hand was drenched in her juices. Her lips were parted like the petals of a fully opened flower, and the smooth slipperiness of her skin presented no resistance to my fingers as I ran my knuckles from her clit to her vagina. Less than a minute later, I felt a rush of liquid, a wave of heat, and her entire body tremble. Before I knew what she had in mind, she had unzipped my trousers and plunged her hand into my undershorts, pulling out my rock hard cock.

"I don't want to wait." she said matter of factly. "And I don't want you to cum in your pants either. I want your cock in my pussy right here, right now! I want to walk out of here with your cum dripping down my thighs. Fuck me. Fuck me please. Fuck me right now!"

© Copyright November 2005

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