Will You Run? Ch. 01

A familiar bar on a Friday night. June had come to this bar almost every Friday night and it felt like home. She was gladly single, but eager to be flattered with a few drinks and kick some ass at pool. Even the most tempting offer rarely led a stranger's bed. Her best friend Sophia usually at her side, but she had bailed at the last minute. No matter, June preferred to go out alone.

This particular Friday was John's birthday. John was happily married, although Lorraine's eye, and the occasional hand, could wander just as easily as his. Needless to say, neither was the jealous type. They had been Sophia's friends, and therefore June's friends by association. Just far enough removed to avoid a bit of guilt when they drank together.

John had a past that left hard, black tattoos on his knuckles and neck. Not a large man, but strong and with rough hands. He no longer lived that life, but he still retained some old friends dressed in leather that filled the patio at the bar.

June walked across the parking lot and passed the row of bikes at the entrance. She was a regular here, which meant the bouncer knew her by name. He also knew June by her tall cowboy boots and cut-offs -- the only woman to dress that way in this neighborhood. Although tonight, June wore a short black dress that clung to her athletic figure. An ass that could turn heads, especially bent over a pool table. She had a teasing confidence --a look in her eye that she knew exactly what she was doing. She was never desperate, never too eager to please.

As June sauntered up to the bouncer, he took in her bare thighs and smiled to himself. It wasn't before she stood directly in front of him that she looked up to meet his gaze and smiled like she hadn't seen him in years.

"Hi honey..." Her words were like Tennessee whiskey, searing and sweet.

"Hey baby girl. No partner in crime tonight?"

"Not tonight, it's just me." June flashed a smirk as she opened the back door and headed inside. Several stripping glances, including John's, followed her in.

Straight to the bar meant pushing through a crowd, but June needed a beer and change for the pool table. She couldn't win a table without the quarters, and couldn't wait for someone to offer her a drink. A few strategically placed hands, asking to get by, would turn enough heads to make a space for her at the bar rail. The bartender didn't even have to ask her what she wanted. A light bottled beer was always the first down. Before she could pass her cash across the rail, a tattooed arm reached over her shoulder and handed the bartender a 50-dollar bill.

"The next few are on me, cowgirl." John's smoky and liquored voice. He had taken up calling her cowgirl since the moment he met her. There was no other woman like her in this town.

June turned into his arm, now facing him, their lips just a few inches apart. She instantly blushed as the crowd behind, clamoring to the bar rail, squeezed them together. She felt his large silver buckle press on her hip and her bare thigh leaned against his zipper. She self-consciously looked away, over his shoulder. He realized he had never seen her blush.

"That's very sweet, but you are supposed to get free drinks on your birthday, not give them out." With her last word, her eyes darted to his. There she was -- a smirk to make a man crawl. John didn't have anything witty to return and just smiled like a drunk dope.

"Happy birthday, John." So very genuine, it almost hurt. June lay her palm on his chest and gave a gentle push backward. He reached up to grab her hand and held it tightly as he turned and headed toward the pool tables. He knew she was good, good enough to talk up to his buddies and bet some money. He always chose her as his partner.

John's tight grip dragged June back through the crowd and she followed silently. She kept her eyes down out of habit as to not draw any extra attention to herself or to the rough man dragging her through the bar. He had already had quite a few drinks and abruptly stumbled trying to maneuver the pack. June ran into him, her chest pressed against his back, and John reached back with his free hand and held her hip to keep them both balanced. His imploring hand just above her lovely ass. This touch surged through June like a lightning bolt and she could feel goose bumps washing over her. Her nipples perked up like a sudden chill, making small pebbles that could be seen through her thin dress and bra.

The pool tables were full and quarters stacked up on the rails. Lorraine and the other wives were all sitting together at a corner table. Leathers surrounded them and June made a quick glance over. She smiled happily and walked over to Lorraine to give her a hug and say hello. She was introduced to all of the other women, most of them heavy-set and Hispanic. June was used to being one of the only white women in this bar. It helped that some of the leathers were white too, including John. However there was always some hint of discrimination when a white woman, especially alone, came around.

"So great to see you! How's it going?" June could feel judgment on her words from the other women.

"Happy you could come! I know John was looking forward to winning some money with you..." Lorraine gave a small smile. She knew June was no serious threat to her marriage, but also knew John had a particular draw to her. His marriage-type was certainly Lorraine -- a thick Mexican woman with long dark hair and a robust attitude. June, however, with a slim waist, generous ass and thighs, and long blonde hair was another type altogether. Her innocent yet confident nature created a specific curiosity in John that Lorraine knew fueled his drinking tonight. An excuse to be wicked, and it was his birthday after all.

"Well hopefully I'm decent enough tonight on the cue. He seems to be having a good night so far." June laughed politely and gestured over to John, already laying quarters out and talking shit to boys running the tables.

"Yeah, he's probably already on the downhill..." Lorraine laughed as well and took a sip of her beer. "You have some catching up to do!" She handed June an amber shot from a very large round sitting on the table. June knew shots at the beginning of the night could lead to bad decisions by the end of the night, but she needed to be on their level if she wanted to make friends.

After downing the shot, most likely a cheap whiskey with the way it burned in her chest, she fingered the sticks until she found her regular. The weight of it in her hand gave her a rush of coolness, a burst of arrogance. By this time, John had convinced the other players to let them have a go at winning the table. John made penetrating eye contact with June, nodded, and then bent to insert the quarters. She knew this was her cue to rack.

Even in her short dress, she crouched at the foot of the table. The dress rose up about an inch. June didn't bother to right it. That whiskey was already doing its job. She racked the balls quickly and precisely. John watched her intently, wondering where she had learned to play. She hit as though an older brother had taught her a long time ago, accurate and concentrated, but her stance was that of a woman who knew her assets and didn't need to play well to win. A combination that was toxic to most unsuspecting men in the bar.

The first game was brief and without mercy. They won the table and therefore called the shots on any subsequent opponents. June had finished her beer and someone had handed her another. Her guard was falling and without a friend to keep her in check, the night rolled on with liquid haste. At some point during the third game against two of John's buddies, the group of women went outside to smoke. June felt relief from their judgment and her posture relaxed. Her pool game improved as she could use her body to encourage distraction. Bent over the table, her skirt nestled just below her ass cheeks and John could see the muscle definition in her hamstrings. The thin straps of her dress resisted the weight of her breasts. He wolfed her figure greedily, as did his friends.

John immediately took advantage of the absent wives, standing closer to June while their opponents shot. His hand, previously placed on her lower back as he would walk by, now dipped to her ass and lingered as he would feign not knowing what shot to take. She played along, simpering at his touch and telling him what to do. She knew she could trust him not to go too far, and to protect her if shit went south.

They continued to thrust full beer bottles into her hand when she became empty, and offered her the last two shots from the table. She blindly accepted.

A break was in order as John and June had run through each set of opponents, winning, but lacking concentration after the fifth game. John offered her a seat at their table -- he wanted badly for her to sit on his lap, but couldn't chance that obvious sign of ownership if the women came back inside. She sat down and he pulled up a chair beside her. His friends also sat down, and a particularly coarse man with tattoos from chest to chin sat on her other side. He had been unobtrusive all night, not making crude comments to June as they played pool like the other men. He was certainly the largest of the group and with heavy colors. June studied him. He must be the vice president -- none of the cockiness of the leader, but with a protective manner that could handle the group if needed. He suddenly turned to catch her staring. She blushed for the second time that night, but held her gaze. She smiled nervously. He just looked at her -- not altogether empty, a hint of quiet desire in his eyes.

She broke her stare when quick fingers slipped something under her dress. A good sum of money had changed hands as a result of the unforgiving pool losses and John teasingly tucked the cash on the side of June's thigh. She laughed and shook her head, retrieving the money and sliding it into her boot.

"It would seem we need another round! You'll be safe with Jeremiah." John nodded toward the large white man next to June, and then smiled openly. He stood up haphazardly and headed toward the bar. June surely didn't need another, but one last shot couldn't hurt. It was close to one in the morning and last call would be approaching soon.

June wasn't sure of the expectations to socialize with John's friends. She knew none of their names, except the assumed Jeremiah next to her, or their wives' names. She had to be careful. She excused herself to go to the bathroom, but felt their eyes check her figure as she walked away.

The mirror was filthy and the floor covered in spilled drinks and used paper towels. June first adjusted her breasts, then combed a few fingers through her hair while looking in the mirror. Her face was a bit flushed from drinking, but she liked the way the liquor relaxed her lips and eyes. She was the perfect amount of drunk. She stood back from the mirror to see a full-length view and turned to the side making sure her dress hadn't risen too high.

"Quite a good view..." The large man from the table, Jeremiah, stood leaning against the bathroom door. A smirk played at the corners of his mouth.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" June asked with less authority than she wanted. Not quite panicked, but also sobering up in a hurry. He stalked toward her slowly, took her wrist and then stood behind her in the mirror. He pulled her other hand from where it rested on the sink and drew both hands behind her back -- not a forced grip, and June didn't struggle, but her body became rigid. She looked anxiously at his reflection, hung silently behind her, and could feel the weight of his frame pressing her hips into the sink basin.

He bent his mouth to her neck. She could feel the stubble from his cheek on her jawline. The man's teeth grazed her flesh and then an unexpected, indulgent kiss. June automatically closed her eyes and let the breath expel that she had been holding.

"Please do what I ask and please don't scream." His words were calm, but firm. His warm breath swirled into her ear and he made severe eye contact with her in the mirror.

"What do you want?" June's head began to swim, a mixture of adrenaline and whiskey. But also a fragment of clouding pleasure.

"You need to make good on John for his birthday, and on me for that performance out there. You have no idea the amount of self-control demonstrated by my boys tonight."

"Absolutely fucking not! John is married and I don't even know you." June struggled against him for the first time and she felt his grip tighten on her wrists. A sharp inhale straightened her posture and she attempted to look convincing.

"If we don't have you, I can guarantee the dogs will. I can also guarantee that you will enjoy fucking me, not something they will care about when you are bent over their bike outside." Jeremiah smiled as he lowered his lips back to her neck. This time he bit, but softly, and then trailed a wet and playful tongue up to her earlobe.

"And if I scream?" She looked at him defiantly.

He abruptly shifted both of her wrists into just one of his hands, shoving her forward and bending her at the waist. With his now free hand, he pushed up her dress and struck her ass, leaving an immediate red welt the size of his palm. He exhaled and closed his eyes as though this had satisfied an ache in his body.

He gently raised her upright and looked at her, not sure what to expect. This woman was strong, confident, even arrogant. She could fight back, and he wanted her to fight back. He wanted to dominate her, and knew John would appreciate that sport, too. Yet there was a suggestion of obedience in her that surprised him. As she stood back up, she kept glancing down at nothing, then back up to his eyes. She was trying to hide her pleasure.

It wasn't the spanking that gave her pleasure, although pain released a certain surge through her body. It was his reaction to striking her. He enjoyed it - she had done well.

They both stood motionless and breathless for a minute, just staring at each other in the dirty reflection. A sudden tapping on the door startled June, but Jeremiah just called out to ask what was going on. June realized that he must have had another one of John's friends stand guard at the door to prevent any drunk girls from walking into the bathroom.

The door cracked open just enough for a Hispanic man, looking the other way, to tell him that it was last call. June recognized him from the table. The Hispanic man turned and caught a glimpse of June, still breathless, pressed against the sink and Jeremiah holding her arms behind her back. He looked purely predatory as he saw her dress halfway up her exposed ass.

"Get the fuck out of here, I'll be out in a minute." Irritation welled up in Jeremiah's voice as the Hispanic man promptly let the door close. He wanted to protect her from the rest of the boys. He wanted to enjoy her for himself. And only himself.

"If I let your arms go, will you fight me?" There was no menace in his voice. Just questioning.

"Do you want me to fight you?"

"Perhaps. But I think I would win." Jeremiah smiled.

"I know." June smiled, but averted her eyes again. Looking down submissively.

"Will you scream?" he asked flatly.

June shook her head.

"Will you run?"

June shook her head.

After a pause, Jeremiah released her wrists. She brought them forward and readjusted her dress. She smoothed her hair nonchalantly. He bent to her neck once again, bit harder than before and left faint teeth marks on her soft skin. He instructed that she wait in the parking lot near her truck. John would find her.