One Night Stand [PM first]

[dark_N_stormy]

One Night Stand [closed]

Nat walked up to the empty stool at the bar and is immediately greeted with, "What can I get you?"

"Glenfiddich. Double. Neat," responded Nat, holding in a hiccup. She was already buzz with a flushed face. The night was still young though. She barely had enough, considering the long day she had. More importantly, she needed to de-stress, relieve the week long frustration, ax this month long dry spell, and end nearly a year-long of burning the midnight oil.

---

[[OOC - send your response in a PM. I'm an old-time Lit; just using a different account. Although this meant to start as one night stand, sex first talk later, I'm looking for long-ish term. I'm not asking for pre-plan chars match up or bio up front. You can be the bartender, a random stranger, long lost friend, co-worker, neighbor, etc. Whatever floats your boat. The only limit is a male between 18 and 35. Describe his physical appearance or link a pic for reference in your response. I won't indulge anymore about my char in OOC either. Plan is to reveal mine and learn about yours as we and the SRP progress. My posts might seem very short winded and vague right now, but more in depth, more specific, and longer later on.]]

 

[Homerun2611]

Josh was on edge, and not the good kind. He had been working on this deal for nearly three months, signed the final papers tonight, and as he looked around the room filled with his lawyers, he wanted to know where they were going to celebrate. Instead he saw a room of bleary eyed paper pushers who had just worked 100 hours over the last 5 days.

Fuck, he was the client, he was well rested, but he was on his own, they were too tired to be any fun anyhow. He had sacrificed everything for this company, but he was now officially a successful start up CEO, a silicon valley wonderboy, who sold his first company as a homerun. Sure it had cost him his fiancee, and he had no friends who remembered him...but he had that pelt on the wall...he thought it would feel better.

He walked into that bar needing to celebrate, needing a release...and he saw her as he ordered his drink, Tito's on the rocks. She was hot, but he didn't recognize her, why would he, he had been maybe 15, her no more than 12, when he last saw her. He was almost double that now. Six foot two, 190 pounds, of sleek, buffed, new high tech tycoon.

The drink was delivered, he picked it up, a tip of the glass, "cheers" directed at no one in particular...well, maybe her. Her head turned, and they caught eyes for a second, the spark of two attractive people who had few other viable options in sight at the moment. He threw back the first drink in little more than a single gulp. "Bobby, another...." that was the bartender's name, he had watched this same dance play out so many times, "...please, and whatever the lady is having". Now he turned and gave his best smile, the first line was cast, he waited to see if the fish might nibble.

 

[dark_N_stormy]

While waiting for her drink, Nat looked around the posh bar. There was only one other at the bar, tipping the tequila on ice at her. He was clean cut and dressed casually yet sharply. Then the music pulled her eyes away. She glanced over to a red piano on the opposite end of the bar where someone was playing Chopin. A group of ladies in cocktail dress huddled nearby, admiring, ogling, giggling, and drooling over the pianist.

Her eyes then wandered, noting a few other tables occupied by lovey dovey couples. All well dressed with fancy cocktails. The men would lean in and whisper to her ear. The women chuckled and batted her eyes as if he had said the most clever thing in the world. Tis was the dating scene.

Though she found it repetitive, Nat missed it. More accurately she missed what usually follows after the facade of chivlary, naivety, and subtle hints -the physical contact, taste of another human being, the sex. Oh the sex, the thrill, the rush, the orgasm, the...

Her trance of thought was interrupted by, "Here you go," and then the soft clink from the drink setting in front of her. "On the gentleman."

Nat's glance followed Bobby's head nod to find the other lone wolf at the bar. As Nat bought the glass to her lips, their eyes locked once again. She would've never guess in hundred years that they've known each other in their teens. All she knew at this moment is that he looks good, confident like a million buck, and then her mind wondered how he is in bed, or on the couch, in back seat of a car, or against a backalley wall, or on top of this counter bar even.

Smiling, Nat tipped her glass as a silent cheers and thanks before taking a long gulp. Her red lips clutched onto the glass, leaving a faint imprint. Tip of her tongue brushed across the rim before peeling the drink away. After she placed the brandy style snifter in her left palm, she reached the air of the empty chair between them with her right hand -palm down, red nails up. As she waited for a handshake of sort, she introduced herself, "Natalie."

 

[Homerun2611]

He let his eyes pan the bar as well. A hunter never misses easy prey if it is within gunsight. The women hanging at the piano were too much work, and he had little desire for the small talk necessary to separate one from the herd. There were lots of couples or at least coupling in process, which helped create a conducive vibe. He wants to be standing when the music stops. He laughed at his internal metaphor and again glance at the piano...nah.

He returned to the primary target. Right now, he was a butcher, he didn't really care about the temperment of the cattle, just the cut of beef, and she looked damn fine on the hoof. Brownish hair with a nice hint of red, fitted dress that showed a toned body, pale skin wit some cute freckling, and a face that he found more than slightly attractive. If he was honest, at this point in the night, he would have gladly settled for a lesser grade choice cut, maybe even select, but nope, this girl was prime, maybe prime +, and he was ravenously hungry.

He watched her bring the drink to her lips, the first thing to catch his eye were the bright red nails, he could almost feel them digging into his back already, leaving indistinguishable mark of supreme pleasure delivered and received. Was she a screamer, or quiet, did she like to talk dirty, god he hoped so. It had been far too long since he heard a woman clamor for his cock, to take her deeper, harder. Did she liked to be bent over a table or couch, or perhaps she was a cowgirl, giddy up, or thrown on her back or pressed up against the wall, all such delicious options.

He licked his lips at the thought. He watched her lipsticked lips caress the glass, again leaving their mark, and then her tongue slip out to tease the ice cubes. He had a cock that would love to indulge that same teasing action. And then she swallowed and his brow raised in appreciation, if not anticipation. She extended her hand to him, "Natalie". His eyes sparkled as he took the hand and bent over, his one hand taking hers, palm up steering it toward him, his other reaching for her waist, ostensibly for balance. He leaned down, and brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, a playfully formal greeting. "Josh...nice to meet you Natalie" he smiled and he slid into the seat beside her, his hands still as they had been, his eyes now looking into hers, "Another please Bobby?".

 

[dark_N_stormy]

His lips was a welcoming warmth against her pale skin. The softness and dampness ping sent little goosebumps on the back of her hand. "Like wise, Josh." Nat then let out a quiet "hmm" as he slid a chair closer.

She took another sip of her drink before placing it back on the counter. The slight bitterness of the scotch was like elixir on her tongue. It prompted her to long for another kind of remedy, the taste of cum. As she placed the glass back on the counter, she couldn't help but wonder about his, but then couldn't decide whether she wants cumshot on her face, down her throat, or a cream pie first. Oh how she longed for a good fuck, and he seemed to fit the bill.

She bet he's the dominant type who likes to overpower his women, show off his mouth technique on her nipples, tease her clit, and watch her squirm. Then again, maybe she was only projecting. Maybe he's a closet submissive, a boss in the morning and a slave behind closed doors. Though she isn't a dominatrix, Nat wouldn't mind tying him down and having her ways with him; rubbing her wetness over his length; wanting him to beg for release.

The endless options and thoughts moistened between her thighs. Her legs shifted to the other side of the chair. The friction from the motion both helped and promulgated her problem.

Nat masked her moan as a chuckle when he ordered Bobby for another round. "Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me, Josh?" she asked with corner of her lips curled coyly. Her free hand hovered his on her hip. The tip of her fingers swirled over his.

She bit the bottom of her lip as their eyes locked. She wouldn't mind staring into those dark, deep eyes of his while straddling him. Her fingers digging onto his chest and she screaming for him. "So Josh," she paused to either a dramatic afffect or just to catch her breather. His name rolled off her tongue more easily each time.

Pulling their joint hands onto her laps, Nat asked rhetorically, "Are you alone tonight?"

 

[Homerun2611]

He watched her movements, she was a cat who looked like needed a scratch, and he wanted to provide her the pole she needed. He liked the way she moved, feline, feminine, he loved active lovemaking or sometimes raw sex. He like a woman who could hold her own in bed, as willing to take the lead as follow. Sometimes, he was strong and forceful, but always consensual. When he entered a woman he wanted to feel her desire in her wetness, loved peeling or ripping off soaked panties.

“Not trying to get you drunk...most definitely trying to take advantage”, he laughed. He believed in truth in advertising, he was not merely here to drink and have a few laughs. He was sitting here flirting, buying her drinks, because he wanted to fuck, or at least everything up to fucking. Why not let her know, she could slap him, or at least excuse herself, or she could stay and announce, in no uncertain terms, “game on!”

He had felt her hand hover over his, somewhat guarding, somewhat encouraging, he preferred to believe the latter. Her next statement, removed all doubt, “Are you alone tonight?” He smiled, the question was so fucking leading, and he wanted it to lead to fucking, bareback, at a five star hotel or her place. His jet was supposed to be wheels up at 8 AM, he could fix that. He wanted a night that forced him to sleep in and recover, this hot minx draped over him, both soundly asleep, sexually sated.

He kept the smile, leaned in and kissed her cheek, moved slightly and nibbled her ear, then let her feel the heat of his whisper, “not anymore, right?”