Wednesday Fantasy

I didn’t usually find clean cut men attractive, but despite this guys business suit and close cropped hair, there was no denying his bad boy aura. The one that said. “Can you handle me?”

Oh yeah. Not only can I handle him. I made up my mind right then that I was going to.

He strode up to the bar, ignoring the hot glances the not-so icy-anymore businesswomen were shooting his way. And he stopped only two feet away from me.

What did I do? I tossed him a cool smile and then I ignored him. The bartender, a husky guy, more tattoos than skin showing, kept his eyes on me. I winked and held out my glass. He might not have been suma cum laude when he graduated, but he could read. He grinned at me and filled it up.

“She’s having whatever she wants,” the bartender rumbled.

“So am I,” tall-dark-and-Oh-MY-God-did-he-smell-good, replied.

I turned to face him. Gazing boldly into his deep blue eyes I let a small smile play at my lips before speaking. “And just what is it you want?”

One dark eyebrow lifted and he leaned forward, reaching for the drink the bartender had set on the bar behind me. His arm brushed lightly against my shoulder and his breath feathered across my cheek. “You.”

Heat swamped my system and pooled low in my belly. I tried to keep my expression cool while squeezing my thighs together subtly. Now was not the time to let him know he could have me. He was way to confident, and the urge to take him down a notch was strong.

“You don’t always get what you want in life.” I was proud of my steady voice and the fact that my body’s excited trembling didn’t show in when I lifted my own drink to my mouth.

“Some people might not,” he chuckled. “But I do.”

I let my eyes run over his body. Tall, lean and hard, he made my mouth water. “You might get what you want…if you’re willing to work for it.”

“Work for it, hmmm,” he smirked at me. “That’s fine, honey, I’m a workaholic.”

Self-confidence I like, even a certain amount of arrogance. But this… he had
to come down a little. With studied nonchalance I turned on my stool, bending to fix the strap of my heel. Silly thing was twisted you see. Shame it left all my cleavage on display. I was so lucky to find the nice, lacy support bra that actually did cover my nipples – not much else but what’s a girl to do?

When I turned back to smile at the bartender, I accidentally brushed Mr. Cocky.

Well, really I brushed Mr. Cock. Seemed he had woken up and decided to play.

“I like a man with a good work ethic,” I murmured. Right on cue, the bartender slid a fruit tray onto the bar. I snatched a convenient cherry and wrapped my tongue around it. “Are you okay?” I asked my new employee. He seemed to be choking.

He regained his composure quickly, and stepped a bit closer, laying his hand on my thigh, and pressing his body against my side. “If I say I’m not ok, will you make me feel better?”

“Maybe”

His gaze roamed over my expression. I knew he was trying to get a read on me. To see if I was ready to take this to the next level.

I hoped the “Hell Ya!” excitement I was feeling was showing just enough to keep him on the hook.

His eyes darkened and he pressed against me a bit harder. “Maybe isn’t good enough, Baby. Yes or no? You want to help me out?”

“Hmmm,” I stalled, turning to face him. I spread my legs a little and rubbed the inside of my thigh along the outside of his leg. “I know a little CPR,” I
murmured, looking him up and down. “Where should I apply the pressure?”
He lifted my hand from around my glass and pulled it below the lip of the bar. I tilted my head, wondering what he would do next. He didn’t disappoint. He took my palm and flattened it against the rigid length barley hidden by two thousand dollar’s worth of Armani’s best work.

I licked my lips and did what any Good Samaritan would do. I applied pressure. Lots of pressure.

I felt him twitch beneath the fabric, and heard his sharp intake of breath.
A euphoric sense of power merged with the pleasure flowing through my veins.

“Very nice,” I murmured. “But nothing special.”

Pulling my hand away I nodded to the amused bartender and signaled for another drink. I could feel him tense beside me. He was off balance.

Good.

Wanting to keep him that way I slowly walked my fingers up his length.

“I don’t’ think this has grown to it’s full potential, do you?” I gave him a moue of disappointment. “I so hate when resources aren’t developed properly.”

He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. I squeezed the top of
his growth prospectus. “Any chance we can move this conference to another boardroom?” his voice was low and almost menacing.

“Mmmm, in a minute,” I purred, keeping the upper hand. My lower hand slipped even lower, his sacs were tight. His breathing ragged. I sipped my drink.

Deciding to kick it up a notch I turned towards him and lifted my hand from his body. Locking my gaze with his, I brought the hand up to my face and trailed a fingertip across my lips. When his gaze wavered and his eyes dropped I let my mouth open slightly and my tongue darted out to flick at the tip before I sucked the finger slowly between my lips.

A low rumbling growl issued form his throat and I fought back a triumphant grin. “How do you feel about oral sex?” I whispered.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “I feel pretty good about it. You?”

“I have this yen to do it in public every now and then.” I nodded in the direction of the booths in the back of the lounge . . . where the lighting was a bit dimmer.

He looked at me and then glanced at the bartender. Tattoo guy was artfully ignoring us although I thought I detected a slight smile playing around his mouth.

“I think there’s a nice, wide booth over there, just off the dance floor,” I murmured. “And look at the size of that fichus. Don’t you just love potted plants?”

He looked in the direction I indicated and then back at me, a smirk curling his lips. “Yeah, Baby,” he growled. “Greenery makes me hot.”

“Is that so?” I cooed, leading him by the hand as he tossed a twenty onto the bar. I slid onto the edge of the booth and pulled him around in front of my legs. Tugging on his tie with one hand, I flipped the edge of my skirt to expose my thigh-highs. “If you like greenery, you’ll love my thong. Emerald satin,” I wagged my eyebrows at him, swallowing a laugh at his stunned expression.

We slid into the booth, ordered a couple or drinks form the waitress. When she walked away I turned to my companion, and sat back against the cushion.