People watching alone is kind of a strange activity, but I’m kind of a strange girl. I didn’t go there to see her, but I did know that she’d be there. The way she moved her hips as she walked the room was enthralling, and enticing. The way she slithered as she calculated her options was almost slippery. It was almost hard to see her when she moved like that, but it was altogether impossible to take my eyes off of her. Watching her work the table was captivating.
Everything about her screamed competence, yet the guys were still lining up to challenge her, hoping that they’d be able to take back the table for the boys. She let them break each time, but somehow took stripes in every game. She obviously wanted it that way, but I don’t know why.
It wasn’t simple happenstance that I was there. I’d just read a feature on her. A feature written by my editor. I almost didn’t recognize her at first, because it didn’t describe her the way I would. Not at all, in fact. In the photo she was half turned away, hidden behind sunglasses, with her hair in front of her face. To me, that photo was more or less as recognizable as a hot Banksy.
For a while longer I just watched. The way she flowed through the cue to guide the cold, white sphere across the table was magic. As it struck the other balls, they were guided straight to her destination – changing direction as needed and narrowly slipping past their fellows unimpeded, or in collision deputizing them to fall in their cause.
Her tactics were as delicious as her movement. Most like her try not to scare off the marks, but she just waits until they deliver themselves to her table in the corner – the table that’s kept aside for her by management. She’s good for business.
Saying that I was turned on in those long, exquisite moments would be a gratuitous understatement. My mind was on fire and my pussy was drenched. Working up the nerve to approach her was a Herculean challenge, but one which I was eager to meet. After I watched her win her ninth straight game, I stood up and walked to the bar. As I considered what I was doing, I asked for a shot as well, and quickly tossed it back in a single, smooth swallow.
Wincing a little from the fire in my throat, I advanced toward the table in the corner. She turned toward the window for a second and took a long drink of whatever the last guy she had punished on the table had bought her. Her silhouette against sunset was breathtaking, and I nearly stopped in my tracks. I didn’t get the chance to open my mouth before she asked if she could buy me a drink. I raised my glass in place of answering her, but she just smiled, put a hand on my shoulder and walked me to the only empty booth in the place, in the darkest corner of the room.
Silence hovered around us for a little while. That was to be expected though, since I am awkward and she is mysterious. We didn’t speak for minutes, instead just scrutinizing each other. After a while she asked, “What’s so interesting about me?”
“Everything,” I told her, surprised by the confidence with which I spoke. She engaged me and I met her with equal energy. Without knowing or caring what had come over me I simply conversed. Some meaningless time passed, and without noticing or caring that the sun was setting, we kept smiling and giggling with eyes locked until the place was closing.
Once we noticed I looked around, feeling kind of sheepish, but also kind of satisfied. She yelled to the bartender, “Hey Cal, we’re going to stick around for a bit. I’ll lock up.”
He eyed me for a second, then looked back to her and smiled. Without further inquiry he tossed her the keys, said, “See you in the morning,” and gave me a look I didn’t quite recognize.
She smiled and replied “See ya.”
Pretty much the second he was out of the room she had me out of the booth and pressed up against the cleanest part of the wall. She moved fast. Her tongue was in my mouth before I even opened it. A stunned second later, when I met her kiss both our tongues entwined. We were making out with an intensity well remembered, but not practiced in years.
Moments later, her hands were under my skirt, furiously pulling my underwear down, but just far enough that she could gain access to my very wet, very sensitive pussy. For a moment she played with my clit, but only a moment. Next, her fingers were sliding gracefully into me. As they moved, she curled them in a way that gets me every time. Having met me once, she could predict what I wanted. In just seconds of exploration, she knew me as well as her table.
My eyes were closed so I didn’t see her, but her voice was extraordinary. Her fingers inside me, her thumb pressing down on my wet clit… Everything she did pushed me toward an almost frightening climax. For the briefest instant in the middle of everything, I thought I was falling in love.
Emerging from the blackout just in time to feel the beginning of my orgasm, I could see the look on her face as she touched me, and that was what pushed me the rest of the way. As I came I bit my lip, she smiled, I screamed, she laughed softly, I soaked her hand, she pulled it away, and I fell to the floor.
Standing above me looking down, she said, “Mmm… I like you, Tell your editor she can have that follow up she’s after if she sends you to… conduct my interview.”
