A Woman Walked into a Bar

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She smiled to herself as she opened the door, the thought, A Woman Walked Into a Bar… unexpectedly popping into her mind. How many jokes were there in the world that began with that line — only with “man” used instead of “woman?” Only this time, the line applied to her. Glancing around the bar and high end restaurant as Trisha stepped up to the receptionist podium, Trisha didn’t at first see him. Not unexpected, he had texted at the last minute that he might be running a few minutes late.

“Just one?” said the hostess as she stepped back to the podium. Although affiliated with the hotel, the bar was definitely upscale, as was the receptionist that greeted her. The receptionists Little Black Dress was form fitting, the low cut neckline designed to provide more than a brief flash of flesh, the majority of her breasts displayed for the enticement of the viewer, and she definitely had some gorgeous breasts. At least it made Trisha’s own LBD seem appropriate for the situation.

“Actually I’m meeting someone…” she offered in response, once again letting her eyes travel around the room.

“Are you Trisha?” the receptionist asked, surprising her with the question.

“Why, yes” she responded, surprised at the question.

“If you’ll follow me, right this way; your friend called and reserved a booth, but said he’ll be a bit delayed.”

Following her to the table Trisha noticed that the same little black dress was on every girl, obviously their uniform. Well-tailored and very sexy, every girl looked like a million dollars. The few men that she saw were also well dressed; black form fitting long sleeve shirts that showed off pecs and abs almost as well as the LBD’s showed off the girls boobs. The men’s shirts, without bras to deflect the view, showed hard little pinpoints of nipples on their hard bodies, adding to the men’s sexy look, whereas the women’s dresses had a looser fitting top that had a tendency to display more bare flesh when they bent over but prevented their nipples from being defined as the men’s were. Definitely proof that sex sells, she thought, but at least it goes both ways. It was obvious that all these servers regularly worked out; what she didn’t know was that it was a requirement of their employment – one hour a day in the gym, bought and paid for by the establishment. The owner knew that good looking, young, and sexy employees – whether male or female, were good for business and made sure that they were all good looking and sexy; one paid hour of every shift required to be spent in the gym under the tutelage of the company fitness trainer.

No sooner had she slid into the booth than her phone buzzed with a text. “Sorry, did you just get there? Still a bit delayed.” It couldn’t have been better timing, although it was a bit annoying that she was there and he wasn’t.

“Yes. How long will you be?”

“DK. Not long hopefully.”

A minute later the phone buzzed again.

“Looking hot I presume?”

“You should know,” she sent back, “you bought it.”

“But I haven’t actually seen it yet. Does it fit?”


The dress was a tad shorter than she usually liked, cut well above her knees, but she admittedly had stopped to admire herself in the mirror, turning and looking, checking herself out, in the room before she’d left to meet him. She hadn’t been displeased with her own sight and, although more provocative than she usually wore, she had to admit it accented her bottom very nicely. She’d always been proud of her bottom and knew Mike liked it too as his hands never failed to caress her backside when they were together.


“Couldn’t. Backless” she sent, indicating the low cut back hadn’t allowed a bra without showing. Not something she would do at home or around her kids; but here, on the road, especially meeting her sometimes lover and boyfriend and knowing there was no one else that would know her, it was something that she actually found arousing. Dressing sexy for her lover; wanting others to know she was alluring, was something that she couldn’t admit to wanting every day at home or work, but it certainly got her motor running when she did. The opportunities to do that happened so seldom. Being a professional businesswoman, a visual spokesman for her company, she couldn’t often unleash the sexy woman she so often longed to be. Occasionally, to the unending pleasure of her husband, travel and work would align and remove her from her usual world and she got to become her lover’s mistress for a few days.

“Just the way I like you.”

“As if I didn’t know.”

“Ha ha. Yeah, guess I do have a one track mind – your body! LOL”


“You like it?”


“No maybe. Bet your nipples are hard, aren’t they?”

Trisha glanced down, but with the looser cut of the bodice she really couldn’t tell visually. Her body was telling her they were; just the teasing texts had set her off a little. She could feel the heat between her legs, Bayan Escort and suspected she was at least a little wet too, and also suspected her nipples were hard. He knew her too well that way.

“Can’t tell, the top isn’t tight enough.”

“Nice. Easy access for me?” She knew immediately what he meant; if he’d had his arm around her, could he slide his hand under her arm, inside her top and fondle her breasts? The loose cut in front would allow him to enter from her neckline, but not from behind (which he’d done with other clothing at times) where the dress pulled tighter against her flesh,

“No easy access. Although down the front when we’re not in public would be do-able.”

“And you can’t tell if your nipples are hard? Champagne if they are, blow job if they aren’t. But you’ve got to touch them right now and tell.”

She couldn’t help but giggle out loud – how did he know how to tease her like that? If she hadn’t been wet before, she knew she was now. Glancing around the restaurant once more, she didn’t see anyone paying any attention to her, and nonchalantly moved her arm across her breasts. Now feeling the pressure of her arm and the movement of the material on her nipples, she could confirm they were indeed hard.

“You owe me Champagne.”

“LOL. As if I didn’t know that.”

“You know me too well.”

“So my hands could slip right down that top and find my favorite play toys all ready for me?”

“Those are your favorite toys?” she flipped back.

“A couple of them. I do seem to like those body parts that get hard and sensitive you know. Anything my tongue can caress, although you know I think you have the nicest ass also.” She knew if she hadn’t been wet moments before, she was now. The thought of his hands on her bottom and his tongue on her clit and how he drove her mad with pleasure was a favorite personal day dream of hers.

“How’s the length? Would I have easy access?”

“Take it off of me and you can have all the easy access you want.”

“Is that an offer?”


“LOL. Take it off and I’d have easy access? Does that mean you haven’t got any panties on?” It suddenly dawned on her how much they’d texted, and how explicit the conversation was getting.

“Where are you?”

“Still at the clients. They’re discussing the paper work, I’m just in hurry up and wait mode.”

“Are you almost done?”

“Yes. Only 5 minutes to get there once they finish.” She didn’t respond, a bit disappointed, but in another few seconds the text buzzed again.

“So? No panties?”

She’d briefly considered not wearing any, knowing how much it had turned them both on when she’d gone to the toilet and taken them off for him during their dinner date the last time they’d met, but instead had almost not worn any. The tiny thong panty she had on didn’t cover much; just a string in back left her bottom bare (which is what she told herself she’d really been checking to see when she’d looked at herself in the mirror. Did the thong string show? Would people be ogling her bottom and know she didn’t really have panties on?) and the small mesh triangle in front was completely see-through. But wearing panties in this situation was more of a mental issue anyway. Wearing them let her feel more modest, but having them see-through and “barely there” would surely please him, although he almost assuredly wouldn’t see them until later. Just having them on, knowing he would see and appreciate them, made her feel sexy.


“Umm. Sounds nice. See through?”


“Take them off.”

It wasn’t a request, but she interpreted it that way. “You want me to go to the toilet and take my panties off?” she sent back, fully intending to tell him that wasn’t going to happen right now but maybe she’d play along – later.


“No? You don’t want me to take them off?” she sent back, confused.

“No, I do. Take them off right there. Right now. I know where you are, I asked for that booth, and nobody can see. Just take them off right there.”

What was it about him that made her so easily go along with his outrageous requests? As if he was in her mind, directing her to be naughty in a way she really wanted to be. Knowing in her mind that the entire restaurant must be looking at her, she let her eyes come up, and found that instead of the imagined “all eyes on her” scenario, she was instead in her own little world. A few booths and tables were occupied, most still empty, but nobody was looking her way. The hostess that had seated her was at the podium, her back towards her; the waiter (who had looked very hot himself BTW) that had brought her water she saw in another area attending to others. There was a bar; a single patron at the far end seemed to be watching a TV screen with some sports show on and not looking her way. She let her eyes sweep again, and getting the same result, leaned sideways in the booth, ostensibly looking into her purse. She slid one hand in under the skirt until her fingers found the cloth string and worked it down just a bit. Her bottom on the chair made it practically impossible, but after another non-directed visual sweep around the room she straightened up and pushed her back against the bench. She barely raised her bottom from the chair as she did so that it didn’t appear that she was rising up off the seat. Another finger, underneath from the opposite side and she freed the thong, slipping it down her legs to her knees. Slipping her shoes off under the table, just a wiggle of her legs allowed the “barely there” piece of string and cloth to drop to her ankles where she removed one foot and, by crossing her legs, lifted with the other until she could easily reach and compress what little there was of the garment into a small wad of nothing without bending over. She could feel its dampness, knowing that it came from her, and just the process of taking her panty off had made her that much wetter now than when she’d begun taking it off.

“You are a bastard” she texted.

“You did it?”


“Oh my. Are you as wet as I am hard right now?”


“Ooops – gotta go. Here they are.”

“OK. Don’t be too long.” Her phone remained silent.

That he’d gotten her aroused without even touching her, she could not deny. That she had been at least partially aroused before she’d gone down to the restaurant to meet him, there was also no doubt.

She’d been surprised by the package that had arrived at her hotel the day before. Even knowing that their paths would cross today, that the fortuitous alignment of the moon and stars that had allowed them time together once or twice before had again aligned, she hadn’t been expecting him until today — nor had she been expecting anything from him. With her name on it, but no meaningful return address, she’d curiously opened the package and had immediately known who it was from. His e-mail, when she checked later, was titled “Is it there yet?” the message just a short note saying he’d sent her “something sexy for our Valentines date tomorrow, your first present,” and he hoped she liked it. Today wasn’t really Valentine’s Day but, with the actual day being just a few days away, they’d both been referring to the three days they’d have together as their Valentines weekend.

Now, delayed by fate and aroused by Mike, her mind imagined what would soon take place. He’d show up and slide into the booth beside her and she’d lean over to give him a greeting hug. His eyes would take in her dress, especially examining the top, probably trying to see if it was loose enough to expose her nipples to him. She knew his hand would slide in under her armpit as she hugged him, his hand tracing across her body, “accidentally” stroking her breasts as they separated, trying to feel a nipple which truthfully, if it wasn’t so much in public, she’d really like. She always liked his hands on her body. He’d sit next to her, probably with an arm easily around her shoulder as they waited for drinks, waiting for their food. If his arm wasn’t around her, she knew he’d have his hand on her leg. His fingers would be down the inside of her thigh, his hand gradually working higher and higher so his fingers could find out how wet she really was. As aroused as she was now, she knew she’d let him finger her, at least if no one was looking. If his hand wasn’t on her leg, she would probably have hers on his leg. Just by sliding her hand as close to his body as possible she could often feel his hardness with her wrist. After dinner she’d take him to her room, their room, and make him take the dress off her. He’d willingly do so, and she’d willingly undress him, until they were both naked. Maybe she’d drop to her knees and take him in her mouth, or perhaps pull him backward on top of her onto the bed… or better yet, since he’d teased her into this high state of arousal, she’d pull him down between her legs and make him use his tongue on her, drive her over the top to a shuddering climax.

Her thoughts did nothing but make her even more aroused. She’d picked up the menu but hadn’t noticed anything that was on it except the exorbitant prices, stuck in her own world dreaming about being back in her room no longer alone, when she was suddenly startled by a waitress setting a glass down in front of her. Looking up, she found that just the slight bending by the waitress had provided a brief increase in the amount of her breasts that were exposed – it was obvious that she had no bra. No wonder that Mike said this is a very popular place, popped into her mind.

“The gentleman at the bar said to say that it looked like your date hasn’t shown and you looked like you needed a drink and he thought you were probably a Champagne type of person. He said to tell you no strings attached, just a gift.” She smiled and turned away – they both understood that a drink from a stranger was more a query as to whether she was available than anything. She wasn’t available in the long term – but at the moment until Mike showed, at least he would be someone to chat with… before she thought anything more, her phone buzzed.

“Arghh! They’re all happy and signed and now they want to take us to dinner. Shit! I wasn’t expecting this. It’s probably going to be a couple of hours before I can get there. I’d ask you to join us, but that would be really difficult to explain with the boss. Can you forgive me?” Stiffed by Mike, she glanced up at the bar, her decision almost instantly made.

“Yes, but it’ll cost you. 2 for 1 payback.” She giggled to herself, knowing he’d understand perfectly that he’d have to do her twice before she’d suck him off or otherwise allow him his complete pleasure. She picked up the glass of Champagne, taking a sip, the bubbles tickling her nose. She recognized that this wasn’t a house champagne, but something more expensive. Setting her glass down, she looked up at the bar. The man who had sent her the Champagne was either still, or perhaps once again, looking at the sports show, not at her. Her mind made up, Trisha slipped from the booth and walked around to the man where he was seated at almost the far end of the counter.

“Thank you,” she said, “That was really nice.”

“I could tell you were waiting for someone, just thought you could use a nice glass of Champagne while you waited.”

“I did, especially now. He just stood me up; he got tied up with clients and will be a couple of hours. I can’t wait that long for dinner – would you care to join me? It’s no fun eating alone, much nicer to have someone to chat with,” she added as a needless explanation.

“Eating alone is the bane of business travelers, isn’t it?” he responded. “You get used to it after a while, but you’re right – it is nice to have someone to talk to. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Please,” she answered, “I’d love the company.”

Up close, the appraisal of this stranger, who identified himself as Ryan, was much different than from afar. From her table, he’d just been someone sitting at the bar. Now, up close, the deeper assessment took hold. Age? She guessed a few years younger; perhaps 40 – maybe 45? Build? Quite nice. Perhaps not an athlete, but he didn’t appear obese or soft. From his nice slacks, button down white shirt and sport coat (probably with a tie tucked into the pocket) that had been hung on the back of the chair, his comment about business travelers, she understood that he was also a stranger to town – here on business. He was clean shaven as went with the business look, but she imagined with just a bit of stubble he’d be surprisingly sexy. She had to stifle an internal giggle as she imagined his stubbly beard against the inside of her thighs and how she really wouldn’t like that, when it came to a tongue on her clit she much preferred a smooth face. Here she was leading this stranger back to her table, and thoughts of his tongue on her cunny were already running through her mind. “God, Mike’s got me so pent up,” she thought, not admitting to herself that her arousal was as much her own doing as his.

Surprisingly Ryan was also drinking Champagne; apparently he’d bought a complete bottle, of which the partially empty bottle the waitress delivered to her table just moments after they sat. “I figured if I was going to have a bottle, I might as well share it with a pretty woman as to have it go to waste,” he commented to her. “I knew I couldn’t drink the whole thing by myself, one glass isn’t ever enough and you can buy the whole bottle for about the price of three glasses, and they’d just throw the rest out – so I almost always just buy a bottle and share with strangers. A great way to meet people.”

“Actually Champagne is one of my favorites.”

“Then a perfect way to meet you!” he said, lifting his glass in an offering to toast. She raised her glass and touched it to his, followed by another sip.

“I love Champagne, but I’m a bit of a light weight for alcohol,” she said, putting her glass back down. “I probably won’t have more than one glass.”

“One less glass to throw away later. Say, we can have her bring some orange juice for a Mimosa if you’d like?”

“Then you’d really see what a wimp I am as I really love Mimosa’s, but they put me under the table.

“Nothing wrong with that occasionally,” he laughed, “You’re welcome to be under my table anytime.” Trisha recognized the double entendre, an invitation to flirt, but she didn’t respond. Despite that he wasn’t bad looking, and came across quite pleasant, she was meeting Mike soon, although not as soon as she’d like.

He took a sip from his glass, and then asked “Are you staying here?” as he set it back on the table.

It seemed a bit of a strange question. “Why?”

“Just figuring if you’re driving or walking, so I know whether I try to entice you to finish the bottle with me or we find someone else to share it with. If you’re under the table you could just crawl up to bed.” He laughed, and she laughed with him.

“More like, if we finished the bottle I think I’d have to be poured into bed.”

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