The Stranger

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Written By Scarlette Steele

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I do not know how I find myself at the bar. My workplace is about half a dozen miles away, nested in the city’s bowels. I could have strutted the whole length like a zombie, unaware of the howling cacophony of city life, the bustle of people and motors. Or I could have arrived here by taxi. All I know is I’m in this bar, and the world outside has disappeared with its unforgiving reality. Here, I know I’ll be cocooned from the stress, the aftermath of this deal, which went south. A deal I had been working on for months, only to be sabotaged at the last moment by a close friend.

I’m here by default because I can’t afford to be elsewhere. The idea of suicide is tempting if I try to think about the effort  I put in, working close to midnight and sometimes foregoing meals just to make the deal a success, only to be screwed in the end. Nothing can help me drown my sorrows at the moment apart from a  bottle or bottles of whisky. I could add sex, but I know I would be frigid in bed, and no man can turn me on in this state. I want to be drunk until everything appears double. Alcohol is a solution(pun unintended)

So I’m seated on a high stool at the counter. The barmaid is behind her station, radiating movements, busily dispatching drinks to her colleagues who take orders from all sorts of alcoholics. She is a light-skinned woman in her early thirties, tall and cheerful. Occasionally, she has a window of being accessible and tries to make small talk with me. She has the easy manner of someone accustomed to talking to people. I’m tempted to pour out my frustrations on her, to borrow her listening ear. But every time I want to do that, her colleagues interrupt with orders, and I’m left with my bottle and frustrations gnawing at me.

The bar is so crowded and noisy that I do not hear someone calling my name. I only feel a gentle tap behind my shoulder. I slightly turn, and my eyes rest on another pair of intelligent, dark eyes.

“Hello there?” The man says. He is a total stranger.

I regard him for a moment and mumble back a hello. He is middle-aged with the ordinary looks of a typical person. He is medium-sized with a lean body. He is wearing a white shirt with two missing buttons, and I can see the promise of a toned chest peering beneath it. I wonder if the missing buttons are deliberate, a way of making women gawk at his chest and probably end up in his bed. It does not affect me at all.

“Is this stool taken?” he asks, gesturing with his hand.

“Yes, it is. I’m with my boyfriend. He went to the bathroom and will be back shortly.”

He stares straight into my eyes, saying nothing. He probably knows I’m lying, but I don’t care. He is a total stranger to me.

“I have been observing you since you came in,” he says casually. “I didn’t see any boyfriend. ”

I eye him with a so-what look and quickly say, “I texted him. He will be here soon.”

“Well…before then, why don’t I keep you company? Don’t worry, I won’t eat you…I’m harmless,” he lifts both arms to emphasize his point.

Despite my mind’s befuddled state, my instincts tell me he means no harm. Most strangers I have encountered have impacted my life better than my friends and colleagues. On the contrary, I am here because of a close friend. Yet, I feel I can give this stranger the benefit of the doubt.

He seems to notice my hesitation and sits on the stool. He orders a Guinness and smiles at the beautiful barmaid once she serves him his drink. He then turns to me and says, “I’m Mark, by the way.”

I avoid his gaze and stare at the carefully arranged bottles on the rack. I start counting them and stop when I lose count. They seem to appear double-double.

“I know you, madam,” Mark says.

This statement catches my attention. I turn to look at him, and I see two Marks there. The whisky I’m drinking must have begun to work on me. Another two bottles, and remembering my name will be difficult.

“How-how do you know me?”

He gulps his drink and leans forward on the counter.”Your name is Yumi, and my boss is your regular client.”

The noise of loud music in the bar prevents me from hearing what he says next. I notice people have begun joining the dance floor.

He acknowledges the noise’s effect and moves closer to me. We are now ridiculously close to each other. My nose can detect the faint smell of his cologne. He smells like a gentleman.

“Where do you work?” I find myself asking him. Before long, I find myself liking his company. We talk about jobs and general stuff. His forearms are now touching mine. I resist the urge to move away and tell myself I won’t let anything happen between us. To my astonishment, I tell him about my frustrations, betrayal, and why I came to this bar. I  blurt everything out, and he listens, nodding and shaking his head at the sad parts.

“Will you dance with me?” he asks in the middle of my tirade.

I start to say no, my boyfriend will be here soon, but I find myself agreeing to the request of this ordinary man.

He grabs my hand and leads me to the dance floor. I’m unsteady and find it awkward to be in the middle of many people with a stranger who claims to know me.

As if on cue, the DJ plays my favourite song. The speakers blast “Milkshake,” and I’m left wondering if I should start dancing by shaking my breasts. The stranger’s arms circle my waist, trying to move it with the song’s rhythm. I lock my arms around his neck and cooperate with my feet, moving methodically like the other couples.

“You smell good,” the man whispers.

“You too,” I say, smiling. I find it surprising that I remain cultured despite being half drunk. Or have I already compromised my morals by agreeing to dance with this man? Stop it, I tell myself. You are here to enjoy yourself.

I feel his hands moving to my ass. I have a tiny waist and a blessed posterior, which every man wants to get hold of. Until now, I have never regarded them as assets I  should use to seduce men. I have a sharp mind which earns me a lot of money, but today, it has been royally screwed. So I let his hands grope my ass as it is less harmless than screwing my mind.

The speakers keep blasting club bangers non-stop. I  am now enjoying myself, something I never hoped to achieve earlier. I  can feel the faint stirrings of romance building underneath me, like an ancient monster coming to life.

The stranger spins me around, so I’m facing away from him. He holds my waist from behind and makes me gyrate on his loin. Like an obedient vixen, I grind on his crotch like a professional stripper. After some time, I  can feel his manhood erecting beneath his jeans. I grind faster and faster until I can feel as if it is a massive pipe fixed on his zipper.

He moves away from my crazy grinding. I  turn around and look at him. His eyes are aflame with lust. My knees are a bit weak with longing, too, and my pussy has begun to get wet.

He grabs my hand and tells me to follow him. I don’t know where he is taking me, but I oblige like a tethered goat being taken to lush and greener pastures.

We find ourselves in the ladies’ washroom. He locks the door and smacks his lips against mine. Hungrily, his massive arms caress my buttocks, moving as if I were naked. I kiss back like a starved lover while groping his neck. His fingers work against the buttons and lay my chest partially bare. A moment later, they work expertly to unclasp my bra, and finally, they are rubbing and playfully twisting my breasts and nipples, the way you would turn a radio knob while searching for frequency.

A moan escapes my mouth.”Ahh..”

He slowly backpedals me to the wall, and once my back finds the concrete, his mouth is on my neck, his tongue aggressively rolling on my skin. He suckles my nipples, and I am lost in a beautiful world of pleasure.”Oh my God…ahh…ooh.” It is a swansong, moaning to the rhythm of ecstasy.

I’m yearning for his dick, craving it as if it is a drug I can’t live without. I try to unbuckle his belt, but my hands are so clumsy I almost yank off that piece of leather standing in the way of pleasure. I finally undo it and tug his jeans up to knee level. I want to feel his organ before it feels me, so I lower his boxers as well. My fingers curl around his penis and…Oh my God! It is huge. Massive is an understatement…it is enormous. I have never touched such a humongous cock before. He may be an ordinary-looking man, but his dick is extraordinary!

“Take off your panties,” he orders. The dominance of this stranger has finished me. I find myself obeying him. I meekly remove my panties while whimpering like a small child. I am now at the mercy of his big cock, which I’m eager to feel in the velvety softness between my legs.

He lifts my dress to waist level and caresses my hips and ass and thighs. I am so wet and weak I can barely stand. His neck is what is supporting me. His index finger finally finds my cookie jar and strokes me. I can’t take it anymore.

As if he can notice my plea for support, he wears a condom and then lifts me so that my legs circle his thighs. The wall provides extra support for my back, so I’m suspended in a sex position. I’m yet to know what it is called.

His organ tries to locate my pussy on its own, and the wetness between my legs acts as its guidance. It hesitates outside as if it knows the way to the promised land before slowly sliding inside. He doesn’t begin thrusting until I  can feel it whole inside me.”Oh, Mark !” I  winch in pleasure.

He fucks me in slow thrusts so that I’m experiencing a sensation I have never felt before. His throbbing dick is touching every corner of my vagina. My hips squeeze against his and then release them, moving to the template of his movements until we are one fucking machine.

I can’t stop moaning. I’m not sure if it is crying with pleasure or something else. It increases as Mark begins to move faster. My moans fill the whole bathroom, but I can barely notice I shudder with an orgasm. He continues to pound me, his cock sliding in and out of my smoking hot pussy. I hold tightly around him, willing him to continue forever.

There is a gentle knock on the door. We ignore it, and Mark places me on the sink. The ceramic is cold against my ass, but I can barely notice. He kisses my mouth for a moment before he guides his dick inside my slippery coochie. I hold on to the sink as he pumps inside me. A faint shudder rocks his body, and I know he is about to come. I curl my legs and arch my hips in a familiar motion. We move in tandem until the shuddering increases until it finally yields to a glorious explosion.

“That was crazy,” I  tell him as we clean ourselves.

He grins and says nothing.

As soon as we open the door, we are met by a small crowd of frustrated ladies. They throw salvos at us, but we return to the bar. I’m feeling a bit sore but my coming here was totally worth it. Thanks to this ordinary stranger with an extraordinary cock.

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