Two Words by alextasy,alextasy

“Here’s how this is going to work.” My arrogant, controlling side re-emerges. “This is my show. We do everything exactly the way I want it. Any time you feel uncomfortable for any reason, just say two words–‘We’re done’. Then I’ll stop whatever I’m doing and walk away. Got it?”

She nods.

“Say it, Dana.”

“This is your show. When I’m ready to stop, I tell you ‘We’re done’.” She hesitates. “But…”

“But what?”

“My husband, Mitch–that’s his name. He has to be there. He said he wants to be sure I don’t get hurt.”

I’m sure he has another agenda. Fortunately, I travel with an agenda shredder.

“So long as he agrees to abide by whatever I say,” I tell Dana. “I’m not going to make him suck me or anything. In fact, he’s not allowed to touch either of us. You are the only one who can stop it.”

“Okay, let me go tell him that–”

“You never answered my question. Are you wearing panties?”

“No,” she smirks.

“Why not?”

“Um, because I want to get fucked?”

“Who do you want to fuck you?”

“I want you, Jack.”

“What if I wasn’t here? Would you have found another guy?”

Her brow creases. “Uh, yeah. Probably…”

“Would that guy be your husband?”

“Absolutely not.”

“So, you’ve come to a bar without your panties, hoping some guy will fuck you, as long as that guy isn’t your husband. I think that’s the definition of a cheating slut.”

Dana grins.

“What are you, Dana?”

“I’m a cheating slut.”

“Has the cheating slut ever been slapped while she’s getting fucked?”

She gapes at me. “Are you serious?”

“My show, Dana. Two words can stop it any time. Say them now and it’s over. Do you trust me?”

She eyes me suspiciously without answering for several seconds. Then the soft smile comes back.

“Yeah” she says. “I don’t know why, but I trust you, Jack.”

“Has the cheating slut ever had cum dripping out of her gorgeous ass?”

“Ohgod…” Her hand claps over her mouth. An even bigger smile grows behind it. She’s interested.

Then her hand drops, and she challenges me. “Wait a minute. How would you know whether I’ve got a gorgeous ass? I’ve been sitting here on my big, fat tush since you showed up. For all you know it’s flabby and wrinkled.”

“If your backside shines near half as beautiful as the rest of you, it will eclipse every other full moon I’ve seen.”

It’s a patent lie, and she knows it. But she’s a woman. She will accept any flattery that appeals to her vanity. A delicate color rises in her cheeks.

When she tells me, “You should have been a poet.” I have to stifle a laugh. I haven’t yet mentioned my occupation.

She has managed to cleverly side-step my question, however. I’m not letting that go.

“You still didn’t tell me. Have you ever felt the heat of a man’s semen boiling inside your rectum?”

Dana draws an excited breath and the flush in her cheeks blazes. Her lower lip curls inward between her teeth. Just as quick, the excitement settles into a calm determination. She aims a cool, laser gaze at me.

“We’ll talk about it.”

I know better. Dana’s already made up her mind. I’m pretty sure it isn’t because she can’t resist my dick in her dirty place. She has an agenda, too.

Curling my fingers around her nape, I pull her into a forceful kiss. She struggles for a few seconds before I sense her surrender, cementing our deal. Her arms come up around my neck. The kiss turns steamy, and her legs spread further as my hand travels up along her thigh. I appreciate fur on a woman’s snatch, and I’m pleased she isn’t shaved. My middle finger finds her slippery pocket. Twisting it up inside makes her whimper and squirm.

Without warning, I withdraw and pull away. Getting my picture in the paper for being thrown out of a bar for lewd behavior would probably violate the morals clause of my contract.

Dana is breathing heavily. Her eyes are smoldering with desire.

“What room?” I ask.

“327,” she says, showing a tight smile as I suck on the tasty tip of my middle finger.

“Go talk to Richard.”

She looks confused. “His name is Mitch.”

“Tonight, his name is Richard. Richard Cranium. Also known as Dick Head.”

Dana snorts.

I turn serious. “If he agrees, you leave together. I’ll join you in your room after I finish my drink. If it’s a no-go, sit down at his table. I’ll go away and you’ll never see me again.”

“Don’t worry,” she says. “This is not a matter for discussion. You’re not going anywhere until I say those two words.”

I like a strong woman. Especially a strong woman who’s smart and sexy. Dana surprises me with a peck on the lips. Along with most of the men in the room I watch her saunter around the bar to her husband. The back of her dress is low-cut, and she’s got a sassy wiggle in her butt. It’s a damn nice butt. Plenty of cushion. Yeah, I’m going to enjoy this.

They talk. They argue. He glares at me, then they argue some more. She stands over him the whole time with her fists on her hips. Finally, she spins and marches through the door. He follows, shooting one more nasty look at me on his way out.

Savoring the last of my bourbon and licking my middle finger, I’m thinking there are going to be a lot more nasty looks from Mr. Richard Cranium before we’re done.

–==[]=[]=[]==–

In the final moments before battle, a calm settles over me like a pristine white shroud. My whole being compresses into a single exhale that extends out into space, past the sun and the stars and everything beyond until I am looking back at myself just as I imagine God might see me–if I believed in such fairy tales. In the consuming vastness, I am less than a pimple on a speck of cosmic dust. Neither my success nor my death will have any consequence. I simply have a job to do.

That is the rite I perform standing before the door of room 327. Every battle is different. Some battles–the important ones–involve more than just another patch of ground.

I have retrieved the supplies I need from my room. I’m armed. I’m psyched. I’m ready.

I knock twice.

Angry voices inside go quiet. The door opens.

Dana is backlit by the setting sun, creating a halo of her golden brown hair. The champagne dress completes the angelic ensemble. She is barefoot, and I can suddenly think of nothing more erotic than kissing her divine feet.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show,” she says, waving me in.

Her husband is comfortable in an armchair by the glass balcony doors. A tumbler dangles loosely from his fingers and he’s playing with his phone with the other hand. He smirks at me. He has the high ground, or so he thinks.

Without a word, I grab Dana around the waist and shoulders then roll her back in my arms to possess her mouth. Except for the initial surprise, there is no struggle. Her lips part, inviting my assertive tongue. She raises her arms around my neck. Her fingers play in the small hairs at the back of my head. The mewling sounds she’s making are felt more than heard. When I move my hand down her bare back to clench a big handful of her cushy rump, the sounds become low and lusty.

Softening my kiss, I suck on her lower lip. Her eyes are closed. She is relaxed and yielding.

I move my mouth close to her ear. My voice is quiet, so only she can hear.

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