Sex by the Book

The newest bar in town was having a half-price drink special, so she headed out after a quick shower. It was still stiflingly hot, so she’d slipped on a short, breezy dress that dipped down low in the front. She quietly enjoyed the furtive glances of the men — and some of the women — as she swayed down the sidewalk.

The bar was dark and cool, full of dim lights and pulsing music. She settled at the bar and ordered a cocktail, which she sipped slowly through the straw as she scanned the room. Looking over the sea of faces, her mind wandered to the events of the afternoon, taking her back to the hot room, the microfilm cabinets, the feeling of the stranger’s body pressed up against her own. It was vivid, so vivid that her body started to respond in spite of her. She licked her lips and tried to ignore the growing sensation between her legs, the slight tingle in her pussy.

And then, she saw him.

He was standing alone in the corner, nursing a drink and staring out at the crowd, just like her. When she saw his eyes travel in her direction, she turned away quickly, hiding her face.

She hovered over the bar, eyes on the polished marble, wondering if he saw her, if he recognized her, if he was coming towards her right now.

“Good evening.”

She braced herself, and turned.

He was smiling, like before, but a little bit sheepishly, not quite looking her in the eye. She raised her drink in a silent greeting and looked at him appraisingly.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking like he meant it. She shrugged.

“For what?”

“You know very well.” He leaned on the bar and gestured for a refill. “Forgive me?”

“Sure,” she said. “Sure, why not?”

He took a seat next to her, and he was silent for a while, throwing her little glances now and then, still smiling. Now that she was looking at him for real, at his face, the expanse of his shoulders, the vague tingle in her pussy turned into a full-on throb. He was dressed the same as earlier, looking every bit as sharp. She took a deep breath.

“You want to get out of here?”

He looked stunned. He just stared at her for a moment, as if he thought she might be joking, but she stood and reached for his hand, leading him around the side of the room to the exit.

Outside, the heat was beginning to lift. The alley was silent and deserted. She pulled him close and slid her hands under his shirt, feeling his firm skin and taut muscles. He sighed and relaxed into her embrace.

“If I were you, I would hate me,” he murmured.

“Well, you’re lucky you’re not,” she replied, pushing him up against the wall. His hands travelled over her dress, over her bare shoulders, and he was looking at her hungrily, like something he’d had a little taste of and wanted so much more.

“This isn’t a good idea,” he said absently, his fingers sliding under the neckline of her dress to caress her nipple.

“Why not?” She pushed up against him, hooking one leg around his, grinding her aching pussy against his half-hard cock.

“I’m only here on business,” he said. “I’ll be gone soon.”

“So?” She grabbed his other hand and guided it to her desperate cunt. When he finally touched her, her knees buckled. He grabbed her by her arm and held her upright.

“So,” he said. “So this is only for tonight.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered, bucking into his hand.

“Well, in that case,” he said, grabbing her by the hips and whirling her around so that their places were reversed; her back against the wall, the bricks digging into her spine, ruining her dress. He knelt down on the pavement and pushed her dress up around her waist.

“Let me at least even the score,” he said, and she nodded, dazed, as he leaned forward and ran his tongue firmly between the lips of her pussy. She moaned and clutched at the uneven masonry behind her. He went to it in earnest then, long slow licks, his tongue rubbing her clit with each stroke. The pressure built amazingly fast, tendrils of pleasure running through every nerve in her body, and before she knew what was happening she was panting and sagging towards the ground, unable to hold herself up anymore. Only his hands on her thighs kept her upright as he increased his pace and she lost herself in it, coming so hard and she yelled herself hoarse, just hoping that nobody was listening.

He stood and let her go, and she began sinking to the ground. He grabbed her hands and let her down gently. His cock was rock-hard under his slacks and she watched dazedly as he fumbled it out, beginning to stroke it impulsively, standing over her, the expression on his face somehow asking for permission even as his body just took what it wanted.

“Yeah,” she whispered, pushing her dress down on her torso, letting her tits free. “Do it. Ruin me.”

The words transformed him. All hints of hesitancy were erased from his expression, as he snarled, “fuck, yeah” and jerked himself faster, leaning over her, one hand bracing himself on the wall. She was too drained to do anything but enjoy the view. She saw the exact moment when it happened, when his face went blank and he lost his rhythm, and then it was coming, hot spurts of jizz on her neck, on her chest, on the fabric of her favorite summer dress. She let her head fall back against the bricks as he collapsed on his knees in front of her.

She felt deliciously wrecked.

“I’m still not seeing how this is a bad idea,” she said breathlessly. He lifted his head, looked at her, and laughed.

“No regrets, then?” he said, tucking his softening dick back into his slacks. “Not even now?”

“Especially not now,” she said, digging a napkin out of her purse. “You said you were in town on business, what do you do?”

“Exports,” he said, looking at the ground.

“Oh yeah? What kinds of exports?” Some part of her brain was vaguely aware of the absurdity of making small talk with the man while she wiped his semen off of her skin, but he was being so cagey about it that she couldn’t help herself.

“All kinds,” he said, fixing her with a stare that said stop asking questions.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just sort of…curious? I don’t even know your name.”

“Would you feel better if you did?”

“Feel better? No. I feel pretty damn great already. But I’d be curious why you wouldn’t tell me.”

“Someone could have all sorts of legitimate reasons for not giving a name,” he said. “I don’t know your name either.”

“Do you want to?”

“I wouldn’t object to it.”

“My name’s Ellie.” She reached up for him, and he took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

“You can call me John,” he said.

“All right, John.”

“If I’m ever in town again, I’ll…look you up.”

“There are a lot of Ellies in this town, I bet.”

“But how many of them work at the library?”

“I might not be there forever.”

“Well, then I suppose I’ll have to work at it.” He grinned. “But I’ll find you.”

“You sound very confident.”

“Good,” he said.

He walked her over to the main street. She raised her arm to hail a cab.

“Good night, John,” she said. “Good luck with your exports.”

“Good luck with your books,” he said, smiling cheekily.

A cab pulled up and she climbed in, giving him a little wave as he stood there. Just before the driver turned at the end of the street, she craned her head around and saw John still standing there, still watching her. She wondered what his real business was, and if she’d ever see him again.

No matter what, she’d never forget how he’d made her feel.