Getting Distracted

Getting Distracted

I'm fed up with the walls of my office. It's small, it has no windows, and I've been here all bloody day. I don't want to take my work home, because my office space there is too messy to work in and if I try, I'll get stuck on that and nothing will happen.

So I pack my book, pencil, and post-its into my handbag and I go to the bar instead. My regular bar is a quiet little place, more like the pubs I remember from my term in England, and the bartender, Clive, never gives me grief for occupying a whole table to myself. I open a tab and take my pint over to my favourite spot.

A spot that's already occupied.

Dammit.

I like that spot. It's cozy and the light is good and I can't see any tv screens directly from there. It's a lot easier to work without basketball players darting to and fro in my peripheral vision. Internally grumping a bit, I take the next best table. It'll do. I guess.

I pull out the post-its and book and start trying to read. My review was due earlier this week and I'd really like to get it in but I can't help sneaking a look over at the person occupying my table. (I know it's not actually mine, but my brainweasels are sulking nonetheless.) Currently there's only one person sitting there, a woman about my age. She looks like some sort of professional, an office-type. A glass of something, maybe coke, sits in front of her and she's frowning at her phone in concentration.

I realise I'm staring a bit and turn back to my book and try to focus. A blue team and a purple team bounce around the screen that I can't quite block out from this sub-optimal angle.

The ale is good tonight and I begin to relax into a groove. I'm skeptical of the claims the author of the book is making, and slowly the book fills with post-its. Too many, but I'll pare them down later. Blue Team seems to be in a huddle when I look up at a chapter break.

Is my table free yet?

Nope. She's still there. Rats.

She's still alone, though. Usually it's just me that sits around like a nerdy gremlin occupying a table solo. I look a bit closer - her drink is nearly empty, and she's still frowning at her phone, except her expression is resigned and... disappointed? My eyes flick to her hands. No ring. It may not mean anything, but I feel a stab of sympathy for what looks like a date stood up.

She still seems intent on her phone, so I let myself stare a bit longer. She's pretty. Shoulder length hair that auburn shade that I wish I could dye my own - very dark - hair. Curvy. Her glossy lips look soft. Kissable.

My cheeks go red as I realise my curiosity has shifted to "checking out". I close my book and rub my face. I doubt my brainweasels will let me get back to my book now as long as she's here. When I look up, Purple Team scores.

I sneak another look over at her. She really is pretty.

I need another pint.

At the bar, my impulsivity strikes. "Give me another pint," I tell the bartender, "and one of whatever the woman over there ordered."

He raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment. "Shut up," I mutter, making him grin. It's a good thing he pulls a good pint, the jerk. He also pours a rum and coke and passes it over. "Good luck," he says as I turn away. I ignore that.

Halfway to her (my) table, my brain catches up to my impulsivity. There's a lightning-fast series of calculations that flash through my head: I'm an idiot, she might not be into women, but I already bought the drink, Clive is almost certainly watching me, if I chicken out I'll hear about it every time I order something in the future, I'll have to find a new bar, it'll be harder to work, I'll get fired...

And here I am at the table, drinks in hand, better to be embarrassed in front of a stranger than lose my post-doc.

"Um, hi?" I say, smooth as ever.

She looks up, forehead wrinkling a bit. "Hi?"

"I'm sorry, I don't want to bother you if you're busy, but you were looking sort of disappointed and I impulsively bought you a drink." I hold it out. "Want some company? Enjoy the drink regardless, though. I don't want to be bugging you."

God I'm so awkward.

She takes the drink and I try not to blush as she considers this complete stranger standing in front of her.

"Yeah, sure," she answers. "Why not? I was planning on drinks with a stranger tonight anyway. Have a seat!"

"I, uh, didn't think this through very well. Give me just a second to grab my stuff, I'll be right back." I plunk my own drink onto the table and quickly grab my book and hurry back.

"Sorry," I say again, sitting down. "I didn't want to be taking up a second table, it just seems rude. Hi."

We introduce ourselves. She says she's in town for a conference and made herself a blind date on a dating app on a whim. The jerk cancelled on her after he was already late. No explanation. I'm deeply indignant on her behalf.

I'm trying not to hit on her, because as far as I know she's just into men. But her voice is warm and rich and up close her eyes are so alive.

She tells me about her conference. I have to say, my academic conferences sound far more entertaining. Then again, a bunch of historians nattering about Pliny the Elder probably sounds equally dull to most people. No, wait, she thinks her conference is tedious too - hence the date. Makes sense to me!

Am I smiling like a dork? What's the right smile for this situation? I know nothing about what she's explaining but her excitement about her job is contagious, once we move away from the conference (ah, it's a mandatory thing her company puts on, just at a satellite location).

Then she asks me about myself. I do my best not to completely nerd out at her about my research, but she keeps asking questions! And her interest seems genuine! I tell her about the book I'm supposed to be reviewing, and she laughs as I explain how I need to change up my environment to keep my brain on task. Honestly, even if she's not into women, I hope we can exchange contact info because she's just enjoyable company.

"You know, I think I'm glad I got stood up tonight."

Her voice shatters my internal narration.

"I'm glad you did, too." Shit. "I mean, I'm not glad you got stood up, but I'm glad I got to meet you! It's been a much nicer evening than I expected! But obviously getting stood up sucks!" I pause my slightly panicked verbal flailing because she's laughing. "I'm sorry, I told you I was kind of awkward," I say ruefully.

"It's alright," she reassures me, grinning. "I got what you meant. I'm having more fun, too."

She sips her drink and leans in conspiratorially. "Honestly, I hope you won't judge me, but I was planning to have a quick drink and a mediocre hookup. I'm bored to death this weekend, and I figured what the fuck. Pun entirely intended. I wasn't expecting to actually enjoy the company!"

"No judgement here! I gotta say, I really ought to be reading tonight but you are much more interesting. Fuck the first Punic War." I lift my glass and she clinks a toast.

There's a pause, and I'm starting to worry I've Been Awkward™ again when she breaks the silence, and me.

"I'm sorry if I'm reading you wrong, but I'm a bit tipsy and you're cute. Can I kiss you?"

That answers that question.

I nod silently.

She leans over the table and I lean to meet her. Her lips are as soft as I imagined. It's just a short kiss but my breath is a bit short and my brain is a bit fizzly. I can feel my cheeks reddening and I laugh awkwardly.

"I'm so bad at this. I bought that drink hoping to get to know you because, um, I thought you were pretty. But I didn't want to hit on you because you might not be into women, or me, or wanting to be hit on at a-" She leans over and stops me talking with another kiss.

My heart is beating pretty fast now. That review is gonna have to wait.

"Do you, uh, want another drink?" I stutter. Smooth.

She smiles mischievously. "I think I'm ready to go back to the hotel for coffee. You?"

I drain the rest of my pint. "Coffee sounds good, yep. Let's go have some coffee."

She offers her arm as we leave, which makes me giggle. I like it, though. Clive grins at me when we pass the bar and I stick my tongue out at him over my shoulder.

The cab ride to the hotel is brief. We continue our small talk, but my pussy is completely focused on the coffee I'm about to have. This isn't my usual M.O. I'm not even sure I have an M.O. I just know that she's beautiful and fun and I really, really need to feel her lips again.

By the time we get to her room, my pussy is starting to ache. She's almost a stranger, but I want her badly. Maybe I'm tipsier than I thought. Maybe I don't care.

She closes the door behind herself, and there's a half second where I'm just staring at her, but then her lips are on mine again. Oh God, yes.

My arms go around her neck. The kisses now aren't soft or tender. They're hungry, almost rough, and whatever has possessed us both is in complete control. I fall back against the entryway wall, handbag thudding softly as I drop it. She follows, and I have to tilt my head up a bit to keep kissing and my pussy really enjoys this. Her arms come around me as well, pulling me tight against her at the waist and snaking up into my hair.

It's all heat and hunger until the hand in my hair tightens into a grip and tugs my head to the side. My eyes go wide and my whole body freezes with a gasp.

All of a sudden she lets go and pulls back. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, I got carried away. Did I hurt you? Are you okay? I won't do it again." Her voice sounds so distressed.

It takes me a second to yank my brain back to reality, and then I'm blushing. My cheeks burn. I have to look down, God, I'm so self-conscious.

"No, um. It's okay, please don't worry, you didn't hurt me." I'm trying to force the words out past the shyness. Please don't let this ruin the evening. "I, um, I really like it. Sorry, stuff like that, it... It kind of does things to me and you just surprised me, that's all. I'll, um, try to not be so weird."

Gentle fingers under my chin tilt my head up again so that I'm looking at her again. I'm really fighting the urge to flee. I'm praying I haven't ruined everything. Still holding my chin, she brushes her thumb over my lips. I'm starting to shake a bit - whether anxiety or something else, I'm not sure.

"Stuff like this?" she whispers, and bends down and carefully bites my lower lip.

I gasp again and squeak "along those lines, yeah."

"And like this?" She grips my hair again and tilts my head further back and I can't answer because she's kissing me again but now it's aggressive, possessive, and I want to kiss back but my every instinct is to just... let her have me. I whimper.

Finally she lets me go. I dimly register that she's breathing nearly as hard as I am.

"Like that," I whisper. "Yeah, things like that. More than that, even. I, uh, kind of go a bit... willing? If you tell me what to do? My brain goes fuzzy. It freaked out my last girlfriend. She would stop whatever we were doing whenever I started to slip away and tell me to get myself together. That relationship didn't last long."

Her voice has dropped to a whisper as well. "Do you enjoy it, though?"

All I can do is nod, eyes closed, cheeks still bright red, still waiting for the night to end here.

"Would you enjoy it if I told you what to do?"

I nod again. "Probably a lot," I answer quietly. "Nothing too rough or painful, though."

"I think I'd enjoy it a lot too, actually. Nothing painful. Look at me, sweetness?"

The nickname makes my pussy throb and I let out a quiet whine and obey. She catches and holds my gaze. Her eyes are wide and dark. "Say no or tell me to stop if you need, 'kay? Good girl. Now, kneel for me?"

My brain starts to go fuzzy immediately. Without conscious intent, my knees bend and I slide to the floor. I look up at her, this gorgeous woman I almost didn't bring the drink to. My voice is louder, I need her to hear me, but it shakes. "Keep telling me I'm a good girl? I'm not used to this - the opposite, really - and I probably need to hear it a lot. It, um, does things to me, too."

Her hand slides into my hair again and grips. "Sweetness, you're already a very good girl for me." My eyes drift shut. I moan.

"I need us to move a bit. Follow my hand. Yes, that's right baby, good. There, like that."

We've turned around so that her back is against the wall now. Her grip is still firm. "Look at me," she orders.

My eyes don't want to focus, but I look up. While she holds my hair and my gaze, her free hand begins to unbutton her trousers. She pushes them down and kicks them free, along with her shoes. "Sweetness," she says, "watching you kneel for me was incredibly hot. My pussy needs some attention. Be a good girl and take care of that for me?"

It's half-question, half-command, but yes. Yes. I want to take care of her pussy for her. Shuffling forward, I let my eyes drop to her panties, which are lacy, delicate, and red. A soft cloud of dark hair is hidden behind them. I need them out of the way. Now. My hands - really, all of me - are moving on their own as my fingers hook into her panties by her hips and tug them slowly down.

There it is, this pussy that needs my attention. I dodge a knee just in time when she steps out of her panties and then I'm nuzzling at her, into her, steadying myself with hands on her hips, and she slides down just a bit as her legs part to give me access to more.

Her gasp as I bury myself deeper into her sends a rush of wetness to my already soaking pussy. Then I find her folds and she moans. It's almost a cry but it sounds like it comes from somewhere deep inside her and she pulls at my hair just to the point of pain for a second before relaxing.

It's like it flips a switch inside me. Suddenly I'm desperately hungry for her again, that not quite frantic need, and I don't resist it.

I scoot closer still, kneeling back on my haunches so I'm right under her. My hands slide behind her, fingers digging into her ass. Her hand, still in my hair, provides the rest of the balance I need as I tip my head back and lick up into her folds. She's so wet, there's so much to taste.

I fuck my tongue into her, then lick along her slit to tease her clit with the tip of my tongue. Her hand tightens in my hair so I take that as approval and do it again. And again.

"Oh fuck, baby, yes, yes, more of that, give me your sweet tongue so deep, you're such a good girl for me, such a good, good girl..." She finds her voice and it shoots straight to my pussy. I'm moaning into her now, please, keep going, I'm a good girl, I'll be so good for you, just keep going.

She does, whimpering "Good girl, yes, fuck me, so good" between her panting breaths. I keep going as well, tongue moving faster, fucking her as deep and hard as I can, then flicking her clit, then fucking again. I can feel her legs starting to tremble against my arms, her body fighting not to slide down the wall onto me. I wonder how long she'll last like this, if I can make her come while I'm literally beneath her. I dig my fingers harder into her ass and reposition myself to support her wait just a bit more. I want it so bad.

Both her hands are in my hair now and the pull on my scalp is just on the edge of too much and it's so very good. I want it, I want her, I want to feel her come on top of me, what does she sound like? I'm sliding my tongue back and forth over her clit, rubbing in little circles, so hungry to find out if she moans or screams or loses her voice entirely. Come for me, come for me, please oh God, please...

I'm practically chanting it in my head when her voice suddenly gets higher, her hands seem to lock in my hair, it hurts, and I feel her pussy spasming on my tongue, she's crying out, sharp sobbing noises, a wail that cuts off halfway. I do my best to hold her up through her orgasm, feeling her starting to slip, her weight bearing me downward.

Somehow, I slide myself out of the way as her voice returns, loudly repeating fuck fuck fuck over and over. Her legs give out and she slides down to the floor, letting go of my hair on the way. I get to look at her now, sweaty, dishevelled, breathing hard - and I moan at the sight. I did that.

Her eyes find mine. "Sweetness, I promise I'm going to take very good care of you in a minute, but you'd be a very, very good girl if you put that pretty head of yours back between my legs first."

I bite my lip and scoot back, bending down willingly. If she puts it like that, I'll eat her out until my tongue falls off.

She slides down further until she's only half propped up and pulls her feet in to brace herself, legs spread wide. For me.

My feet butt up against the wall behind me as I wiggle myself into a good position and lower my head to her pussy. I lick between her lips slowly, dragging my tongue along her while I lock my unfocused eyes on hers. Something in me needs her to see my face, my enjoyment of her body and my eagerness to be buried in her pussy.

"Ohhh, sweetness, baby, you're so hot like that. Good girl, showing me you want it, that's right, lick my pussy like a good girl."

She's almost crooning now. I can feel my cheeks redden, being talked to like that, but her voice is wrapping itself around my brain, down into my belly, tingling in my pussy. If I reached between my legs I'm sure I'd find my clothes soaked. I feel like such a slut, kneeling in the entryway of this stranger's hotel room, my face deep in her pussy while she calls me a good girl. But I push those thoughts away: if I look at them too closely I might freeze up and my pussy might detach from my body to strangle me.

My tongue and jaw are sore, but I don't want to stop. I also don't want to tease anymore, I want to fuck her. I work one forearm under her ass to lift her and shove my tongue into her pussy. Her back arches, shoving her pussy into me.

"Yes yes yes yes, baby! Like that just like that oh God oh God, deeper, deeper, moremoremore!"

I look up again and she's got her blouse unbuttoned and one tit is spilled out of her bra. Her fingers play at her nipple - pink, hard, so tempting. I duck my head again to her pussy. She wants it deeper than my tongue can stretch but I need to satisfy her. As I fuck my tongue rhythmically into her, I slide two fingers in, filling her deeply as she ordered.

I'm inside her. I've never been so turned on without being touched. I'm still fully dressed! But all I want is this, fucking her, being her good girl. All I can think of is this.

It isn't long before her voice gets higher again, crying out desperately. I hear a series of soft thuds that sound like a head banging against a wall and look up, still fucking her with my fingers. My breath is short, and I wonder at the needy whine I'm hearing until I realise it's coming from me. I didn't think I could be more turned on than I was, but I can hardly breathe with how hot her orgasm is.

She comes down from it, panting as heavily as I am. I feel a stab of envious awe at her second orgasm following so quickly on the first.

"Come here, sweetness," she orders. "Come here, I need to kiss you."

I crawl up beside her and she grabs me and pulls me to her. Her hands are in my hair again and she's claiming my mouth, fucking me like I just fucked her. I fight not to go limp but my instincts are to submit, to roll and offer her my throat, my belly, my pussy. She claims my pussy anyway, reaching between my legs and rubbing me through my clothes.

When she lets me go, I stare at her, eyes unfocused, mind a haze. "Such a good girl you are," she croons. "So very, very good. So obedient. So willing. So wet. Good girls like you deserve rewards. Take your clothes off, my good girl."