Jack and Stella Pt. 01

Another glance at my watch confirms what I already know: I've been sitting at this bar for over 30 minutes already. The ice at the bottom of my long-since empty glass has melted into small puddle. Fidgeting in my seat, I drink the droplets of water and signal to the barman that a refill will most definitely be necessary! How long is too long to wait for your Tinder to date arrive before accepting that you've been stood up? 10 minutes? 15 minutes? 30 minutes? 'One more drink' I think to myself, 'then I'm leaving!'

A fresh gin and tonic is placed in front of me, and the usual card-to-machine transaction takes place as I glance down at my watch again. The slow, heavy sigh that escapes my nostrils could easily be mistaken for that of a bear or dragon. One of benefits of meeting on a Tuesday night is that the place is emptier than usual, but even now some of the seats are beginning to fill.

Glancing around, I notice that most of the people in this bar are women. For a moment, I consider trying to chat to someone new, someone who I haven't arranged to meet through a dating app, someone who is already here and not leaving me on my own in the bar...but the thought passes as quickly as it arrived. I'd probably need another 10 drinks before that would ever happen!

Slouching over the bar, I press my hand to my back. Having bad posture makes waiting at bars a real pain...literally! Most of the seats are taken, but as I scan around the room, I spot an empty booth hidden in the corner. It's smaller than the rest, and sitting four people here certainly wouldn't be easy, but it will do the job for me! As I lift my drink and move across, I slide along the black fabric and make myself comfortable in the corner. Just as I'm rolling up my sleeves, I feel my phone vibrate in my jeans pocket. Checking the message, I can't even act surprised by what the Tinder message reads:

"Can't make it! Sorry! x"

Closing the message, I begin swiping on new potential matches. Am I wasting my time? Each swipe is a second that I could be spending doing literally anything else. Glancing at profiles, flicking through photos, skimming the standard bios that paint every person as an explorer and adventurer, and sending follow-up messages my previous matches soon begins to block out the rest of the world.

I find myself so engrossed that I don't even register the fact that someone is standing at the edge of the table, at least not immediately. As I glance up, I see a woman staring back at me. She's holding a pint of beer in one hand and a small, black purse in the other.

"Do you mind?" she asks, pointing her bag at the empty seat opposite me.

I shake my head. A noise does escape my lips that was supposed to say "no", but what came out was more of a grumble. Either way, she slides along opposite me and places both bag and beer on the table. Trying not to seem obvious, I continue swiping. Every minute or so, my eyes dart from my phone screen to the woman, just for a moment. The lights in this bar are pretty dim, and the sun has long since set outside, so it's hard to tell if she's wearing black lipstick or just a dark shade.

A couple more glances and I happen to catch the colour slightly in the light and I get the impression that it's actually dark purple. The more I look at her, the more I see the difference in colour between her lips and her eye shadow, the latter of which is darker than night and reminds of an Ancient Egyptian Goddess. She has beautiful skin and an aura of power about her. She's looking out across the bar and I see the purplish shimmer of her tied-up hair, like a dark treacherous vortex, pulling me into the unknown. I drag my eyes away and glance back at my phone.

Slowly but surely, I begin to admire her necklace, following the silver chain that leads down her pale skin to the bumblebee that dances around her chest. Completely by accident, I find myself noticing that her dress leaves little to the imagination. There's no bra in sight and so her cleavage is staring back at me. Shaking my head slightly, I glance back at Tinder and begin swiping once again, sadly coming to the end of my free swipes for the day. Now I have a dilemma. Do I put my phone down or find something else to do? Maybe one of my other apps will find me a new match for this evening...

"If you're going to check me out, you could at least put your phone down!" she tells me, her voice is stern, clear, and powerful. Her slightly posh English accent seems to fit her words, but not her look. As I glance up, I see that she isn't even facing in my direction: she's still staring out across the bar.

"Sorry..." I respond, sliding my phone into my pocket as I glance towards the table, lifting my drink up to my lips with both hands. This would usually be the moment to start a conversation, but my brain has emptied of all potential ideas.

She turns around and begins staring right at me, and for some reason my eyes choose now, of all moments, to glance back down towards her cleavage. Intercepting their intentions, I direct them towards her shoulders and down to her waist. Is that better? I don't know!

I begin to distract myself by over-analysing her dress: It's dark green and the sleeves are loose, reaching down to about elbow length. I only now notice the flower pattern that is spread across it, with each flower being a different colour. It's pretty and fits her well: showing her shape but still leaving most things to the imagination, apart from her cleavage of course.

"So..." she begins, "...what's your name?"

"Jack", I respond. There's a long pause as I realise that she's waiting for the same question to be asked of her. "And you?"

"Stella", she tells me.

We enter into another moment of awkward silence, or at least it feels awkward to me. As I glance up, I find that Stella is just looking right at me. She certainly doesn't look like she's in an awkward position, in fact there doesn't seem to be a shred of awkwardness being displayed at all. If anything, I'd say that she seems to be enjoying the slight discomfort I'm feeling at this very moment.

"Are you from here or..."

"Stop!" she interrupts, "I'm not interested in small talk". I hear a faint sigh leave her body before she says, "I don't mean to be rude or come across as cold, but I'm just not interested, and I feel like it would be ruder for me to pretend that I am!" She lifts her beer to her mouth, takes a giant gulp and places it back on the table.

"What's the kinkiest thing you've ever done?" she asks.

I happen to me halfway through swallowing some of my gin and tonic when this question leaves her lips. I choke as the cold liquid goes down the wrong pipe, and I find myself coughing my lungs up as a result. Each cough feels more aggressive, and as I glance back up, I see a smile form on one side of her face as she continues to stare right at me. There's a twinkle in her eyes that's unmissable.

"What do you mean?" I ask, trying to clarify the question.

"What's the kinkiest thing you've done in the bedroom?" she repeats, "or anywhere, but I mean sexually."

Hearing it a second time doesn't help me, and I find my mind turning instantly blank. What is the kinkiest thing I've done?

"I've ehhh..." I pause, leaning over the table slightly and lowering my voice to just above a whisper. "I've been blindfolded and hand-cuffed to the bed before". I tell her, my face turning instantly red-hot as the blood rushes to it. I lean back again, lifting my drink to my lips as I wait for her to say something in response. She glances back at me, pondering an unspoken idea in her mind.

"When was the last time you had sex?"

"What? That's a bit personal, isn't it?" I say, letting out a nervous giggle.

She leans in closely, and whispers, "are you afraid to talk about sex?" A bigger smile appears across her face, one that is slightly contagious.

"About six months ago..." I mutter.

"WHAT?" she half shouts at me, causing people to turn around momentarily before returning to their drinks and conversation. "A few months ago?" she asks. "How often do you masturbate?"

There's a long pause. Admitting that you haven't had sex for a while is one thing but admitting how often you masturbate is a whole other story. I hold my glass in one hand and begin to swirl the ice cubes around, as if dealing with some imaginary problem with my drink.

"For me it's a couple of times a week" she says, without caring who hears her.

"Every other day or so, I guess" I tell her, looking down at my hands as they continue to spin my glass around. As I glance up, her eyes are scanning my body up and down.

"Why has it been so long since you last had sex?"

"Well..." I begin, "I came out of a relationship not too long ago and just haven't met anyone else yet. I was supposed to have a date tonight and I was hoping that that would...go well...but she cancelled."

Lifting her glass to her lips, she gulps down the last of her beer, before standing up from the booth.

"Do you want another drink?" she asks me, pointing to my half-full glass of gin and tonic.

"No, I'm OK thanks" I tell her.

"What is it? Gin and tonic?"

"Yeah, but..."

Before I can get another word in, she heads across to the bar. For the first time since meeting her, I catch a glimpse of the length of her dress. It stops around the tops of her thighs, and as my eyes follow it down, I find myself staring at the outline of her ass cheeks which are clearly visible whenever she leans over to get the bar tenders attention.

She's wearing red panties, from what I can tell. Going down further, I see the black heels that she's wearing, contrasting against the slightly pale colour of her skin. The bar is still pretty empty, but there are now a lot more people waiting to be served than there were earlier. Somehow though, she's back with our drinks almost instantly.

"I'm going to join you on this side, if you don't mind" she says, not really asking a question as she places both the drinks on the table. As a small breeze blows through the bar, I catch a whiff of her perfume. It's sweet, and yet smells like winter.

My hands are still holding onto my glass, as if I'm worried it will run away, and without hesitation Stella places the tip of one of her fingernails against the skin on my arm. Her nails are painted a dark black, but each one reflects the light in a slightly different pattern, and I begin to feel like I'm gazing into small universes, with stars and galaxies shining back at me.

"I want to play a game with you!" she says, her finger running very slowly and lightly across my skin, drawing small circles and shapes as it dances past my hair.

Chills run through my body and I feel the beating of my heart grow faster. I can't tell if time has slowed down or if she is just taking ages to carry on with what she was saying. She adds another fingernail to my skin, and the pair begin gliding higher up my arm, sometimes swooping down across my wrist and hand, making my fingers twitch slightly in response.

"Play this game correctly..." she starts, leaning in so close that her lips are brushing against my ear, her hand reaching down and gripping my thigh, "...and I'll fuck your brains out!"

My cock instantly jumps to attention, preparing itself for action. Stella grips my ear lobe with her teeth as she leans back slightly, pulling my head with her. Her hand is still on my thigh, and it begins to move inwards, gently stroking against my hard, throbbing cock. She doesn't look down, but the smile across her face says it all. My cock went from being asleep to rock solid in the blink of an eye, and now I can feel it pulsating, as if it's reminding me that it's there and ready for use.

As her left hand caresses the inside of my thigh, still brushing ever so lightly against my cock, her right-hand returns to scraping across my skin with her nails. As she swirls around the inside of my wrist, she climbs up my arms, over my top, and along the side of my neck.

My body enters a state of relaxation and I feel goosebumps rippling across my body. She continues over my ear and onto my cheek, before placing the palm of her hand on my face, pulling me in towards her. I feel pounding in my chest as I glance down at those luscious, dark lips, her eyes staring into mine as she draws closer to my face, and just as we're about to connect, she moves to my left and leans close to my ear again.

"You're going to go into the bathroom, you're going to take your underwear off, and you're going to put mine on!"

As she's explaining this to me, I see that she's rolling her dress up slightly with one hand, the other still using a single finger to stroke along my engorged cock. As she lifts herself off the seat, I catch a flash of red as her underwear falls to her ankles. "Be quick!"

She balls her panties up and places them into my hand. I hold them, noticing the warmth and the slight scent of pussy. She stands up from the seat, pulling her dress down at the back to make sure her ass isn't on display. As I stand up behind her, she turns back around and faces me. She opens my hand and lifts the balled-up panties towards my face.

"Press them against your nose and take a long, deep breath in!"

As I inhale, the smell is immediately recognisable, and it triggers arousal throughout my entire body. I feel precum building on the head of my cock, and I reach down with one hand to tuck my throbbing dick behind by belt. I can already feel the damp spot on the inside of my boxers as it presses against my skin. As Stella walks towards the bar, I head into the toilets with my fingers crossed that nobody is in.

As I walk through the door, I'm relieved to see an empty cubicle. The smell of stale piss is overwhelming, but as I click the lock shut, I'm just relieved that its empty in here. The reality of my situation begins to dawn on me, and as I slide my shoes off and drop my jeans and underwear to the floor, I begin to question if this is the right move. My cock is still bouncing, and a long string of precum dribbles from the head of my cock down to my boxers on the floor, adding to the puddle.

As I open my hand and the red, lacy underwear begins to expand, I realise that part of me is a little worried. What if this is all a prank or a set-up? I hold them out in front of me and try to picture how squashed everything will be inside. I step out of my clothes and slide the panties up my legs, over my cock and balls, and up to my waist. I can feel the back sliding up between my ass cheeks.

My cock does feel a bit trapped, but the fabric is soft and doesn't necessarily feel unpleasant. I have no choice but to leave the head of my cock sticking out of the waistband, but at least this way it will stay hidden. I pick my underwear up off the floor, slide my jeans back up, and head on out to see where the evening leads.

As I step out of the bathroom, I instantly feel like a spotlight is shining down on me. Suddenly, every glance makes me more paranoid. Do they know that I'm wearing panties? Each step I take makes me more aware of how loose my jeans are. Are they visible from the back? Every time someone turns around, I expect it to be a friend who is waiting to make fun of the situation I've ended up in.

I look down to the floor, glancing at my crotch to make sure that my still-hard cock isn't noticeable, and I begin my walk back to the booth. As I glance up, I see a line of 4 shots on the table, each one a different a colour. Stella is halfway through her beer and stands up to let me back into the corner.

As I shuffle across, feeling her moving in immediately after me, I slyly hand her my boxers, doing my best to keep the damp pre-cum puddle hidden inside and out of sight and touch. She places them in her bag, closes it, and then turns to look at me.

"I want you to taste each of these shots, just a little bit, and then you're going to close your eyes. I'll then dip my finger in one, place it on your lips, and you'll try to guess which shot it is. If you get it right, you get a prize. If you get it wrong, then I get to punish you. Understand?"

I nod my head. I'm still hooked on her words about fucking my brains out. The tightness of the panties against my cock becomes apparent now that I'm sitting down. The waistband has slipped over the head of my cock, and now it feels like a beast trapped in a slightly too small cage. The more it pushes against the fabric and is held back, the more it tries to burst through them.

As Stella dips her finger in the first shot, I take this moment to glance down to make sure that my erection is still well hidden. I look back up as her finger touches my lips. She pushes her finger between them, making sure that the flavour reaches my tongue.

"Suck!" she tells me, and I do as she says. Making sure to get every drop as I maintain eye contact with her.

The first one I know is sambuca. After tasting the rest, I decide that they are vodka with lime, cola cubes, and absinthe. Each one sucked off her finger, and each one incredibly recognisable. I can't help but smile slightly as I think about how easy this challenge is going to be. There's no better feeling than knowing you'll win a game, even before it starts.

"Close your eyes. If I catch you looking, you lose! I'll tell you when you can open them."

I close my eyes and the bar, the people in it, and Stella all disappear. My lips are slightly apart as I wait for the first flavour. As Stella rubs a finger across my lips, she gently slides it inside my mouth. I suck the drops of alcohol from her skin and let them soak into my tongue.

"Absinthe...the fourth shot." I tell her.

"Well done!" she says, "Here's your first prize."

I almost open my eyes but manage to stop myself at the last second. I can feel my heart begin to beat faster as I wait for my reward. There's a moment of silence, where it seems as if the entire bar has fallen away from existence. In that moment, I feel the warm, soft texture of Stella's lips as they press against mine.

The kiss is hard, passionate, and just as I lean forward for more, she pulls away. I force myself to remain composed, but I desperately want more! I take a slow, deep breath to compose myself.

"Here's the second one!" and before I can even part my lips, I feel her finger pressing against them. She slides her finger around my lips and then gently pushes her finger into my mouth. Once again, the taste is obvious, and I waste no time in giving my response.

"Vodka with lime, shot 2" I announce victoriously, already confident in my answer.

"Good..." she says, followed by a pause.

Her hand slides past my cheek and grips my hair as she pulls my head towards her. Before our lips connect, her tongue is inside my mouth. Each time our lips merge, I feel my cock pulsing as it tries desperately to make itself known.

As if reading my mind, one of her hands glides down to my leg, running straight up the inside of my thigh, and squeezing the tight package that is contained within her panties. A wave of pleasure and excitement flow through my body and I find myself shivering with lust and anticipation. As she lifts her hand away and releases my hair, she moves away from my lips and breaks the kiss.

"Ready for the next one?" she asks. I feel a little light-headed, but if guessing this next one right means a repeat of that, then I'm all for it. There's a longer pause than usual, but then she tells me, "open your mouth!"

I do as she says, opening my mouth wider than before, and without touching my lips at all, she rubs the drops of alcohol directly onto my tongue, wiping her finger over my lower lip as she pulls it out. Except this doesn't taste like alcohol! It's certainly familiar, but there's a salty warmth to the flavour that I can't place. I lick my lips to try and taste anything that is left, but my mind is going blank.