The Piglet in the Trap

"Well look at that, you're never too old for a little ride, eh?"

"N-no," I laughed. "I guess not. Thanks!"

"Just call me Silver, ma'am," he said and winked.

"Huh?"

"Hi-ho," he said.

I laughed but I didn't really know what he was doing. Later on I would thank God again that I didn't say "Off to work we go!"

I'll admit that Greg had me a little off balance walking up to the Boar in Steel. BUT, I was still in control. I caught a look of myself in the reflection of a window when we walked up and I looked like a goddamn Queen walking into this place. That mirror could have shown the whole solar system behind the red sunset light and I would still have been the brightest star. I would have snapped a pic if Greg wasn't there. You're so goddamn lucky, Greg. These old fuddies are going to put you in their reviews for the night. They're going to edit their old reviews for this! That golf place on your shirt is going to triple their business.

I swayed my hips with every step. The second we were through that big wooden door my eyes became bedroom eyes. I oozed sex appeal, sultry innuendos slithered off my curves. I met the eyes of any man who was lucky enough to catch them and squeezed my fuchsia lips in a little coy smile. Every man tried! Every man but Greg, who was chatting with the host and then our server until we were seated. The server pushed my chair in behind me and I almost fell off it, because I had already started to pull the seat forward myself! He apologized but it was obviously my fault. Awkward again... But I made it up to him with whatever view he got down my top while he was behind the back of my chair.

"What will you be drinking tonight, sir?"

Greg deferred to me. "Ladies first."

"Oh!" I fumbled looking for a drink menu. "I'll have, er--"

I couldn't order a PBR here, or even, like, a vodka slime. Wine? I could get a white wine but... oh god what wine did I even drink? What wine does anyone drink other than the cheapest one that you don't already hate?

"I'll, uh, well I'll have a water please, firstly, and, uh--"

Greg gave me a friendly wave of his hand. "May I make a suggestion, Eleanor?"

"Yeah. Yes! Yes, please, Greg, that would be wonderful."

He nodded. "We'll have my usual, Anthony."

"Excellent, sir. I'll return with them momentarily."

He left and Greg turned his attention back to me. "Don't be embarrassed, I'm sorry to put you on the spot."

"I'm not embarrassed." I smiled. I looked way too good to be embarrassed.

"I'm glad to hear it! Have you ever drank a negroni, Elly?"

I shook my head, still smiling. He had earned a cute little bimbo gesture like that.

"You'll love it."

Oh I'm sure, Greg.

He asked me how "college life" was these days and I got myself ready to answer the usual chitchat: how my classes were going, what my degree would set me up for, whatever young relatives he had that were doing nursing or education, blab a little about History and, as always, he would disagree with some fact that he had been taught wrong back in his day. The usual stuff! But he steered the conversation way off course.

"Sure, sure, but how are the girls out here, hm?"

"Girls? I, uh, haven't had much free time," I said.

My phone was silent but I knew there were three conversations waiting for me with three very eager boys I was going to sext in the bathroom.

Greg laughed. "Oh come on I wasn't born yesterday. When I got out to college away from my parents and rules I went wild. You've always been a pretty wild girl, after all."

"Me? I'm so boring, Greg! I'm not some, uh, some party animal."

"Okay, okay, maybe I'm wrong. Or maybe it's the boys you're more interested in!"

I'll admit it, I couldn't hold in my laugh. A really honest laugh, because I had been pursuing my interest in boys since long before university began. Greg laughed too. "Well that's okay, that's okay. We could have used more of that in my day. I'm awake!"

"Woke, Greg!"

"Woke, awake, I'm just asking questions here. Don't worry, none of this is getting back to your Mom and pop," he said, and held one finger in front of lips before zipping them and throwing the key away. "Just be careful with boys, you know."

"I know," I said and rolled my eyes.

The waiter returned with our drinks which were served in plain but expensive-looking glasses, a little heavy on the bottom, and a long, springy orange zest started there and spiralled up through the liquid and over the lip. Greg took a gentle drink of it, shut his eyes, and sighed. He looked at me. "Go on, give it a try."

It spilled over my tongue the way gin always does: crisp, fast, and full of joy. Like someone had bottled the last day of winter for the first day of spring. There was a strong orange finish and somewhere I could taste black licorice, which I usually hated. The same feeling of Greg sweeping me up from the seat of his truck flooded my chest as the vapors stung my eyes at the corners. "Fuck that's good," I exclaimed.

Then, remembering where I was looked up at the expectant waiter. "Oh-- I'm sorry."

He waved his hand, "Not at all, miss."

"You hear that, Ned? Tell Tony he makes them better than in the old country," Greg said.

Ned smiled and bowed his head slightly. "Have you decided on your meal for this evening?"

In talking with Greg I had forgotten about the menu entirely. I found it and my eyes scrolled through it. No prices, of course, and while the words were all english, I hadn't seen a lot of them used to describe food before. The men were no help. They just stood and sat silently, waiting for me, as if being chivalrous was a virtue! It isn't! I'm good, boys! But they kept the kind of silence that told me unequivocally that Greg couldn't just "go first." My head went back and forth like I was struggling through a text book. Finally I looked regretfully up at Ned and pleaded, "Actually could we just have a few minutes, please?"

He rocked on his heels like I had said something very, very stupid. So dumb he had to cover for me with professionalism, but he didn't know quite what to do. "Sorry," I said, still in my pleading voice.

"Not at all. Of course, yes. A few... minutes."

Greg pulled both of us to him with a hand gesture. He had that kind of charisma even in his dad clothes. "I'm sorry Ned, I don't think that will be necessary. Eleanor, as something of an expert on dining here, may I make a suggestion?"

I nodded, my eyebrows furrowed in a restrained desperation. "Yes!" Then I added some phrasing that I hoped made me sound older than my years. "If you please!"

Greg didn't even glance at the slick, hard-backed menu in my hands. Ned came to attention as he spoke, they worked like a well-oiled machine now that my faux-pas dropping ass was out of the picture. I swallowed another biting gulp of the negroni.

"Ned, I will have that delicious Osso Buco di Vitello I had last week, and the Braciole di Maiale for the lady."

Ned nodded and didn't even write it down. He was turned and two steps away when I said to Greg, "I just have to use the bathroom." Ned stopped like a soldier would, his heels cracking together, and made an about face. Just as I was rattling the legs of my chair backwards there he was, behind me, suddenly pulling with a force so strong I was gliding over the dark carpet. "Woah!"

He extended an open palm to me which I felt obliged to take. "My apologies, miss," he said.

I shook my head. God! "No-- uh, thanks you. Thank you!"

Greg had quietly stood up with a hand in his pocket and his drink in the other. He gave a barley perceptible toast to Ned and then a little nod with his eyes to me. Like I was asking permission!

The bathroom was huge and the cold, sterile walls made my hot cheeks feel hotter. What was going on out there! "It's like being in Buckingham Palace, what the hell!"

My brittle voice echoed back to me and I quickly glanced over the stalls to make sure they were all open and empty. There were candles and a song being sung in Italian, but otherwise it was just me.

Get a grip, Elly. You're losing it for no reason.

I pulled myself into sight of the long mirror behind the sink. I looked like the thing men dream about that makes them find an empty room and look up porn. Despite my hot face I still had eyes that went deeper than you could swim, and glittering cheeks that pulled you back up the surface, gasping. Just in time for my pert lips to part and find yours, honey, if you don't mind the taste of fresh vermouth. My collar bones peaked out from the straps of my dress, giving you one last horizon to hold on to before plunging down through my cleavage. My tits were a promise my body made good on, round hips you wished your eyes could linger on except they couldn't help but fall over my legs which took you all the way to the floor. You would beg to make the climb again.

I am, That. Bitch. I nodded. Fuck the waiter, and this place. I was here for a free meal what the hell did I care about the formalities of this dive.

I pulled my phone out.

I had left this stoner football boy, Vance, on read. "can I see u tonight? I'll eat u as long as u want.. Get u nice and wet for all 10 inches"

I scrolled up for the pic of his cock he sent earlier and it really looked as big as he said. I glanced over my shoulders to pointlessly check if I was still alone, then bent my hand around the slit of my dress and felt myself up. The though of his ten inches slapping overtop my tiny lil rabbit started to perk the rabbit up. Vance could be fun later. He seemed like a real pounder, but maybe too chill to keep it going for long. This boy was a real coin flip for me, as right now I really wanted a boy's tongue against my asshole, and if he wasn't opening with that on offer then it would probably be a struggle to get him there. 10 inch guys were either freaks or lazy, in my experience.

I had sent a message to this guy, Carl01, who hadn't replied yet. We texted a bit the night before and I was trying to get him to come out but he kept putting me off. Which would normally knock him off the list, but he had been begging to put me in a pair of handcuffs and, in his words, "whip my cum out of your ass and make you lick the floor after."

I wasn't going to lick my floor because I knew how filthy it was, but I did really want to be manhandled a little.

I arched my back in my Hot Plum Dress and wiggled my chest for the mirror. "What a little piece you are!"

All it took was a slight rotation to show off the vicious curve of my ass and the winking flash of thigh that pushed out through the slit when I kicked my heel up.

Fuck this place. And fuck Greg, too.

I was back in the driver's seat. I gave my nipples a little pinch for being such a brave girl and blew myself a kiss. I realized that I was out of my element because I was still treating Greg, and this pretentious bar and grill, with the respect and restraint of a little girl. Greg wasn't gonna tell my parents about how I act tonight, what was I worried about? There was no good impression to make. I tweaked my nipples again until they stayed hard and showed through the violent color of my dress.

We'll see who puts who off balance.

I put my cellphone, my boys, and an unused bar of scented soap from the sink into my purse. I was out of soap at home and betting they spent more on the soap than the food in a place like this, but I wasn't gonna pay for either!

When I got back to the table I made sure to lead with my butt. Wouldn't you like to feel how these hips touch down, Mr. Richards? I leaned back and, with a demure reach, gently pulled my negroni to my lips. I dismissed Greg's placid comment on my return and smacked the ball back towards him.

"You know Greg, I'm sorry to say this but I'm so curious, you're not married, right? You're so familiar with this place, who are you bringing here night after night?"

He smirked. "How do you know I'm bringing anyone here? Maybe I like the ambiance, the conversation."

A laugh hummed from the top of my throat. "Men go to a sports bar if they want conversation," I said, leaning forward. "They come to a place like this when they want something... else."

He leaned forward to match me and took a daring swallow of his drink. "Well if you know what men come here for, little lady, then I guess you know who they bring here."

I drained my glass and let my tongue linger on the rim for just a moment. My lipstick stayed there in a small dark bruise. I smiled as wolfishly as he did. "Hmmm... let me think, Greg. It's not little ladies like me, is it?" I giggled.

I hadn't lost a game of chicken yet.

"I don't think this is a place for little girls, Eleanor. Look around, do you see anyone your age here? Even the wait staff has a decade on you. This is a place for elegent women, a kitten like you might not know what to make of it."

"Oh, but a kitten would be impressed wouldn't she? With Ned and the candles and the Italian every which way," I was halfway over the table now, watching his eyes like a hawk. I knew my tits were spilling out he had to be killing himself not to let his eyes feast on them. I giggled. "So, so impressed."

He bent in so close I could see the remnants of stubble from his morning shave. He smelled faintly of an aftershave that must have been pine, or aspen, or FOREST or something like that. A flash of his salt and pepper chest shot through my head, a white shirt dangling open from his neck.

"Don't worry, Elly, I don't let it go to my head." He grinned.

I signalled to Ned, who was turning from another table, and basically shouted, "Two more negroni, Ned."

He glanced haltingly at Greg and then nodded and went towards the bar.

Game time.

"Do you know what a sugar daddy is, Greg?"

He blinked first. Leaning back from the table he finished his drink and looked at me with fresh eyes.

God I could barely believe I was doing this. Hearing my voice say something like that sent a shock down my dress like an icecube. My cock jumped in place inside panties. What if he thought I was propositioning him! Would I fuck my father's best friend? Was I propositioning him??

"It's a guy who can't get any without paying. A sugar daddy's nothing but a John who likes hotels more than car seats. I don't have to pay for anyone's time, Elly." His broad shoulders made the back of his chair creak.

I drew a little circle on the rim of my glass with my middle finger and its long bright nail. "What would you call a dinner here, then?" I added, quickly. "For any little ladies you might have treated here before?"

"For a woman I would bring here?" He thought for a moment, but I think he already had an answer. He was probably thinking of how I fit into the seat of his truck.

Don't worry, old man, with my thighs spread I could fit snug right between the wheel and your beer belly.

"I would say it's a test," he said finally, a serious look I hadn't seen before plastered on his face. "How does a little girl want to be treated? Is she ready for the finer things? Or does she prefer the back seat."

As someone who had spent a lot of time in back seats recently I took a great offence to that, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"An older, elegant woman doesn't fuck in a car, Greg?"

That's right, your best friend's daughter has a big grown up mouth, remember? Your move.

He laughed and that casual, 'I'm just a boy that likes to drive fast and drink a little beer' smile came back. "She does if she's old married folk. Reliving the good old days with hubby's fingers inside her. She doesn't do that with a new guy, no. I'm a bachelor, honey, there's nothing to relive with me. That's something your parents might do."

I sputtered. Ned saved my ass by coming back with the drinks. For once I welcomed his looming formal energy. Maybe I just needed a drink.

The night went on like that. I couldn't even taste the food, for the most part I put it down fast enough to send a barb in Greg's direction. He always had an answer. I hated it. But if there was one thing I've always been good at it's raising the stakes, and so I did. When he implied a kiss, I demanded tongue. If he mentioned a date, I insisted a one night stand. It seemed like he just got calmer and calmer, as I shovelled food over the plate and mostly into my mouth. It seemed to always meet a drink there. If (IF) I was losing our conversation at least he was paying for drinks, and I was going to make him pay dearly one way or another.

At some point I stumbled to the bathroom and stole another bar of soap. Fuck it! The candles smelled nice so I blew out one of those, shook the wax off into the sink, and put that in my purse too. When Greg took his singular bathroom visit I shoved my untouched silk napkin into my bag too. And for kicks I took a knife, which I wiped off on the far side of the table cloth.

I knew I had drank too much even before the bathroom. My vision had been blurring for a while, I just hadn't noticed when it was aimed solely at Greg's dumbass face. But now, fumbling the button on my purse to put my spoon inside (fuck it lol I liked the spoon there was an italian fleur de lis on there) I realized how drunk I was. I could make it home without throwing up but only out of spite.

But there was a problem.

Ned cleared his throat behind me right as the spoon was getting comfortable in its new home. I spun my head to see his irritated face. And just then, Greg came back from taking a piss.

"Excuse me miss, I believe that's our silverware."

I froze. I was refrigerated. I couldn't move at all.

"Miss, if you would return our spoon to the table, please."

Greg shook his head. "Eleanor, what are you doing."

My hand slipped under the flap of my purse and, numbly, found the spoon. It hit the table with the loudest clatter I've ever heard.

Ned was unimpressed. In a tone of voice both stern and sympathetic, Greg said to me, "Come on, Elly. Apologize to the man."

I mumbled "I'm sorry."

Greg and Ned looked at each other. "I'm sorry, Ned, I had no idea. I'm as mortified as you are."

It took a little more smoothing over but Ned was happy to go along with Greg's easy going view of things. "Of course," Ned said. "Perhaps she might have a little more supervision the next time the lady joins you."

I couldn't stand it. I managed to whisper out "Excuse me," without crying and jolted up from the table. Ned didn't grab my chair this time. I was going to head to the bathroom until this all blew over but the strap to my purse was still wrapped around my wrist and as soon as I stood up the whole thing flipped over. Out flew the knife. And the candle. Out of instinct and panic I started to shovel it back in so I could start running.

"Pardon me, miss!" Ned shouted.

"Elly!"

I froze again.

Greg stepped forward. "Elly, take everything out of there. Everything. Now, young lady."

My hands were shaking so bad. I took out the knife and laid it by the spoon. I took out the napkin. I took out three bars of soap and piled them together. And then I looked at Greg with big wet eyes, begging with apology.

"Is that all?"

I nodded.

Ned looked as unimpressed as ever.

"Empty the whole thing, Elly. Come on, let's see."

I could have dumped the whole bag but even as wasted as I was I didn't want to have to pick up anything afterwards. There I was, sitting again because I was too drunk to stand, quivering in my slinky little dress in front of two very, very disapproving men. I had fucked up so badly I knew I couldn't argue.

I took my phone out. Then my keys, then my wallet, pink leather with a white jewel heart on it. I hated that I had packed a three-strip of condoms which sat naked beside my phone. Then there was a pack of tissues, and my lipstick. I looked at one man then the other for an unspoken permission.