Dive Bar

Jane walked into the tavern then paused a beat as she glanced around the room. To a casual observer, the glance was appropriately nervous; she was, after all, a young woman alone in a seedy place. It was anything but casual, though, as Jane’s eyes quickly flitted over each patron, looking for her mark. Seeing that the one she wanted was present, she took a breath, quelling the spark of adrenaline that rose up from her belly as she headed to the bar counter.

She was uniquely suited for this task. Not what anyone would call beautiful or pretty, but she possessed an indefinable quality that drew men to her. Most important though, was her awareness of her sexual power. Not only could she use it when needed, she thrived on it—the challenge, the power, and the lustful energy that came her way. And the danger. Oh yes, she long ago reconciled herself to her penchant for getting herself into untenable situations.

She slid onto a stool at the bar and ordered a whiskey, watching Roland Cardston out of the corner of her eye. The fact the he was her type more than made up for the danger. Cardston had no need to patronize a dive bar like this, other than the fact that he liked the atmosphere and clientele: a far cry from the suits and geeks at the tech conglomerate, DigiPower, he worked for.  DigiPower was legit, except for Cardston’s little top-secret project: creating a virus that will immobilize the world’s banking systems for one minute.

Roland Cardston had the soul of a thief, but not the technical chops to create the program by himself. He tricked others into creating fundamental elements of his plan, none of which he could replicate on his own. That made him nervous, so he kept the virus with him at all times in the form of a high-end digital watch. This week, the virus was finalized and Cardston began some innocuous testing, knocking out the banks for mere seconds and managing to steal a million dollars in amounts so small that no one noticed.

The big hit was due any day. Jane’s bosses wanted it stopped. At any cost. Lucky for Jane, Cardston’s ego was huge. He had no idea that anyone was on to him.

Jane made her move. She stood and slipped off her battered thigh length coat and slung it over the stool next to her. The bartender leered. Jane was wearing a thin, tight, white tank top without a bra. She’d be less of a tease if she were naked. The outline of her nipples was clearly visible. Her khaki skirt covered her ass by a mere inch, and rode up as she sat back down on the stool. She continued to skip her whiskey, pretending to be oblivious to the electric silence in the air as all of the men in the bar directed their gaze upon her. There was something hungry and predatory in the air.

The bartender’s eyes flicked over Jane. “Darlin’, much as I enjoy the view, you should cover up and get the hell out of here before you get hurt.”

Jane smiled up at him. “But I haven’t even played a round of pool yet.” She chugged the last of her whiskey and ordered another, which she carried over to the pool table. The bartender shrugged and watched her ass sway.

As she passed a table, one of the men dropped his lighter in front of her.

“Aw shoot, would you mind, honey?”

Maintaining as innocent an aura as she could, Jane smiled and nodded. “Sure, no problem.” She bent at the waist to pick up the lighter, treating the men at the table to a view of her ass under her skirt. Her panties were thin white cotton.

“Here you are,” she said as she handed the man the lighter.

“Much obliged, sugar. Why don’t you join us for a spell?”

Jane shook her head. “I’m interested in playing some pool.” Without waiting for a response, she continued to the pool table, where Cardston was shooting balls by himself.

She stopped at the edge of the table, one hip cocked. “I wanna play. How about a game?”

This was a tricky moment. From her research she knew he liked edgy, fearless women—which had earned him a grudging respect as she gone over and over his profile. But coming on to him, in a place like this, dressed as she was, might raise his suspicions. She was gambling on the brain between his legs beating out the brain between his ears.

“You really think this is where you should be right now? Some men here will take that outfit as an invitation, you know,” he said.

“Do you take it an invitation?”

“Hell, no. I take an actual invitation as an invitation. Not what women chose to put on before they even meet me.”

The gamble paid off. Jane smiled inwardly. She was aware Cardston was one of those supposedly moral thieves. Getting money was simply a game to him, and he only stole from those already playing—never the vulnerable or poor. She found his ethics charming. “What if I said I’m issuing you an invitation?”

“An invitation to what?”

“An invitation to play. That’s why I came over here.”

“Alright, let’s play,” Cardston agreed. “I’ll rack ’em up.”

While Cardston set up the pool table, Jane grabbed a cue from the rack, chalking up the tip before letting her hand slide suggestively down the cue. She winked at Cardston.

“I’ll break,” Jane said. Without waiting for a response, she bent low over the pool table and took her shot.

Cardston stalked around the table for his turn. Jane also sauntered around the table, stopping so close to him that her hip pressed against his. He ignored her, sinking his shot with ease. Standing up, he glanced at her.

“Trying to distract me? With your body? That’s the oldest trick in the book,” he said with disdain.

“You’re right.” She bowed her head. “I should just be up front.” She paused. “I came over here because I want to fuck you.”

His mouth dropped open. Then he laughed. “Did the guys put you up to this?”

“No,” she replied. “I’m dead serious. I like you and I want to fuck. Here.” She took a step closer to him. “You’re not interested?”

“I am. But what do you mean, here?”

She slipped her hands up his shirt and kissed him. Her groin pressed into his, and she felt his hands go straight to her ass. “I mean right here. I like being watched. Quick and dirty. You up for it?”

He glanced at the rapt audience, their leathered faces and smoke yellowed grins leering at them. Her hand snaked down his pants, stroking. “Your dick says yes. Do you too, or should I stop?”

“I do, but I want to run this show,” he said.

Jane smiled. All was going according to plan. As she leaned in to kiss him and get the action started, he took control, as she hoped he would.

He spun her away so her belly was pressed against the pool table, facing the audience, her ass on display for him as he spread her legs. He dropped his pants and pressed his erection against her still clothed ass. His hands ran up her sides and stomach, stopping at her breasts to squeeze and flick. He pulled her tank top over her head and dropped it on the floor. She was only dimly aware of the murmur of appreciation from the crowd. His hands felt good and his cock felt big; a nice full fit was what she wanted. She rubbed her ass back and forth against his hard on, frustrated that he held back.

Then she realized his game— he’s going to make her come in front of everyone before he fucks her. He yanked her skirt down around her ankles. One hand rested on her throat, reminding her of his dominance. The other slipped down to her clit, which was already pleasantly tight and throbbing. She arched a little more—tits to the crowd, ass to Cardston—as his hand moved between her legs. She met the eyes of the men in the audience; their lust and rapt attention made her hotter and wetter. She didn’t feel guilty for enjoying this; it made her feel powerful. She was getting teased, would get fucked, but she was the only truly in control. Cardston’s fingers moved faster, in time with her breathing.

“Come, baby. As soon as you do, I’m going to bury myself deep in you,” he whispered in her ear.

And Jane came: hard, fast, and loud. The patrons whooped and clapped at the best show they’d ever seen on a Tuesday night. Someone ordered a round for the house. Jane smiled as Cardston’s hands moved back to her tits—squeezing and making them bounce. She knew he was doing this for the audience as much as her.

True to his word, he plunged into her, and she yelled with pleasure. The audience’s attention snapped away from their free round and back to the sight of Jane getting pounded against the pool table. She let her mouth fall open and didn’t censor her moans. The sound of Cardston’s body slapping and slamming into her filled the bar. She gripped the edge of the pool table and pushed back into him as he thrust. He seemed to love her enthusiasm, because he fucked her even harder. She wanted it, arching back into him, playing to the crowd, knowing they were loving this crazy, horny, bitch.

Jane wasn’t crazy, though. Bitch—maybe, she thought. She indeed loved the crowd and Cardston’s phenomenal dick, but she had complete control over herself. She let out another moan and shook her tits a bit more and her hands moved to Cardston’s wrists on the pool table. She could tell he was close to coming. His cock was demanding all his attention and focus—just as she knew it would. Jane’s pinky found the tiny latch of his watch and flicked it, a move she’d spent months perfecting. As Cardston gave himself over to a shattering orgasm, his watch clattered to the sticky floor.

He pulled out of her abruptly. Just as quickly, she bent and scooped up her skirt, panties, and his watch.

“Sorry,” she said, handing it back to him. He nodded, still recovering, snapping the watch on.

Jane knew she had about thirty seconds before she’d be in the danger zone. The crowd was going to want some ass too, and Cardston’s euphoria would crash and he’d undoubtedly check his watch. She had to be gone before he did. Jane lived for these few seconds: suspended time between safety and complete catastrophe. She knew, some day, she wouldn’t make it out in time. Today, however, was not that day. She swiftly dressed, patted Cardston on the cheek, bowed to the audience, then headed for the door. Not breaking stride, she grabbed her coat from her stool and waved at the bartender as she exited. Once on the street she flung open the door to a waiting town car and flopped inside.

“I got it. Go.” Jane ran her fingertips over the sleek black watch, marvelling at the potential destruction hidden inside its tiny hard drive.

The car pulled away, swift and silent. Only the junkie by the side of the road noticed, but his recollection was hazed over with heroin and tobacco.

An hour later, Cardston flipped on the hot water in his shower. He needed to wash off the cheap sex and dive bar smell. Last to come off was his precious watch. Inspecting it, as he did numerous times a day, he uttered a sting of curses and pounded his fist on the bathroom vanity. The watch was a replica. The woman from the bar was the only one to touch it today. Snatching up his cellphone, he punched the number of his associate and explained the situation. He described Jane perfectly—her face, her body, her voice, her way of speaking.

“Find her.” Cardston’s plan for stealing billions might be on hold for now. But he’d find Jane. And make her pay. Oh, was he ever going to make her pay.