Leah checked the address at the door, and made sure she had it right. It was a derelict bar, abandoned a year ago, which was now being remodelled and reopened. The windows were covered in paper, and the signs had been taken down, and not yet replaced.
She had the right place, so she pushed on the front door, and it opened. She went inside, and locked the door behind her. She was in an entryway, an alcove of a sort. She could see lights further inside the bar, but couldn’t see who was there.
She walked around the corner, and called, “Hello,” and someone in the back shouted, “Down here.”
Leah went towards the voice. A man was standing at the bar, looking at a laptop. He seemed to be alone. He looked up, and saw her, and closed the laptop’s lid. “Leah?” he said.
They shook hands. He looked around, then pointed to the bar. “Here’s probably best,” he said. “Sorry there’s no seats, yet. We’ll just have to stand.”
She nodded, and took her laptop out her bag, and put it next to his on the bar. She opened its lid, and waited while it came back to life, and then she started into her sales pitch. He listened, standing next to her.
He needed a marketing firm, he’d said on the phone, to deal with the advertising for the new bar. She’d come highly recommended, he said. She’d done a campaign for a friend of his last year. Could they meet, he said, and she’d agreed to, so they’d arranged it, here and now.
She talked for a few minutes, giving her pitch. She could say it almost by rote, without paying attention.
She finished, and he seemed to have listened, but he didn’t say anything for a moment after she was done. She wasn’t sure if she should speak, or if he was thinking. She waited, just standing there.
“Are you a good brand manager?” he said in the end.
She looked at him, and said, “I am.”
“And you’ll do whatever you need to get this account?”
She nodded slowly. She looked at him, wondering what that meant.
“Anything?” he said.
She felt a little breathless. “I will,” she said. “Of course.”
He moved. He walked behind her. She suddenly couldn’t see where he was, and didn’t want to turn and look, in case that seemed distrustful. He was quiet, but she had a feeling he was watching her. He was watching, and she hoped she was what he wanted. She knew she looked good. Her suit was tasteful, her hair perfect, her heels just slightly too high. She looked good, and was good at what she did, and she was here.
Here, and so turned on she couldn’t think.
“Undo your trousers,” he said. “Slide them down a little, and lie on the bar.”
She did, her hands shaking, and lowered them to her thighs. She hadn’t worn underwear. She was naked underneath. She put her hands on the edge of the bar, and lifted herself up, then lay there, face down, as he’d told her to.
He stood behind her, and put his cock into her ass. With no warning, no preparation, just inside her, as if he was entitled. Using her, taking her, as if she was a whore, or the kinkiest person alive. She gasped with pleasure, and with wanting. She liked anal, although she sometimes didn’t like to admit it.
He slid into her, deep inside her, hot and hard and filling, and she was lost, she couldn’t think, and simply held onto the edge of the bar, and felt him. She gasped when he first went in, all the air leaving her chest, as if his hardness pushing into one end of her forced the air from the other. She gasped, and didn’t breathe again until he was halfway inside her, and lay there feeling herself make room and fit around him.
He slid inside, and then was still for a moment, while she breathed slowly, getting used to him. He stood behind her, and waited, and she felt herself relax. After a moment, she was ready, and he seemed to know when that was. He didn’t ask, he just began to fuck her, but he let her have her moment first.
He fucked her ass, and she felt him sliding deep inside her, sliding in the lube she’d put into herself before she left her office. He stood behind her and held her hips and fucked her, while she lay there. He was using her, doing this for himself, not thinking about her pleasure. Another time, another place, she might touch herself as she had sex, rubbing herself, pleasuring herself, wanting to an orgasm too. Not now, though. Not here, like this. That wasn’t what this was. This was for him, not her. This was about her being used.
He began to move faster, getting close, she thought. She lay on the bar, and was fucked in the ass, until she was gasping on the very edge of pleasure. She lay there, feeling him, feeling him fuck her faster, until, suddenly, he groaned and came, and filled her, all thick and hot and intense.
He slid out of her. He pulled himself out, and stepped back, and did his clothes up.
Slowly, breathlessly, she stood up too. While they’d had sex, her trousers had slid down to her feet. She bent, and pulled them back up, and looked around.
“Is there a bathroom?” she said.
He nodded and pointed.
She went and cleaned up, and masturbated herself quickly, because she was turned on enough that she knew she could come in a minute or two. She did, and when she was ready, she went back out into the bar. He was looking at his laptop again, at what seemed to be financial spreadsheets.
He looked up and saw her. “Well, you have the account,” he said. “Obviously.”
“Thank you,” she said, and walked over to the bar, slowly. She picked up her bag, and closed her laptop’s lid. “Are we done?” she said.
He nodded. “I’ll sign what you need.”
“No,” she said. “I mean, are we done?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “Yep, we are.”
She grinned, and kissed him, then kissed him again. “That was wonderful,” she said. “You pervert. I’ll see you at home.”
He kissed her, and squeezed her ass as she left, and she went to find a taxi back to her office.