How You Make A Man Into Your Willing Prey

Who is pursuing and who is the pursuer in this game?

I lick my lips and adjust the belt around my waist. She’s beautiful, that is the first thing that crosses my mind. Endless legs and thick thighs clench together into an impenetrable tightness. I can see the beads of sweat forming in-between those gorgeous thighs. I can only imagine the moisture building and the hotness inside.

Her arms rest on the countertop of the bar. The men around her flitter around like bees trying to pollinate a flower. She closes in on herself and keeps her head cocked to the side. Her brunette hair bounces with a shake of her head.

My footsteps are carefully taken toward her. I don’t want to frighten her with my approach. I plop onto a seat across from where she’s sitting. She keeps staring ahead to avoid the eyes of the men trying to break through her defenses. She swats the air like they’re pesky flies in her way.

She takes the drink in her hand and gives it a tentative sip. It’s a brown color and served neat without ice. Whiskey, perhaps? She looks like a whiskey girl, that hard edged beauty protecting the softness underneath. I try to glance away from her. I hate to stare excessively at her and scare her away just from my gaze. I bring out my phone and cycle through emails.