Confession

[bcw8]

A bartender sees everything.

The two women at the table in the corner, their heads close together, their ankles brushing under the table.  Both are dressed for seduction, but it's not at all clear what form.  Their blouses are sheer and open at the top.  Skirts that hug hips and expose long legs.  Hair up, elegantly, one raven black, one flaming auburn.  I could only see their face in profile, but their makeup was careful and expert. 

The brunette turned her heel into the redhead's foot, her three-inch stiletto pressed into bare flesh.  The redhead's hand jerked slightly on the table; that's how I noticed the diamond on her finger.  The brunette smiled and sipped her drink. Dirty martini.  She lifted the olives impaled on the swizzle stick and took one into her mouth with her tongue.

Watching that made me hard. 

Their conversation was controlled but simmering.  They weren't friends.  What sort of enemies, I wondered.  The brunette said something clipped and hard, and stood.  She walked into the ladies room without looking back.  Her body was coiled sex.  I could see the faint outline of her bra, the restrained movement of her breasts, the flash of her legs as she strode.  The redhead sat at the table, frozen, her face flushed but motionless, staring at the wall behind where her companion had sat.  She twisted the ring on her finger. 

Rivals, I thought.  Not companions. 

She stood, and followed.   The brunette had not locked the door behind her. 

I didn't look at my watch, so twenty minutes is only a guess on my part.  When the door opened, the brunette emerged. No longer perfect, but her eyes were lit with triumph.  Her hair was loose.  She ran a hand through it to tame it. Her blouse was opened another button. The tawny skin of her cleavage had a sheen of sweat.  Her breasts were obvious through her blouse, her nipples dark towers pressed up, tenting the fabric. Her small stylish purse hung open over her shoulder, and I could see, stuffed into it, a bra.   

No, on second glance, her purse held two bras. 

She walked out and now her body writhed, her heels clicking like pistols cocking.  She was a goddess going into the night. 

It was another fifteen minutes before the redhead appeared.  Her mascara was smeared with tears. Her hair disheveled.  A single livid red line crossed her cheek, not bleeding but not far from it.  Her breasts were also obviously bare beneath her sheer blouse but her nipples lay flat.  She looked at me and her tears came, full force. 

I led her to the office behind the bar, gave her the chair. Her breasts swayed as her chest hitched but her head was bowed.  Her eyes were empty.  I brought her a cold cloth from the bar for her face but instead she took it and moved it under her blouse and pressed it to her breasts.  When she took it out again a few minutes later, I noticed.

Her ring was gone too. 

"Who was she?" I finally asked. 

I could see the blue of her eyes but only at an angle. She couldn't look at me. 

"His ex," she whispered. 

I sat there silently.   So did she, until her tears stopped and her words tumbled out.   

"She wants him back. She won't leave him alone. Or me.  She has been after me, harassing me, taunting me with messages of how they used to fuck, how he would say to her that she was the best he's ever had."  She looked up at me then. 

"He's never said that to me."

I nodded, knowing there was nothing I could say. 

"So we met here.  I told her again to just leave us alone. That he's mine now."

Sitting there, her perfect body sagged. A melted candle. Her voice was barely there, a ghost.

"She said, fight me.  Here, now." She tilted her head back towards the bar.  Maybe there were customers out there, I thought, but I didn't care.  Her words held me.  "Fight me with your tits, bitch, she said.  Earn him."

In my mind, I saw them.  Blouses and bras draped on the sink.  Facing off.  Then ramming together, gasping.  The smack of flesh on flesh. I could see the brunette's eyes, feral and cruel.  I saw hard dark nipples gouging into pink. 

Her mind was as distant as mine. Reliving it.  Her hands unthinkingly cupped her breasts, wincing as she lifted them in her blouse. In her open neckline I could see the blotches on her skin, the early bruising.

"She pinned me against the wall.  Her breasts crushed mine.  Her nipples..." She sobbed, suddenly, inhaling like she didn't have enough oxygen, like she was drowning.  "God, it hurt so much!"

"It's over, now.  You're safe."  She looked at me as if I'd cursed her, as if my attempt to comfort her was some deeper insult.

"She made me submit!" she burst out.  "Do you understand?!  She made me say he was hers, not mine!"  She was shaking now.  Sobbing.  Her breasts heaved. 

"She pried open my hand...and took my ring." She lifted her empty hand to her cheek, to the line in her skin.  "She did this...with the diamond."

I closed my eyes.  I was so hard that I ached.  The thought of the brunette dominating her like that. Jesus. "Do you want me to call your fiancé?" I asked thickly. 

She shook her head, almost in panic. "I can't. I can't face him.  She called him from... there.  FaceTime.  She showed him what she did to me."

The brunette had gone to him, I realized. With the bra and ring. 

"What's your name?"

Her sobs had subsided.  "Annette."  Her eyes were so blue.  "Thank you," she said.  "For being kind."

She had been cruelly humiliated. Her worst nightmare. Her rival had taken her pride.   

"You're still beautiful," I said.  She needed to hear it.   She looked at me and unbuttoned her blouse completely.  As if she needed that too, to show me.  Her breasts were still gleaming with sweat.  They were red, and raw.  Her nipples were soft and defeated. 

"They were stiff," she said, reading my eyes.  "Hard.  But hers...were like stones."  She still sat. I was standing, in front of her.  She reached out and her fingers curled over my erection.  "She's fucking him now," she said.  "I know it."

I reached for her bared breasts, cupping them in my hands. They were hot to the touch, almost feverish. She winced, but then pulled back her shoulders.  "Her nipples inverted mine," she whispered.  "She ... pushed them into me.  It hurt. I went soft and it still hurt. It hurt worse.  She crushed my tits with hers and her nipples forced mine deep into me and she laughed when I cried."

I moaned when she unzipped me and took me out. Her mouth was wet and hot.  Her eyes looked up at me.  I looked down and saw her nipples come to life again, thickening and lifting. 

"What is her name?"

"Jeanne."

I ran my fingers through her flaming hair. "You have to fight her again, Annette."

She nodded, and took me entirely into her mouth and throat.  Her tears were gone.  When she felt me throb she lifted her face with a gasp so that my cum spurted on her tits. 

A bartender hears confessions. 

[Drake8]

To end with "A bartender hears confessions" is a perfect echo of the opening line, "A bartender sees everything." The bartender is a dark priest who doesn't judge sins, but absolves Annette through pleasure and pushes her to seek revenge against Jeanne.
Another stroke of genius. One more. Eagerly awaiting the second part...

[caryn1]

the husband has to make up his mind who he is going to be with from now on.  he may need a little help and the two of them will help him decide

[Rocko23]

This was amazingly hot. Very different from your normal stuff but sexy. Thank you!

[Monaco73]

Nice story! Well written...

[Monaco73]