AN: I'm posting a bunch of new stories at the same time to gauge interest. I'm going to post a poll on my profile - please vote for the story you like the most because that's the one I'm going to focus my time and energy on currently! Thanks!
Alex Blake didn't make it a habit to frequent bars...but since the Amerithrax debacle and the apparent demise of her career with the FBI – combined with James' extended absence – she found herself at the local dive more and more often, more out of a desire to not be alone than any urge to get drunk.
Granted, the attractive bartender may have had a little something to do with it too... (Not that she noticed attractive strangers – she was a married woman afterall.)
Maybe nineteen years old, the bartender was an adorable little brunette who always wore jeans so tight they looked painted on and too-small T-shirts that showed off a sliver of toned stomach.
And if she stared on occasion, well, it was just looking. There was no harm in that.
On that particular evening, Alex was nursing a vodka cranberry and waiting for the bartender to come on shift and wondering how exactly her life had come to this point: pining over someone who barely knew she existed because it was the only human contact she had... She was startled out of her miserable introspection by a voice from behind her.
"Well, if it isn't my favourite customer..."
Alex looked up sharply at the familiar voice. "Oh, it's you..." she stammered. She hadn't thought the young woman even know she existed, let alone cared. She attempted a smile when she realized she'd been silent for far too long to be entirely comfortable.
"Were you waiting for me?" the young woman asked with a knowing smirk.
"What? No! Of course not..." she lied.
Smirking, she ducked behind the bar, stripped off her leather jacket. "You've been coming here for weeks now, maybe it's time you told me your name."
Alex tried not to blush as she watched the young woman stretch, exposing more of the skin of her stomach. "I, umm, I-I'm Alex," she eventually managed to stammer.
"Alex, hmm?" she repeated, mischievous smile playing about her lips. "You got a last name?"
She shook her head without really knowing why. "Just Alex."
"Alright then, 'Just Alex', I'm Just Emily..." she introduced. And without further conversation, she poured Alex another vodka cranberry – a double this time – sliding it across the bar.
Emily slammed Alex back against the wall of the bar's cramped storage room, sending nearby cases of beer bottles rattling and clanking with the force of the impact. Emily's lips were affixed to her throat, teeth raking across the skin with the threat of bruises.
Alex panted, whimpered, but couldn't quite seem to form any words in the face of Emily's ministrations. Afterall, it had been far too long since anyone had made her feel like this...
Emily clearly needed neither instruction nor encouragement as her hand slipped inside Alex's jeans and past the waistband of her panties with dexterity that said this was far from her first time doing this.
Alex might've wondered just how frequently she did, in fact, do this, but her mind was far too occupied just then. Besides, it wasn't like this was a relationship – far from it – and, if for one moment of weakness, she wanted the experienced hand of a younger woman on her clit, well...she couldn't manage to think of a reason it mattered.
"Em... Emily..." she begged, not entirely sure what exactly she was begging for, only knowing that she needed something more. Part of her mind was screaming that this was wrong, that she was married...but she just couldn't make her body listen. Not when Emily's hands were quickly bringing her to the brink of ecstasy with more skill than anyone she'd fucked before.
With her other hand, Emily tore open Alex's shirt, her lips travelling down between her breasts, nipping at the tender flesh, sure to leave marks behind (Alex might've been concerned if she didn't know for a fact that James would never see them). "Let me hear you," Emily demanded, her thumb finding Alex's clit, rubbing it furiously while she slipped two fingers inside her. "Tell me what you want me to do..." she taunted.
She struggled to put voice to what she wanted, what she needed – for a linguist, she'd never exactly been particularly vocal in bed...
Emily, at least, seemed to find her struggle amusing, smirk playing about her lips as she decided to change tactics, withdrawing her hand to undo the button on Alex's jeans.
"What... What are you...?" Alex struggled to ask, finally finding her voice again.
Emily dropped to her knees, looking up at her from her lower vantage point, teeth raking across her bottom lip in faux coyness. "You ever been eaten out before?" she husked.
Alex's cheeks pinked as she shook her head. James had never offered and she'd always been too shy to ask for it.
Emily's brows leapt up her forehead in surprise, apparently not having expected that answer. "Never?" she asked, incredulous, "Not even by your husband?"
She would've questioned how she knew she was married, but didn't have the chance before Emily had tugged down her jeans, her wicked tongue finding her clit.
Alex bucked her hips at the contact. Her eyes fluttered shut. "Oh, God, Emily..."
"That's right, say my name," she coaxed. She'd always been rather bossy in bed and she had a feeling Alex was at least a little submissive...
For her part, Alex had barely ever strayed outside the constrains of boring vanilla sex. James had never really been interested in anything beyond missionary (for the minute and a half he lasted). Their sex life usually consisted of her laying there and letting him fuck her until he came, then waiting until he rolled over and fell asleep to touch herself and find the release he never gave her. They'd been high school sweethearts and lost their virginity to each other, so it was really all they knew.
This... This was not like her. At all.
But whatever it was that had come over her, she decided to throw caution to the wind and give in to it.
"Emily..."