CHAPTER SEVEN
She fought down the tear. The sound of the dial tone finally jarred her into putting the receiver back on the hook. She tried to understand how he could do it. He had promised to be home for supper at six! It was their anniversary.
The phrases rang in her ears – "something's come up" – "vital report" – "unavoidable, probably have to stay in town all night."
Kim looked at the dinner table, the candles, the gleaming crystal, the newly polished silver. Then she looked down at herself, at the sleek, clinging floor-length dress. The cleavage to her navel revealed the inner curves of her breasts. Her back was bare to the swell of her rump.
She kept hearing him say, "Sorry… I'm sorry… I'm really sorry." Her disappointment turned to anger. Well, he was going to be really sorry! Because she was going to prove to him, and to herself, that she could interest men, and not just boys who wanted to get their rocks off.
As she backed the car out of the garage, she nicked the dress up to keep it out from under her feet, and told herself bitterly that she had tried to live by the rules. For a solid month now she had tried. She had avoided Perry, though conscious of the puzzled hurt in his eyes. She had dodged Al, ignored the insolent wisdom in his face. She had even rejected Jenny when she had suggested a joint session with the vibrator.
Kim's twat was a searing knot of horniness. Well, tonight the rules were off. If Walter was too dense to notice her, she would find someone who would. A man, a real man! Walter could go fuck his dictaphone for all she cared.
The only trouble was, it had been so long since she had been out alone, she had no idea where to start. The lights of a shopping center caught her eye. She pulled in and studied the line-up of stores and shops. A tavern. Just what she needed!
She was suddenly scared. Not scared of what she was about to do. Thinking of that only made her horniness rise. She was terrified that no one would notice her. That was the real honor, the thought that she would be ignored. That would be the final blow.
It would mean that she would be reduced to seducing kids barely beyond puberty. She had to prove that she wasn't a cradle robber. She had, to prove that she was attractive to mature men, and that she could find satisfaction with them, not just with hairless, trim kids.
She twisted the rear-view mirror and checked her reflection, patted one stray curl into place. Her make-up was still perfect. It was so delicately applied it was hardly noticeable. Angling the mirror lower, she adjusted the neckline of the dress. The only flaw had been the faint stripe of her bikini top. A little body make-up had fixed that.
Her tits were hard, her palms sweaty, as she slipped out of the car and started for the bar. She felt unbelievably conspicuous under the hard glare of the mercury lights. As she crossed the parking lot she had the feeling that the few shoppers were staring at her, at her elegant dress, at her lithe beauty.
It made her stand a little bit straighter. A man just about to enter the bar opened the door for her and stood aside. She nodded to him as she swept through the door like a queen.
The brightness of the parking lot was replaced by the dim yellow glow of candles. To the right was the bar: gleaming dark wood, red-cushioned swivel stools. A few booths with small round tables were tucked up against a partition. Behind the partition, tables were set for dinner.
"Two?" a waitress asked, taking two menus out of a holder.
Kim glanced around, puzzled. Then she realized the waitress had made a mistake. The man who had held the door was standing behind Kim, trying to get past her.
"I'm alone," Kim said, stepping aside so the man could get by her. He sat down at the far end of the bar, and studied her reflection in the mirror behind the ranked bottles.
"One," the waitress corrected suspiciously, putting one menu back.
"I'll have dinner later," Kim said, heading for the bar.
When she cased onto one of the stools, the bartender eyed her warily, then made his way towards her. "We have table service if you'd care to sit in a booth," he said diplomatically.
Kim met his gaze steadily. "This will be fine, thank you. A vodka martini, very dry."
Evidently he had correctly gauged her determination; he didn't try to argue her away from the bar. Kim dug into her purse for money while he made her drink. Then he was back, putting down a little square cocktail napkin, placing the martini on it. She slid a bill across the shining wood.
"It's been taken care of," he said, with a trace of disapproval.
Kim looked up and caught the eye of the man who had held the door. He grinned, and she nodded politely. The way he was looking at her made her heart race. She drew the money back and put it in her purse.
The martini was barely starting to warm her blood when her benefactor left his seat, and, drink in hand, slid onto the stool next to her. "Are you alone?"
"Not any longer," she answered, returning his stare boldly. His eyes slid down from her face, to her barely concealed breasts, then came back up to meet her eyes. "You like?" she asked.
"Very nice," he assured her. "For sale?" She was a little startled by his bluntness. "No!" she replied, more sharply than she intended. Then she softened her tone. "Not for sale."
He cocked his head with regret. "Too bad I'm meeting some buddies of mine here."
"Why is that too bad?" she asked.
"There are certain things that are better done just two by two," he answered. "Rather than going four on one on a fast break."
The basketball terminology was lost on Kim, but she got the general idea. "That depends on your inclinations," she replied softly, her eyes holding his firmly.
He frowned warily. "What's your game, anyway?"
She licked her lips and felt her chest tighten and her nipples stiffen. "No game. No limits. No strings. No charge."
"No limits?" he asked cautiously.
"None." Her cunt was steaming.
"Hey, there he is!" someone called from the door.
"Prove it," he said to her as the three newcomers started towards them.
"How?" she asked as the extra men surrounded her and listened to the word play.
He didn't answer, but touched her thigh. She flinched, then sat perfectly still. One slender arm was resting on the bar, with the fingers on the empty martini glass. Her other hand was in her lap. His hand slid from her knee toward her crotch. She didn't move. She wasn't wearing any panties, and the soft clinging material of the dress was not going to hide that fact from him. His thumb pressed down near the upper edge of her pussy. She licked her lips.
"What's happening?" one of the new men, a blond, asked.
"Quiet," one with dark wavy hair ordered softly.
The man who had bought Kim the drink shifted his hand from her thigh to her shoulder. He slowly slipped the strap of her dress over, farther and farther. She felt more and more of her breast being exposed. Finally, her nipple eased free, jutted into the cool air of the bar as the dress slipped down her arm. Kim's guts were boiling as the four men eyed her bared tit.
When she was sure they realized her ultimate intentions, she shrugged back into the dress, slipped it over her breast just as the bartender descended on them.
"What'll it be, gents?" he asked, in a way that was a warning against any trouble.
"Nothing, Mac," the man who had first held the door for her answered. "We're leaving."
Kim could hear the bartender thinking good riddance, as she was helped down from the stool, surrounded by the four men, and escorted to the door.
"My car's right here," the blond indicated, pointing to a big sedan.
"We'll go to your pad, since you're the bachelor," the man who had picked Kim up said, nodding to the guy with the wavy dark hair. "First names only," he announced. "I'm Jack. The blond there is Dennis. The handsome one is Tony, and four-eyes there is Sid."