The Hunter and the Prey

The Hunter And The Prey

Sitting quietly at the little marble bistro table, she took the last sip of her second gin martini. Other patrons had come and gone in the last few hours as she sat quietly, lost in her own thoughts. First, work. Always work first. Then friends, although friends for Sarah were also mostly work or at least potential business alliances. And finally, now, with the other boxes checked, she focused on pleasure.

When she came into the hotel bar, she positioned herself in the far corner where she could see the comings and goings without being disturbed. She wanted some private time to think and decompress, but she also wanted to be in control of any interactions. This was her way. If she sat at the bar or even at a table near the bar, she would be sure to attract a conversation or two from single (or at least single when they traveled) men. But she wasn’t here for random chit chat initiated by someone else with her as their target conquest. If she wanted them, they would know long before they had the opportunity to make the first move.

She had already checked all the work boxes. Now, it was time to enjoy a cocktail, release the stress of the day, and remove whatever small level of inhibition she possessed. Now was her time to be the hunter, lying in wait like the big cats in the Serengeti, waiting to pounce when tonight’s unwitting fuck buddy walked into the room.

She reached into her purse for a compact, popped it open and looked briefly in the mirror. She didn’t look 37 but she also didn’t look 25. She was mature but in that ambiguous way. Her make-up was flawless, from years of experimenting with her look. Tonight it was slightly heavier than what she would wear to a meeting; darker eyeliner, heavier rouge, just the right amount to accentuate her features as the lights began to dim. Her hair flowed past her shoulders, the waves framing her cheekbones and crashing down onto her figure. She wore a cream blouse buttoned to the top, a highly versatile garment appropriate for work or play. The slit of her skirt rose higher than work-appropriate as she sat but standing it could also be appropriate enough for any event. Her nylons had a sexy but subtle pattern unnoticeable until you were sitting close enough to put your hand on her thigh and feel the texture. Her heels were reflective silver SJP’s that caught the lights when she walked.

As she raised her eyes to observe the room, she was in for a disappointment. Two slouching guys drinking beer and watching the game, another guy blabbing away about work to the bartender. He wasn’t bad looking but had that banker air that she detested. A couple sat at another table, deep in personal conversation in soft voices so as not to be overheard. Maybe this was going to be one of those nights when she would have a third cocktail and go back to her room alone, left to touch herself and fantasize about one of her more successful experiences.

She hated how this had to be a secret life, how her work and play persona had to be so different. She wanted to go into the office on Monday and tell her peers about the guy she picked up at the hotel and how she owned his fat cock and made him take her in every way she wanted. She hated that the men at work could joke about sex, ask each other things like, “Did you hit it?” Or on the road, when they would say they were turning in early and then all go to the strip club together. They wouldn’t dare invite her so she was left to spank one out alone.

To be clear, she didn’t hate them for their overt sexuality, she actually applauded it. She just hated that she couldn’t be overtly sexual too.

She had always been a bit of a “freak” which seemed to turn men on until it turned them off. When she found someone or something that she enjoyed sexually, she couldn’t help but push it to the peak of pleasure and search unknowingly for its breaking point. If a man were to ask her if she was “this freaky with other guys,” she couldn’t help but be honest. The answer was always, “hell yeah, of course. This is who I am.” She owned it and she found that most men couldn’t handle that truth. So, over time, she had become quite happy without the need for a leading man. Men (plural) would do just fine and from time to time a woman was just as satisfying, maybe more so.

Sarah looked down at those beautiful shoes and smiled and her thoughts drifted off to a time when she could only dream of wearing shoes like that. When she looked up again, the couple was paying their check and as they stood and turned to leave, she noticed another patron that they had hidden from view.

She was 25 tops, straight dark hair, wearing a women’s business suit with a classically midwestern cut. Her dark glasses lay low on her nose as she peered down at her cell phone and sipped something pink through a cocktail straw. Her make-up was passible but not yet refined. Her chosen location in the room told Sarah that she didn’t want to be hit on, but she didn’t want to be alone in the corner either. She wasn’t a man, so there wouldn’t be any stories about big fat cocks tonight but Sarah did imagine a good story about the soft touch and taste of the woman across the room.

Sarah wasted no time, heading straight to the bar and ordering her third gin martini and “Another of whatever she’s having,” as she pointed to the woman at the table. She walked slowly, being careful not to spill, but also giving her prey time to notice her arrival so as not to spook her.

As Sarah placed the cocktails on the table, the woman looked up over her black-framed glasses and froze like a doe in headlights.

“I brought you a pink something,” Sarah smiled. “Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit? I’m bored but I don’t want to get hit on.”

“Uh… sure,” replied the woman at the table, looking younger and a bit more timid up close, and definitely surprised at the forward outreach. “You didn’t have to buy me a drink.”

“I can’t just barge into your deep cell phone texting battle without bringing something to the table. BTW, I’m Sarah.”

“#NiceToMeetYou, I’m Rachel,” the young lady responded with a bit of Millennial sarcasm.

They settled in and started chatting. It was a good conversation, unforced, natural. Sarah’s approach was swift but now was the time to nurture the relationship, to build trust. There was no reason to rush and rushing would kill the moment anyway. They ordered another round and continued the conversation. Sarah took periodic sips for effect but she didn’t want to be sloppy as she was a drink or two ahead. Rachel drank hers more quickly, as she warmed up to her new friend and the excitement of actually having a good evening conversation while traveling for work. And it wasn’t just a good conversation with anyone; she soon realized she was talking with the VP of global finance with one of the top retail brands in the country. Rachel, in her first year out of business school, was sitting down with one of the most influential women in business today, for cocktails. And she was cool and cared about Rachel’s work too and maybe it was the cocktails but she was pretty damn hot in person. And fuck, look at those SJP’s, she wished she could afford a pair of SJP’s like that.

As the conversation turned to relationships, they commiserated about just how hard it was to maintain a relationship with long work hours and constant business travel.

Turning crass for the first time, Sarah joked, “I love me some good dick but I’m not sure if it’s worth the trouble. I got five vibrators at home that can get me off better than any man and I can put them in a drawer when I’m done.”

The raw sexual side of Sarah caught Rachel off guard and she almost spewed pink drink across the room. “Oh shit, I didn’t expect that.”

“Well it’s true, right?” Sarah continued, “I even bring a toy or two on the road. I’ve got a seven-inch vibrating thruster with rabbit ears in my room. Nothing to be ashamed of, anyway, back to work talk… Do you see yourself with the same company for the next five years? What’s your plan? You have to have a plan.”

Rachel responded with a vague notion of a plan and a promise of continuing to refine it and Sarah told a few short stories about her early career milestones. At this point, for Sarah, this was all idle chit chat. She had planted the sexual seed moments before and this was now the lull, her conversational retreat while she waited for what she hoped would be a sexually charged response.

Minutes later, it came. “I just love those shoes. Someday I hope to be wearing SJP’s myself,” said Rachel. It was subtle, but there was more than a hint of physical admiration in her voice.

Sarah replied quickly, “We look about the same size, try them on.”

Rachel stood up and took a few steps away from the table. The SJP’s sparked in the light and Sarah could imagine the younger woman’s attractive figure under the unflattering cut of her suit. She took off her jacket, seemingly hot from the excitement of the new shoes. The tracks of her bra could be seen through her white shirt and her tanned skin changed the shirt tone where the bra was not.

“I love these!” she exclaimed as she sat back down. “Someday.”

“They look amazing on you,” said Sarah. “Even better with a skirt and some patterned nylons like these. Maybe even fishnet for a night out.”

“Those are textured?” said Rachel.

“Yep, they’re like baby fishnets,” and with that, Sarah lifted her skirt slightly, pointed her toes and outstretched her leg so Rachel could see more closely. “Go ahead, touch them.”

Rachel reached out and softly touched Sarah’s leg. She felt the texture of the nylons but thought only of the smooth toned leg underneath. “I better give you these shoes back…” she hesitated slightly when she realized that her eyes had lingered too long at the slit of Sarah’s skirt, which at this point was close to her hip. “Before, I, um, before I get too attached to them.”

There was a bit of an awkward pause as Sarah put her shoes back on and excused herself for the restroom. On the way back, she settled both tabs with the bartender and as she sat back down, she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse as if to say, ‘It’s time for bed.’

“We’re all closed out,” said Sarah as she preemptively raised a hand as if to say, ‘Don’t fight me over the bill.’ She continued, “It’s the least I could do for barging in like I did. Anyway, what floor are you on, I’m up on 20.”

“Oh, I’m in 312, with a view of a brick wall,” responded Rachel.

Sarah laughed, “I remember those days. My room has a pretty amazing view of the city. Why don’t you come up with me for a minute and I can give you my business card too. I think we should keep in touch.”

“Yes, of course, that would be great,” Rachel said as she sucked the last bit of pink from the glass and pulled her things together.

When they walked into the room Sarah went directly to her work bag, shuffled through it, and pulled out a business card. Then she grabbed a pen from the nightstand and wrote her personal cell number on the back.

“Rachel, it has been a pleasure to meet you. Please call me anytime for advice or maybe we’ll even find ourselves in the same city again soon, who knows.”

“Wow, thanks, of course. I’d love to hang out sometime,” Rachel stammered, still in shock at how cool this icon in business was and that she had her personal number.

Then Sarah took a few steps over and reached into her suitcase to retrieve her thrusting rabbit vibrator and another non-vibrating, lifelike dildo. She turned and held them up with a smile. “So, no pressure, at all, but I’m gonna fuck one of these gentlemen tonight, maybe both, care to join me?” And with that, she tossed the rabbit in Rachel’s direction.

Noticeably shocked but laughing audibly, Rachel caught the rabbit with both hands, like a wedding bouquet thrown by the bride. “WTF! Nobody’s going to believe this story. Nobody.”

“It’s far too short as a stand-alone story, not even interesting yet… It really needs the proper ending,” said Sarah, as she unbuttoned her blouse and quickly removed her bra.

There was silence. The prey was standing completely still now. The shock had come and gone, the nervous laugh was gone, and now Rachel was contemplating her next move. Fuck or Flight.

Sarah didn’t wait to find out. Her skirt unzipped and fell to the floor. She sat on the bed to lean forward and remove each heel and then raised her ass briefly to pull her nylons and panties down and off her toned legs. She stood again, her beautiful body naked, seemingly vulnerable to anyone watching. Still silent, she pulled back the sheets, slid inside, raised her knees, spread her legs, and began to touch herself slowly. Eyes closed. Still silent.

Moments passed and Sarah moaned slightly. Eyes still closed, room still silent. No detectable movement but the hint of breath from her prey.

Then finally, Rachel’s soft voice came from the end of the bed. “I can’t see you. I want to see you.”

Sarah opened her eyes and smiled mischievously. The hunt was over, the trap was sprung and she had caught her prey. Rachel had made her choice and Sarah had captured her fuck buddy. ‘Nothing to do now but to enjoy the feast,’ thought Sarah as she pulled the sheets back and beckoned for Rachel to join her.

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