I entered the bar with a smile on my face. Typically, I only found myself here on a Monday — but it was a Tuesday, and my favorite bartender was here, unexpectedly. Not only would she start my tab upon seeing me (McClelland 25, neat – followed by Guinness until I’m ready to pack it in), but she’d wink at me randomly throughout the night, and if she ended up having to bend down to get a beer from the cooler . . . well, she didn’t quite mind if, just perhaps, she caught a roaming eye.

I sat, after a long day, and sipped at my Scotch, relishing the feel as I warmed myself from inside when she caught my eye. At the far corner of the bar, busy typing into her phone as if her life depended on it. Time passed, and I watched . . . a goddess from afar. She wore a simple black dress that accentuated her curves, with just the right amount of cleavage to say “you want to see inside here” without saying “I work on a pole as my day job.” But, try as I might, I could not get her to look at me.

Eventually, the bartender came to my aid. “She’s drinking lemon drop martinis . . . and, I don’t know how good your eyesight is, but she’s just about out,” she said to me, with a wink.

“Please, make sure she doesn’t have to order another,” I replied, and the bartender winked at me in her familiar way, leaving to make the drink.

My favorite bartender left the drink next to the one my goddess was drinking. When she finished the one, she continued on her phone . . . and then reached for the other one. She had yet to notice me. And I grew discouraged, pulling out my own phone.

But, I found myself unable to keep from looking at her. And when I looked back, she was looking at me.

She smiled, and I smiled back.

She waved, and I lifted my drink to her.

For the second time that night, I undressed her with my eyes.

And then I stood up.

“I couldn’t help but notice you,” I said, in a speech pattern far too fast to make a good first impression.

“I like being noticed,” she replied, taking a sip.

I sat down next to her, and she went back to her phone. Again, I grew discouraged, until my own phone buzzed. From an unknown number.

“I need to ‘powder my nose.’ If you’re not in the ladies room in the next 5 minutes, you’re a moron.” is what I saw, as the goddess left her perch.

I stared at my phone…looked at the empty seat, watched the last vestige of her as she entered the loo, and sprang into action.

If I hadn’t been lost in the moment, the act of entering a public ladies room without checking who might be in there first wouldn’t have even crossed my mind. But an alcohol riddled brain, combined with the lust of a goddess, well, that leaves reason behind.

Her gaze met me, and we kissed. No “hello,” no introduction of any sort, but a kiss. It was obvious that she was used to turning her head to the left, and I the right, and we bumped noses, but once our lips met, things figured themselves out.

My fingers found the hem of her dress as my cock grew hard against her body, and her fingers started to stroke me through the pants of my suit.

I bit her lower lip, and she moaned.

I wrapped her in my arms to keep her on her feet, the hem of her dress rising just a little with my action.

We continued our kiss and my leg slipped between hers. If I didn’t know better, I could swear my thigh grew damp from her.

My left hand found her right breast, through her dress, and through her bra. Her nipple stiffened, immediately, upon my touch.

Again, I bit her lip, and she quivered.

And, with little more than the power of suggestion through thought, I turned her around.

I lifted her skirt above her ass, reaching down the line of her panties, pressing hard against the moist valley I found.

I pushed her panties to the left and unzipped my fly, and with a single quick thrust, I was inside of her.

With my right hand, I grasped her hair, forcing her neck to my mouth as I nibbled and licked and kissed and sucked what was in front of me.

With my left hand, I spilled her breasts out of her dress and bra, kneading the mounds.

With a particularly violent thrust inside of her, I pinched her left nipple, and she adjusted her position in the stall, her hands pushing straight out.

A creak was heard and I felt dust upon my head — we had knocked the stall loose from the ceiling clamp.

I continued my assault against her backside, her hair grasped firmly in my right hand when I felt her lose control. Her feet left the ground and I had to be quick with my left arm, wrapping it around her body as I pumped into her, holding her weight between my arm and the toilet, fucking her relentlessly.

Time passed, the feeling of her panties now evident against the left-side of my cock as I continued fucking her. Her feet found the floor again and she pushed against me yet again.

And that proved to be too much for me.

I came. With what felt like a million spasms, I emptied myself into her, slowing my thrusts with each one. Only after I stopped moving my hips against her did I release the hold against her hair.

“I have to clean up,” she whispered to me. “Meet me at the bar, and we’ll exchange numbers, that was fun,” she said.

I exited her and turned around, zipping my fly when I caught the bartender, her back against the sink wall, her arms across her chest. I shrugged when we made eye contact and she left.

“Fuck,” I thought, trying to think of another bar where I might be able to start.

Alas, I wanted my goddess’s number, and there was a show made of locking the stall behind her. And I still had a tab to settle, so I walked out.

My check lay waiting, “I’ll give that an 8.5, next time, showcase your oral skills,” was written on the reverse. When I looked up, the bartender winked at me.

“Come by next Tuesday,” she said, taking my cash.