God he hated the attention, women coming up to him at all hours of the day, flirting, bothering him, distracting him from his work. Sure, he was good looking, you would have to be stupid not to notice it, he knew he drew women to him. But he didn't want that kind of attention all day, every day. He had even been told once by a random woman on the street that he was Prince Charming, come to take her away. No, he did not want that kind of attention. But that did not stop him from taking care of the way he looked. He was tall, about 6'2, with dark hair and stormy eyes that commanded attention wherever he went. Women adored him, every inch of him, and he had countless, meaningless affairs. They meant nothing to him and one or the other eventually grew bored with each other. These affairs usually ended badly, most of the time with a door slammed in his face, or a drink dripping down his neck. None of these women could give him what he wanted, what he needed. He didn't want some brainless piece of beautiful plastic like the ones he filled his bed with. He wanted someone like himself; ruthless and professional, quick witted and intelligent, someone to have a serious conversation with, or just laugh at a stupid joke together.
She almost hated men. For years since college she had been forced to kiss ass and flirt her way to the top. She was the top exec at a prominent ad agency and didn't take any crap from anyone. She hated the way that she was expected to paste on a fake smile and show a lot of cleavage to get anywhere in life. Her male co-workers leered at her when she walked by; spouting lewd comments that made her skin crawl. She was groped constantly by her boss and she threatened to quit almost every day. But even though on the most part she hated it, she also liked the power she had over men, the way she could control them with just her body. Armed with that knowledge she went to work each day, dressed to the nines in form fitting suits designed to tease rather than be efficient. She elevated her 5'5 figure to 5'9 regularly with her famed designer shoes and usually let her long brown hair hang down to her waist. But finally being at the top she realized that she was lonely and she blamed men for it. Eventually she let the blame develop into resentment, which led to the horrible place she was at. Now whenever a man, or men got to her, got her blood boiling, it exploded into incredibly insatiable lust. Hating the power that men had over her by making her so horny against her will, she took it out on them, by going to clubs, picking out men and taking them home, practically raping them. She fucked them hard, roughly, violently, releasing everything until she was spent. But it eventually came back to threaten her and she knew she would need it again.
"Jesus Christ!" he roared as he sprinted down the sidewalk. He was late for another meeting, his career on the line. "Excuse me, god, excuse me!" he called out as he pushed past crowds of people, rushing. He was getting a lot of dirty looks, people muttered hateful things as he struggled past. Suddenly his cell phone rang. "Godammit!" he muttered as he dug in his briefcase for the device. Holding it to his ear he tried talking as he pushed past more people. The next thing he knew, he was inches from a woman so stunning, he stopped in his tracks, knocking her to the ground, her coffee spilling, spreading a vicious stain over a light gray suit that looked new. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, her body was incredible. She was somewhat short, but lithe, she looked strong, her enticing calves sticking out from under a knee-length skirt. He was jolted as she kicked him in the shin, struggling to get up.
He held out his hand, but she just brushed it away muttering "Jesus, it had to be today!" She got up and glared at him hard, fear striking his heart. She stalked away, muttering under her breath.
God she was pissed. Today out of all days she had the most important meeting of her life in an hour and a fucking ruined suit that she had just bought. She had gotten everything ready early so she would have time to go out and enjoy a cup of coffee before her hectic meeting. She went to the closet in her office and pulled out of a dry cleaner's bag, the spare suit she kept there. Just as she was stripping down, standing in her office in her black bra and lacy thong, her thigh high stockings slightly askew, her phone rang. Hurrying to answer the phone, she heard a knock on the door; frantically realizing she had left the door unlocked. Her boss walked in with all his machismo clearly in view, his eyes wide and mouth agape as he stared at her, half naked in the middle of her office. She hung up the phone quickly, pointing her finger at the door. "Get the hell out Robert!!" she screamed as her boss of 3 years gaped at her body "Get out!" she cried out again as he turned and walked out. "Great! Just Fucking Great!" This seriously had to be the worst day ever. Quickly dressing, she adjusted her hair and slipped on her shoes on her way out the door. As she headed for the conference room she was aware of her co-workers snickers and whispers as her face turned red and she walked a little faster.
He sulked back to his apartment after his meeting. He had been late and had been reprimanded for it, two weeks leave, no pay. On top of all that he felt like a humongous prick for the way he had treated that woman. He hadn't even apologized or gone after her, trying to explain. All he could do was stare like a fool at her, practically drooling over her. Feeling sorry for himself he decided that what he needed was a long night in the club and some medication, the kind he didn't want, some plastic bimbo that would swoon over him and let him feel good about himself for at least an hour before he told her to let herself out. He got out of his chair and went to get a shower, then get ready for the inevitable boring night at the club.
Her meeting had been awkward, her boss ogling her across the big oak conference table as she tried to hide her face. She left the office in a huge hurry, getting a cab and rushing through her front door. She sat around her living room for a while, watching some stupid soap opera, feeling embarrassed and exposed. Eventually, her feelings evolved into the ever-present resentment for men, for that prick who had knocked her down and not apologized, for her boss who couldn't keep it in his pants, and for all the other countless assholes invading the planet. She decided she needed a hard night of rough sex, then forcefully kicking the fucker out of her house. She got up and dressed for the club.
Standing in front of her mirror, she finally picked a look she was comfortable with. She looked at her body; her tight little hips encased in the short black leather skirt that hung right below her ass, her c cup tits snug in a revealing black top with a plunging v neckline. Adding jewelry and doing her hair she was ready, zipping into thigh high black leather boots that boasted a 5 inch heel. She walked out her front door, feeling people's eyes on her, loving the power she had over them as she swayed to the curb to hail a cab.
The club was large and flashy, filled to the max with gorgeous women and men who all had one thing on their minds. He let his eyes wander as he strode to the bar, looking around at half naked men and women gyrating, sweaty and groping to loud thumping music. He saw nothing of interest and turned to order. Gin and tonic in hand he stood talking to the pretty waitress in her short cocktail outfit, flirting shamelessly until she had to leave to take more orders. Turning back to the bar he began scoping out the action at the bar, talking in random bursts to the bartender as he waited on people.
