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Jack had a mission tonight. It was the same mission that he had just about every Friday night when he came to the club. That mission was much more attainable than the goals most of the other men in the club had set for themselves.
Jack was going to get drunk. If he got lucky enough to actually meet a woman, then he not only could meet his own goal, but surpass it. It just made life that much more easier to handle that way.
He had just finished his third beer and had gained the attractive bartender's attention when a red headed woman squeezed in beside him and the woman that was in the other seat next to him. Jack glanced over in her direction and saw her eyes glance toward him before speaking to the bartender.
Jack had missed his opportunity to place his order as the woman walked away to make the red heads Screwdriver. When he decided to ask the red head if he could buy the drink for her, she had already turned sideways with her back to him. He could tell she was ignoring him and talking to the woman on the other barstool. He decided to just wait for the bartender to return and order his beer then.
"So, according to her, you're not with her," a screaming voice said from Jack's left. He looked into the red head's dark green eyes, and had trouble finding his own voice that she had initiated contact with him. "I'm hoping that you're not with the guy on the other side of you, too. If you are gay, I assure you, you can do better by looks than him."
Jack looked at the large over-weight man sitting on the other side of him and saw that the man had looked around him at the red head, knowing that he must have heard her yelling over the music. The scowl on his face gave Jack reason to turn back to her and lean over some so that she was blocked by his look.
"No, I'm not here with anyone," he said.
"You are now, handsome," said the red head, leaning in close and giving him a hard pressed kiss on his cheek. She leaned back and looked at the side of his face and smiled big at him. "There, now you're marked."
Jack reached up to rub his cheek when she caught his hand and held it with hers. She brought his open palm to her lips and kissed it, her tongue just barely touching his skin. When she pulled away from it, Jack saw her lipstick was shaped perfectly on his palm and knew that was the mark she meant that was on his cheek.
Still holding his hand and sure he had a good look at the make up on it, she pulled it around her waist and eased herself between his open legs. She slid it down the shiny blouse that she was wearing, Jack feeling the soft silk like feeling of it become the material of her leather skirt.
He found himself looking down at the open cleavage showing from the wide opening of her blouse when her other hand touched his chin and lifted his head back up to look at her face.
"My eyes are up here," she said. When he was staring into her eyes again she leaned closer so she could be heard over the loud base music playing in the background. "So, what should I call this new toy of mine?"
"Jack," he yelled.
"Shot or drink," came a voice from across the bar. Jack looked over at the bartender standing there, setting down the screwdriver the red head had ordered.
"I meant Bud, please," he yelled back at the bartender. The bartender reached into the cooler and pulled out a bottle and popped the top off of it and set the beer on the bar.
"Twelve dollars," she called over the bar.
As Jack tried to pull his hand off the red head's back, she held it there and reached her free hand across the bar, handing over her credit card. "Run a tab on that for me and Bud here."
"My name's Jack," he yelled toward the red head. She looked at him with a confused look so he leaned in close to the side of her face so he could make himself heard over the music. When he was certain she would hear him, he yelled again his name again for her. He could smell her perfume and the scent of strawberries in her hair. The effect of being this close to her was very appealing toward his senses. So was her arm sliding up his arm, over his shoulder and putting her hand behind his head as her mouth brushed his earlobe.
"I'm Carol," she said into his ear, not yelling it since she was close enough to nibble his earlobe, as she had begun to do. ------------------
Jack woke up the next morning with pain racking his head, the sounds of the city sounding like they were trying to pound the railroad spikes deeper and deeper into his brain. He rolled out of his bed, trying to make his way quickly to the bathroom before he lost his fight to keep this morning's full bladder full until he reached the toilet.
He quickly sat on the toilet, deciding that being lazy right now would be a good thing, since standing caused his head to pound harder. As he sat there, staring at the blank wall in front of him, he wondered what had happened the night before. All he could remember at the moment was that he had gone to the bar to meet his weekly goal of getting drunk. From the feel of it, he had met that goal and surpassed it.
Finishing up, Jack stood and flushed the toilet. He reached the sink, started the water and was reaching for the soap when he saw his reflection. The bright red lipstick on his cheek brought back memories of Carol in his aching mind, along with other areas of his body that wanted to remember her as well.
Quickly washing his hands, Jack never let his eyes wander from his reflection and the lip print that stood out on his face. The more he looked at it, the more his head cleared and he remembered Carol's body pressing up against his at the bar. Drying his hands, he remembered that he and Carol had become very intimate in the bar, right there at the bar stool the whole time.
He remembered her hands constantly touching him, either rubbing up and down his arms, along his spread thighs that she was standing between, or through the hair on the back of his head they were kissing. Several times her hands had wandered higher on his legs and caressed his growing bulge, and she encouraged his hands to do some roaming on their own quite often, as well.
As Jack was eating his breakfast, he remembered he and Carol on the dance floor several times. Whether a fast or slow song, didn't matter, they were always pressed tight against each other, her hips grinding into his and vice versa. At times, when they returned to the bar and found just one stool open, he would give her the stool and stand between her open legs.
