Objection by Sawyer Bennett Page B

there. In any other circumstances, it
would have been a completely cheesy move, but somehow… Mike
owns it, as evidenced by the chills that break out on my arm.
    He releases his hold
on me, and I rest my arms on the bar. Mike takes the seat next to me,
propping one arm on the bar and another on the back of my barstool.
Again, under ordinary circumstances, this move would have seemed a
little too proprietary for two people that had just met. But given
the fact we would be getting vertical—or maybe it would be
horizontal, who knows—it seems like a natural move.
    “So, what’s
a guy like you doing in a place like this?” I quip.
    Mike chuckles and
it’s rich and warm, causing me to immediately lose some of my
nervousness. “Well,” he says conspiratorially as he leans
in toward me, “I heard there was going to be a stunningly
ravishing woman at this bar tonight, and I simply had to come out and
try to win her.”
    I laugh and take a
sip of wine. “I heard about this woman. They say she’s
kind of a sure bet, so I don’t think you have anything to worry
about.”
    Grinning at me, Mike
reaches a finger out to tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear. It’s
an intimate move and one that I find myself very much enjoying. He
looks at me, his lips pursed in amusement. “I have to say. I’m
beyond pleased with our match. Your picture had me entranced, but it
really didn’t do you justice.”
    “You did hear
the part where I said I was a sure bet, right? No need to spout
compliments. I’m sleeping with you tonight,” I tell him
with a return grin.
    “Yet, I felt
compelled to give it to you all the same. I’m the kind of man
that sort of just speaks his mind.”
    “I like that.
In fact,” I say, my voice just a tad lower as I lean in toward
him, “what exactly is on your mind for tonight?”
    It’s so weird
how odd this conversation is, yet how natural it feels at the same
time. It’s almost liberating… knowing exactly how the
night is going to end and doing away with all pretense. I’ve
never been a sexually overt person, but tonight—dolled up in my
sluttiest dress, with a tiny scrap of lace covering my goods
below—knowing that Mike will have his hands all over me soon…
Well, it sort of brings out my inner sex kitten.
    Mike’s eye’s
flare wide over my question, and his smile takes on a more carnal
look. He takes the hand that is resting on my barstool and brings it
behind my neck, cupping me firmly. Pulling me closer, he leans in,
running his lips lightly along my jaw until they are hovering near my
ear.
    “You want to
know what’s on my mind?” he growls, and I nod helplessly.
    He places a light
kiss below my ear and says, “I’m trying to decide if I
want to fuck you in the elevator or wait until we get in the room.
Then I’m trying to figure out if I should fuck you missionary
or from behind… probably both, and only after I’ve gone
down on you. Then it’s always open for debate whether I take
you out on the balcony. It’s been a fantasy of mine, you see,
and I made sure to reserve a room with a gorgeous view over Central
Park tonight.”
    My mouth goes dry,
and my tongue slips out to swipe at my lips. Mike pulls back and his
eyes are burning with lust, causing my skin to tighten and my legs to
involuntarily press tightly together. Turning to the bartender, I
hold up my hand, signaling that we’re ready for our check, even
though Mike hasn’t even received his drink yet.

I’m in the
Twilight Zone.
    That must be the
reason.
    Otherwise, there is
no plausible or sane explanation for the wanton behavior that I’m
exhibiting right this very moment.
    Me… an
upstanding member of this community and member of the New York State
Bar. A reputable young woman who now stands in an elevator with
Mike’s lips roaming my neck and his finger sunk deep inside of
me.
    He wasted no time as
he pushed the button to our floor and the doors closed. He stalked
toward me, cupping my head to bring my mouth