A. Guy walks into a bar. Ouch. Part 1

Discussion in 'Erotic Literature' started by durand23, Nov 23, 2008.

  1. durand23

    durand23 New Member

    Nov 15, 2008
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    The Hammer
    There are two absolutely gorgeous women sitting there at the bar in this bar, by themselves. Naturally. They are blonds. Well, one of them is. Maybe the other is dark-haired. From a distance, blond is definitely more attractive. When I'm driving in a car, I always check out the blond drivers, not always the dark-haired drivers. I mean, I think that's why most women do that peroxide (or whatever it is) thing with their hair. They get noticed from afar. The hair is shinier, it draws the eye. But there's nothing like a girl with very dark hair, darker than her eyes. There's something about it. I can't explain.
    So there are these two very attractive women, one is a blond, one is black-haired, or nearly black-haired, and they are beautiful. Their bodies, what Arthur can see of them, are the way they should be, so we're not talking Hollywood-beautiful (read: overly skinny) and we're not talking a-few-extra-pounds. Somewhere in between. The golden mean.
    And they're sitting at the bar, drinking what they think are martinis (they're not true martinis!), chatting about whatever it is they would chat about in this situation: work, men, hair, I don't know. And it's a peculiar night in the bar because all the men are taken already, and none of them are looking to start (second?) affairs so no guys are hitting on these ladies. That is very unsual. And there's only one seat left in the bar, and it's at the bar. Because it's busy. And that seat is right next to the blond, on her left.
    A. Guy, first name Arthur, has no choice but to sit next to her, the blond, to get the last seat and to order his drink, both very important things when going to a bar. Now, you might think that Arthur, being a red-blooded male interested in women's bodies, might want to sit next to a gorgeous blond woman and her gorgeous nearly-black haired companion, who are both quite buzzed, incidentally. However, our Guy is shy. If the bar had been reasonably empty, he probably would have sat as far away from them as possible, well close enough to still see them and hear them, but far enough away to not feel threatened by their looks, demeanour, self-confidence, etcetera. You see, like many people, Arthur likes to be in control of himself in public. However, with women, he likes to relinquish all control. Actually, it's not a matter of liking that, he just does it. If a woman says 'do this' and he's interested in her, and he's naturally interested in any hot lady with half a brain, he will do it. So, imagine his predicament: public place, no alcohol in his system yet, and forced to sit next to two hot ladies which, if his fantasy came true, would be interested in him immediately, despite his looks, and his utter lack of self-confidence (at least, pertaining to women), and if one of them turned to him and said “I'll fuck you right now if you get on your hands and knees and bark like a dog” he'd have to seriously consider it.
    These things weren't explicit in his mind, mind you. Arthur is the kind of guy who absorbs these niceties later. He lacks emotional intelligence. He's nervous, he's shy, as a result he's obnoxious/snobby/assholic when he's confronted by beautiful women, and he knows it's because he's shy but he doesn't know, at this second, that it's because he knows he's puddy in their hands if they'd only turn to him and start talking. He'd know it later, after they flirted with him and he pretended to b e aloof and left. And then he's sit at home and go “Why? Why? Why? Why do I do that?” and stuff like that.
    However, this is Arthur's lucky night. Of course it is, or I wouldn't be writing this and you wouldn't be reading this. The women weren't talking about work or hair. What these women were really talking about is how they needed a guy, just one to share between them, the kind of guy who is submissive, who only wants to please women, a shy guy, a guy who they need to catch, rather than an aggressive one who does the chasing. What they were talking about is the kind of guy who doesn't dress to impress, the kind of guy who isn't fat, who's a little skinny for his big frame, and who isn't in the greatest shape but who is actually deceptively strong (it's in the legs, people). They were talking about a guy like Arthur. Now, women of this grade of attractiveness are rarely without men at bars, and they are never looking to pick up a guy like Arthur, especially together, but let's not ruin his day. Besides, I said it was lucky, didn't I?
    So Sarah, that'd be the blond, turns to Arthur as he sits down and says “Hi” in a very friendly and non-threatening way.
    Arthur, scared shitless, barely makes eye contact for only the briefest of moments, and mutters something that could have easily been “hi” and then proceeds to order his drink, in a I'd-much-rather-talk-to-you-Mr.-Bartender voice, pretty much ignoring Sarah. Now, this would put most people off, no doubt, but it's just the challenge she and Laura, her nearly-black haired friend, are looking for this very evening.
    Sarah waited till his drink came, a beer, a dark one, she winked at Laura and then turned back to Arthur, “My name's Sarah, what's yours?” and she held out her right hand daintily across her chest.
    Arthur took it loosely, with a great deal of hesitation, and said “Arthur” somewhat hoarsely, as if there was something in his throat, something called FEAR. Fear of attractive women. Fear of saying the wrong thing and scaring attractive women. Fear of knowing attractive women know he masturbates to his dreams of them. Fear of sexual inadequacy. Fear of relationships. Fear of commitment. Fear of marriage. Who said anything about marriage? Fear of divorce.
    “Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand lightly.
    “Nice to meet you too” he said, choking, or something. Aaah, strangers are talking to me!!! Then he quickly took another sip of beer. Then another. It was a strong ale, a man's beer, none of this light “beer” garbage that they try to pass off by making their commercials funny and full of attractive women. Real beer is full of calories, like a meal really. A good sign. A sign of taste, a sign of refinement, even if the inbiber could barely talk.
    “This is my friend Laura” and Laura said hi and waived on cue. Arthur extended his hand shyly, past Sarah, and he accidentally, I swear it was accidentally, brushed her chest. He almost withdrew it in shock, but Laura held it. He looked to Sarah to frantically apologize, to swear it was an accident, but she just smiled at him, sweetly, reassuringly, with no hint of suggestion. Guys like this have to be lured in slowly. Yes, they'll do whatever you want, but they need to be drunk and/or in private. They're not exhibitionists. They require tact. Sarah appears to be full of tact. Tactful, as it were.
    “Do you come here often?” asked Sarah, highly originally. This was a new bar for her and Laura, as they were getting old enough to be bored by clubs, and were thinking sitting in a pub could be fun too. It takes some people longer to realize this than others.
    Arthur laughed as he tried to answer. He just can't help laughing at cheesy pick up lines. My favourite is “Nice shoes, wanna fuck?” but it doesn't seem to be very popular these days. So the bruises on my face attest. Then it occurred to him that he might have offended her but again she just smiled. “Yeah, I guess so. Fairly often.” It was his first cogent answer of the night. “It's kind of my neighbourhood pub.”
    “Oh, do you live around here?” She tried to make it sound as innocent as possible.
    “A few blocks away, but the bar next to my building has somewhat frequent stabbings...” he laughed as he said it.
    “Oh” and she kind of chuckled too, “that's terrible.”
    “So, naturally, I come here instead.”
    “Naturally,” confirmed Laura, as if avoiding stabbings was a totally natural thing to do.
    And they sat and drank and talked, and the ladies were very friendly to him, in part because of their faux-martinis. And Arthur opened up, not just because of the beer, but also because he now saw these women as real people, not as gorgeous apparitions for him to masturbate to at night. Perhaps it was partly their dress that set him at ease. Neither lady was dressed for a night out, and such clothing always intimidated him. He was always worried they'd catch him looking. Of course, that was the idea, but he didn't like being caught objectifying women. He always told himself he was above that sort of thing. Except when he was choking the proverbial chicken, obviously. Now, attractive women like knowing they are attractive, and though some may tell you to fuck off, they really like the attention. But Arthur, even though he knew this as a fact, could not get this fact to alter his behaviour. When he saw scantily clad women, he peeked, and then looked away and generally avoided talking to them...unless he was introduced, of course. That was entirely different. If Arthur doesn't know you, and none of his friends know you, and he has no “good” reason to talk to you, you don't exist. If a friend introduces you to him, he'll talk your ear off.
    Both Sarah and Laura were wearing jeans, blue jeans that were tighter than necessary, showing off their ASSets, such as their legs, but they weren't the tightest ever, they weren't anorexic jeans. They weren't hipster jeans. Sarah had on a black t-shirt that highlighted her blond hair, due to the contrast. It was the kind of t-shirt that is somehow acceptable for a woman to wear in an office, but if a guy got caught wearing just a t-shirt like that he would be sent home to dress up...and she had a brown hoodie draped over the back of the stool. Laura had on a white hoodie, highlighting her dark hair, and Arthur couldn't see what she was wearing underneath. Sarah's hoodie choice, of taking it off, made her breasts much more obvious, and they were bigger than Laura's too. So yeah, the clothing made him feel less awkward, though this is only a relative thing. Especially given his proximity to Sarah.
    They kept talking, and the girls were subtle, for a time. Sarah would accidentally brush against him, like when Laura had to go to the little girls room, and she would play a little accidental footsy. A couple times she placed her hand on his when it was laying on the bar, when she was exclaiming about something. These gestures made Arthur nervous at first, and he tended to recoil. But the beer put a stop to that. Slowly, but surely. And Laura, for her part, wanted to work the suggestion a little to, so she made regular body contact with her friend, hugging her, patting her and once, to Arthur's shock, amusement and delight, slapping her on her ass.
    The bar slowly emptied, as it was a weekday night, or something, and so most people weren't staying out late. Maybe they just sensed what was going on at the bar and they wanted to give them space. Soon they were the only three customers left in there, and it was last call. Arthur was quite buzzed, though trying to stay in control as to not embarrass himself and regret it tomorrow morning. The ladies were drunk, and feeling maybe a little impatient and a lot courageous.
    Arthur had just come back from draining the lizard. The ladies had obviously just discussed something they found quite amusing, or exciting, he couldn't tell which. He sat back up on his stool.
    “We were just talking about you” said Laura, with one arm around Sarah's waist.
    “Well, I guess that's a good thing...” he was trying to be charismatic but he had passed that point. With Arthur, a couple pints made him downright charming (at least to himself) but at this stage, five or six, he wasn't sure, he was a little less articulate.
    “We were just trying to think what gets you going” she added. This brought a “huh” to Arthur's lips. He wasn't sure what Laura meant by getting him going. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was his character. They had been talking about that. They had been very patient. Very, very fucking patient. They had sat with him all night and he had done nothing. He was clearly drunk, and yet he sat there and did nothing. No balls. Laura worried he was asexual, or worse. Sarah assured her he was just really shy. Sometimes guys like this were only brave depending on mood. She knew this guy once back in school, they had got drunk together many times, with other people around. She knew he liked her. He always looked at her, but even when he was hammered and sitting next to her, she couldn't get a rise out of him. She started to despair. One day, seemingly out of the blue, he wasn't even that loaded, and all their friends were sitting right there too, he had put his hand on her thigh and then, moments later, right between her legs. She was shocked. Even though she wanted him he had taken her off guard and she left the bar offended. Later that night she found out her friend had hit on him earlier. He had been encouraged by the sign of any woman being interested in him and decided to take the risk. She had blown it. They never did get together.
    So she had urged Laura, somewhat incoherently, to be patient and to wait till they were in a more private place. Laura wanted to find out sooner. Laura hadn't had such a sensitizing past experience with a shy boy. The time for action was now. Finally.
    Arthur was a little awkward. His “huh?” had brought silence, so it seemed. Laura was staring at him, and he was trying to maintain eye contact while feeling really, really nervous, even with the beer. He knew he should maintain the eye contact. He knew if Laura was okay staring at him in silence, he should definitely be okay with looking at her in silence. But he felt like laughing it off. He felt like looking down or at the bottles behind the bar. Anything but looking in her eyes.
    Laura brought her hand up from Sarah's waist to her cheek and, still staring directly at Arthur, kissed Sarah.
    Sarah was a little shocked at first, but realizing the strategy she soon responded. They kissed for a minute. They kissed like straight girls who are trying to turn on a guy kiss, fully aware they are being watched, not focusing on the kiss but focusing on the guy, and opening their mouthes wide, tongue-dueling, almost like in a porno, when the director only cares about the visual, the goal being the guy's reaction, not their own satisfaction.
    Arthur was shocked and very excited, but he was nervous. People...the bartender, I guess, could be watching. As much as Laura wanted a result right now, Sarah sensed his hesitation. “Let's get out of here, she said, and she lept off her stool and, grabbing her hoodie and Arthur's hand, she headed towards the door.
    They walked down the sidewalk together, with him in the middle, each girl taking an arm. Arthur felt about as lucky as he had ever felt, though he was sure it would end somehow. He'd do something stupid, or they'd lose interest because he wasn't being aggressive enough. But, for our purposes, Sarah was basically in his head, she understood him like no woman had previously understood him, and she was not taking no for an answer. Exactly what Arthur needed.
    They stood outside his apartment building. “Give us a second,” said Laura, and she led Sarah over to where she thought he couldn't hear.
    Arthur could make out a little of what they were saying. They were giggling, they seemed to be deciding who was going to go upstairs with him. They both seemed to want to. This surprised him, as though he felt Sarah was really interested, he thought Laura had been disappointed with him as the evening got on. Still, what was there to lose. They had come this far. What could be the harm in being ballsy. The shot he had at last call was just enough to affect his judgment. Didn't mention that before? Oh well. It's necessary to the plot so I introduced it. “Why don't you both come up?”
    They were shocked. I mean, they were happy and shocked. They looked at him with excited and amused surprise, that's it. Got it now. They couldn't believe, especially Laura, that he had just said that.
    “Okay” and other affirmatives came out of their mouths, and they drunkenly skipped over to him, hand in hand.
    In the elevator, they stood holding each other, trying to further entice him. He was still really shy, he stood over on the other side of the box as it rose to his floor.
    Now, Arthur's apartment is normally a mess, just a giant mess. And when he cleans it, he doesn't really clean everything, you know? This is partly due to laziness and it's partly due to the amount of permadirt that has collected on certain surfaces. Even a fairly good scrubbing doesn't remove everything, so he just gives up. What he needs are better chemicals, I think.