Unbeatable
Erotic Short Story
by Katie Clover
Copyright 2012 Katie Clover
Published by Katie Clover Books
Smashwords (Second) Edition
http://katieclover.wordpress.com
Also by Katie Clover
Natural Redhead – Two Ginger Erotic Short Stories (from Amazon)
An Older Woman – Erotic Short Story (from Amazon)
Me, My Wife and the Babysitter – Erotic Short Story (from Amazon)
Unbeaten
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She's sitting alone again. Every night she comes into this bar, sits in the corner and drink a glass of wine while reading the newspaper. I'm starting to wonder if she's waiting to get picked up. I hope not. She's beautiful, and she has kind, intelligent eyes. I hope a woman like that doesn't have to resort to getting pick up in a scuzzy bar like this.
“Another one?” I ask as she comes to the bar with her empty glass.
“No,” she says, putting the glass on the counter for me and heading to the door. I like the way she brings her empties to the bar, saving me the trip.
“Hey wait,” I say.
She turns, looking suspicious.
“It's just...” Damn, I don't know what to say now. “Nothing,” I say, chickening out.
She nods. “Good,” she says, and leaves.
Well that's that. I blew I again. She probably won't even come for a drink again, I've probably scared her away for life.
But the next day, she is back. Same time, same seat in the corner, same drink. She just sits there reading her newspaper, oblivious to the rest of the world. And while I serve the few other customers we have in here, I can't help glancing over at this mystery woman every so often. With her shoulder-length brown hair and her smart business suit, she looks a little too glamorous for a place like this.
“Same again?” I ask as she bring her empty glass to the bar, about half an hour before closing.
She shakes her head and walks towards the door.
“Hey!” I call after her. “Wait a minute!”
She stops and turns. She really doesn't look very amused.
“Well, I just thought...” I stare at her.
“Is something wrong?” she asks.
“No,” I say. “No, I'm sorry. Forget I said anything. Good night”.
She sighs. “If I'm bothering you, I'll find another bar from now on”. She turns and goes to the door.
“No!” I say. “No, don't do that! Sorry, ignore me. I'm just... an idiot”.
She opens the door, glances back at me, then heads out. So was that it? Did I really scare her away this time?
Two nights later, I've pretty much given up ever seeing her again. For the first night in months, she skipped a visit yesterday. So I guess she really has gone and found another bar. Damn, why can't I stop thinking about her?
Then, about an hour before closing, she comes in. It's much later than she usually visits, but other than that she doesn't seem any different. She comes straight to the bar, newspaper in her hand, and waits for me to pour her glass of wine. She doesn't even have to tell me what drink she wants. I know.
“Thought I'd scared you off,” I say, handing her the drink.
She takes the glass, looks at me strangely, then walks over to take her usual seat, without saying a word.
An hour later, the last of the regulars are finishing up their drinks and I'm starting to tidy up, but the mystery woman is still sitting in the corner with her glass of wine. She's never normally here this late, and I can't help feeling that something's very different today.
“It's closing time soon,” I say, wandering over. “It'll take me about a half hour to clean up, though, so take your time”.
She stares at me for a moment. “My name's Samantha,” she says. “Sam”.
“Hi,” I say, extending a hand for her to shake. “Tom”.
She shakes my hand. “Nice bar,” she says. She seems nervous. Hell, her voice is almost shaking, as if she's terrified.
“It's not mine,” I say, smiling. “I wish. But I do all the work”. I grab some empty glasses from a nearby table. “One day I'll have my own place, though,” I say. “If you want to come and take a drink there every night, you'll be more than welcome”.
She smiles, but it seems like a forced, fake smile. “Well, maybe I...” Her voices trails off. “I'm sorry,” she says, grabbing her newspaper, getting up and hurrying to the door.
“Hey!” I call out. I run over and catch up with her just as she's heading out. “What's wrong?” I ask. “Did I do something? Did I say something to upset you?”
“No,” she says. It almost sounds like she's close to tears. “No, it's fine. Thank you”.
She tries to open the door, but I hold it shut.
“Open the fucking door,” she says.
I let go of the door. “I'm sorry,” I say. “I didn't mean to... I just have to admit, you've got me curious”.
She seems really, really cautious, and it's as if she's on the verge of crying. “Why's that?” she asks.
“Well...” I sigh. “You come in here every night, and I don't get that at all. This place is dirty and dark and seedy, and you're... well, you're gorgeous. How come you're not out in fancy restaurants with hot, rich men who want to date you?”
She stares at me for a moment. “World doesn't work like that,” she says finally.
“I know,” I say. “But it seems like you want to be here, and I just... You've got my attention, that's all”.
She smiles, and this time it seems genuine. She takes a deep breath. “Two years ago,” she says slowly, “I would've come here with a friend, and we would have sat at the bar and chatted to you. Then I would have gone to the bathroom and my friend would have checked if you were interested, and then – if I was lucky – I would've talked you back to my place and... This is stupid, that's how I used to do it. I'm sorry, I have to go”.
She opens the door.
“Wait,” I say. “What's all this 'two years ago' bullshit? Why can't you bring a friend and sit at the bar and chat me up now?”
She shakes her head. “It's complicated,” she says.
I step towards her. “Maybe we can un-complicate it together,” I say, putting a hand on her waist. “Not that I want to sound like a sleaze,” I say. “But if you want to get together for a drink some time, I'd be very up for that. Okay?”
She doesn't seem to know what to do. She's half out the door, but only half. It's as if she wants to stay, but she doesn't think she can.
“I can't...” she says, looking for the right words. “I can't... I'm not...” She looks at me as if she's hoping I'll leave her alone, or hoping I'll make everything okay, or just hoping something will happen. “I don't... I haven't...”
“What?” I say, smiling. “Are you secretly a guy?”
She looks at me as if I've just insulted her entire family.
“Sorry,” I say, feeling really bad. “Obviously you're not -”
“I'm not what?” she asks. “Don't worry, I'm a woman. I'm just not a whole woman”. Again, she looks like she's about to cry.
This is crazy. She's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, yet there seems to be something bothering her, something holding her back.
“That's a lie,” I say. “I can already tell you're a real woman”.
She looks at the floor. “I'm not complete,” she says. “I'm sorry, this is really inappropriate”. She turns to go, but I grab her shoulder and she stays. “You should just let me go,” she says.
“But I want you to stay,” I say.
“You won't,” she says, her back still to me. “Not when you see me”.
I step up close behind her. “Well now I want to see you more than ever,” I say, and I lean down and kiss her neck.
I can feel her body bristle with excitement at the touch of my lips on her skin. Slowly, she turns to look at me. She's so beautiful but she looks so terrified.
“Whatever it is,” I say. “Don't assume it's a problem”.
She stares at me for a moment, and then – without warning – she starts slowly unbuttoning her shirt, opening it to reveal her left breast, cupped in a delicate white bra. Then she opens the shirt all the way, and I see that she doesn't have a right breast. She reaches behind and unhooks her bra, letting it fall to the floor.
Her left breast is full, round and quite large, with a large dark pink nipple. But where her right breast should be, there's nothing but a scar.
“Cancer,” she says slowly, not looking at me. “I'm fine now, but I had cancer, and it came and took my breast”.
I stare at the scar. It's quite large, and the adjacent skin is ruffled and damaged. Slowly, I reach out and touch the scar with my hand, running my fingers along the rough edge. Then I reach out and touch her breast, cupping it in my hand for a moment and running my thumb over the nipple, which is rock hard.
“You're beautiful,” I say. “On both sides”. And I mean it. She's stunning. I don't care about the scar or the lack of a right breast.
She looks up at me, her large brown eyes filling with tears. “Do you mean it?” she asks, her lower lip trembling.
I step closer to her. “I mean it,” I say, and I reach down to kiss her. As her lips reach mine, I feel her press her whole body against me. Our mouths are open and our tongues meet, curling around each other.
After a minute or so, we break from the kiss.
“How long has it been?” I ask.
“Two years,” she says. “Since the operation”.
I kiss the side of her neck. “And how long has it been since you were with a man?”
She gasps as I kiss behind her ear. “More than that,” she says softly.
“Too long,” I say. As I kiss her neck, I can hear her trembling breathing. She's still terrified, so I take her hand. “Come with me,” I say, and I lead her over to the sofa in the corner of the bar.
She smiles slightly as we sit down, and I ease her shirt off so that she's completely topless. She's clearly uncomfortable being so exposed, but the truth is: the scar isn't ugly at all. Sure, she's not symmetrical, but that's not exactly an important thing, is it? What matters is that she has the most beautiful brown eyes I've ever seen.
I take my shirt off and now we're sat on the sofa, and we start to kiss again, our hands running all over one another's bodies. I start to kiss down her chest and soon I'm kissing her left breast, sucking on the nipple, which makes her gasp. She squirms in her seat, clearly getting turned on, and I run a hand over her scar, making sure that I touch it.
After a while, she adjusts her position, laying back on the sofa, unbuttoning her trousers and pulling them off. I take off my own, then I pull down my underwear, freeing my large, wide, erect cock and my hair balls. Sam can't take her eye off my crotch as I lean down and slip her panties off, exposing her trimmed brown bush. Without saying a word, she spreads her legs and I see the slit of her pussy. As I touch it with my finger, I feel how incredibly wet she is.
“Fuck me,” she says, and I climb onto her, slipping my cock deep into her. We start to kiss as I rhythmically begin to pump her slowly. “Harder,” she says as we kiss.
Soon I'm thrusting into her and she's starting to moan with pleasure. After two years, she's finally got a man on top of her and she's in ecstasy, running her hands over my back and then down onto my ass as it rises and falls.
“I want to cum inside you,” I say.
“I want you to as well,” she says, then she lets out a yelp as I start to thrust harder and harder. She wraps her arms and legs around me as tightly as she can as I fuck her as hard as I can, my cock slamming into her wet pussy as she starts to get tenser and tenser. Finally she screams in ecstasy as she cums, and at that moment I cum as well, squirting hot sticky cum deep into her pussy. But there's still more, and I quickly pull my cock out of her, move up her body and start wanking onto her, spraying more milky white sperm onto her chest.
Finally, as my orgasm starts to fade, I lay down on top of her and she grinds her crotch against me. She's grinning from ear to ear, and with one delicate finger she's tracing patterns in the copious quantities of cum I've spread all over her chest. There's cum all over her breast, all over the nipple, and all over her scar.
“That was amazing,” she whispers.
I smile. “Tell me about it”.
She leans up and bites my ear for a moment. “Promise you don't find me hideous?” she asks.
I kiss her neck again. “I promise. Didn't I just prove it to you?” I smile. “Give me five minutes, I'll prove it to you again”.
“Cool,” she says. “But could you get me a glass of water first?”
I nod. “Be right back”. I jump up and, still naked and with my heavy cock swinging between my legs I go behind the bar. I grab a bottle of water, open it, pour it into a glass, cut a slice of lemon to put in, then carry it back to the sofa. But when I get there, there's no sign of Sam. I look around the bar, but she's nowhere to be found. Then I notice a note that she's left on the sofa. I pick it up and look at it. It reads: Got to dash. Cheers anyway X.
Night after night I expect her to come back to the bar, and night after night I'm disappointed. Finally, after a few weeks I've given up all hope of ever seeing her again when suddenly she wanders in, with a young blonde girl at her side.
“Hello ladies,” I say, giving Sam a knowing look.
They sit at the bar.
“Two glasses of wine, please,” says Sam, smiling.
I fix up their wine for them, but then I have to serve other customers for a while. Still, it's a real thrill to see Sam again, even if she seems curiously evasive. And where the hell has she been for the past few weeks?
Later, I notice Sam getting up and going through to the bathroom. Moments later, her friend calls me over.
“She likes you,” the friend says.
“No kidding,” I reply.
“Do you like her?”
I pause. Is this some kind of sick joke? Or is it just Sam's way of getting to date me properly, by doing things the way she used to do them?
“I like her,” I say, smiling.
“Cool,” says her friend, grabbing her coat. “Seeya!” And with that, she runs out just as Sam gets back and takes her seat.
“Did she leave?” Sam asks.
I nod.
“Shame,” says Sam, smiling.
I glance at the clock. It's almost midnight. “I have to close up soon,” I say with a smile. “But do you want to hang around?”
She grins. “Yeah,” she says. “But this time I really will”.
“What?”
She laughs. “Hang around!”