It had been a week. She knew that. She could even get it down to
the hour. Seven days and nine hours. She stopped outside the pub. Paused. She
checked herself out in the reflection of the window. The black poster gave her
a nice ad hoc mirror. She straightened her hair; smoothed the skirt over her
ass, her thighs. She turned side on looked at her ass, ran her hands
over it, slowly, pushing the palm in slightly as she got to the point where the
cheeks joined the thighs. A little squeeze. She allowed herself a smile. Turned
full on again, deep breath and walked in. She walked like she felt - good.
She could feel the heads turning male and female. The
heels, she knew, always made her ass move in a certain way. It always got
attention. The skirt, the stockings, the top, the lipstick and the hair piled
up. All of it got attention. But not the attention she needed.
He was behind the bar, oblivious. Serving customers, slowly,
She approached, hesitated, waiting for his reaction. She moved
to catch his attention dusted her top, running her hand over her chest.
She slowed just at the point where the breast cupped, almost caressing herself.
He turned - his eyes flashed up and down her body. She waited for the smile,
the subtle adjustment in his trousers.
He smiled a mute hello, turned and carried on.
It was only she that stiffened. The embarrassment was intense.
The whole pub had been watching her firm, lithe body walk across the room,
offer itself to this man and be rebuffed. Her ass tightened. She didnt
know what to do. The barmaid came along she ordered a large gin and
tonic texting on her phone as her drink was put together, looking busy,
She took the glass and stood around at the bar, waiting for him.
Hes elsewhere, mentally. But he does make small talk. How you
been? Been up to much? Busy working you know?
She hangs around. 27 but feeling like a 16 year old. She
cant help it. Shes been resisting since that morning. Theres
been the odd text but shes held back, resisted, playing it cool. But she
had to come down tonight.
She attempts to make small talk. She knows he likes Celine. She
in her hands, making sure the title is
facing him. He sees it, she sees a flash in his eyes but he turns, busy. She
opens the book, flicks a few pages trying to focus shes had a few
drinks. She feels ridiculous.
She looks up, hes still distracted. She senses all eyes on
her, everyone is looking, smirking at her defeat. She can feel the pressure on
her shoulders she buries her head in the book. Takes a long draught of
the drink only a bit left. Looks up, follows him as he walks along the
She looks behind her. No-one is paying any attention or looking.
They have their own things going on. They dont care.
She looks at him. Neither does he.
She gives up, sits down at a couch near the bar, crosses her
legs takes a sip of her drink and rests her hand on her high knee. She leans
forward and places the drink down on the table. She runs her hand up her thigh.
The edge of the skirt rides up exposing the flank of her thigh, the taught
muscle giving slightly under the gentle pressure of her hand.
She looks up his back is turned. She starts composing a
text. Its for him. It runs to three screens. Shes been hot, horny,
filthy. Shes offered herself as a slut to him, begging for his cock to
take her in every hole, any way he wants
digitally. She checks the
message. Happy, she sends it. She looks up at him with a smile. She hears the
tone of reception on his phone. He turns, picks up the phone. She holds her
breath as he reads it. The anticipation is almost too much.
She watches him. He looks at it. Puts the phone back where it
was. The expression on his face has not changed. Completely indifferent.
The shame, the feeling of rejection, the sense of stupidity is
almost too much.
She takes a large gulp of the gin. It steadies her a little. The
glass is empty.
She cant understand why hes being this way. Why
doesnt he want her? Everyone else in the place wants her she knows
that. Why not him? She goes to the toilet. Looks in the mirror. Shes
good. Nice, blonde hair. Her tits firm and full. She stands on her tip toes and
pivots to look at her ass. Its good high and firm, the legs
supporting it slim and sporty. Whats wrong with him? What is it he
She starts to organise it in her head. She remembers last week
when he took her home, when they did everything possible, when he ruined her.
And she loved it. She wondered where that had gone. Who was he to ignore her
like that? After everything, (everything) she had given him? To make her look
so stupid in front of everyone. She could have had anyone in that pub, man or
woman. Who the fuck was he to ignore and humiliate her? Shed given
She took one last glance in the mirror she liked what she
saw. Hot, but with a face that said dont fuck with me
or so she hoped.
She marched out. The door of the toilet slammed against the wall
as she sauntered through, a bit drunk. Now EVERY eye was on her.
She marched up to the bar, confident. So whats the
problem? Come on? Lets love a little. She had a slur. She
immediately felt stupid but the hope still bubbled away inside.
As she focused, she realised she was talking to his back. The
rejection felt like she had bounced off him like a forcefield, back to her
seat. He didnt stir, at all.
She slumped on the sofa, crossed her legs, felt her thigh,
looked around. No-one was looking anymore. She uncrossed her leg, pulled her
skirt down to the knee. She looked at her phone. No messages. It felt quiet. It