Harlot

I stroll into the party and immediately sweep the room. I’m looking for him. I don’t know who he is, or what his name is. All I know is that he is married and here with his wife. I am hunting. I’m good at this. I am young, not beautiful but passably attractive, with a presence that, when activated, makes one with reasonably keen perception aware that I am capable of doing unmentionable things and just might be immediately available. I’ve come here tonight to mix, mingle, have a few drinks, and get fucked. Hard. By him.But first I have to find him. A first and second trip around the room, into the adjoining spaces where people are gathered in the usual knots, and back again yields nothing etimesgut escort of interest. I am patient. Experience teaches that before the party even begins to wind down I will find him.I sip my champagne and feel the warmth infuse my body and mind. I engage in a few brief conversations, but don’t linger in one spot too long. There are more important things to accomplish. I travel the circuit again, still no candidates. The crowd is somewhat dowdy and quite uninteresting. Just when I’m beginning to think that tonight won’t be a success, I see him.Tall, older, probably twice my age. Standing with a perky blonde, soccer-mom type, talking to another vanilla-looking eryaman escort couple. My mark is reasonably handsome, in decent shape. No one you’d glance at longingly on the street, but more than passable. He looks bored. I adjust my view to confirm – the blonde’s wedding ring glints in the light. His wife.Perfect.I wait, circulating discreetly while keeping an eye on the two couples. His bored expression deepens; he’s not engaged in the conversation at all. His eyes begin to sweep the room and he spies another friend, breaking away from his little group and walking across the room. I move to intercept, bumping into him and spilling my drink. He apologizes sincan escort profusely, and I protest that it’s no big thing. He’s clearly embarrassed by his clumsiness, and so I look directly into his eyes with the most seductive gaze I can muster and offer to let him make it up to me by getting me a new drink. We head toward the bar, but I suggest we go to the one out on the patio, where it’s cooler. He agrees, and we step outside into the cool night air.There is only a sparse crowd out here, and no line at the bar. My champagne glass refilled and his whiskey refreshed, we engage in conversation. The mundane cocktail party kind. I flirt, shamelessly, touch his arm while laughing at his lame witticisms. I’m oozing sexuality at this point and notice his demeanor has changed. The fish is evaluating the bait. I tell him how handsome he is, how smart, and how I wish I could find a man like him. I stand closer, too close, and gaze up at him. This is the moment of truth.