Swipe Right III

Being five minutes late is fine. Totally forgivable. I think a lot of people actually consider five minutes late to be on time.

Fifteen minutes late is a little annoying, but forgivable with a courtesy text.

Forty-five minutes late with no text, no notice of any kind… well, that’s grounds for having your number deleted.

I can’t think of a single time I’ve ever been straight-up ghosted like this before.

I check my phone one last time, just to make sure I didn’t, I don’t know, miss a text in the app or something.

But… nope. Nothing.

Asshole.

Well, I guess it was bound to happen eventually. I was on a really good streak with my last two dates, so maybe I should’ve expected to have a little bad luck with this one.

I think that German guy I hooked up with lives close to here… I wonder if he’s free tonight. Maybe I should text him.

Despite my plans for the night suddenly getting canceled, I can’t really bring myself to leave.

I actually like this bar a lot. I come here pretty often and it’d be sad if I start to associate it with that place I got stood up.

It’s kind of cozy, honestly. Dark and snug, vaguely tiki-themed with kitschy floral-pattern couches and vintage photos of faraway beaches all over the place.

And my favorite bartender, the cute one, is the only one working tonight.

Oh man, I should probably just go home.

“You want another one?”

“Sorry?”

“Another round?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Well… I just… I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be here.”

“Waiting for someone?”

“Yes?”

“Okay?”

“Sorry. I… think I’ve been stood up. It’s not confirmed, but looking pretty likely. So…”

“Ah, damn. Happens to the best of us.”

“Yeah? Does it really? It’s a first for me and I’m having kind of a hard time accepting it.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. It builds character.”

“Okay, well… in that case. Yeah, I’ll take another.”

“I’ll make you something special to mark the occasion. Hold tight.”

I watch you drift over to the shelves of liquor and pull down a couple of half-filled bottles.

There’s an ease to your movements as you tip the bottles into the shaker. It’s like you’re not even thinking about what you’re doing. The quick flicks of your fingers as you peel twists of lime and dash bitters straight out of the bottle seem like muscle memory for you.

Hm. Cute bartender making me a special drink.

I’m starting to feel a little less shitty about being stood up.

It’s hard to tell if you’re subtly hitting on me or if you’re just doing what bartenders do, which is talk to their customers and get them to drink.

“Here you go. This is the ‘fuck that guy’ special. It’s free if you have any reason to say fuck that guy.”

“Thank you. This helps ease the pain a little bit.”

“Good.”

Your eyes linger on mine as I take my first sip. My stomach flips a little when I set my glass down and you don’t look away.

I feel like you’re studying me, maybe trying to make a decision about what kind of person I am.

You were sort of stoic and serious when I first walked in, or at least that’s what I thought, but maybe you’re just someone who has to be warmed up a little.

“So, your night is suddenly wide open it seems. What does one do after getting stood up?”

“I’ve been thinking about that for the last half-hour. Seems like I have a few options.”

“Yeah? What are they?”

“One, I cut my losses, call it a night, and go home with a slightly bruised ego.”

“Okay. Or?”

“Two, I call my Plan Bs and see if I can salvage the night with a last-minute booty call.”

“Right. I’m sensing a third option.”

“Three, I sit back and… see what comes my way. Maybe something, maybe nothing, but… I’ll let the universe decide that.”

“Hm. I kind of like that last one. Hold on a sec. Hey folks. What’re you having?”

You pull back and wander over to the other end of the bar where a couple of older guys have sat down.

I watch you work quickly, efficiently. You grab two glasses and fill them up beneath two different draft taps at the same time.

I can tell you’ve been doing this for a while, bartending.

“Okay, sorry about that. Customers, you know. They’re so needy.”

“Don’t let me and my dating woes distract you.”

“Well, I’m just kind of intrigued by this idea. About seeing what comes your way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, the idea of fate, you know. There’s no such thing as coincidences, that sort of thing.”

“Wow. Pretty romantic ideas there.”

“Romantic, yeah. I guess so. Also a little lazy.”

“How so?”

“I can rationalize anything that happens—or doesn’t happen—by saying it was fate. Sleep in late by accident and lose my job, must have been fate. Car breaks down and I meet my future wife on the bus. Fate. It’s like a get out of jail free card.”

“Ooh, I might have to steal that. It’s much better than my life philosophy.”

“Which is?”

“Overthink and overanalyze everything until I’m paralyzed by crippling anxiety.”

“Well, whatever works for you, but… sounds a little bit stressful.”

You pull your towel down from your shoulder and rub an invisible stain on the bar. I think you’re just trying to keep your hands busy. Or maybe you’re looking for a reason to keep hanging around me.

Something about your smile makes me feel like you’re hiding something. Like you have a secret you want to share with me, but you can’t.

“Do you think it’s fate that I got stood up here tonight?”

“I was kind of wondering about it, yeah. Especially since… I’m closing up early.”

“Oh, you are?”

“Yeah, just decided. So, seems like we’re both suddenly free tonight.”

“You’re not serious. There’s like ten people in here. Those guys just sat down.”

“Last call! Closing early.”

“Can you just… do that? What about your boss?”

You lean forward across the bar, crossing your arms in front of you and pushing your face closer to mine than it’s been all night.

“I am the boss.”

My chest twists and my stomach feels light and fluttery. You pull back, grinning just a little, but there’s a question in your eyes. Or maybe an invitation.

“That means everyone does what I say.”

“Yeah, I know what that means. But not everyone.”

“No?”

“Not me.”

“Hm. I beg to differ.”

Your eyes dart around the bar briefly, like you’re checking to make sure no one can hear you. You lean forward on the bar again and I’m drawn out of my seat slightly to meet you.

“Take off your underwear and hand them to me.”

“What?”

“It’s dark in here. No one will see. You’ll get them back once everyone’s gone.”

I realize my mouth has been hanging open and quickly shut it. I can’t tell for sure, but I think you’re being serious.

To your credit, I’m intrigued more than offended. You’ve been nothing but kind and attentive all night. But the moment the word ‘boss’ came out of my mouth, you changed and this turned into a game.

One that I would like to win.

You take a few steps back, then turn your attention to the grumbling bar patrons coming up to close out their tabs.

So… the ball is in my court. You’re leaving it up to me where I want this night to go.

And I think I’ve found my Plan B.

There are just two other people sitting at the bar with me to my left. And if I turn away from them, then I’m facing the front door and anyone could see me if they walked in.

I cannot believe I’m doing this… but… here we go.

“Hey, barkeep.”

“Yes, ma’am. Something I can help you with?”

I ball my panties up in my fist and slowly hand it to you over the bar. You smirk a little, holding back a laugh as you wrap your hand around mine and take them from me.

You slip them quickly into your pocket and jog off to close out the grumbling patrons’ tabs.

I sip on my drink for a few minutes, just basking in my arousal and staying put on my stool as the other customers start to drift out of the building.

And finally, it’s just you… and me.

You come out from behind the bar to lock the front door and click off the neon light in the window.

There’s a small smile on your face as you drift towards me and take a seat on the stool next to mine.

“I told you. Everyone does what I say.”

“Uh-huh. Can I have my panties back now?”

“I think you might need to earn them back.”

You lean forward in your seat, putting all your weight on one leg and one hand on the bar to steady yourself. Your lips brush up against mine like you’re asking a question. Like you’re waiting for me to say yes.

I pull back just enough to look up at you. Your eyes are dark, a little intense.

I like the feeling of your solid body pressing into me.

A flush of heat spreads through my body as you lay one hand on my hip. You stand up off the stool and guide me up with you, all without breaking our kiss.

“You can earn them back by following the rules.”

“Yeah? What are they?”

“Do everything I say, when I say. And… don’t do anything without asking for permission. Can you do that?”

I suck on my bottom lip and press myself into you a little more. This is… new. Something I haven’t really experimented with before.

But I like the challenge and the sense that this is almost like a game between us. One that I’m more than curious about playing.

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“Good. I want you up against the wall.”

You put your hand in mine and pull me over to the wall next to the bar. The cool brick sends a shock across my bare skin as you back me into it.

I reach up to connect my hands around the back of your neck. Your wrists catch mine and bring them back to my sides.

“What did I say? Don’t do anything without asking permission.”

“I guess you’ll have to keep me still somehow.”

“I guess so.”

In one quick motion, you grab the towel hanging off your belt and tie my wrists behind my back with it.

It’s snug, but I wouldn’t call it tight. Just enough to remind me that you, apparently, are in charge.

“Good. Keep listening well and you’ll get rewarded.”

“Yeah? With what?”

“Behave and you’ll see.”

My pulse is getting harder… faster… My whole body is starting to tremble a little.

This feels… good.

“Did taking off your panties in public get you wet?”

“Yes.”

“It felt good, didn’t it? Doing what you’re told.”

“Mm, yeah.”

One of your hands slips down to the top of my thigh. You play with the hem of my dress, teasing me, forcing me to imagine what you’re going to do next.

“Please… touch me…”

“Mm, not yet. I’m going to take my time… just running my hand up your thigh… Moving two fingers between your legs…”

“Please…”

“Just grazing over your clit…”

Your finger graze painfully slowly over my clit… through my folds… You’re teasing me… and clearly getting off on it.

“Do you want more?”

“Yeah, more, please…”

Each little touch against my clit is like a shock to my system. They’re just small touches, but they feel so fucking good.

I can feel your dick pressing up against me, your breath hot on my ear as your fingers glide through my pussy.

“Can you handle more?”

“Yeah… yeah, please, I want more…”

I can’t help but press myself into you and grind down on your hand. I was wet before. Now, I’m soaked.

Your fingers feel so good, but it’s not enough. I need you inside me.

“One finger… You can handle that, can’t you? Yeah?”

“Oh, fuck, yeah… Yeah—oh, god—”

“I’m going to give you another finger… There you go…”

I strain against the towel around my wrists. The sensation of being restrained feels freeing somehow. And it gives me something to focus on other than how much you’re withholding from me, how badly I want you inside me.

“Your pussy is squeezing my fingers. Do you feel that?”

“Yeah, yeah, please fuck me…”

“Mm, you’re skipping too far ahead. We’re going to do three fingers… and then we’ll see.”

You add another of your fingers and thrust in. I bite down on my lip and try to keep my moaning to an acceptable level, but you’re making it fucking hard.

“You feel how hard you made me? You want my dick? Can you take it?”

“Yeah, I can take it. Please go inside me, please…”

You keep two fingers pressed up against my clit as you undo your pants. I squirm against you, rocking my hips into them to keep the pressure on. I’m feeling desperate… frantic, almost. I need you inside me now.

“You’ve been very good at listening. And doing what I say. Go get on that table.”

You pull the towel away from my wrists and nod to a four-top table next to us. I move quickly, mindlessly, and hop up onto the edge.

My clit is aching, but I know you wouldn’t let me touch it if I asked. A thought flashes across my mind… wondering what you would do if I just touched myself with your permission.

Your dick is hard and thick in your hand when you pull it out of your boxers. I lean back against my forearms as you grab my thighs and guide yourself in me.

You push into me and sit there for just a moment… just pushing my walls open and letting me feel you inside me.

You place your fingers on my clit again and work it in small slow circles… as you push your dick further and further in…

I grip tight around your forearms, keeping your body close.

“Oh, fuck, you feel how deep I am? You feel me all the way in you?”

“Oh, deeper, please fucking go deeper.”

Your hips slam into mine again and again, driving deeper with each thrust. And the whole time, you keep your fingers pressed against my clit. Every time you circle around it a shock of pleasure goes through me.

“Oh, there you go—take this dick—just like that—take it, take it.”

I can feel my body getting tight and heat swelling deep inside of me. I want more, but I know I’m reaching a limit.

You lean forward and press your mouth against mine, hard.

“Oh, god, you’re going to cum, aren’t you? I can feel you getting so tight. You’re going to do something for me, okay? You’re going to make yourself cum with your fingers, okay? Play with your clit until you can’t stand it anymore.”

My fingers slip all over my clit as you grab hold of my hips with both hands and rock into me, hard.

“Oh my god.”

I sit up and lean my forehead against your shoulder for a moment. My fingers are sticky with my own cum.

I find your gaze and hold it steady as I lift up my fingers and suck on them.

You watch, enthralled, and put your mouth on mine.

“Here. You’ve more than earned these back.”

You pull my panties out of your pocket and hand them to me.

“Thanks.”