Quick Tale : Chaptor 1 : Consent

I saw him, and I knew I had to have… a talk atleast.

The Club was thinning out, and I knew from experience that the seating in the corners were dark, uncrowded and quiet enough to talk without having to scream at each other. It was mostly hunger - and the way he moved. Slow, with a purpose. He was standing at the bar sipping a drink. Sleek. Catlike. When he ran a hand through his hair, that sealed it.

“What are you drinking?” was the first thing I asked him. I certainly didn’t want a drunk to deal with, and it was a good way to find that out up front. He smiled. Sipped. “Coke.” he said. Almost bashful. I liked it. I moved closer to him and smiled, then ordered a drink of my own. Afterward, I turned to him and stared until he got uneasy and looked down, shy.

“Am I making you nervous?”

“Yes,” he said, not looking at me. But smiling. So slight.

“Good,” I said, leaning close enough that our sides touched as I turned toward the bar. “I like that.”

I could have sworn I felt him shudder. But that might have been wishful thinking.

I stood up and walked to him. close. It just happened. The way he had his head down, nervous, just drove me to him. It took a few long seconds to get there, but it was a careful few seconds. Standing close, then watching to see if he would back off to claim his space back. He didn’t. Hand lightly touching his thigh. It could have been accidental. I did it on purpose to see if he’d move. He didn’t. I pretended to be nuzzling to smell his cologne. I caught his breath; he was inhaling sharply when I pressed close.

“You aren’t used to a forward woman,” I observed out loud.

“No,” his eyes were shut, head lowered toward me. Breathing measured.

“But you like it,” I told him, reaching up, hand around his neck reaching to his hairs.

“Yes,” was on his lips as he looked direct at me. May be it was somthing more than my pull on his hair that made him so.

I took him up to the dark corner I remembered. Sure enough, people were mostly gone and the music was a bit loud but tolerable. We were standing close, very close, and soon I had him pinned up against a wall. Soft moans came from him. The kind that made me ache. When he moved his hands to my waist I took him by the wrists and pinned them behind his back. He twisted a little but didn’t pull away, then groaned, closing his eyes, frustrated.

“Shhhhh,” I hushed, clenching my grip tighter. Tight enough to make sure he knew I meant business. He sighed a little and I pinned him closer to the wall, switching to use only one hand to hold both wrists behind him. Of course this meant he could pull away with total ease, but he didn’t. He kept his wrists there. My free hand moved up his neck, to his chin, where I lifted his head up so I could bite his flesh openly, easily.

And he didn’t stop me.

Consent.