“I think she fills that dress rather nicely!”
Ralph confided to his friend and confidante standing beside him as, with
studied anonymity, they blended with the now thinning crowds.
Charles took a long cool drink straight from
his bottle of premium lager and surveyed the scene. For a suburban bar the
place had been really humming. As it was a Friday, many of the early evening
drinkers had been here since 5:30pm when they had escaped from their tedious
and boring jobs in the small local call centre, provincial estate agents and
solicitors’ offices which provided much needed employment to the young and
largely uneducated in the area
As it was now approaching 6:45pm, Bar
Suburbia was in that peculiar interregnum as those customers, largely the
office staff that had kept the tills ringing all through the early shift, were
now wending their way home while the evening revellers had not yet made their
appearance before heading into town for some serious clubbing and high-energy
nightlife.
This was Charles and Ralph’s favourite time
for hunting their admittedly unusual quarry and this bar, although they had
never frequented it before, was their favourite sort of hunting ground.
Bar Suburbia was typical of a provincial and
suburban hostelry that was trying to inject some referred glamour into the sad
and futile lives of its customers. Loosely based on the set of
‘Friends’, large sofas and
low coffee tables were casually scattered about with all the abandon that the
space planning software at corporate head office’s IT department would allow.
That is, none whatsoever. Customer density was paramount as rates and costs for
the establishment were dictated by the square footage, marketing and retail
planners needed to squeeze the maximum usage out of all the available space. As
usual the Head Office staff had slightly overdone the required customer density
(commerciality always wins) but to the provincial customers this little piece
of urban chic was where they could pretend that they truly were on a film set
and that vicariously a small piece of Hollywood glamour would imbibe their
repetitive lives.
To Charles and Ralph, used to the bars and
clubs of London, New York and Rio to name but three of the world stages they
played on, Bar Suburbia was mean, pinched and plastic. And they loved it. Not for the fake mahogany furniture, the
imitation modern prints and cheap false brass fittings that seemed to be
ubiquitous. No, they had a fixed and clear objective and long experience had
shown them that this was exactly the environment where they would be successful
in their unorthodox and highly unusual venture.
Like all Big Game hunters they had scouted
the territory before the day’s events and just after the doors had opened at
five o’clock they had discreetly entered. Ordering two bottles of drinks they
settled themselves in a dimly lit alcove that nevertheless gave an unrestricted
view of the main bar area, whilst allowing the two men to remain unobtrusive.
In the sun-bleached plains of the Serengeti,
lions (the top predator in that particular ecosystem) take up vantage points
near watering holes when seeking game. The ironic analogy was not lost on
either of these two rather well heeled human carnivores. They surveyed the
two-legged herbivores as they came down into the bar to drink and quench their
thirst after a long hard day. Watching sharply, they looked for the tell-tale
signs that their next victim would inadvertently signal. Stretching the
Serengeti analogy of big cats, hunting lions would be looking for a slight
listlessness, an almost imperceptible limp or an overconfident juvenile,
whereas in this suburban jungle their human equivalents were looking for the
individual who had let their guard down a little too indiscreetly, was a little
too tipsy or that had let themselves get separated from the rest of their
particular herd of friends and colleagues. Here, though, the analogy broke
down, for whereas a lion will take the easiest prey, often an ill or weak and
undernourished individual, these particular human carnivores were after only
the fittest and the finest looking specimens. But the end result would be the
same: once chosen there would be no mistake.
They preferred suburban bars on the outskirts
of provincial cities. It was near but not too near a regional airport, serviced
by good quality roads and ,at that time of the
evening, the streets were relatively free of traffic and police. The prevalence
of CCTV was significantly lower than in the centre of towns and cities and not
only had their route to this particular hostelry been chosen to leave no video
evidence, even their rather anonymous vehicle had been driven in a circuitous
journey evading the city centre, keeping to a well reconnaissanced
route. With a full gas tank and an extra gallon securely and safely stowed on
board there was no chance that this particular vehicle was going to show up on
the unblinking eye of a forecourt CCTV, nor would there
be any tell-tale credit card slips for petrol. Like all good hunters they were
covering their tracks well. Charles had remarked to Ralph that it was very
similar to approaching prey down wind so as to give
the unsuspecting creatures no clues to the arrival of the hunters that would
soon take one or two of their number.
Charles looked at the girl that Ralph had
indicated, no sudden movement however, just the studied casualness of a man in
total control of his environment and his self; he surveyed her attributes for
the role they had in mind.
The cheap chain store dress was of a simple
cut, unlined, it seemed to pull and crease against her fulsome tits and
buttocks that gave the garment a peculiarly sexy tightness that he found
simultaneously attractive and somehow sad. The lower orders were so poor that
they couldn’t even afford well-made clothes. But underneath that dress there
was no mistaking a fine athletic body, fit, strong and, no doubt with the
appropriate training and discipline, very very
welcoming.
The muscle definition of her arms and legs
was fine and seemed to quiver with pent up energy for she was in fine physical
condition and, as her voluptuousness was all contained on a rather petite
frame, she was just what they were looking for.
He noted with some initial concern the high heels that she was wearing,
more to give her a few extra inches than to accentuate her already ample tits
and ass but fortunately he was able to satisfy himself that the tell-tale thick
calves that inveterate wearers of high heels develop had not had time to create
an unnatural and unseemly bulge at the back of her legs. Their brief was very
precise from their very demanding customer.
She had glossy, naturally blonde hair, which
fanned out across her athletically broad shoulders and not a little way down
her back. She had an instinctive way of intermittently flicking it with the
slightest shimmer of her head, sending it cascading and shining across her
slender neck which was nicely highlighted by a faux silver choker and her bare
back as it caught the subdued lighting of the bar. The hair, flowing over her
strong but feminine shoulder line, naturally created a rectangular block of her
fine golden threads across her back and neck. It gave only tantalising
glimpses of her lightly tanned and flawless skin beneath. At the front, after
streaming over her delicate clavicles, the hair seemed to caress the fulsome
breasts that formed a generous cleavage at her sternum. The dress was
decorously cut, this was after all office attire but nevertheless she was well
aware of her youthful charms and in the never ending battle that was office
politics she used her curvaceous figure to maximum advantage. She rightly felt
that her generous and perfectly formed tits were one of her best features and
she was therefore not coy about putting the goods on display, even if they were
for show only, in her endeavour to curry favour with the more senior predominantly male members of
staff.
He took a closer look at her face; it had a
sculptural beauty and symmetry, with excellent bone structure and beautifully
fair skin. Mostly without imperfection, a tiny ‘s’
shaped scar on her high and handsome forehead only seemed to add to her appeal.
‘Only Allah is perfect,’ Charles found
himself thinking almost absentmindedly. He was gratified that the colour of her eyebrows seemed to match that of her hair;
either she was a natural blonde or she paid attention to details. He liked that
in a woman.
Earlier on in the evening, when the early
revellers had been in full voice, he’d noted that her teeth were evenly spaced
and regular; the results of good genes or a good orthodontist, he felt. They
had been clearly visible when her fulsome lips parted in laughter and delight
at some whimsical remark from one or other of her work colleagues. He paid
attention to a woman’s lips for, through experience, he had discovered that
they were a damned good indicator of her body lips and that, although until
this evening these hidden intimacies had been for the delight and pleasure of a
select number of lovers, they would be far more on display in just a few short
hours.