The Bar Scene

Well, you're not going to get laid hanging around your apartment. You grab your car keys and head out. It might just be your imagination, but the girls you pass on the stairs and in the parking lot do seem to give you more than just a passing glance. Still, the acid test comes later, when you see how it actually works on the prospect of getting yourself some pussy.

You have a few things to take care of before heading out on the town, things like getting some cash and arranging to have your obligations for the next week taken care of - work, classes, things like that. It's stuff you should have done in advance, but you hadn't actually expected the stuff to work. As every girl you pass close to give you the eye, however, you grow confident in you new attraction. By the time you're done with the mundane chores of the day, you're horny as all hell and ready to play. By now, according to your roommate's instructions, the pheremone output should be at a peak that won't diminish again for the next seven days.

--------------------------------------------------------------- FRIDAY, 6:00 PM ---------------------------------------------------------------

The local bar cluster is actually within walking distance of your apartment, but you might need the car later. Your late-model SUV was a recent splurge financed by this year's tax refund, perfect for ski trips or for driving all the guys around town - and with the seats folded down, it's more than roomy enough to comfortably bounce a chick on your dick. The windows are tinted for just such an occasion, though until now you haven't had the chance to break it in.

The Grinning Grizzly is the main college hangout, lots of prime pussy (and good chicken wings). You head inside to find it not terribly crowded, just enough to give the place some atmosphere without making for too long a wait at the bar. Normally you come with buddies, but tonight is for you and whoever's behind door number one. Since you obviously don't want to just take the first babe to come along, you order a beer as discretely as possible and take a seat at the far corner of the bar to survey the room.

There aren't any familliar faces around, but that's probably just as well. There are a few girls in groups, some of whom are pretty hot, but no one in particular grabs your attention right away. You begin to wonder if you shouldn't try the next place when your eye wanders over a slim brunette at a table by herself in the opposite corner. She's sipping some kind of mixed drink and has the air of waiting for someone. As she glances at her watch with a look of exasperation, you get the idea that she's being stood up.

And whoever's doing it must be a real moron, because she's fine. Her hair is long and straight, and would probably reach the middle of her back if she were standing up. Her eyes are dark, almost black, and very intense under arched brows. Since she's behind the table, you can't get a really good eyeful of her figure, but she's definitely slim and her breasts seem reasonably large under a tight black T-shirt. Her lips are painted a dark blood red.

Target selected.

You grab your beer and make your way across the floor. On the way you pass close to one of the waitresses, a cheery blonde with curly hair. The floor is crowded enough that you can't help but brush against her as you pass, and you actually hear her gasp.

"Sorry," you say with a smile.

"Anytime," she says back with an even bigger smile. She actually presses a little closer than is strictly necessary, and you swear you can feel her nipples harden beneath her skin-tight T-shirt. "Listen, are you here with anyone?"

You're about to reconsider your choice when someone calls out, "Hey, DeeDee! Quit flirting and get these drinks over to table five!"

She pouts miserably. "Gotta go," she says with , and moves off with a last glance back in your direction.

A few more steps take you to the brunette's table. "May I join you?" you ask politely.

"Might as well, apparenly no one else is," she says peevishly. Then she glances up at you as if to confirm who she's actually talking to. "Sorry, that was rude. The thing is, I'm waiting for someone, and he's late and I'm pissed."

"What kind of idiot would make you wait?" you ask.

"In about ten minutes, my ex-boyfriend. I'm really getting sick of his crap."

"I'll tell you what," you say. "I'm here by myself tonight, and I could use some conversation. If it's all the same to you, I'll take the empty seat, and if your guy shows up I'll vacate. Sound fair?"

She starts to shake her head, and then stops and looks you in the eye. The peeved frown drops off her face, and while she doesn't actually smile, she does relax a bit. "Why not?" she says. "And maybe if he shows up, you can just stay right there and he can find somewhere else to sit."

"I'm John."

"Katrina," she replies, lifting her glass. You follow suit and in two swallows you both need refills.

"What's your poison?" you ask.

"Peppermint Shnapps, ninety proof, straight up."

"You live dangerously," you say with a grin.

"When I'm in the mood." You get the first hint of a smile out of her, and it makes her even more attractive. You begin to wonder if this pheremone thing works both ways.

"Are you in the mood now?" you ask with a raised eyebrow.

Katrina runs her tongue lightly along her lips. "Maybe after another round."

She summons the waitress over - it's the same girl you bumped into before. She looks a little miffed that you've found someone else. "What'll it be?" she asks.

"Peppermint Shnapps," Katrina says.

"Two of them," you add, pulling out your wallet.

Katrina stops you. "My treat," she says. "Consider it a thank you for not making me sit here alone."

"I get the idea that someone like you is only alone when you want to be," you say suavely.

She chuckles. "You're funny. You know, I'm glad that jerk didn't show. Right now I'd be listening to his excuses instead of your compliments."

Your drinks arrive quickly, and you make a point of tossing yours down in one shot. It burns a bit, but you've done stronger, so it's not enough to make you or anything. Katrina lifts an eyebrow at your display, and similarly downs her drink. Then she leans back for a moment, confirming your suspicions of her nicely built rack. She's at least a C-cup, possibly bigger.

"I just had a thought," she says. "Let's assume my former boyfriend shows up in the next two minutes. Wouldn't it be great if he looked around and I wasn't here?"

"He'd deserve it, I think."

Katrina stands up, revealing legs to match the rest of her wrapped in tight spandex. "Let's go up on the roof for a bit," she suggests.

You stop on the way up to grab another pair of drinks, then follow her up the stairs, watching her bottom appreciatively on the way. Once on the top, you notice that the roof is empty, not unusual for the early evening.

"Good," she says, looking around. "I didn't want an audience."

She takes the drinks and sets them down, then steps close and puts her tongue down your throat.