by Lesly Sloan

I search the bar at SEATAC, the Seattle-Tacoma airport, for prey. If my quarry is a lesbian traveling alone, there isn't much of a challenge. No challenge, but good sex. It gets tricky if there's a lesbian couple in the bar. With a couple, the chance of successfully intruding into a committed relationship is hard to figure. If the women have no interest in a threesome, my hunt is futile. But if they're looking for a playmate to join them; that's far different. I love three-way action because there are so many possibilities.
The most exciting thing for me is to seduce a gal who hasn't yet tried sex with another woman, but who may be curious. The airport is a great place to hunt because women away from home are frequently willing to try something new. I've had sex with many married women, or with single women who have a boyfriend back home.
I've been called immoral, screwed up, and all sorts of things. I get this kind of crap often, "When you meet the right person - blah, blah." I don't want the right person. I just want hot sex with strangers. Is that so bad?
Last night presented a tough problem but, in the end, I was able to bed a lovely woman. (At some cost to me, but more about that later.) It didn't look promising at first, but I like to think that I've developed a sixth sense when it comes to knowing that a women has an itch to get it on with another woman, for the first time. I felt that the cute brunette at the corner table with her husband was ready to come out, even if she didn't know that herself. What made it tough for me was that she was with her husband. She was so attractive that I decided to stalk her, despite her hubby's presence.
For fifteen minutes I'd had my sights set on them. How did I know that they were married? Trust me; I know these things from experience. I didn't have to see the wedding rings to know that they were married. He'd been swilling down booze and showed it. His lovely wife looked bored. She was my type of prey: a classy woman with an attractive face and body. I got wet, just thinking about her white thighs opening to my kisses ... Better stop dreaming and focus on the hunt.
The first tactic was to find an empty table close to where they were drinking. You have to move close to the quarry without alarming her at first. Then I would lean over and ask, ever so politely, if they knew Seattle. No matter what the hell they said in reply I was prepared to get a conversation going. For example, if they said that they knew Seattle, I could bullshit them about being a stranger in for a business weekend who needed advice on what to do in town, or something along those lines. The goal was to get them involved in a friendly conversation. Then I would steer the conversation mostly to the woman.
If they didn't know Seattle, I would say that I lived in town and volunteer to tell them about restaurants, concerts, clubs, whatever they were most interested in. It was very easy to explain why I was in the bar - maybe having a drink after seeing a friend off. With practice you can play off the other person's remarks and make up whatever must be said to get the quarry close to the mouth of my trap. I call that baiting the trap.
She said they were visitors, and wondered if I knew of any interesting activities. I didn't tell her the interesting activity I had in mind. Not time for that yet.
An experienced predator knows when to pursue the quarry, and when to give up the chase. I've learned over time when to continue a seduction, or quit and look elsewhere. The world is full of very attractive women who can satisfy me. No point in wasting time on a low-probability event. Shit, that's how I talk at work. I'm a data analyst at a high-tech firm. There are many juicy looking gals at work - but it would be plain stupid to go after them. So, I hunt at places like SEATAC.
So far it looked promising - the husband was deep into his cups and seemed to have no idea of my interest in his wife, or anything else that was going on in the bar. A real slob. I thought that his wife might be interested when I put my hand on hers as we talked, and then on her knee, getting a very friendly smile from her. So far, so good. Then I got a little bolder. I leaned close, as if trying to speak clearly in the noisy bar. My hand naturally moved up under her skirt as I leaned in her direction. I could tell from the sudden movement of her eyes that she knew what I wanted. Now it's a critical moment for the hunter: will my prey try to escape, or will she go willingly into my trap?
The trap is not physical but psychological. She'll be trapped into doing what I want because of her own wants and needs.
She didn't recoil from my touch. My lovely sparkled for me. Yes, we'll be going up to their room at the Best Western next door, if her asshole husband doesn't get wise and cause a problem. Problem solved: she thought my suggestion that we have a drink in the room was a good idea. The oaf agreed that it might be a good idea. Maybe he thought he could get into my pants! The dummy had no clue as to what was happening.
After we entered the room, the husband called Room Service and asked for drinks to be delivered. In the meantime, I'm talking to his wife at very close range, sitting on the couch with her. I'm getting excited now with the kill coming ever closer. But I have to be careful; it's bad news to get so close to what I want and then screw things up. That's a big investment of time thrown out! I figure she's a 'virgin'(the kind I love to seduce); a neophyte is likely to bolt. Better not rush things.
I was shocked when she opened a small bag and took out some objects. At first it didn't register; they were sex toys! She had a dildo, some cuffs, and a flogger. Then I noticed that her husband, who looked quite sober now, had unpacked a video camera, and was setting it up. He had a shit-eating grin on his face. The guy bowed to me when he saw that I was looking his way.
"My dear," she said, "I'm pleased that you picked me out from the crowd in that bar so that you could have fun with me. You're quite attractive and I'd love to make love to your pussy - right after I show you how delightful submission can be."
I was completely confused and had no idea what to say in response.
"Answer me, you little slut," she said, holding the flogger and stroking it. That was ominous as hell. I figured I'd better say something. In the meantime, that grinning idiot of a husband was taping the action.
"I'm not a slut," I said. "What the hell is going on here?"
"It's quite simple," she said. "It's easy to catch a predator if you use the right kind of bait. I'm the bait, and now we've caught you. Hunting predators, that's our game.
Let me assure you, after tonight you'll ask us to give you the pleasure that comes from painful submission. You'll not just ask. You'll beg to be punished. By the way, we live in Tacoma and we'll have you over to our little home dungeon for some sessions."
"I don't..."
"You will. My name is Jeanne, and that is Arnold recording this entire session. You will call me 'Mistress or 'Mistress Jeanne' until I say that our little scene is over."
"Please let me go."
"We'll do that, if you wish. But consider that I won't damage you in any way that will leave permanent marks. Moreover, I'll give you what is called a 'safeword' which you can use whenever things get too intense for you. Your safeword is 'red'. In return I'll show you a world of pleasure and excitement that you won't get any other way. Think about that and tell me if you want me to proceed. As an added incentive, I occasionally like to switch. That means you can treat me as your submissive, after you've learned the basics."
I hesitated, recalling what I've read about the world of domination and submission. It did excite me. I knew there were S&M clubs around but hadn't gotten up enough nerve to try them. Maybe this was my chance to explore that part of me.
She spoke again, to convince me. "After a session of domination and submission, we'll make love while Arnold records us." She embraced me and kissed me directly on the lips. "I want to lick every fold of your pussy, and have you do the same to me. I can taste your clit already."
I almost came at the thought of her tongue making slow circles on my nub.
"Your answer?," she asked while stroking my hair.
"Yes, I'll do it."
"Yes, what? You must call me 'Mistress', my lovely sub."
"Good, we start now. Kneel down, with your ass in the air. Pull your panties down. Arnold, focus on her face."
It looked like a long night ahead.
"Predator" © July 2002 by Lesly Sloan. All rights reserved. Not to be reproduced, copied, distributed, published, quoted or used in any form for commercial gain without the express written permission of the author.
Lesly Sloan came to New York City over fifteen years ago from
Ohio. She enjoys walks in Central Park with her husband, the
variety of restaurants in NYC, and the variety of people
from all over the world who inhabit NYC. She writes software
for a living and erotica for pleasure. Having recently discovered
erotica, she has become an enthusiastic practitioner of that
art, as time permits.
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