Slowly I reached over and put my hand on his leg. He looked down, as I moved it up and ran my finger up his hard c**k. I looked into his eyes and saw his soul. He wanted me.
He drank another shot and followed it with a swallow of beer.
“How ‘bout it, fella. Think you can handle me?”
“I’d like to try.”
I asked the guy behind the bar for a pen. On a napkin I wrote a little note. “636-5274 – call me.” Under the number I drew a small whip with nine little tails. I left thirty dollars on the bar and walked out.
As quickly as possible I got into my car and drove away. I saw him in my rearview mirror just outside the barroom door, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t want to. I had placed the bait, and I knew that eventually he would step into my trap. It was only a matter of time. Besides I didn’t
