Hunting

The dress clung tightly to her frame, shimmering slightly under the club’s many strobe lights; it was almost skin tight to show off her figure, with a plunging neckline and a hem that stopped abruptly mid-thigh, leaving little to the imagination. The many men circling her like predators could see, even in the dim gloom, that there were no lines on that dress. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. Just a thin strip of fabric between them and their prey.

She smirked a little as she danced, slowly catching sight of her many distant admirers. A wink here, a glance there, a coy smile, and she ensnared dozens of them. They all thought they were hunting her, but she knew different. She was hunting them, using them. She had the control here. She was both the bait and the hunter, prowling for her victims without even moving. And she knew from experience that they would come to her, ready and willing.

Her body moved easily to the music, swaying seductively to the electronic beat. She hated clubbing, if she was truly honest with herself, but it was so easy to find willing men here. She looked down at the floor, pushing those thoughts aside. Her hands slid down her sides slowly, and as they started to move along her smooth, creamy thighs, she bent her knees and dropped down, her ass getting close to the floor.

Even as she straightened up, she could feel him moving close. Her ass ground against his pants, and she smirked again as she felt the bulge there, pressing to her. Eager, this one, she thought, reaching her left hand behind her, over her shoulder, to stroke his cheek. His hands were on her sides immediately, holding her close to him. Their bodies were pressing to one another, only their clothes separating them now, grinding together under the fitful flashes of light and the steady pounding of music through distant speakers.

It didn’t take long before her hand had drifted down to his crotch, and started to squeeze him through his pants. His own hands were moving, one to the hem of her skirt and the other to her cleavage. She grinned, and spun gracefully to face him. Here eyes took stock of him quickly. Tall, broad shouldered, muscled, unshaven, much taller than her petite frame, very dark hair, cropped short. His smile was as lecherous as she expected, but she paid little attention to it.

She stepped closer to him, raising one leg to curl around his, and placing her hands on his shoulders. His hand cupped her ass and lifted her slightly, letting her bring her soft lips, painted blood-red, to his ear. One word, spoken softly, but still puncturing the excessive noise of the music and the clubgoers.

“Outside”. With that single word, more a command than a suggestion, she stepped away, grabbing his hand and pulled him through the crowds. She walked with confidence, and it was clear to him that she knew where she was going. She had done this before. Her lithe, petite body moved through the crowds without a bump, her blonde hair bouncing as she dragged him through a fire-exit.

The air in the alley was cold and dry, and he felt it on his face for a second, before she was there, pushing him against the wall, jumping into his arms, lips locking into a passionate french kiss. Then, just as quickly as she had jumped on him, she hopped off him, and stepped back. Her stilettos clattered loudly on the stones in the alley, her dark eyes flickering up and down his body. He thought he could see red flashes, but he wasn’t sure.

“Well, look what I caught” she giggled, dropping to her knees and pulling out his cock. Her free hand moved to her dress, pushing under the hem. In the light of the alleyway, he noticed a small tattoo on her inner thigh, hidden by the dress. A small tattoo of a female preying mantis...