The pretty butch pushed me back against the wall behind the bar and, hands on my shoulders, pressed her crotch hard against mine. I’d noticed the clearly non-biological bulge in her leather cut offs when I’d first caught sight of her indoors, it had been hard not to but now I could feel it. It had been a mistake, of course, to take a night off going to the bar but, to be fair, my bodyguarding duties were not required for a while since the businesswoman who employed me, the CEO of one of the country’s largest pharmaceutical companies, was safely abroad with a friend from her University days and another bodyguard. She had been gone for two weeks and wasn’t due back for another. It had been a while since I’d had the pleasure and, well, a girl has needs. A woman, I should say. I’m forty five after all. I’d decided to go out dressed so as not to be too obvious. I’d worn a neat, fairly short pleated, check skirt in a mix of browns with a white silk camisole and a brown leather waistcoat; stockings, naturally and my brown knee boots with three inch heels that were good for the shape of my calves. The waistcoat covered my braless nipples but could, if I wanted, be moved to reveal them. The butch was about 5’8” and aside from the cutoffs, she was wearing nice little ankle boots and a pretty cute denim shirt with short sleeves. The muscles on her forearms were firm with unusually delicate tattoos and her skin quite dark. Black eyes and short, soft black hair softened her masculine appearance. At the bar I had stood next to her and for some inexplicable reason the waistcoat had moved aside to let her see my rather obvious nipples. It didn’t take more than a few minutes for her to proposition me and, when I accepted, lead me out into the alley. She kissed me, her hand running over my nipples. Her free hand went under my skirt and I felt her nails tracing around the hem of my panties. She kept the hand up my skirt but the one on my tit moved down as she kissed me deeper, her tongue deep in my mouth. I felt her hand moving lower down and I assumed, hopefully, she was releasing her bulge to complete the deal but then I felt something come between us. I looked down to see the tip elvankent escort of a nasty looking four-inch blade resting between my tits, pointing up towards my chin. ‘Give me your bag, sweets.’ ‘Oh dear, this is such a mistake.’ ‘We all make them, honey.’ Her grin was cruel and feral. ‘Now give me your fucking bag or I’ll mark you.’ It didn’t last long. Training, long hard hours of it, kicks in almost automatically and the toughest amateur is no match for a professional. She was lying at my feet now, stunned and I had the blade secured in my handbag. I knew she’d brought me somewhere where the CCTV would not see us because it made sense and anyway I had checked the place out before I went in. I hadn’t let my need remove all my natural caution. So, no rush then. I could hear her rasping breath where the second blow had caught her neck. The first had been a surprise for her. My hand had gone to her wrist, the one holding the knife, as if to help her stab me but I had gripped and twisted as my instructor had taught me so many moons before and she’d yelped, a cry cut short by the elbow to the throat. I hefted her to her feet. ‘No hard feelings, sweets, but you just picked the wrong dyke to roll.’ Her breath came easier and she was torn between holding her bruised neck or her wrist. “You’ll feel better soon. You do this often?’ ‘Fuck you.’ ‘I had rather thought, hoped in fact, that that was the general idea. Don’t come back inside, babe, I want some fun. Get lost.’ I saw something in her eyes and suspected she might be about to try turn the tables and shout ‘rape’ so I gripped her arm hard enough for her to feel my strength. ‘See this button?’ I touched a button on the waistcoat. “It’s a camera. Sends a pic to my phone every five seconds. Clever huh?’ It was also true. In my job you need to watch your back. ‘So think yourself lucky and fuck off.’ I saw in her eyes that there was a chance she’d have another go but something, my eyes probably, dissuaded her. I watched her limp down the alley. I’d given her knee a kick just for good measure. You can’t be too careful in my game. Fuck it, I thought. I come out to get laid and ended up emek escort bayan laying out the best-looking butch in the place. Oh well, the night was young and there were two more bars for me to try. Butch is not my normal choice but I have a maxim. If you’re out for a quickie a butch is a cert. Lipstick lesbians like me take time. We are no less eager than the butch girls but we like to be wooed. I didn’t have the time or inclination. That night I wanted pussy. Why? Well, as I said it had been a while. Between ourselves (and my boss in fact because he knew) my client liked a woman too. In fact she liked a woman a lot. This was not the reason I’d been assigned but it had helped. She’d decided about a week into our relationship she’d feel safer with me in bed beside her now and then and that worked for me too. It wasn’t a regular thing but just occasionally we fucked. Damn but I’d fancied the butch. She was one of those whose eyes told you fun was at hand. Her tight leather pants with the ill-concealed bulge told the same story but less subtly. That bulge also indicated the nature of the fun and it was just the sort of fun I wanted. I decided not to go back into the bar I’d just left so I made my way down the alley, cautious in case she’d had second thoughts, and out into the main drag. There was no sign of her. I grabbed a cab, gave the driver the name of my next attempt and sat back and smiled. It’s good to test the skills sometimes. The next bar was a wash out. It was a University night out for a group of baby dykes and to be frank that wasn’t my idea of fun at all. More likely get puked on than fucked. When all else fails, go to Ernie’s. Ernie, more properly Ernestine Drummond but nobody calls her that, runs an understanding little bar for dykes down near the racecourse. Understanding because she is one of us. She’s masculine (being kind to her) and nonetheless lovely for it. She always wears a tuxedo despite the fact the bar is less than classy. ‘Standards, Carla darling, standards.’ She once invited me up to her flat above the bar and pounced. Can’t say I minded. Might not have minded that night either but it was not to be. Escort eryaman I went straight to the bar and found Ernie. I leaned across the bar and took her hands in mine. ‘Hi, Ern. Any chance of a gin with some gin in it?’ She grinned. ‘I’ll give you some of my own special reserve but for fuck’s sake don’t let the punters know. I’ll go bust.’ Seconds later I was sipping a g and t with real gin in it and chatting to Ernie. I think she got the drift that I was not looking for the slow seduction of the girl of my dreams. ‘Check out the blonde serving at the far end of the bar.’ I looked, following her gaze. ‘Holy shit, Ern. Where do you find them?’ Six feet of Eastern European blonde; svelte, hair to her arse and legs to her armpits; she almost had clothes on and her tits were something to behold. ‘This particular model I found in Bulgaria. She was cleaning rooms in my hotel in Sofia and I offered her a “live-in position” here in the UK. No strings as long as she fucked on demand and didn’t steal from the till. So far she has observed both rules.’ ‘So I guess you’re not going to repeat your indecent assault on me then?’ ‘I haven’t got the strength, Carla, darling. Wajena, and I promise that really is her name, has drained this old dyke of all her energy. It’s all I can do to get upstairs.’ ‘Wajena?’ She’d pronounced the ‘w’ as a ‘v’. ‘I kid you not. Hang on here, babes. Ernie has a few errands to run. I’ll tell Waj to make sure you get you the real gin if you need more.’ She smirked as she wandered off. I watched the blonde from my side of the bar and wondered at Ernie’s pulling power. Truth to tell Ernie was no beauty but, give her her due, she was no slouch in the sack. Wajena looked as though she might be a back-breaker though. When she poured me another drink she turned on the full beams and I felt like a rabbit caught in them. Nice girl. I noticed her eyes turn to someone who had approached the bar beside me and I turned to see who it was. I’m 5’ 5” and I had to look up at my new neighbour. She was about 6’ and slender, short black hair, cut like a cap around an elfin face with dark eyes. About my sort of age, I guessed. I did the usual survey and noted a denim jacket over a button down shirt and, lower, blue trousers tucked into black leather, knee length boots with low heels. A large hint of the butch but softened, if you get my drift? Her eyes were, gratifyingly, looking at me and not the barmaid. She may have been looking at me but she spoke to Wajena.