Ok. It's me again, Amy. I don't know how this happened. I've spent my whole adult life being the one in control. The men who tried to make time with me were always either entitled assholes or worthless supplicants begging for my attention. And that's why I've gone after hetero women and given them a proper lovemaking experience. Last time I wrote about one of those nights. What's happened now... well, it has me questioning everything.

I was in the same watering hole on one of my missions when I heard a man's voice behind me.

“I’ve been watching you for a while now. You’re very good at it.”

I turned and there he was. He looked like the kind of man who had never known an awkward moment in his life. Tall, lean, and impeccably dressed. His dark hair was neatly combed, with just enough of a wave to hint that it wasn't quite under control. He had an easy smile that might have been a smirk if it had tried harder.

I didn't see that right away, though. My first reaction was annoyance. "Excuse me?"

“You pick women who are already waiting on someone. You wait until they’re disappointed or bored, then you move in. You’re patient. Most men aren’t.”

I studied him for a moment. He didn’t look smug. Just… observant. Where is this going?

“What’s it to you? Can’t stand the competition?”

His smile broadened. "No. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. I just thought I’d compliment your game.” He lifted his glass slightly in a small, ironic toast. “Call it professional courtesy.”

I was caught off guard. Every other man who's tried to pick me up in this bar has been easy to brush off, and they all got defensive or whatnot. But this guy knew I was going after women... and is still here? My curiosity got the better of me.

“And what exactly do you think my game is?”

He shrugged. “Like I said, you watch. You wait. You pick the ones who are already disappointed in their evening. Then you step in and give them something better than whatever they were hoping for when they walked in.” He paused, then added, almost mildly, “You’re very good at it.”

I blanched.

“How do you know so much about me? I don’t remember seeing you in here.”

He gave a small, easy shrug.

“Of course not. You’re single-minded. You haven’t noticed me because you’re not looking.”

Fuck. He's right. Of course he wasn't on my radar.

I was a little annoyed now. I didn't notice him because he was background noise. But he noticed me. What the fuck is his game?

I could have told him to buzz off. I should have, but didn't, and I can't tell you even now why I didn't.

“You seem very sure of yourself."

“I’m observant,” he replied, meeting my eyes without any of the usual posturing. “And you’re interesting. Most people in here are just… performing. You’re actually playing a game. That’s rarer than you’d think.”

I studied him for another moment, then gave him a small, skeptical smile.

“Okay. If you’re as observant as you claim, then you know you’re not my type. So what exactly do you hope to get out of this?”

He didn’t look offended. If anything, the question seemed to amuse him.

“‘Get?’” he repeated, like the word itself was mildly ridiculous. “I’m not trying anything.”

Bullshit, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud.

He continued, his tone easy. “I just wanted to meet the woman behind the familiar face. You’re in here a lot. You always look like you’re on a mission. I got curious.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Curious.”

“That’s all,” he said, and took another sip of his drink. “At least for now.”

I wanted to say something more, but I was starting to notice... a faint, unexpected warmth low in my belly, followed by a subtle, insistent little throb between my legs. It caught me off guard for a moment. I shifted my weight slightly, and told my brain to ignore it.

He didn’t seem to notice. He simply turned and caught the attention of a passing waiter.

“Another round, please. Same as before.”

His casualness only seemed to make the sensation more noticeable. I pressed my thighs together for a second, then forced my attention back to him.

The drinks arrived. He handed the waiter a crisp bill without looking at him and raised his glass.

“To us,” he said. “The hunters. May the prey be plentiful.”

I smirked despite myself and touched my glass to his.

He set his glass down and simply looked at me, Not staring, just… present. The silence stretched. I realized he wasn’t going to fill it. He was waiting for me.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I was at a loss for words.

After a moment, he spoke quietly.

“You don’t have to perform for me.”

I don't know what I expected, but whatever it was, it wasn't that.

He reached across the table, but he didn’t grab my hand. He simply rested his fingers near mine, like an invitation. My face felt warm. I could feel my heart beat a little faster and I marveled at how it could be happening. I needed a moment.

“I’ll be right back,” I said and walked quickly to the ladies’ room.

I locked myself in a stall, leaned against the door, and closed my eyes.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

I'd been in this bar a hundred times. I'd had men try to pick me up before. Some had been pushy, some had been pathetic, and I'd easily shut them all down without a second thought. So why was this one getting under my skin?

He wasn’t even doing anything particularly impressive. He was just… watching me. Listening. Not performing. Not begging. Not assuming.

And that line - You don’t have to perform for me - had hit... something. I didn't know what.

He’s still just a man.

The thought was barely formed before I felt it again - that low, insistent throb between my legs, sharper now than it had been at the table. My body was reacting to him even while my mind tried to dismiss him. It didn't fit who I was. It wasn't what I wanted. But it was there and it wouldn't go away.

I pressed my thighs together for a second, annoyed with myself, then let out a slow, controlled breath.

I stepped out and looked at myself in the mirror. The woman who looked back at me had already decided what was going to happen.

When I came back to the table, he was standing beside it, waiting for me. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me - calm, steady, like he already knew what I'd decided.

I stopped a few feet away, my pride flaring for one last moment. I could have walked past him. I could have ended this nonsense. But I just could not move.

He stepped forward and took my hand - not gently, not tentatively, just with quiet certainty. Then he pulled me in, one arm sliding around my waist as his mouth found mine.

The kiss wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t hesitant either. It was the kind of kiss that assumed I was going to respond - and I did. My body reacted before my mind could catch up. I felt the same involuntary yielding I'd felt in other women when I had been the one doing the kissing.

When he finally drew back, he kept his hand at the small of my back.

“My place,” he said quietly. “Or we can call it a night. Your choice.”

He didn't wait for me to choose. He tucked my hand into the crook of his arm and started walking me towards the door. He didn't drag me... He just... assumed I would follow.

Outside he hailed a cab and held the door for me. He gave his address to the driver and as the cab pulled away from the curb he turned and kissed me again. This time, he brought his hand up to caress the side of my face as we kissed. There was no ignoring the insistent itch from deep inside my pussy, even if I wanted to. My hand stole down to his thigh and moved up towards his crotch. We both gasped when my hand landed on his hard cock, and in response he moved his hand down from my face to fondle my breast through my dress.

The cab came to a stop and he practically threw a wad of cash to the driver as we scrambled out. He took my hand and led me through the front door of his apartment building, down a short hallway and to his door.

Once we were inside, he went right back to kissing me while he reached behind me and found the zipper for my dress and slowly lowered it. He let the dress fall down to the floor, then unclipped my bra and let it fall down with the dress. He led me from there into his bedroom and once there, he put his hands on the side of my waist. To my surprise, he picked me up, and then set me down on the edge of his bed, then urged me to lay back and moved his head down to my crotch. I felt his fingers move the crotch of my panties aside and then felt his hot breath on my pussy.

He didn't rush. He kissed his way around my labia, then brushed his tongue lightly on them, teasing them. I spread my legs further apart and whimpered a little. His tongue started making little circles around the hood of my clit... never quite landing on it. Then he would make it run down between my lips and up. It felt amazing. If my brain weren't completely caught up in the pleasure, I would have been amazed that a man was doing this to me. I brought a hand down to the back of his head and tangled my fingers in his hair while my other hand mauled my breast. I felt him probe my cunt with two fingers while he kept licking me, running them along the front wall, and that was all it took. My entire being shattered, and I came harder than I could remember, every muscle I owned convulsing completely out of control and a primal cry the only sound I could make.

He kept going, carrying me through my orgasm and then withdrew to let me subside. When I came to my senses I saw he was just watching me. He stood up and undressed quickly. As he did, I got my first look at his physique. He was very muscular with just the right amount of chest hair to go along with his chiseled jawline. I looked down and his hard cock was sticking straight out. He took a couple steps towards me and took hold of the thong I still had on and dragged it down my legs and tossed it aside. Then he spread my thighs apart and ran his cock straight into my sex.

He didn't rush, but he wasn't slow either. He fucked me like he was doing it for my sake rather than his own. He found the very best angle that got me to gasp and moan and then just stuck with it, making his cock hit the same spots with every thrust. Every toy I ever played with paled in comparison to this. I had given so many women pleasure before, but couldn't imagine that any of them could have felt anything this good. I felt the pleasure welling up again inside me and part of me didn't want to believe it was possible. But as he saw it he sped up and when I came and my pussy started to flutter around his cock he gave voice to a manly groan, buried himself deeply inside me and let loose with his jets of hot cum.

He collapsed on top of me and we both breathed hard for a minute or two before he kissed me, then rolled off me, turned me on my side and spooned me, kissing the back of my neck. All the traces of the conflicted feelings I had before were gone. All I had in me was bliss. I gave voice to the one thought I could muster: "Thank you."

We fell asleep tangled together in his bed. I woke up to sunshine streaming through his bedroom window and to him snoring ever so quietly. As I untangled myself from his arms, I noticed to my great chagrin that I slept all night in the wet spot. Well, at least it was his bed, not mine.

I found my way to the bathroom and stepped into the shower. As I felt the warm water run over me, I had time to think about... everything.

First and foremost, that was the best sex I had ever had - no question about it. And not just the sex, in and of itself, but that he looked after me. The way he touched me like he actually gave a shit about my pleasure and not just busting a nut for himself. But more than that, this guy - Jesus, I didn't even know his name! - was as much of a gentleman as I had ever even read about, much less met.

God, if more of them were like this guy...

But... did there need to be any more of them? Could I... keep him? Did I even want to?

I turned off the water and just stood there dripping for a minute.

I wasn't sure what I wanted from him.

But I was pretty sure I wanted him to fuck me again.