The bar was crowded, smokey, pulsing with bass, and full of a myriad of smells that didn't exactly blend well. It was exactly as he loved it. This night would be his break from work. He planned to cast aside the constraints of adulthood and fully embrace his inner teenager. The pint in his hands would be a good place to start-- and it was nearly empty. He'd made very quick work of it, as had been his plan. Taking another long pull, he stalked his way around a pool table to lean against it and leer at a woman posed in the act of shooting a difficult shot. Her jeans rode low on her curved hips and he openly stared at her ass.<br/><br/>"Mmmm..." he laughed, "See, an ass like that has got to be admired."<br/><br/>She rose, of course, and gave him an infuriated look. The shot had failed due to his distraction, and she didn't exactly appreciate the comment either. Perhaps it was the booze, or maybe he was extremely skilled. Somehow, within only a minute or two of talking to her, he had her giggling. Half an hour later, she was following him out of the bar into the parking lot.<br/><br/>He walked her to his truck, his arm sliding around her body to cup a hand on her side. When they reached the car, she started to feel a little uncertain, but he wasn't hearing it. He soothed her fears with smoothe lines and promises and she fed into his lines. Pressing her back against the passenger door of his truck, he leaned in and, without warning, pressed a kiss to her lips. His hands wandered up her front to cup over the soft mounds that had been threatening to split the buttons of her top all night. She struggled to push his hands away, but couldn't get the leverage she needed against his wandering hands.<br/><br/>In the end, her struggles were in vain. He was far too skilled with women to let them out smart him. He never even had to leave the parking lot. When he left her there, she was confused, extremely sated, and not sure that she'd wanted it to happen. He drove home feeling self-satisfied, sure of himself, and cocky.