Fire & Ice: A Ménage Fantasy

by Chance Carter

  She looked back at Paul and started telling him what she wanted. My eyes grew wide as she kept ordering more and more food. Her order was never ending! I think she actually ordered one of everything on the menu!

  She looked at me again as she finished her order and I got the impression Paul was going to try and set her up with me. A feeling of anger rushed through. How dare Paul interfere in my personal life?

  “Jesus,” I said loudly across the bar. “Why don’t you just tell him what you’re not ordering. Would save you both a lot of time.”

  “Excuse me?” she said, and immediately I felt bad for being so nasty.

  It wasn’t her fault Paul had pissed me off. Hell, it wasn’t even Paul’s fault I was so touchy. It was me, I was the problem, and I knew it.

  “Ignore him,” Paul said to her, shooting me an exasperated look.

  I looked away.

  As she finished placing her order, I could feel her eyes coming back to me. I tried to act like I wasn’t paying attention, but I was. I wanted to see if she could eat even half the food she’d just ordered. If she even came close, I’d be impressed.

  I looked up at her.

  “Seriously, sweetheart. No way a little thing like you could eat all that.”

  She shot me dagger eyes and held my gaze as she slowly reopened the menu. She had attitude, I had to give her that much.

  She turned to Paul.

  “And for dessert I’ll have the apple crumble and a piece of the chocolate strawberry cheesecake”.

  She glanced at me triumphantly as she slammed the menu shut and handed it to Paul.

  I shrugged but I couldn’t help letting out a little laugh. This girl really had balls, for a chick at least.

  CHAPTER 7

  MEADOW

  “Oh, go ahead, laugh, moron. At least I’m not a drunk. You better drink up. You don’t want beer number eleven getting warm,” I shot back.

  I startled myself, but he pissed me off and I snapped.

  I couldn’t believe the nerve of him. What an asshole for judging me. What did he even care anyways? He should just stay down there and mind his own sad, drunken business.

  I took a sip from my beer and got even angrier when I noticed he kind of had a point. I did order a lot, without even noticing, at least not until Hottie McJerk-Off brought it to my attention. I knew I was hungry, but I wasn’t planning on ordering that much.

  My husband Matt was always so quick to call me ‘fat’ or ‘porky’ whenever I’d order anything other than salad. It’s no wonder it stung so quick and deep when that jerk made his comment. There I was thinking I could finally order whatever I wanted without judgement, but clearly not. Turns out all men are judgmental assholes, even the sexy surfer ones.

  The three appetizers I ordered came out and I started to shovel them in my mouth. My emotional eating habits had taken over in full force.

  My drinking comment clearly struck a nerve with that guy because he was back on his phone and leaving me alone. It wasn’t like me to be mean, but he started it and I was glad to be the one who finished it. I was done letting men boss me around.

  If a woman wanted to order three appetizers, why couldn’t she? Men can order whatever the hell they like.

  I scooped spinach and artichoke dip onto a chip and closed my eyes, enjoying the flavor. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had it. It was delicious. Before I was done chewing, I reached for a deep fried pickle. It was like each mouthful covered up the negative feelings left over from Matt.

  As I polished off the dip, the bartender came around the corner from the kitchen with my fried chicken entree. My face lit up like a kid in a candy store. I felt like a bottomless pit. He placed the food in front of me.

  “Looks great. Could I also get another beer?” I said.

  He looked at me in disbelief, surprised I was actually making a serious dent on all this food and still had room for another beer. As he stepped away, I shouted to get his attention.

  “Actually, make it two beers,” I said with my mouth full of chicken. “One for the judgmental asshole at the end of the bar. He clearly could use it.”

  I had no idea why I said that, especially since he was leaving me alone. I hated the guy for suggesting I was a fat pig, but for some reason I didn’t want to stop getting his attention. Call me crazy, I’ll gladly take attention from a hot guy, even if he’s insulting me!

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” the bartender said, clearly not impressed with me. I was being rude, but it was that guy who started it.

  For some reason, I kept going.

  “Why not? It’s not like he wasn’t about to order one anyway. I want to buy him beer number twelve.”

  “Fine,” the bartender said, leaning in closer, “but I won’t tell him what you said. I know he was rude, but you don’t have to stoop to his level. You have no idea what people have been through.”

  What the hell did that mean? Been through? He had no idea what I’d been through either.

  It was like he lost his charm and sense of humor in a matter of seconds. I watched as he poured the beer for the guy and I quickly fixed my hair and casually adjusted my breasts to make sure they looked their perkiest.

  “Now you’re bringing me beer number twelve before I even ask for it?”

  I couldn’t hear what the bartender said back, but I saw him point to me. I sat up straight and smiled, ready for the babe to look up. It was a rush, never in my life had I bought a man a drink. This guy was being a jerk, but there was something about him. Maybe he was just having a bad day. I didn’t know what it was, but he was sexy as hell, and intriguing, and I didn’t want him to stop paying attention to me.

  He looked at the beer and then at me. My stomach got tense and my nervous smile grew. There was an empty seat next to me and I secretly hoped he would come over to thank me for the beer and have a seat so we could talk. I tucked my hair behind my ear and winked at him.

  Oh God. A wink? Who winks?

  I got flustered and quickly realized I had no game. I saw him raise a curious eyebrow at me, but then he just looked back at his phone.

  What was so interesting on that phone? A woman just bought him a beer and he doesn’t so much as flinch? I know I’m new to the scene but surely things haven’t changed that much. When I was single, if a girl made a move, a guy was supposed to be a gentleman and at least acknowledge it.

  I took a mouth full of fried chicken and washed it down with a huge gulp of beer.

  I was mortified.

  He just flat out ignored my gesture.

  I was wrong about him, there wasn’t more to him. He really was just a drunk asshole sitting alone in a bar. The only guy in the place who refused to join in the fun.

  I shoveled mouthful after mouthful of food in, hardly taking a moment to breath. I couldn’t even look at him anymore. I just wanted to finish my food and get the hell out of there.

  As I finished the last few bites, I saw the bartender coming towards me with the apple crumble and cheesecake I ordered. After the day I was having, I was so ready for it.

  And then I noticed that I wasn’t even close to feeling full. I’d eaten enough for three people and was still going. This was the kind of behavior I’d had therapy for as a teenager. I’d gone through a difficult couple of years after my parents divorced and put on a hundred pounds in six months. I got it under control, but the way I was eating tonight reminded me of what an emotionally traumatizing day I was having.

  All I wanted was to coat it in sugar and get to bed so it could officially be over.

  CHAPTER 8

  KANE

  I grabbed the beer that crazy chick sent over, glanced her way for a split second, then put my head back, downed the whole thing in a single gulp, and slammed the empty on the bar. Paul watched the whole time.

  “See what I mean?” he said. “Women come on to you, even when you’re a complete asshole.”

  He was wiping down the bar, getting ready to finish up for the
night. He took my empty and looked me in the eye.

  “I caught that girl checking me out when she got here, but as soon as she laid eyes on you, it was like I didn’t exist anymore.”

  “Whatever dude, she’s all yours. I’m not interested.”

  “I know you’re not interested. That’s the freaking problem. You’re not interested in any women since you lost Carolyn. Well anyone but Steph, but we all know you’re not really interested in her. You just string that poor girl along so that she’ll be there when you’re feeling horny.”

  “Leave Steph out of this. She knows what it is between us and she’s fine with it.”

  Paul was always sticking up for Steph. Probably because he dated her years ago.

  I stood up from my seat.

  “I’m going to the bathroom. Get me another beer for when I get back … and a shot of whisky.”

  I didn’t look back to see if he heard me. I knew he did and I didn’t want to give him the chance to say no.

  The men’s room was on the other side of the bar. As I passed the chick from out of town, I stole a glance in her direction. She didn’t notice me, she was basically face down in apple crumble, but I sure as hell noticed her. Her shirt was slightly lifted, exposing a small peak of the smooth, creamy white skin of her lower back. I felt an instant rush of blood to my dick. My cock stiffened and a throb of desire pulsed through it.

  Suddenly I was very interested.

  My eyes ran over every inch of her delicious body. I couldn’t resist. I gazed down along her curves and landed on her perfectly round ass.

  Fuck.

  My dick jumped from a semi to a full blown hard-on.

  I slowed as I passed, picturing myself grabbing her from behind, forcing her against the bar, bending her over, and sliding my rock hard cock deep inside her.

  I wanted to show her what she did to me. I wanted her to feel it.

  I wanted to hold her down by the back of her neck, even if she struggled, and slide my cock between the cheeks of her ass, making sure she could tell just how big and hard I was for her.

  I gave my head a shake, clearing my sex crazed mind. My lust caught me off guard. It had been a long time since I’d felt completely entranced by a woman like that.

  I realized I was standing in the middle of the brewery with a raging boner pressing against my jeans, so I quickly made my way to the men’s room before anyone noticed.

  Thankfully, it was a single use washroom. I locked the door behind me to give myself a few minutes to cool off. I splashed cold water on my face and looked in the mirror.

  The man staring back at me was a mess. I was clearly drunk, hammered even. There was a time when I would have shook my head in disgust at a guy like this.

  But one thing I knew for sure. The fantasy I’d just had about the woman at the bar wasn’t from the booze. I drank every night and never felt this way. I pulled my cock out of my pants and it was still rock hard.

  I was attracted to that woman in a way I hadn’t felt in a very long time. Despite my resistance, despite every part of my mind fighting it, my cock wanted to be deep inside of her.

  I splashed more cold water on my face.

  Fuck this.

  The last thing I needed was to get messed up with a broad. No good could come of it. Plus, I knew Steph was just waiting for me to give her the word. I leaned against the wall to text her, my hard cock still sticking out of my pants like a weapon.

  Me: I’ve got one more drink coming. Meet me at my place in thirty minutes. Wear that backless top you have.

  Steph: K :)

  Now that I knew Steph was waiting, it would make me quickly finish my beer and avoid getting mixed up in any trouble I didn’t want. And by trouble, I meant that woman.

  I finished up in the washroom, gave my face one more splash, and looked in the mirror. I hated what I saw. I hated the man I’d become. A mean, useless drunk.

  Fuck, that girl at the bar at least had a right to know just what an asshole she’d been flirting with all night. She deserved better than a prick like me and I knew it.

  I left the washroom and stepped around the corner. The first thing I saw was that perfect, round ass. I felt myself instantly get hard again and knew I had to shut it down. I walked over to a table and grabbed one of the heavy chairs, dragging it over to where she was sitting at the bar.

  “Look lady, if you’re going to eat that much, the least you could do is make sure you’re sitting on a load bearing chair.”

  I slammed the chair down next to her bar stool and then stumbled backwards, the alcohol finally getting the best of me. I crashed into the table behind me where four dudes were sitting. Beer mugs fell everywhere, smashing glass across the room.

  The whole bar went silent, in a state of shock. Everyone was looking at me. They’d all heard what I said to the girl. Now they knew it if they didn’t already.

  I was an asshole who didn’t deserve to live.

  I could feel the tension grow as everyone waited to see how she’d react.

  The look on Paul’s face filled me with shame. He’d been a friend to me for a long time, but surely this was the last straw. Who could be friends with a man who’d insulted an innocent girl at a bar like this?

  And the girl, when I saw her face, I felt like throwing up. When had I become this way? Where had I learned to be so cruel?

  I knew the answer.

  I wanted a fight. I wanted this girl to throw her glass at me. I could tell she was a feisty one. Maybe she’d finally be the one to teach me a lesson. Smash a glass in my face and put me in hospital. That’s what I deserved.

  She stood up, and for a second I thought she was going to let me have but. But then, instead of doing anything, instead of screaming or yelling or clawing at me with her nails, she just burst into tears.

  I did not see that coming.

  I felt like dying.

  She tried to speak but was crying so hard she couldn’t get the words out. Fuck. I’d wanted a fight, not this. Of all possible outcomes, this one never crossed my drunken mind.

  Then, finally, she managed to string together a sentence.

  She spoke softly, looking right into my dead eyes.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  I didn’t know what to say back. She was right.

  From across the bar, Paul was walking toward me. The guys whose table I’d knocked over were gathering around me too. This was it, the fight I’d wanted.

  I swung at one of the guys but he dodged my fist easily. Another guy grabbed me from behind and held me. The first one landed a fist on my face and then another guy followed it up with a powerful punch to my gut. I felt dizzy, struggling against the grip of the guy holding me. I swung my arms uselessly, trying to grab the guy’s head as his friends proceeded to punch the shit out of me, pounding my stomach, chest and face with punch after punch.

  I tasted blood in my mouth and relished it.

  “That’s enough,” Paul yelled, grabbing the guys and holding them back.

  The guy who’d been holding me let me go and I slumped to the ground. From my knees I looked around at the bar, shame and disgust filling every ounce of my being.

  This was what I’d become. A drunken, asshole brawler without a friend in the world.

  “Paul,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Shut up, Kane. Get the fuck out of here.”

  “Paul,” I stammered again like the idiot I was.

  “You’ve finally overstayed your welcome, asshole.”

  The girl I’d insulted, the poor girl who’d just picked the wrong night to walk into this bar, was looking at me with a mixture of pity and disgust. I wanted to say something to her. I wanted to explain why I was such an undeniable bastard, but I couldn’t talk. There was too much blood in my mouth.

  She grabbed her purse and left a hundred dollar bill on the bar.

  Paul apologized to her for what happened and said her meal was on the house but she refused to take it.

  I tried to s
tand up but lost my balance again and knocked over another chair.

  “You,” she said, turning to me, “you think you’re such hot shit, well you’re not. You’re just a sad, lonely, mean drunk. I don’t know what happened to you, but it’s made you miserable and you take it out on people you don’t even know.”

  I watched her walk toward the exit.

  She zipped up her purse and stormed away towards the exit.

  “Well fuck you, fatty,” I yelled after her.

  That time it was Paul himself who landed the punch. Everything went blank for a second and then I was lying on the floor on my back, staring up at the ceiling. I tried to get up but one of the guys standing next to me put his foot on my chest.

  “Stay down, asshole.”

  I didn’t care. I didn’t care if they kicked the shit out of me and left me for dead. I wanted to be dead. I turned my head to the side and saw that the girl was coming back from the door. I thought she was going to yell at me some more. Everything she said about me was true, that’s why it cut so deep. As she approached I braced myself for whatever she’d say next but she stepped right over me.

  She walked to the bar with grim determination on her face, grabbed the plate of untouched cheesecake, turned and made her way back toward the exit.

  All at once, everyone in the bar cheered for her. They saw what I’d seen. This girl had guts. She wasn’t about to take anyone’s crap. I’d been right after all.

  After the cheering died down, everyone began to leave. The guys who’d beaten me up left. Before long it was just me and Paul. I got up and slumped into a chair. Paul wiped down the bar and when he was done he called over to me. I knew what he was going to say but the fact he didn’t look at me as he said it, didn’t make eye contact, hurt worse than the words.

  “That’s it. You’re done, Kane. You don’t come into my bar and speak to a woman that way.”

  “Well, fuck this place,” I said, reaching into my pocket for my wallet. I pulled out enough cash to cover my tab and threw it at him. The bills landed on the floor in front of me and I shrugged. It wasn’t my problem.