Unamed as of yet

The establishment resided on the first floor of the claymore hotel in a middle class district of New York.  Nothing so extravagant that the bathrooms have a live in attendant, but nothing so base that there were drug dealers doing transactions in stalls either.  The bar was made out of polished mahogany; giving it a vibrant and almost stone black appearance. The walls displayed prominent newspaper clippings, containing various stories involving the hotel and the surrounding area.  The ambient lighting of the place was low giving it an almost romantic quality.
         The room was an acoustic sea of muted conversations and the sound of glass to table.  The low mummers interrupted only by periodic bursts of laughter from one of the various booths or tables.  A single waitress, casually dressed, worked from table to table-filling drinks and emptying ashtrays.  The bald bar tender had a classic nostalgic look, wearing a bow tie with vest.  Behind him was the ubiquitous bar mirror reflecting many full shelves of spirits and potent potables.
Jean sat in the ethereal haze of cigarette smoke; nursing the drink the bartender had just brought her.  She was not a tall woman standing at a modest five foot five, with a slender build.  Her hair was a dark brunette pulled back into a tight ponytail, flowed down to just above her shoulder blades.  In total contrast to the rest of her figure, her breasts were exceptionally voluptuous.  Her ensemble consisted of knee high boots, dark hose, a mini skirt and a tied off flannel shirt that exposed bear mid-drift. 
Her obvious endowments in conjunction with her outfit exuded an unseen magnetic force, attracting every drunken low life in the place.  It seemed every fifteen minutes another soul with alcohol indused courage walked up to her and expressed a foul worded proposition, to which she gave a retort of colorful expletives.
         Jean had just lit another cigarette when a tall man in an expensive looking business suite took up residence in the stool next to her.
         “I know why you’re here.” he started with a leer.
         A look of disbelief on jeans face quickly turned to one of abject amusement.  Taking a drag on her cigarette she spoke, expelling a cloud of smoke. “Do you now?”
         “Its obvious.”
         The man looked her up and down as an art critique evaluating a rare painting, paying close attention to details.  Some details seemed to take more time than others.  Upon the completion of his examination, his grin grew wider.
         “Those are very nice, I would like to shake the hand of the man who did the work.”
         Responding with only a mild chuckle she turned to regard the creature next her.
Looking him up and down with quick mock examination of her own, she turned back with a grin.  Taking her shot in a single swallow she finally responded.  “If you’ve been sitting here long you’ll know that I’m quite picky.”
         His grin turned to a full-fledged smile as he reached into his pocket producing three hundred dollar bills.  Arching her eyebrows and exposing all her teeth she reached for the hand holding the money.  Instead of taking the money, she took a firm hold of his two middle fingers.  With strength far beyond her exterior she twisted his hand around and pulling the captive fingers down eliciting a low scream.  Her expression never changing she slowly forced the surprised man to his knees and held him there.
         “If you don’t leave now, I’m going to break these off and add them to my collection.”
         Releasing the man she returned her gaze to her empty glass.  The man sat there dumbfounded, but fear quickly forced the “flight” action.  Quickly collecting the fallen bills, he moved as quickly to the exit.  The bar was now silent as all patrons held their eyes on the lone woman at the bar.  Sensing their gazes upon her, Jean brought her eyes to the mirror while keeping her head low.  The glair she transmitted through the medium inspired everyone back to there various activities.  Only the waitress dared approach her, and upon refilling the empty glass she spoke with enough volume to carry. “On the house.”  On queue more than a few repressed laughs erupted.  Jean took the glass and gave the waitress a nod, realizing she just cost the bar one of its best customers.
The drama behind her, jean became visibly agitated constantly juggling her attention between her watch, her drink, and the clock on the bar.  Another hour and a half past, allowing Jean to order three more drinks.  By this time the attendance of the room was limited to a few night owls, with Jean the sole occupancy of the bar.  Outside it was just beginning to rain forcing the few remaining clientele to take to their umbrellas and hurry to their homes.
“Last call in thirty minutes ma’am”
Jean knocked clear of her own thoughts, looked up with a warm smile.
“Ma’am?” She took the last sip of her drink and motioned for another “Am I looking that old already.”
The bar tender returned her smile, and poured her another drink. “Not at all.”
“Don’t let my looks fool you.” Her tone becoming serious.
The last comment causing a moment of confusion, brought a smirk and shrug to the bartenders demeanor.  He disappeared into the main office bringing out a small radio he brought to rest on the bar.  The radio purred a slow sad jazz as the barkeep proceeded to wipe the onyx counter top.
With a heavy sigh jean rose to leave, but quickly fell back when a tall figure took the seat next to her.  She turned her head to consider the dark individual.  His body was covered with a black distressed leather duster coupled with a pair of blue jeans torn at the knees.  His long white hair was tightly bound in a perfect ponytail that provided shocking contrast to his coat.  He stood at an imposing six foot three, with a muscular build easily seen thru his heavy clothing.  He was the total embodiment of why football players should leave the geeks be.
“Your late.”
The mammoth figure merely shrugged in reply.  Engaging in his own visual probing, he finally responded, “What’s with the shirt.”
Holding her hands up in a cupping motion to both sides of the more imposing aspects of her personage. “Its all that would fit!” Emphasizing the word “fit” with a slight rise.
Tilting his gaze lower “Nice skirt.”
“To expedite the evenings activities.” She said in a raised tone, her face taking on a look of annoyance.
The last comment’s hostility-bringing pause, he finally responded. “The boots?”
Her features instantly softened and with a mocking smile said “There fashionable.”
“Do you know how hard it is to convincingly lie to my husband about our…. Rendezvous”
“No more harder than it is for me to lie to my wife.”
Cocking her head slightly. “Have you ever considered telling her the truth?”
“She’ll probably be long dead before I consider telling her.”
The sound of broken glass echoed from behind the bar.  The couple turned to see a stunned bar tender, hurriedly cleaning up the broken glass he had been cleaning.
Still looking at the bartender jean said, “You already have a room I assume.”
“You assume correctly, shall we be off radiance.”
She smiled warmly at the sound of his old pet name for her, and quickly preceded him to the lobby.  They both stood waiting on the approaching elevator. Jean tapped the heel of her boot against the marble floor creating a loud tapping that echoed thru the hall.  While her massive partner stood solemnly, when he suddenly turned to her saying, “Have you ever thought about stopping?”
With a sharp look she shot back, “are you insane?”
“Sometimes I think I was insane to begin this.”
Turning back to the elevator, her soft facial features became thoughtful.  After a moment devoid of all sound, she broke the silence.
“I will continue to do this for as long as we can.”
With a low sigh he looked up to the floors counting down on the led display above the door.  After the tell tail ding of the elevators arrival, the doors opened.  The man quickly stepped aside, inviting the woman with a slight bow and arm gesture.  Without a word they rode the elevator up to the penthouse.
Walking out of the elevator, Jean looked around taking in the room’s luxurious ambiance.  Overcome by awe she felt of the wall as if to confirm it was real.  The walls were covered in red crushed velvet giving them an irregular reflective sheen.  The carpet was a softer shade of the same red.  The bright white of the baseboards and furniture created outlines of contrast that added to the vibrancy and warmth of the lavish suite.  The lights were dim, extenuating the raging fire burning in white tiled fireplace in the corner.
Making his way past the stunned woman the tall figure stepped behind the fully stocked wet bar.  Talking two glasses from the inverted collection hanging above the alabaster surface, he neatly poured some rum.  Turning towards Jean, who was now staring in the fire, he said, “Care for a drink.”
         As if woke from her favorite dream, her face took on an agitated anger.  Spinning on her heals she charged over to where the man stood.  Grabbing him by the collar she pulled his face to hers.  “Thanks to you liquor doesn’t touch me.” Then speaking with a slow angry tone. “Where is the bedroom!?”
         His figure hunched slightly as he motioned towards one of the doors on the adjacent wall.  Releasing him, she spun on her heals and rushed thru the indicated door way.  Regaining the previous stoutness in his posture, he put down the alcohol-laden containers and moved silently in the tread of his companion.
         The luxury of the bedroom was no shame to the extravagant theme set by the penthouse entrance.  The same crushed velvet and white baseboards lined the large room.  Against the wall opposite the door jean sat on the large circular bed, which accounted for nearly half the size of the room.
         With a slight grin, he moved towards the bed and put the drinks down on a side table designed the fit the bed design.  Oblivious to her partner, Jean squirmed on the bed trying to push pillows under her back so to get comfortable in a sitting position.  After what seemed like an eternity to her, she finally found a position she felt she could maintain for a few hours.  Tipping her head back and closing her eyes she began to slowly undo the knot at the bottom of her flannel.  Her watching companion slipped into bed besides her watching intently the spreading of the flannel.  His look took on a momentary look of disappointment, when what was reveled was a full nursing bra.  Her breathing becoming shallower, jean pulled the flap on the front of her nursing bra to reveal an engorged darkened nipple.  Mimicking the serene facial expressions of his partner, he slowly descended on her bosom and began to suckle.
         Jeans mind began to drift away from her, as her body began to succumb to the electric sensations his gentle menstruations were causing.  She always fought to hold on to the anger she held for him, but it was always futile.  A mental haze composed of emotions beyond description would tear at her mind. When she dwelled on this she came to the conclusion that it was by design.  The coupling was never unpleasant, but she resented the necessity of him, she was convinced that being trapped was part of the design as well.  Regardless of how hard she focused on the rage, the unnatural desires and emotions always drowned out all her other thoughts, and finally time fades leaving only passion.  Putting her arm around him she drew him closer.