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On Jane's Watch

Jane walks into the bar, pauses a beat as she glances around the room. To a casual observer, the glance is appropriately nervous, she is, after all, a young single woman alone in a seedy place. The glance is anything but casual, though, as Jane's eyes quickly flit over each patron, looking for her mark. Seeing that the one she wants is indeed here, she takes a breath, quelling the spark of adrenaline that begins to rise up from her belly as she begins her walk to the bar.

She's uniquely suited for this task. Not what anyone would call beautiful or pretty, but she possesses an undefinable quality that draw men to her. Most importantly though, she is aware of her sexual power. Not only will she use it when needed, she thrives on it—the challenge, the power, the lustful energy that comes her way. And the danger. Oh yes, she's reconciled herself to the penchant she carries for getting herself into untenable situations.

She slides into a seat at the bar and orders a whiskey, watching Roland Cardston out of the corner of her eye. The fact the he is her type more than makes up for the danger. Cardston has no need to patronize a dive bar like this, other than the fact that he likes the atmosphere and clientele, who are a far cry from the suits and geeks at the tech conglomerate, DigiPower, he works for. DigiPower is legit, except for Cardston's little top secret project to create a virus that will immobilize the world's banking systems for one minute.

Roland Cardston has the soul of a thief, but not the technical chops to create the program by himself. He's had to trick others into creating fundamental elements of his plan, none of which he can replicate on his own. That makes him nervous, so he keeps the virus with him at all times in the form of a high end digital watch. This week, the virus was finalized and Cardston began some innocuous testing, knocking out the banks for mere seconds and managing to steal a million dollars in amounts so small that no one noticed.

The big hit is going to come soon. Jane's bosses want it stopped. At any cost. Lucky for Jane, Cardston's ego is huge. He has no idea that anyone is on to him.

Jane makes her move. She stands and slips her battered thigh length coat off and slings it over the stool next to her. The bartender leers. Jane is wearing a thin, tight, white tank top without a bra. She'd be less of a tease if she were naked. The outline of her nipples are clearly visible. Her khaki skirt covers her ass by a mere inch, and rides up as she sits back down on the stool. She continues to skip her whiskey, pretending to be oblivious to the electric silence in the air as all of the men in the bar direct their gaze upon her. There is something hungry and predatory in the air. The bartender has an attack of conscience and urgently whispers that it might be a good idea to put her coat on and get the hell out of there. Jane smiles up at him.

"But I haven't even played a round of pool yet." She shoots the last of her whiskey and orders another, which she carries over to the pool table. The bartender shrugs and watches her ass sway as she goes.

As she passes a table, one of the men drops his lighter in front of her.

"Aw shoot, would you mind, darlin'?"

Still maintaining as innocent an aura as she can, Jane smiles and nods. "Sure, no problem." She bends at the waist to pick up the lighter, treating the men at the table to a view of her ass as her skirt rides up. She's wearing thin white cotton panties.

"Here you are," she says as she hands the man the lighter.

"Much obliged, honey. Why don't you join us for a spell?"

Jane shakes her head. "I'm interested in playing some pool." Without waiting for a response, she continues to the pool table, where Cardston is shooting balls by himself.

She stops at the edge of the table, one hip cocked out. "I wanna play. How about a game?"

Cardston has been watching Jane's approach. He wonders if she's nuts, coming in a place like this, dressed like that. He's always liked edgy women; they're the most fun in bed. But if she doesn't know what could happen to her here, he'd never forgive himself for not warning her.

"You really think this is where you should be right now? Some men here will take that outfit as an invitation, you know."

"Do you take it an invitation?"

"Hell, no. I take an actual invitation as an invitation. Not what women chose to put on before they even meet me."

Jane smiles inwardly. She's aware Cardston is one of those supposedly moral thieves. Getting money is simply a game to him, and he only steals from those already playing. She finds his ethics charming. "What if I said I'm issuing you an invitation?"

"An invitation to what?"

"An invitation to play. That's why I came over here."

"Alright, let's play," Cardston agrees. "I'll rack 'em up."

While Cardston sets up the pool table, Jane grabs a cue from the rack, chalking up the tip before letting her hand slide suggestively down the cue. Cardston watches her from across the table.

"I'll break," Jane announces. Without waiting for a response, she bends low over the pool table and takes her shot. Cardston is not watching the balls; it's by the two dull thuds that he knows she's sunk two.

He stalks around the table for his turn. Jane also saunters around the table, stopping so close to him that her hip presses against his. He ignores her, sinking his shot with ease. Standing up, he glances at her.

"Trying to distract me? With your body? That's the oldest trick in the book," he says with disdain.

"You're right." She bows her head. "I should just be up front." She pauses. "I came over here because I want to fuck you."

His mouth drops open. Then he laughs. "Did the guys put you up to this?"

"No," she replies. "I'm dead serious. I like you and I want to fuck. Here." She takes a step closer to him. "You're not interested?"

"I am. But what do you mean, here?"

She slips her hands up his shirt and kisses him. Her groin presses into his, and she feels his hands go straight to her ass. "I mean right here. I like being watched. Quick and dirty. You up for it?"

He glances out to the rapt audience, their leathered faces and smoke yellowed grins leering at them. Her hand has snaked down his pants and begun stroking. "Your dick says yes. Do you too, or should I stop?"

She has skilled hands. His eyes rove over her face, her tits, her legs. Seized by an uncharacteristic reckless abandon, he decides that yes, he does want to fuck her right now, in this bar. No way in hell will he be dominated by her in front of everyone, though. He spins her away so her belly is pressed against the pool table, facing her audience, her ass on display for him as she spreads her legs. He quickly drops his pants and presses his erection against her still clothed ass. His hands run up her sides and stomach, stopping at her breasts to squeeze and flick. He pulls her tank top over her head and drops it on the floor, only dimly hearing the murmur of appreciation from the crowd. She's rubbing her ass back and forth against his hard on, but he forces himself to wait a little longer. She wanted to be watched, and he's going to make her come in front of everyone. He undoes the button of her khaki skirt and yanks it down around her ankles. One hand goes to rest on her throat, showing her that he's controlling this show. The other slips down to her clit, finding her wet already. He begins rubbing, fast and furious. He wants to hear her, watch the drinkers devour her come-face with their eyes, wracked with jealousy. He can feel her orgasm starting to build; she's getting creamier and muskier. Her breathing is now a frantic pant, punctuated by moans of pleasure.

"Come, baby. As soon as you do, I'm going to bury myself deep in you."

At this, Jane comes: hard, fast, and loud, much to the delight of the whole bar, who begins whooping and applauding. Someone orders a round for the house. She smiles and Cardston's hands move back to her tits, feeling their weight in his hands as his thumbs flick her nipples.

True to his word, he plunges into her, eliciting a sharp gasp. The audience's attention snaps away from their free round and back to the sight of Jane getting pounded against the pool table. They can hear the power of Cardston as his body slaps rhythmically against Jane's. He's into putting on a show now. His hands move away from Jane's tits, letting them bounce and jiggle for the pleasure of the audience. He places grasps the pool table, gaining more stability and leverage to keep fucking Jane. She's clearly loving it, arching back into him, playing up her groans and reactions just a little bit for the crowd. He smiles. He's always loved the crazy ones.

Jane's not crazy, though. She is indeed loving the crowd and Cardston's phenomenal dick, but she has complete control over herself. She lets out another moan and shakes her tits a bit and her hands move to Cardston's wrists on the pool table. She can feel that he is close to coming. His cock is demanding all his attention and focus. Jane delicately finds the tiny latch of his watch with her pinky, a move she's spent months perfecting. As Cardston give himself over to a shattering orgasm, she flips the latch with her nail and his watch clatters to the sticky floor.

He pulls out of her abruptly. Just as quickly, she bends and scoops up her skirt, panties, and his watch.

"Sorry," she says, handing it back to him. He nods, still recovering, snapping the watch on.

Jane knows she's got about thirty seconds grace before she's in the extreme danger zone. The crowd is going to want some ass too, and Cardston's euphoria will crash and he will undoubtedly check his watch. Jane lives for these few seconds, suspended time between safety and complete catastrophe. She knows, one day, she won't make it out in time. This, however, is not that day. Jane swiftly dresses, pats Cardston on the cheek, and bows to the audience. Not even breaking stride as she passes her barstool and grabs her coat, she waves at the bartender and steps out on to the street and into a waiting town car.

"I got it. Go." Jane runs her fingertips over the sleek black watch, marvelling at the potential destruction hidden inside its tiny hard drive.

The car pulls away, swift and silent. Only the junkie by the side of the road notices, and his recollection is hazed over with heroin and tobacco.

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