AU - How It (Might Have Happened) - Post-"The Wedding" (Barney/Claudia) - ADULT
Back in Nov. 2009, idioticonion and I explored an alternative take on The Wedding wherein Barney actually cons Claudia to go home with him.
Since Claudia and Barney of the RP universe are doing pretty okay at the moment, we opted do a follow-up to that 2009 thread so we could bring the smut without affecting the RP reunion. :P
It's really not necessary to go back and read the original though except to know that Claudia and Barney did it once before. We did try to make this new one fairly stand-alone.
Warning: sex, infidelity, drama/angst, language
The call came in at 3:33 pm from Stuart's secretary on one of the rare days Claudia chose to work from home. "I'm sorry Mrs. Bowers, but a project has come in that demands Mr. Bowers' full attention. He asks that you not expect him home for dinner."
Dropping the phone back into the cradle, Claudia sighs. A normal wife would probably fall prey to thoughts of her husband devoting his "full attention" to getting between the legs of his secretary. But those thoughts don't even cross her mind. Instead, she lets a smile tug at the corners of her lips and she disappears into the bathroom. Once inside the tiled room, she pulls out a bottle of Calvin Klein's Seduction. One spritz to her neck is all it takes to fill her nostrils with the sweetly intoxicating scent.
The step that follows almost surprises her, but not really. It's not the first time she's done it and it's not likely to be the last.
She slips the glittering gold band off her ring finger and picks up her cell phone pressing the number '6' on her speed dial.
He answers on the first ring.
He taps his bluetooth headset and chirps "Go for Barney", tapping at his laptop keyboard and not really paying much attention to whoever's calling him. Until, that is, he hears the throaty, female voice. "Claudia?" He says with a grin, fingers freezing in place.
As she tells him something about Stuart being late home, he gets to his feet and bends his back and shoulders until there's a clicking noise, while his grin widens.
Ah, Claudia...
They've had this booty call thing going on ever since she came to him for comfort on the eve of her wedding. He's got no expectations. He always though after she got married that she'd stop calling. That Stuart would see what a lucky guy he is. But hey, it's not his fault if the dude's an idiot. And he's never gonna say no to a fine piece of ass like Claudia.
"Okay," he says. "Meet at the usual place?"
They don't go back to his place - it would take too long. Instead, he's found a classy hotel near where he works (because, hey, Claudia's a classy woman) that has a quiet bar. The scenario usually goes - one drink, where she talks about whatever inane stuff is bothering her and he pretends to listen, then they head upstairs to check into a room and have crazy monkey sex for an hour. She leaves right after.
It's the perfect relationship.
"I'll be there in seven," Claudia says, her voice barely above a whisper before she clicks the little end button on her phone.
She knows the rules, knows not to expect much out of him other than sex. Sure, he pretends to give a care about whatever stuff might be going on in her head, but if she was really determined to find a man to have an emotional connection with...she wouldn't be cheating on Stuart.
She gulps and looks down at the ring that's now in the middle of small, decorative bowl. It's the price she pays for this, the price she pays to make her body twitch and writhe with a primal need. It's the price she pays to surrender to his every whim.
Never in her life did she expect to be this kind of woman. Before Stuart (before Barney), she'd been the good girl. The neighborhood goodie two-shoes. President of Student Council. President of the Chastity Club. Secretary for the Young Republicans.
She was the daughter ever parent dreams of having and now she'd become their nightmare.
Every time he meets up with Claudia, he gets this frisson. Waiting for her at the bar, it takes him back to the first time they did this. Sure, he went after her like there was no tomorrow, but unlike most of the women he tricks into bed, there were never any hard feelings with Claudia. Not even when he suggested that she should go back straight back to her (then) fiancé.
In fact, he gets the feeling that she liked that about him. She likes a bad boy. She likes being bad. What she wants is a no-strings fuck-buddy. And he's happy to be that guy.
She gets into the cab and mutters the directions to the cabbie. He nods, starts the meter, and takes off towards the ritzy little bar/hotel that could reveal her secrets in a heartbeat if its walls could talk.
Leaning back against the seat, she doesn't bother peering out the window. She doesn't want to risk anyone seeing her, doesn't want to risk anyone guessing what she's up too. If people could read the story in her eyes, they would know that she seeks the sort of thing a married woman shouldn't want.
But if they knew Barney, knew what he could, they would understand the magnetic pull that keeps her going back to him. They would understand the appeal of the fantasy he creates.
They might understand why she so desperately craves the escape.
He senses her, turns on his barstool and watches her enter the bar. She's dressed how he likes her - pencil skirt, stockings, blouse - elegant, demure, the perfect married woman.
It doesn't seem right somehow to smile at her. Instead he turns away and waits until she sits next to him before he talks to her.
"Drink?" He says, with a smirk, like he doesn't know her routine.
She smiles, a slight crinkle at the corners of her lips.
"If you're buying, I'll take a vodka cranberry."
It's the same drink she gets every time they do this. In a weird way, it's become a signal that this crazy mess isn't going to stop anytime soon.
He nods at the bartender, who smiles a knowing smile and begins to mix Claudia's drink. Turning to her he smiles. "So what's up, sad eyes?" He asks her. She looks a little stressed and he wonders, for about the millionth time, why in the hell she ever married Stuart when she could do so much better. She's gorgeous, for starters, but she's a demon in the bedroom, possibly the most experimental chick he's ever been with. She could land a guy with money, status, who could keep her in the lap of luxury while she dances on his lap.
But no. He gets her instead. And he guesses he should be thankful for that.
"Are my eyes always so sad?" Claudia asks, keeping the bartender in her peripheral vision as she meets Barney's concerned-looking gaze.
She knows this is the part of the scene where she talks about her day, vents about how little satisfaction she's getting in her marriage, but she's stuck on what to say. That is until some nerdy looking man comes into the bar with an attractive brunette at his side.
"Is it wrong that I don't care about Stuart working late again tonight? I mean, for all I know he's got his head buried between that damn secretary bitch's legs and I. Don't. Care."
He shrugs. "Seriously, the guy doesn't know what in the hell he's doing. I mean /look/ at you!" He flashes her a wolfish grin. "If you were mine, I'd- I dunno- I'd take you up to one of these hotel rooms here and screw your brains out..."
He chuckles under his breath, then takes a sip of his whiskey.
Claudia blinks, feigning an innocent look as her fingers brush over his thigh, causing him to shudder slightly.
"I...I...would never do something like that to Stuart."
She knows he likes it best when she pretends to be coy, when she protests and insists his ideas are wrong and filthy and bad.
And the more often they do it, they more often she starts to believe she likes it that way best too.
Flashing her a wolf-like grin, he watches the way she flushes, knowing just how much this turns her on. "No, of course you wouldn't. Because the things we would do... Nice chick like you wouldn't even wanna think about the things I'd do to you. I mean, it might take /hours/ until I'm satisfied."
He takes another sip from his drink, licking his lips.
Heat rushes to her loins at his words, triggering sexual response and wanton need. She grabs her drink off the counter and gulps down two large sips. The alcohol burns a little as it hits her throat and her nose instinctively wrinkles.
"Hours?" She asks weakly.
His hand moves, very slightly, across her thigh.
He leans forward and whispers into her ear. "How 'bout I show you?"
/Oh god./
She trembles and any resolve she may have had crumbles underneath his words. She feels his fingers creep underneath the hem of her skirt, teasing her but not violating the norms of social propriety.
"Barney...," she mouths, her lips unable to form any other words no matter how much she wills them to just say 'yes.'
His lips travel down from her earlobe to the sensitive spot under her jaw. "Claudia," he breathes softly. "Want you, right here. Don't think I'm gonna make it to the room... Just gonna drag you up on the bar."
Claudia's eyes widen, large as saucers, and she gasps at his promiscuous suggestion. Getting it on in the bar? /On/ the bar? In front of all these unsuspecting afternoon patrons?
That would be wrong...
Wouldn't it?
People don't do that. Not in real life. Not outside of porno flicks.
But as his tongue flicks across the pulse point of her throat, she finds she's so turned on she doesn't care. All he has to do is say the word and she scramble onto the counter for him.
But that's not what she says because she’s still struggling to play the game:
"We shouldn't."
He's panting now. "Hey," he says. "Remember that the bar extends just around the corner - they only open it for events?" He pulls back, turns towards the door and breaks contact. "Meet you in thirty seconds?" He says with a grin, limping a little as he walks towards the door to the extension-bar. He's so hard he can barely walk.
He walks away and her breath hitches in her throat.
/Five seconds./
Claudia gulps and quickly opens up her clutch purse. With a careful, quick hand, she reapplies her lipstick. Cotton Candy Pink. It tastes like sugar and gumdrops and rainbows. A perfectly innocent shade that he'll debauch and devour.
/Fifteen seconds./
She takes another swallow of her drink and glances briefly at the bartender. He shows no sign of knowing their plan. No sign of stopping them.
/Twenty-nine seconds./
She gets up and glides through the door, dropping to her knees the moment it closes behind her. That's how it works in the room. That's how he probably expects it to work now.
The door opens and she sinks down onto her knees. "Y'know, anyone could come in here at any time," he tells her, circling out of the shadows to walk around her. Standing in front of her, he looks down, on hand reaching out to touch to top of her head, like a benediction.
"Is that what you want?" She asks, quietly, batting her eyelashes, playing into the change of tone, the change in their relationship now that the public eye is no longer boring into their necks. "To have someone witness this?"
He nods. "Maybe."
Dropping his hand from her head, he traces one finger down the seam of his fly, over the bulge in his pants. "Let's see how much noise we make, huh?"
He gestures over to the bar. "Go sit on the stool there, I'll mix you a drink..."
She follows his instruction, watching him under hooded eyes as he goes behind the bar and pulls out several bottles.
But vodka isn't one of them.
He chuckles under his breath when he finds a bottle of olive oil under the bar. "What kind of place is this?" He mutters, before tapping the top of the bar with the flat of his hand. "Okay, maybe I need a shot glass?" Claudia's sitting there with a hopeful look in her eyes. "C'mon, up on the top, baby." Motions for her to climb up on to the shiny, wooden surface.
Again, she does what he tells her to.
If it were anyone but him, she'd probably whine about getting stains on her dress or complain about the stickiness of the counter against her legs.
But because it’s him, she just smiles and obeys and waits.
She's pretty compliant as she climbs up onto the bar and he spins her around so she's facing him, pulls her forward so he's between her legs. The knowledge that anybody could come in at any point is a turn on, he's got to admit. It's kind of delicious.
But this isn't the first time he's nailed a hot chick in a bar.
He flashes her a grin as he crouches down and slides both hands along her thighs and up under her skirt.
He gives her that look: animalistic, hungry, predatory and it sends a white-hot shot down to her core. She can already feel the moisture building and she scrapes her teeth over the top of bottom lip when she feels his hot breath on her pussy lips.
"No panties..." she whispers, knowing just how depraved that makes her sound.
He chuckles, shifting closer to her and straightening up. His fingers catch the back of her knee, pulling her into an embrace. "Y'know, I like that about you Claudia. Always ready for anything."
He presses his crotch against hers, so she can feel the bulge there. So she can know what she's doing to him.
"Barney..." she whimpers, pathetically, rolling her hips forward to increase the points of contact between her core and the hard ridge of his erection.
She knows what she wants, doesn't care how she gets it, as long as he provides.
He pulls back a little, biting his bottom lip at the loss of the pressure between them. But then he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants just enough, because he wants a little skin-on-skin.
"I don't want you to make a sound," he whispers to her. "Not one sound, or we might get caught!" He's stern, because he wants her to know she's serious, and he wants to watch her while she struggles to comply.
She nods, biting down on her bottom lip. He knows darn well that it's an impossible task to keep her mouth while he's inside her. The way he rocks his hips just so, the way he stimulates her clit when he drags out the down-stroke, the way he...
/Mmmmpphhhh..../
Her fingernails dig into his shoulders as he thrusts forward and she feels the slightest tang of blood hitting her tongue as her teeth scrape a little too much off the top.
He wonders if she lets Stuart do half of the shit she lets him do?
He pushes inside her.
He wonders what Stuart would think if he knew; how Stuart would react if he stopped him on the sidewalk and just said "hey Bro, I'm banging your wife."
His hands slide around Claudia's ass, pulling her in as he moves.
He groans against her throat, taking in a gulp of air scented with her perfume, and he wonders his sick it makes him that the idea of fucking some other dude's gal turns him on like crazy.
He knows how to go deep, how to rip open her core and send molten lava rushing through her body.
Stuart doesn't fuck her like this.
Stuart doesn't make her feel like this.
And she doubts he'd even know what to do to her if she asked him to make her erupt.
He pushes her flat down onto the bar, running his hands up and over her stomach and breasts. If anything, he'd get off on somebody interrupting them right now, in somebody just coming in the bar and seeing her stretched out, being fucked but good.
He mutters dirty words into her ear and he picks up the pace. So close, he holds back as long as he can.
She writhes and thrashes beneath him, barely conscious of the width of the bar and how much it really supports her.
"BARNEY!"
The name is a sin, a curse. It's an admission so clear she knows everyone in the bar can hear her.
But the fear of being caught only serves to heighten her orgasm that rips through her so suddenly she can barely catch her breath, can barely hear the accusations of "Slut!" and "Whore!" as the door to the banquet hall flies open and her husband stumbles in with fury tinting his ears red.
He looks up, over the mounds of her breasts, and sees that the door's been slammed open and someone's standing there. It takes a minute for the red mist of orgasm to clear and for him to focus on the shape silhouetted against the lights of the other bar.
Stuart.
"Crap." He says, under his breath.
"Barney," Stuart says, his voice hoarse and thick with raw emotion.
It's nothing like the way Claudia says it.
"I thought you were my fr..." He chokes on the word, unable to say it. But despite the way his voice cracks, Claudia can still feel the chill to her bones when he says: "Guess you did always have a knack for sluts."
He frowns, and gestures down towards Claudia. "Dude! Seriously. Not cool."
Then he pulls out of her, pulling her off the bar and holding her up until she can get her balance.
Leaning against Barney's broad chest, Claudia smoothes out the wrinkles in her skirt and turns to face Stuart who still has fire in his eyes.
"Wouldn't have to be a slut if you weren't such a drunk," she snaps. And she’s not wrong. The smell of single-malt is potent and there are light brown stains on his shirt. Sloppy drunk.
He rubs the palm of his hand over the small of her back, soothingly. "Hey baby," he says into her ear, and he sees Stuart stiffen at the insult. Jesus, if this is how they are together, no wonder Claudia runs to him for comfort.
In the meanwhile, Stuart is moving towards them so he pulls up his pants. Probably better to be fully clothed right now. In his experience, it's better to be dressed when confronting an angry boyfriend/husband/ex.
Claudia presses herself against Barney, almost providing a shield from her husband's approach.
Stuart frowns then and grabs her by the hand. "Where's your ring?"
"At home," Claudia replies curtly. “Where you should be. Seeing as your work meeting was actually with a bottle of Jim Beam.” She's trapped in the middle, and yet she doesn't care. She knows right where she stands, she knows exactly what she's done, and she's not about to make excuses.
He's not great with the fighting, but he shoves Stuart away and puts himself bodily between him and Claudia. "Dude, leave the lady alone!"
The irony of his words isn't lost on him when he considers what he was calling her only minutes before. But jeez, he can smell the stink of booze on Stuart's breath from here and he wouldn't put it past the guy to swing for his wife.
Stuart swings once, the tendons tightening noticeably in his arms as he lurches forward. Instead of making contact with the side of Barney's face, he misses and hits the bottle of olive oil that had been left on the counter from Barney's cocktail-making moment. The glass shatters from the impact, shards scattering across the bar and embedding themselves in Stuart's skin.
Stuart howls in pain, pulling his fist back and clutching it against his flannel shirt.
"You're my wife!" He screeches. "My wife!"
Claudia purses her lips and peers over Barney's shoulder. "Go home, Stuart."
He flinches out of the way of the flying glass instinctively but gets oil all over his pants. He can't help but laugh - a reflexive action. "Holy CRAP!" He says, pulling away from Claudia.
"Maybe you should both go home. Talk about this... somewhere else?"
Yeah, because these pants aren't gonna take themselves to be dry cleaner.
"Fine," Claudia says, narrowing her eyes. "We were done anyways."
The phrase is loaded, implications are many. But what difference does it really make?
Her marriage is over.
The fantasy is over.
She's finished.
Since Claudia and Barney of the RP universe are doing pretty okay at the moment, we opted do a follow-up to that 2009 thread so we could bring the smut without affecting the RP reunion. :P
It's really not necessary to go back and read the original though except to know that Claudia and Barney did it once before. We did try to make this new one fairly stand-alone.
Warning: sex, infidelity, drama/angst, language
The call came in at 3:33 pm from Stuart's secretary on one of the rare days Claudia chose to work from home. "I'm sorry Mrs. Bowers, but a project has come in that demands Mr. Bowers' full attention. He asks that you not expect him home for dinner."
Dropping the phone back into the cradle, Claudia sighs. A normal wife would probably fall prey to thoughts of her husband devoting his "full attention" to getting between the legs of his secretary. But those thoughts don't even cross her mind. Instead, she lets a smile tug at the corners of her lips and she disappears into the bathroom. Once inside the tiled room, she pulls out a bottle of Calvin Klein's Seduction. One spritz to her neck is all it takes to fill her nostrils with the sweetly intoxicating scent.
The step that follows almost surprises her, but not really. It's not the first time she's done it and it's not likely to be the last.
She slips the glittering gold band off her ring finger and picks up her cell phone pressing the number '6' on her speed dial.
He answers on the first ring.
He taps his bluetooth headset and chirps "Go for Barney", tapping at his laptop keyboard and not really paying much attention to whoever's calling him. Until, that is, he hears the throaty, female voice. "Claudia?" He says with a grin, fingers freezing in place.
As she tells him something about Stuart being late home, he gets to his feet and bends his back and shoulders until there's a clicking noise, while his grin widens.
Ah, Claudia...
They've had this booty call thing going on ever since she came to him for comfort on the eve of her wedding. He's got no expectations. He always though after she got married that she'd stop calling. That Stuart would see what a lucky guy he is. But hey, it's not his fault if the dude's an idiot. And he's never gonna say no to a fine piece of ass like Claudia.
"Okay," he says. "Meet at the usual place?"
They don't go back to his place - it would take too long. Instead, he's found a classy hotel near where he works (because, hey, Claudia's a classy woman) that has a quiet bar. The scenario usually goes - one drink, where she talks about whatever inane stuff is bothering her and he pretends to listen, then they head upstairs to check into a room and have crazy monkey sex for an hour. She leaves right after.
It's the perfect relationship.
"I'll be there in seven," Claudia says, her voice barely above a whisper before she clicks the little end button on her phone.
She knows the rules, knows not to expect much out of him other than sex. Sure, he pretends to give a care about whatever stuff might be going on in her head, but if she was really determined to find a man to have an emotional connection with...she wouldn't be cheating on Stuart.
She gulps and looks down at the ring that's now in the middle of small, decorative bowl. It's the price she pays for this, the price she pays to make her body twitch and writhe with a primal need. It's the price she pays to surrender to his every whim.
Never in her life did she expect to be this kind of woman. Before Stuart (before Barney), she'd been the good girl. The neighborhood goodie two-shoes. President of Student Council. President of the Chastity Club. Secretary for the Young Republicans.
She was the daughter ever parent dreams of having and now she'd become their nightmare.
Every time he meets up with Claudia, he gets this frisson. Waiting for her at the bar, it takes him back to the first time they did this. Sure, he went after her like there was no tomorrow, but unlike most of the women he tricks into bed, there were never any hard feelings with Claudia. Not even when he suggested that she should go back straight back to her (then) fiancé.
In fact, he gets the feeling that she liked that about him. She likes a bad boy. She likes being bad. What she wants is a no-strings fuck-buddy. And he's happy to be that guy.
She gets into the cab and mutters the directions to the cabbie. He nods, starts the meter, and takes off towards the ritzy little bar/hotel that could reveal her secrets in a heartbeat if its walls could talk.
Leaning back against the seat, she doesn't bother peering out the window. She doesn't want to risk anyone seeing her, doesn't want to risk anyone guessing what she's up too. If people could read the story in her eyes, they would know that she seeks the sort of thing a married woman shouldn't want.
But if they knew Barney, knew what he could, they would understand the magnetic pull that keeps her going back to him. They would understand the appeal of the fantasy he creates.
They might understand why she so desperately craves the escape.
He senses her, turns on his barstool and watches her enter the bar. She's dressed how he likes her - pencil skirt, stockings, blouse - elegant, demure, the perfect married woman.
It doesn't seem right somehow to smile at her. Instead he turns away and waits until she sits next to him before he talks to her.
"Drink?" He says, with a smirk, like he doesn't know her routine.
She smiles, a slight crinkle at the corners of her lips.
"If you're buying, I'll take a vodka cranberry."
It's the same drink she gets every time they do this. In a weird way, it's become a signal that this crazy mess isn't going to stop anytime soon.
He nods at the bartender, who smiles a knowing smile and begins to mix Claudia's drink. Turning to her he smiles. "So what's up, sad eyes?" He asks her. She looks a little stressed and he wonders, for about the millionth time, why in the hell she ever married Stuart when she could do so much better. She's gorgeous, for starters, but she's a demon in the bedroom, possibly the most experimental chick he's ever been with. She could land a guy with money, status, who could keep her in the lap of luxury while she dances on his lap.
But no. He gets her instead. And he guesses he should be thankful for that.
"Are my eyes always so sad?" Claudia asks, keeping the bartender in her peripheral vision as she meets Barney's concerned-looking gaze.
She knows this is the part of the scene where she talks about her day, vents about how little satisfaction she's getting in her marriage, but she's stuck on what to say. That is until some nerdy looking man comes into the bar with an attractive brunette at his side.
"Is it wrong that I don't care about Stuart working late again tonight? I mean, for all I know he's got his head buried between that damn secretary bitch's legs and I. Don't. Care."
He shrugs. "Seriously, the guy doesn't know what in the hell he's doing. I mean /look/ at you!" He flashes her a wolfish grin. "If you were mine, I'd- I dunno- I'd take you up to one of these hotel rooms here and screw your brains out..."
He chuckles under his breath, then takes a sip of his whiskey.
Claudia blinks, feigning an innocent look as her fingers brush over his thigh, causing him to shudder slightly.
"I...I...would never do something like that to Stuart."
She knows he likes it best when she pretends to be coy, when she protests and insists his ideas are wrong and filthy and bad.
And the more often they do it, they more often she starts to believe she likes it that way best too.
Flashing her a wolf-like grin, he watches the way she flushes, knowing just how much this turns her on. "No, of course you wouldn't. Because the things we would do... Nice chick like you wouldn't even wanna think about the things I'd do to you. I mean, it might take /hours/ until I'm satisfied."
He takes another sip from his drink, licking his lips.
Heat rushes to her loins at his words, triggering sexual response and wanton need. She grabs her drink off the counter and gulps down two large sips. The alcohol burns a little as it hits her throat and her nose instinctively wrinkles.
"Hours?" She asks weakly.
His hand moves, very slightly, across her thigh.
He leans forward and whispers into her ear. "How 'bout I show you?"
/Oh god./
She trembles and any resolve she may have had crumbles underneath his words. She feels his fingers creep underneath the hem of her skirt, teasing her but not violating the norms of social propriety.
"Barney...," she mouths, her lips unable to form any other words no matter how much she wills them to just say 'yes.'
His lips travel down from her earlobe to the sensitive spot under her jaw. "Claudia," he breathes softly. "Want you, right here. Don't think I'm gonna make it to the room... Just gonna drag you up on the bar."
Claudia's eyes widen, large as saucers, and she gasps at his promiscuous suggestion. Getting it on in the bar? /On/ the bar? In front of all these unsuspecting afternoon patrons?
That would be wrong...
Wouldn't it?
People don't do that. Not in real life. Not outside of porno flicks.
But as his tongue flicks across the pulse point of her throat, she finds she's so turned on she doesn't care. All he has to do is say the word and she scramble onto the counter for him.
But that's not what she says because she’s still struggling to play the game:
"We shouldn't."
He's panting now. "Hey," he says. "Remember that the bar extends just around the corner - they only open it for events?" He pulls back, turns towards the door and breaks contact. "Meet you in thirty seconds?" He says with a grin, limping a little as he walks towards the door to the extension-bar. He's so hard he can barely walk.
He walks away and her breath hitches in her throat.
/Five seconds./
Claudia gulps and quickly opens up her clutch purse. With a careful, quick hand, she reapplies her lipstick. Cotton Candy Pink. It tastes like sugar and gumdrops and rainbows. A perfectly innocent shade that he'll debauch and devour.
/Fifteen seconds./
She takes another swallow of her drink and glances briefly at the bartender. He shows no sign of knowing their plan. No sign of stopping them.
/Twenty-nine seconds./
She gets up and glides through the door, dropping to her knees the moment it closes behind her. That's how it works in the room. That's how he probably expects it to work now.
The door opens and she sinks down onto her knees. "Y'know, anyone could come in here at any time," he tells her, circling out of the shadows to walk around her. Standing in front of her, he looks down, on hand reaching out to touch to top of her head, like a benediction.
"Is that what you want?" She asks, quietly, batting her eyelashes, playing into the change of tone, the change in their relationship now that the public eye is no longer boring into their necks. "To have someone witness this?"
He nods. "Maybe."
Dropping his hand from her head, he traces one finger down the seam of his fly, over the bulge in his pants. "Let's see how much noise we make, huh?"
He gestures over to the bar. "Go sit on the stool there, I'll mix you a drink..."
She follows his instruction, watching him under hooded eyes as he goes behind the bar and pulls out several bottles.
But vodka isn't one of them.
He chuckles under his breath when he finds a bottle of olive oil under the bar. "What kind of place is this?" He mutters, before tapping the top of the bar with the flat of his hand. "Okay, maybe I need a shot glass?" Claudia's sitting there with a hopeful look in her eyes. "C'mon, up on the top, baby." Motions for her to climb up on to the shiny, wooden surface.
Again, she does what he tells her to.
If it were anyone but him, she'd probably whine about getting stains on her dress or complain about the stickiness of the counter against her legs.
But because it’s him, she just smiles and obeys and waits.
She's pretty compliant as she climbs up onto the bar and he spins her around so she's facing him, pulls her forward so he's between her legs. The knowledge that anybody could come in at any point is a turn on, he's got to admit. It's kind of delicious.
But this isn't the first time he's nailed a hot chick in a bar.
He flashes her a grin as he crouches down and slides both hands along her thighs and up under her skirt.
He gives her that look: animalistic, hungry, predatory and it sends a white-hot shot down to her core. She can already feel the moisture building and she scrapes her teeth over the top of bottom lip when she feels his hot breath on her pussy lips.
"No panties..." she whispers, knowing just how depraved that makes her sound.
He chuckles, shifting closer to her and straightening up. His fingers catch the back of her knee, pulling her into an embrace. "Y'know, I like that about you Claudia. Always ready for anything."
He presses his crotch against hers, so she can feel the bulge there. So she can know what she's doing to him.
"Barney..." she whimpers, pathetically, rolling her hips forward to increase the points of contact between her core and the hard ridge of his erection.
She knows what she wants, doesn't care how she gets it, as long as he provides.
He pulls back a little, biting his bottom lip at the loss of the pressure between them. But then he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants just enough, because he wants a little skin-on-skin.
"I don't want you to make a sound," he whispers to her. "Not one sound, or we might get caught!" He's stern, because he wants her to know she's serious, and he wants to watch her while she struggles to comply.
She nods, biting down on her bottom lip. He knows darn well that it's an impossible task to keep her mouth while he's inside her. The way he rocks his hips just so, the way he stimulates her clit when he drags out the down-stroke, the way he...
/Mmmmpphhhh..../
Her fingernails dig into his shoulders as he thrusts forward and she feels the slightest tang of blood hitting her tongue as her teeth scrape a little too much off the top.
He wonders if she lets Stuart do half of the shit she lets him do?
He pushes inside her.
He wonders what Stuart would think if he knew; how Stuart would react if he stopped him on the sidewalk and just said "hey Bro, I'm banging your wife."
His hands slide around Claudia's ass, pulling her in as he moves.
He groans against her throat, taking in a gulp of air scented with her perfume, and he wonders his sick it makes him that the idea of fucking some other dude's gal turns him on like crazy.
He knows how to go deep, how to rip open her core and send molten lava rushing through her body.
Stuart doesn't fuck her like this.
Stuart doesn't make her feel like this.
And she doubts he'd even know what to do to her if she asked him to make her erupt.
He pushes her flat down onto the bar, running his hands up and over her stomach and breasts. If anything, he'd get off on somebody interrupting them right now, in somebody just coming in the bar and seeing her stretched out, being fucked but good.
He mutters dirty words into her ear and he picks up the pace. So close, he holds back as long as he can.
She writhes and thrashes beneath him, barely conscious of the width of the bar and how much it really supports her.
"BARNEY!"
The name is a sin, a curse. It's an admission so clear she knows everyone in the bar can hear her.
But the fear of being caught only serves to heighten her orgasm that rips through her so suddenly she can barely catch her breath, can barely hear the accusations of "Slut!" and "Whore!" as the door to the banquet hall flies open and her husband stumbles in with fury tinting his ears red.
He looks up, over the mounds of her breasts, and sees that the door's been slammed open and someone's standing there. It takes a minute for the red mist of orgasm to clear and for him to focus on the shape silhouetted against the lights of the other bar.
Stuart.
"Crap." He says, under his breath.
"Barney," Stuart says, his voice hoarse and thick with raw emotion.
It's nothing like the way Claudia says it.
"I thought you were my fr..." He chokes on the word, unable to say it. But despite the way his voice cracks, Claudia can still feel the chill to her bones when he says: "Guess you did always have a knack for sluts."
He frowns, and gestures down towards Claudia. "Dude! Seriously. Not cool."
Then he pulls out of her, pulling her off the bar and holding her up until she can get her balance.
Leaning against Barney's broad chest, Claudia smoothes out the wrinkles in her skirt and turns to face Stuart who still has fire in his eyes.
"Wouldn't have to be a slut if you weren't such a drunk," she snaps. And she’s not wrong. The smell of single-malt is potent and there are light brown stains on his shirt. Sloppy drunk.
He rubs the palm of his hand over the small of her back, soothingly. "Hey baby," he says into her ear, and he sees Stuart stiffen at the insult. Jesus, if this is how they are together, no wonder Claudia runs to him for comfort.
In the meanwhile, Stuart is moving towards them so he pulls up his pants. Probably better to be fully clothed right now. In his experience, it's better to be dressed when confronting an angry boyfriend/husband/ex.
Claudia presses herself against Barney, almost providing a shield from her husband's approach.
Stuart frowns then and grabs her by the hand. "Where's your ring?"
"At home," Claudia replies curtly. “Where you should be. Seeing as your work meeting was actually with a bottle of Jim Beam.” She's trapped in the middle, and yet she doesn't care. She knows right where she stands, she knows exactly what she's done, and she's not about to make excuses.
He's not great with the fighting, but he shoves Stuart away and puts himself bodily between him and Claudia. "Dude, leave the lady alone!"
The irony of his words isn't lost on him when he considers what he was calling her only minutes before. But jeez, he can smell the stink of booze on Stuart's breath from here and he wouldn't put it past the guy to swing for his wife.
Stuart swings once, the tendons tightening noticeably in his arms as he lurches forward. Instead of making contact with the side of Barney's face, he misses and hits the bottle of olive oil that had been left on the counter from Barney's cocktail-making moment. The glass shatters from the impact, shards scattering across the bar and embedding themselves in Stuart's skin.
Stuart howls in pain, pulling his fist back and clutching it against his flannel shirt.
"You're my wife!" He screeches. "My wife!"
Claudia purses her lips and peers over Barney's shoulder. "Go home, Stuart."
He flinches out of the way of the flying glass instinctively but gets oil all over his pants. He can't help but laugh - a reflexive action. "Holy CRAP!" He says, pulling away from Claudia.
"Maybe you should both go home. Talk about this... somewhere else?"
Yeah, because these pants aren't gonna take themselves to be dry cleaner.
"Fine," Claudia says, narrowing her eyes. "We were done anyways."
The phrase is loaded, implications are many. But what difference does it really make?
Her marriage is over.
The fantasy is over.
She's finished.