The Waterfront

Another Halloween night and Emily went downtown with three friends ending up at a narrow waterfront bar called The Black Lantern, a place none of them could quite agree they had chosen. It sat between two old warehouse buildings, with fogged windows and a low amber glow that made the wet sidewalk outside look briefly gold. Inside, the room seemed too warm for the weather, too quiet for the hour, and just slightly out of step with the rest of the city.

She had debated what to wear, all the others would be in costume, so she decided she would go with the schoolgirl outfit he sent her, they were to meet up later and head over to the party and she wanted to please him. Stripping out of her work clothes she took a shower and dried her hair. Walking into the bedroom she looked at the outfit again it was very plain consisting of a white blouse, a short dark green pleated skirt, white knee highs, a red mesh bra and matching panties, as she held the skirt up she could see it was her size, but much shorter than she would have chosen but what the heck it was Halloween after all.

Emily was not a big standing 5'1" her boobs and ass just looked bigger than her friends. Dropping the towel she picked up the bra and slipped it on, it was a snug fit pushing her 34' tits up and out, there was a hole in each cup for her nipples and with a bit of adjustment she looked them poking out, the fabric was stiff and sharp with a fine wire like little pins around the edges of the holes that bit into her nipples making them poke out further sending little tingles of excitement through her body. Next she stepped into the panties slipping them up her legs. No adjustments there the high thigh cut emphasized her ample ass to its fullest, looking in the mirror she turned to the side and seeing her ass protrude and her hard nipples she began to think twice about the outfit.

She continued and slipped on the blouse, buttoning it up the top three buttons would not close, it was designed this way, intended to show as much as possible but keeping it all in. Then stepping into the skirt she slipped it up over her ample ass and hips, she pulled up the zip and looking in the mirror she thought to herself Oh, my god, this is short and this blouse is almost transparent. Two bows one for each pony tail lay on the bed as she combed and parted her hair she slid them in place, pulling them tightly to make her hair stand up on her head. The heavy red lipstick and the black mascara completed the look of a schoolgirl slut.

Sipping on the white flats she dropped her phone into the pocket of the mini backpack slung it over her shoulders, then she opened the door. Heading down the stairs she felt the cool air hit her uncovered thighs immediately feeling totally exposed she tugging the back of the skirt a smile washed over her face as her excitement grew.

At first, she felt uncomfortable and underdressed for this place, her blouse too transparent it was ordinary enough but revelled the red bra and her nipples. Then she thought her pleated skirt a bit short, were the red panties showing flashed through her mind. It felt so embarrassing the room fell silent as they crossed the room to the bar and the empty barstools that waited. Before long the drinks and laughter followed. She wasn't big drinker so she thought it was best to pace herself before they began taking a toll on her.

A jukebox playing songs that sounded older than the building. Her friends drifted in and out of conversations with strangers, taking pictures, teasing her for looking too serious in a place that clearly wanted to be festive. As they got up to dance to a fast jig Emily's skirt constantly swirled around her hips revelling the red panties and her ample rear.

Soon, after sitting back down Emily kept noticing the three old men in the corner booth looking at her then turning away when she looked over. One wore a dockworker's cap, one had the weathered face of a sailor, and the third, thin, neat, and almost painfully calm, watched the room as if he knew exactly who would leave and who would stay. Suddenly all three looked over and Emily felt it something made her turn in her seat and part her legs and flash the red panties like a slut for them to see, she turned back to the bar and finished her drink ordering another.

They were telling a story when she first heard them properly. Little things like tits, nipples, cunt. Not loudly, not for show. Just low enough that Emily had to lean in to catch the words and on hearing each word she felt a burning need to be to touched there. Then the story, It was about the waterfront before the modern piers, before the floodwalls, before the city had become what it was now. It was about a woman who had come to the bar long ago and made a bargain no one else could quite remember. It was about things lost to the tide and things returned in stranger forms.

When one of them noticed her listening, he nodded toward the empty seat at their table. She stood and walked over, then as she as she sat felt it comfortable, relaxing everything else in the room disappeared as she listened then as though from out of nowhere she heard a voice say,

'what will you have to drink my dear'

'I'll have the same as them.'

'You can hear it, then,' he said.

Emily should have declined. Instead, she sat.

Her friends left one by one. Lena got a text and said she'd meet them later. Priya decided the place was giving her "weird energy" and went outside for air. Ethan stayed longest, but eventually even he wandered off, saying he'd find coffee somewhere nearby and come back. Emily barely registered the moment the door closed behind him. The story had gotten under her skin. It felt less like listening and more like being slowly recognized.

The old men did not ask her personal questions in the usual way. They never said, "Tell us about yourself." They asked things that seemed almost casual.

What did she keep in her jewellery box and didn't wear?

What coin did she still carry for luck, though she had no reason to believe in luck?

What small charm had once belonged to someone she loved and now lived at the bottom of her purse?

Emily laughed nervously at first, but the questions grew too exact to be comfortable. A bracelet, thin as a thread of silver, that she wore around her ankle on and off since college. A coin from a trip she could not forget, though she wished she could. A tiny heart charm, worn smooth at the edges, that she had once found in a drawer after a breakup and never managed to throw away.

"You know the rules," said the sailor.

Emily frowned. "What rules?"

The man in the dark coat folded his hands. "If you want to leave, you give something up. Something yours. Something true."

She glanced at the bar, then at the door, but the door no longer felt like the easiest way out. It felt watched. The room had changed in tiny ways she could not explain: the mirrors no longer matched the angles of the tables, the windows looked darker than the street outside should have been, and the bartender, if that was still what he was, seemed to have become more shadow than man.

"Something personal," the dockworker said gently. "Each of us gets one."

Emily almost laughed again, but nothing about the table invited laughter now. There was no menace in their tone, and that made it worse. They sounded patient. Certain. Like men who had made this offer many times before.

The chain my dear, she handed him the one she had been keeping. He grinned then Emily sat still as the old man leaned over and unbuttoned her blouse revelling her red bra, exposing her nipples as they grew even harder, he first touched one, then the other, just circling them, his old finger felt so good, she watch them harden even more as other hands slipped the blouse from her shoulders then she saw him remove his teeth placing them on the table, his mouth moved over her tit and began to suck on her nipple like a baby, then she felt his gums bite down, harder the pain shot through her body. Soon he was sucking and chewing down on them, first one then the other, she began to moan, meanwhile his dark yellow broken fingernails dug into the free nipple pinching it, Emily could no longer contain herself crying out,

'harder, please, do it harder, pleeease' No sooner had she cried out when suddenly the pain and pleasure stopped.

Without a word she reached into her bag and took out the ankle bracelet. The silver had gone slightly dull with wear. The sailor accepted it with two fingers, as if it might break if handled too roughly. He turned it over once in his palm and smiled faintly.

'I see,' he said, 'that you still imagine yourself leaving before anyone notices.'

Now something else my dear, his toothless grin spreading. Emily found herself rise off the chair, his eyes went to the zipper of her skirt, she could feel herself unfasten the clip and then pull the zip down the old sailors eyes never left her as she felt the fabric fall to the floor. Now my dear turn around for everyone to see that fine arse of yours, I'm sure you enjoy showing every one what a little slut you are. Emily did as she was told then she felt the first smack, then another then another. Her arse was red matching the colour of her sheer panties as she sat back down she lifted another shot glass in downed it in one gulp.

Then he told her a secret so strange and intimate that the air seemed to lean in around it.

He said that for the last six months, whenever Emily fell asleep near open water, she had been dreaming in a language she did not know but somehow understood. In the dream, something beneath the tide had been trying to answer her. Not a voice exactly. More like a pressure in the bones, a sentence formed from currents and old metal and names that had been drowned so long ago they no longer belonged to any human mouth.

He said she had been speaking back but next time to offer to the voice whatever it asked of her.

Emily stared at him, chilled. She had never told anyone about those dreams. She had not even told herself the full shape of them. In them, she stood on a black shoreline while the water moved the wrong way, and each time she woke with salt on her lips she told herself it was only stress, only weather, only the mind stitching nonsense into sleep. But she know now, deep down inside what it was asking of her.

The second man, the dockworker, extended his hand without speaking. She laid the coin in it. He studied it for a moment and then, in a voice so low she almost missed it, revealed another hidden want.

He said the coin had not always been a coin and in payment she should now remove the panties. That she should stand now and present them to him. Suddenly Emily thought she heard him wrongly, she couldn't do that not here not in front of all these people. He looked deeper and she herd him say louder, loud enough for all to hear,

'PAY NOW!'

She stood slipping her fingers into the waist elastic she pushed the fabric to the floor. Then she herd him say. Sit and turn to face your jury and spread your legs wide for all to see, play with yourself until you cum. Slowly she sat and facing everyone, she opened her legs wide exposing he neatly trimmed bush, then as fear washed over her she slipped first one finger then another into her cunt. She could no longer control herself as her fingers parted her lips they delved deeper, her thumb rubbed her clit and she could feel the excitement inside building, her mind no longer arguing with herself about this being wrong she now accepted the fact that she was a slut, she had to show them. Then she came stronger than ever before in her life, she came squirting for all to see.

Then she heard him again.

That once, in the dream-space where the dead and the living could still misrecognize each other, Emily had been offered a key made of storm glass. She had refused it. Not because she was afraid, but because she understood what it opened. He said she had wanted it anyway. Wanted, with a terrible intensity, to turn the right lock and step through the door behind the tides, where memory no longer stayed properly attached to a body and grief could be peeled off like wet clothing.

Emily felt a sudden pressure behind her eyes, as if she were remembering something that had not happened yet. Then turning back to the men she swallowed another drink.

The third old man, the one in the dark coat, waited until she was already shaken before he asked for the heart charm. Her fingers trembled as she placed it in his open palm. It looked absurdly small there, almost childlike. He closed his hand around it, and when he spoke, his voice seemed to come from somewhere below the floorboards.

He told her that the charm had been a seal.

Not jewellery. Not keepsake.

A seal.

He said it had once been used to keep something out of Emily's life that had been trying to enter it since childhood, something patient and brilliant and cold that had learned her name before she learned to spell it. He said the charm had thinned over the years from being carried against her skin, and that every time she touched it when she was lonely or frightened, she was not remembering a person but unconsciously checking the strength of a lock.

Emily looked down at her hands, suddenly unable to trust them she reached behind her back and unfastened her bra letting the straps fall from her shoulder it fell forward the little pins scratching her tender nipples. Now she stood fully for all to see as the first old man stood, unbuttoned his work pants and told her to get on her knees. Suddenly he was naked standing in front of her she watched his wrinkled old body shake as he raised his cock to her face pulling back the foreskin, she opened her mouth, her tongue licked the head of his cock then she felt him push forward, his cock slipped in and out of her mouth slowly at first then he rammed it deeper hitting the back of her throat, making her gag he pulled back then he thrust forward, she gaged again then she felt the head slip deeper. Her hands raised up and around his hips feeling the sagging flesh of his ass as he drove deeper into he mouth, then she felt the sagging flesh of his ass tighten. He came holding her head against him she felt the globs of cum as she swallowed.

Ten she felt the old sailor behind her, she felt his cock rub up and down on her now wet slit, she still sucked the now withering cock of the old man. She felt the fat head first and waited for it to enter, slowly she felt her cunt lips spread, wider, then wider still, it was so fat that it hurt and Emily let out a muffled oh fuck. This was only her second cock that had taken her. She felt his rough hands on her hips as he puled her to him. Then with one thrust he was inside her, his cock began pounding into her as she was forced into the withered cock of the old man, deeper the cock drove deeper and harder his hands moved to her swaying tits grabbing her nipples, pinching them roughly and then she felt him explode inside. It came in waves feeling like a cold thick cream. As he slipped from her she could feel his cum seeping out and down her legs, leaving thick sticky globs for all to see.

She was sure it was over then he stood there, he was naked, thin, skeletal, his voice low and steady.

'its my turn now girl.'

Emily stood rooted to the spot and replied.

'I gave you what you asked.'

'Yes, but now I have to pay you in return.' he replied in his low slow whispering tone.

'What more can I give.' she asked.

'Now girl the seal must be broken.' he whispered.

And with that she felt the two others grab hold of each of her arms and pull her face down onto the table. That is when it struck her. No she cried out.

'No, not there.'

The room fell silent.

Then she felt his cold bony hand on her backside, his cold sharp nails dug into her flesh as he parted the cheeks exposing her virgin asshole for all to see. Then she felt the ice cold bone like head spread her ass hole wide, and as she cried out from the pain she felt him push with one unforgiving thrust deep into her bowels, it felt so bad like he had ripped her asshole, then she felt him pull back, then another thrust, and another over and over. Before long she felt herself pick up his rhythm and as he pushed deeper she in turn, pushed back and then she felt his cold cum deep inside as he let go, it felt like thick ice water flooding her insides. Emily wanted more.

But they were finished their story.

The bar seemed to tilt around her. Somewhere deep in the room, a glass shattered, though she never heard it fall.

The old men did not smile. They did not look triumphant. If anything, they looked tired, like men repeating a story they had told too many times to count.

"Three things for three men," said the sailor. "That's fair."

She stood and gathered her clothing, the room had gone even quieter. The other patrons seemed farther away than before, their faces difficult to hold in focus. The bartender was nowhere to be seen. The windows showed only dark water and the suggestion of movement on the far side, as if something was passing slowly beneath the surface.

"You can leave now," said the man in the dark coat.

Emily hesitated. "That's it?"

His expression did not change. "You offered. We answered."

So she walked to the door sore but feeling satisfied as cold streams of cum trickled down her thighs.

The night outside hit her with damp cold and the sharp smell of the river. She pulled on her blouse and shirt and turned once, expecting to see the bar glowing behind her, the three old men still visible through the glass.

There was no bar.

Only a blank brick wall between two shuttered warehouses.

The friends she had arrived with were gone from the street, gone from her phone, gone from every attempt she later made to trace the evening. They remembered a few drinks, a disagreement about where to go next, and Emily saying she'd be right behind them. None of them remembered The Black Lantern at all.

Emily kept the bracelet, the coin, and the heart charm in her mind because the absence of them felt like an imprint just like the old men. She also kept the secrets, though she would rather not have. Some nights, when she wakes from dreams of black water and listens for the sound of something moving just beneath the surface, she is sure the old men did not reveal her truths so much as uncover them.

As if they had been reading her from the inside.

The strangest part is she knows the secrets, but she cannot tell whether they belonged to her before she arrived, or whether the bar, the old men, and the tide had been placing them there all along, one hidden want at a time, waiting for the right moment to collect them.