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For a moment I forgot it was alcohol I was chugging. It didn’t burn. It was just a variety of sweet and fruity flavors, like a blurred-vision inducing bowl of Fruit Loops.
I would never be able to order any of it at a bar because I had no fucking clue what I was drinking but it was nice to let loose and have a good time.
Jill and Ben were doing the same and before I knew it, I was jumping up and down with them, holding their hands, my boobs bouncing all over the place and my spirits soaring even higher.
It was awesome!
I was sweating and drinking and sweating and drinking. I lost track of time on the dance floor. I’d never been to a place where you don’t even have to leave the dance floor to have a drink.
I didn’t have to go to a bar to order something and I didn’t have to pay or tip or turn down guys who were buying them for me. It was just dance and drink. It was exhilarating…and oh so dangerous.
My heart thudded in my chest. I was having so much fun. Ben was grinding up against me, shoving his ass against me as if expecting to find a penis there.
I don’t have a penis, Ben. How funny would that be if I had a penis? Everyone should have a penis. That would be fucking hilarious…wait, how many drinks have I had?
Suddenly the world seemed a bit fuzzy. Everything was odd. Especially when I saw Jill and Ben making out.
Geez, how many drinks have they had?
“…ound you,” screamed a voice in my ear.
I knew I was pretty intoxicated but hearing a voice in my ear that I didn’t recognize was really strange. I remember my first thought was, “Where the fuck did he come from?” and my second thought was, “and how did he get in my ear?”
Then I felt a hand on my hip. At least I think it was supposed to touch my hip but it traveled a bit too far and the fingertips touched the soft spot between my thigh and my pussy. I jumped, feeling shocked and slightly afraid but strangely excited at the same time.
“Braden?” I asked as I glanced over my shoulder.
It wasn’t Braden and thinking back, I’m glad nobody could hear me say such a stupid, hopelessly hopeful thing over the blaring music. It wasn’t Braden at all. It was the hunky flight attendant from earlier.
Holy shit. He looks divine. Like a slice of cheesecake when you first find out you’re lactose intolerant.
“Remember me?” he asked.
I nodded.
I don’t know how I could suddenly hear over the music, but I could. My ears had either adjusted or the DJ had lowered the volume. Perfect timing.
The hunk grabbed my hand and pulled me away, leading me over to the bar. The stools were full so we found a spot off to the side. He leaned against the bar, looking magnificent, like the steamy blond surfer guy on the cover of a romance novel. His white linen shirt was unbuttoned a couple of buttons, showing off his solid chest.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
I don’t think I would’ve asked so many stupid questions if I’d been sober but the alcohol was making me numb, and truth be told, I needed to pee.
I know, shitty timing, right?
This guy was so hot that I should’ve been instantly wet and there I was trying not to be instantly wet. I bit my lip to stave off my nagging bladder.
“This is my town,” he said. “I fly this route all the time. It’s my favorite place to be LAID over.”
Is it just me or did he put extra emphasis on the word “laid”?
The music stopped and the silence was insanely loud. I felt dizzy and I grabbed the edge of the bar to keep from falling over. Mr. Hunk must’ve noticed because he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close to him. Without preparation, I was in his arms, and it was nice and warm.
The music went back to its original volume and I could feel the floor beneath my feet move with each pound of the bass.
I knew my face was red. I could feel it burning so I kept my gaze on the dance floor hoping he wouldn’t see me blush.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
