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I raise a brow, annoyed. “What’s it to you?”
She shrugs, a sly smile on her lips. Her red-lipsticked grin is ghoulish, and reminds me of the Joker from Batman. “Nothing, I just thought you might like to have a good time.”
“Sorry,” I say in a short voice. “I’m busy.”
“You sure?” Then slowly, the woman pulls open her dress, and she’s completely naked underneath. Her breasts are perfect concentric orbs, obviously the work of a plastic surgeon, and her pussy glistens in the low light. “How about a foursome, stud? My two friends here and I would definitely show you a good time. We could use some hard dick, if you get what I mean.”
Then to my horror, the other two girls also pull their dresses open, and they too are completely bare underneath. They jiggle their boobies at me, and the one with the black-and-white striped hair goes so far as to reach down and part her pussy lips, revealing a huge, throbbing clit.
“You want to kiss it?” she coos. “That would feel so good.”
I jerk away from the table and turn my head before averting my eyes. “Ladies, please,” I say through gritted teeth. “Get the fuck away. I’m not interested, okay? The message is loud and clear.”
But the women aren’t put off. They merely wriggle and shimmy some more, showing off their assets. The one in red even goes so far as to dip a finger into her cunt before bringing it up to her lips and sucking the fluids off.
What the hell? How can other people not be seeing this? But it’s dark in the back of the bar, and we’re in a relatively isolated location. The other customers probably just see the backs of the three ladies, and from that vantage point, you can’t tell that they’re basically assaulting me with their assets.
But after a few moments, the women get the message pull their dresses closed. They saunter off, waving goodbye while shooting me saucy smiles. I take a deep breath, relieved. I’m definitely going to have to report this to management because no one should have to go through what I just experienced.
But then I freeze because Jessa’s standing not ten feet away. She’s looking at me with daggers in her eyes, and her hands on her hips. I feel my stomach drop. Shit. She saw all of that, but what my girlfriend doesn’t understand is that I didn’t ask for it. Women throw themselves at me, and while it doesn’t usually happen the way it did tonight, it’s a regular part of being Sam Nelson. The question is: will Jessa understand?
10
Jessa
* * *
When I leave Sam on the dance floor, I find there’s a line for the ladies room, as there always is. I sigh and pull out my phone. I want to take in something interesting on my Instagram feed, but all I see are pictures of food and Wyoming landscapes. None of this is going to hold my interest while I wait for a stall to open up.
“Excuse me.”
I look up at the voice. There’s a girl wearing a tight red dress that looks like it could unzip itself at the slightest breeze. In her matching stiletto heels, she’s about ten feet tall and stares down her nose at me. I turn to face her, prepared to tell her off, but then I realize I’m standing in front of the door. Oops, my bad. I step out of her way without a word, and she brushes past me with a haughty flick of her hair. Two similarly-dressed girls follow close behind her, one with black and white striped tresses. Does she think that looks good? Honestly, it looks more like a zebra sat on her head. I roll my eyes and start scrolling through Twitter instead.
Finally, after what feel like eons, it’s my turn to go. I use the restroom quickly and wash my hands. I quickly check my reflection in the mirror. My curls have become a bit messy from dancing, and is it just me, or do I look kind of bloated? I poke at my cheeks a bit, but then shrug to myself. It’s probably nothing.
I collect my hair back into its clip, reapply my lip gloss, and then head back out. At first, I can’t find Sam. Then, I scan the room slowly and locate a dark corner. He must be back there, but I can’t tell exactly as I peer into the gloom.
Walking slowly, I make my way to the back of the bar, and finally catch a glimpse of the top of Sam’s blond head. What the hell? Because the man is literally surrounded by women, bending over him like witches stirring a cauldron. Then, as I get closer, I realize that it’s the three girls from the bathroom.
