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“So raw? Animal?” she suggested.
Exactly.
“Maybe I need another drink,” I said, and we ordered a second.
“I can’t believe it happened again. This isn’t something that happens to sane people.”
Jane looked a bit exasperated. “You know, Alex, you can spend your evening worrying about how this happened, or you can relax and enjoy yourself.”
Of course she was right. I took a deep breath, and then another. At least for a moment the tense feeling in my body eased off. Within a few minutes, I could feel the drink starting to have an effect, and my anxiety receded further.
I could feel myself responding to the music, the heavy beat, the crazy noise, all of it infecting me just like the liquor. I could do this. Yes, I could do this, I told myself until my mind was too far gone to think at all. All of a sudden, I wanted to dance, wanted to flirt, wanted everything my fantasies gave me. At least for the moment, I was sure that the inhibitions that had held me back before had finally been driven away.
Rising from my seat to go to the restroom, the first rush of blood made me dizzy; but gat
hering up my courage, I walked like any brazen slut, my hips slowly gyrating in a sensuous fluid stroll across the room.
I was noticed – a pair of eyes, maybe two or three, zeroing in on my chest. These were not sweet-smelling city men with well groomed hair and properly matching clothes. There was no glint of gold, no polished suits, no impeccably clean shaven faces. These were denim men in cowboy boots dusted with the earth. The potent smell of leather made me want to climb into their laps and smell their scent. They were rugged, earthy, comfortable with danger, extreme players, participant actors, creators of experience doing what others only dreamed of.
As the flames inside my body climbed higher, fueled by my almost drunken stupor, I became more deliberate with my body. Once in the restroom, I looked in the mirror, liking what I saw and feeling a fresh wave of desire sweep through my fired up crotch. On my way back to the our table, I suddenly found myself pushed against the wall by a leather clad biker whose large frame loomed a good six inches above my small one. He was the same burly brute who’d stared at me as I strolled to the restroom, although now he looked more formidable than alluring. He peered directly into my eyes.
“You want some fun, sweetheart?” I could smell the liquor on his breath and my stomach soured. I couldn’t reply. I had no answer and in my silence my fired up body led him on.
He reached beneath my t-shirt to fondle a tit, and I gasped.
“Like that, blondie?”
His hard body moved in closer, so I could smell his scent, a redolent wave of lusty pheromones that went straight to my sex. I responded naturally and I pressed myself against his thrusting groin. Pressing his mouth to mine, his tongue probed deeply, while the memory of my fantasy biker prodded me on. My body flooded with a fiery heat. Then something else in me, not fear or disgust, but something sassy and provocative, pushed him off. He stood back a little stunned, while I grinned and walked away. Something raw but unspoken linked us now, but as I realized what I’d just done my courage began to fade.
He followed me to the table and sat down between Jane and me. His intentions were clear when he began to play with my leg, tracing a delicate line along my thigh with his finger. The feeling overwhelmed me, and I wanted him to end it now. I prayed that he’d go away, and yet, I did nothing to dissuade him. In fact, I swear that I was coming on to him, inviting him with a flirty smile and taunting eyes, my body oozing sex. I nervously fumbled with my drink as he asked me questions, little insignificant personal questions that I answered coyly, as if I were seducing him with my evasive replies.
“You think you can leave your friend here for a while, and we’ll have some fun?” he asked.
Jane nodded at me, as if she were pushing me out the door, a mother hen to her chick.
But suddenly, the drink didn’t feel or taste as good as it had earlier, and my stomach turned. Fear, my constant friend, rose up, supplanting my desire. My mind began to race with all the reasons why I had to leave, and leave immediately.
“Sorry, no,” I blurted out. “We have to be going – soon.”
I lied and he knew it.
“And where’s that?” he asked.
My momentary high all but collapsed, and my former uptight reserve returned.
“Really, we have to go,” I said firmly. Head pounding, nerves on edge, a full scale war raging inside me, I gathered my purse and headed for the door in the same swift manner that I’d left The Tropics the week before.
Knowing I was too shaken to drive, Jane took the wheel of my car and we rode in silence. I knew she’d be disappointed, but she showed no signs that she was. In fact, if anything, she seemed to sense my need to back away from bars and unknown men.
“Come upstairs with me,” she said, as she parked the car in front of her building. It wasn’t a request I wanted to challenge. I wanted to be closer to her. I wanted it to be just her and me together, talking, laughing, being friends. I wanted to be the special one in her life for that moment in time. I needed her friendship and her wisdom and a place to be safe.
As we mounted the stairs to her apartment, I felt the strange night, the tavern, the men, the dancing, the booze and the fear slowly melt into another time, far away. I entered Jane’s cozy world, and nothing else seemed to matter but our being together. It was safe, seductive and secure.
Jane motioned me to sit while she changed clothes. Gone were the boots and leggings, replaced with a black knit wrap skirt. She removed the lace tee in favor of a snug-fitting pink camisole. She stopped long enough to pour two glasses of wine from the bottle we’d earlier shared, then while I sat on her couch slowly sipping from my glass, she flitted about the apartment, moving things from here to there. I wasn’t sure what she was doing, except that just looking at her move was a pleasure. The snug-fitting camisole showed off the contours of her breasts and torso. I could even see the dark part of her nipples, and the centers that hardened into little buds. I had the most compelling desire to touch them, and as strange as it seemed, I didn’t want to squelch the feeling.
At last she sat down on the opposite end of the couch, in a most erotic pose, her legs sprawled wide so that her skirt, already quite short, rose up high on her thighs. I could see between her legs, and realized that she wasn’t wearing any panties. Her closely shaved pussy was right there for me to see. I didn’t know whether to look at it or turn away.
Did she mean to be so provocative? Did she intend to turn me on? Would we make love? My heart beat rapidly at the thought, not with fear but arousal. I tried to dismiss the possibility that sex was her intent, but I could hardly shy away from the possibility. “Tell me Alex Morgan, why did you run tonight?” Her eyes peered at me seductively, her lips were so exquisitely formed, and the way she talked…I wanted to touch her face, her cheeks, her eyes. I wanted to carefully kiss her lips and feel them return my kiss with her own. I was shocked by my thoughts.
