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Me: This is a bad idea.
James: No shit, but I need you. I’m like a fucking addict and I’m starved for my next fix of you.
It feels like it’s gotten about ten degrees hotter just reading his words. I lean over to Monica. “Running to the bathroom.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“No, no I’m good. Stay with your friend. Want me to grab you another drink?”
“Please!” She points at her half drunk beer that I’m sure will be gone by the time I get back. I slide out of the booth and pull my short off-the-shoulder sweater dress down in case it had ridden up. The fabric hugs my curves in all the right ways, hitting me mid-thigh and exposing a sliver of skin before my knee high heeled boots. I curled my hair in tight curls but they had fallen being in this hot club and I’m sporting more wavy hair that looks like I’ve just been thoroughly fucked.
I’m moving through the club slowly, not sure where James is but I’m sure I can feel his eyes on me. I pull out my phone to text him when I feel someone in my space. I look up half expecting to see him standing in front of me when it’s a guy I don’t recognize. The remixed sounds of Doja Cat are blaring through the speakers and I wish we were back in New York so I could grind my ass all over James’ dick but I smile realizing he’d probably make that fantasy happen just like all the others.
“Damn, Little C grew up.”
