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We chatted and nibbled on appetizers for a while. When trivia started, Brody slid around to sit next to me, resting his arm on the back of my chair. It was such a small gesture, especially compared to all the dirty things we had been doing in bed, but it felt more intimate than all of that combined.
Playing trivia with Brody was so much more fun than when I played with Eric, who took everything way too seriously. Brody kept it lighthearted and enjoyable, laughing off the answers we got wrong rather than agonizing over them. It was crazy how the same activity could feel totally different depending on who you were with.
At the halfway break, we were in fifth place out of twelve teams. I told Brody to order another round, and then I got up to go to the bathroom. When I came back out, Brody was leaning against the wall by the bathroom door.
“Waiting for the men’s room?” I asked.
“Naw. Waiting for you.”
Brody grabbed me, threw me up against the wall, and gave me a rough, hungry kiss. The kind of kiss that was given with his entire body rather than just his lips. For ten long seconds I forgot that we were even in a bar.
When he finally pulled away, I gasped and tried to catch my breath. Brody’s hawkish face was just inches from mine, grinning lustily.
“I gotta have you,” he breathed.
“What about trivia?”
“Fuck trivia.”
“What about the beers you just ordered?”
“Fuck those, too.”
I bit my lip. “Okay. Let’s go home.”
“Can’t wait that long.”
I yelped with surprise as he grabbed my hand and guided me farther down the hallway, then through a door marked Employees Only. The smell of cooked hamburger and fry oil filled the air as he led me through the kitchen.
“Hey,” said an aproned line cook. “You can’t be here.”
Brody took out a hundred dollar bill, folded it in half, and stuck it in the breast pocket of the cook’s apron. “You didn’t see nothin’.”
The cook glanced down at the bill in his pocket. “You’re right. I didn’t.”
Brody tugged me along to another door, opened it, and shoved me inside. The shelved walls were full of every assortment of cans, dry goods, and hamburger buns.
“What are we doing?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
Brody locked the door behind us. “Ticking another closet off our list.”
“This isn’t a closet,” I said. “It’s a pantry.”
He gave me a roguish smile. “Pantries are just closets for food, Foxy. Don’t get all academic on me, now.”
He crushed his lips against mine again, backing me up until I was sitting on the edge of a wooden crate. I was wearing pants that were tied up at the front with laces, and Brody’s fingers deftly untied them like they were the laces on his football cleats. He pulled them, and my panties, to the floor and then buried his face between my legs.
“Ohh,” I moaned as he devoured me. He ran his fingertips along my thighs while his tongue licked a line up and down my pussy. One finger slid up into me, then a second, tapping against my G-spot while his mouth engulfed my clit.
Soon I was bucking and thrusting against his face, arching my back as I screamed a silent scream of ecstasy in the pantry.
“Never get tired of tasting you,” he said, planting a kiss on my mound of hair. His breath whispered up my core as he stood, kissed my neck once, and caressed my cheek with a thumb.
“Let me return the favor.” I reached for his jeans, but he pulled away.
“This was for you. We can worry about me later.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You have that kind of willpower?”
He flashed a white smile. “We’ve got to get back to trivia and our beers, Foxy. I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna rally in the second half.”
I hastily dressed, we sneaked through the kitchen, and then returned to our table, giggling and cuddling together like mischievous kids.
