Eva linked her arm around Sam’s and pressed herself closer to him as they walked into the club. It was late, close to last call, but as it was drizzly out and neither of them really wanted to call it a night yet (the kids were at the grandparents’ and they didn’t get out much these days), they agreed to pop into to one last bar before calling a cab.
“One last drink,” Sam said, “better make it a good one.”
Eva looked at the bar specials and wracked her brain for all the crazy drinks she’d tried when she was younger…maybe a Sex on the Beach, an Irish Car Bomb, or a Fuzzy Navel?
“What’ll you have? It’s last call, but I’ll make ya anything ya want.” The bartender was muscular, wearing only a black tank top and belted, low-slung jeans. His arms were tattooed from shoulder to wrist, and he looked her as if he were hungry and she were the last thing on the earth left to eat.
Biting her lip in discomfort, she noted that the look actually made places twinge that hadn’t felt quite like that in awhile. Not to say anything against Sam, but well…she knew everything about him and he was some perfectly comfortable. They hadn’t done anything new or naughty in years.
“Umm…I’m not sure…we don’t get out much these days and I can’t keep up with all these newfangled concoctions…” she smiled shyly, a little coyly even, and continued, “What would you suggest?”
The bartender leaned against the beat-up mahogany counter top. His forearms pulsed as he narrowed his eyes, sizing her up. “I think I’ve got just the ‘concoction’ for you. Somethin’ new I’ve cooked up…call it the Jekyll’n Hyde.”
Sam chimed in, opening his wallet and thumbing through the remaining bills.
Eva watched the bartender pull several bottles from the shelf, spinning them behind his back and flipping them, scooping ice while bottles were still in the air, seemingly suspended in slow motion. She was mesmerized, and she felt her cheeks flush a little at the way it made her feel.
Sam placed his hand on the small of her back, causing her to breathe in sharply at the remembrance of him. Her eyes wide, she leaned into him.
Within less than a minute or two (which felt like a blessed eternity), a beautiful caramel-colored drink in a tall slim glass, with two pink straws, sat on the counter in front of her. A thin layer of creamy froth floated on the top like ocean foam. Eva reached out and took the glass. “Thank you,” she said.
Sam ordered a beer, paid, and lead her to a dark booth in the heart of the club. There was DJ, nothing special, and he was playing what Sam would have called “stripper music.” Eva found herself looking around to see if there was a pole; not so surprisingly, there was…right in the middle of the dance floor.
How tacky, she thought…and then she took a sip of her drink. It was sweet and creamy…like Guinness with a touch of molasses and Irish Cream. But it was also spicy, as if a little cayenne pepper had been added. It was smooth and would definitely go down too easily and too quickly. She would have to control herself and savor it.
“How is it?” Sam asked.
“It’s interesting,” Eva replied, “very different…sweet and spicy and creamy.”
He nodded, smiled, and sipped his beer.
“It’s nice to be out; we should do this more often.”
She looked up at him, put her hand on his thigh, “Now that the kids are a little older, we could probably do that.”
When had their conversations become so mundane? Were the kids all they ever talked about anymore?
She took another sip and swayed her body subtly to the beat of the music. Sam put his arm around her and pulled her closer.
“You smell nice.”
“It’s the same perfume I always wear.”
“I know…” he shrugged… ” but I like it.”
His face was so open and so sweet. She loved him, but when was the last time they fucked? Like really fucked? Like “wet messy sex in the back of a car or in the foyer of the house because they can’t make it to the bedroom” kind of sex?
She took another drink.
Her cheeks felt flushed and she was a little dizzy. The shared bottled of wine and after-dinner drink were catching up with her. She was out of practice. This “going out” thing had been a staple of their pre-child life, but since the kids, she’d not had more than a glass or two of wine in an evening.
Her skin was tingly, like it was alive, her entire body vibrating.
It must be the bass.
Beneath her, the vinyl stuck to her bare legs, and they began to sweat.
Did I forget to wear underwear?
She felt confused by how wet she’d become between her legs. She looked over at Sam, who was watching the DJ on the stage. There were a few people still dancing, one or two in obvious states of inebriation.
Taking the chance, the reached between her legs and felt how sweaty(?) she’d become. Was it just hot in here? Was she suddenly incontinent? She put her fingers to her nose: the scent was definitely not urine. It was animal. Musk. Sex.
She felt her cheeks flush.
Glancing over at the bar, she saw the bartender, leaning against the counter, chin resting in his palm. He was watching her.
She swallowed and felt the heat of her cheeks travel down her throat to her chest. Suddenly, she became intensely aware of her nipples…felt them rubbing against the inside of her shirt. She bit her lip again. She was doing that a lot tonight.
Sam turned toward her, and now she felt like she was being watched by everyone in the club.
She took another drink.
What was coming over her? She was so intensely turned on, so ready to be fucked she could hardly stand it.
She pulled her skirt up around her thighs and swung her leg over Sam’s lap. The startled look on his face just encouraged her. He looked just like the confused teenager she’d fallen in love with. The same one she’d lost her virginity to in the backseat of his mom’s station-wagon after the prom. The same one who’d turned into the man she’d married.
She reached down and unbuckled his pants and unzipped them. His face turned from confused to a mix of concern about her sanity with a dollop of terror for good measure. Eve reached her fingers into the flap of his boxer briefs and pulled out his cock. It was soft yet, but quickly rising, and she took the moment it would need to pull the crotch of her panties aside, exposing her wet cunt.
Cunt? Really…when was the last time I thought of it as my cunt? What the fuck is wrong with me?
She held him in her hand, working him slowly up and down, his foreskin peeling back exposing his sensitive head. Giving him no time to object, she placed her mouth on his and lowered herself onto him, grinding her pelvis into him. He filled her as he grew to accommodate her internal landscape. Every crevice and fold, his body knew and found.
She breathed heavily, riding him, her hips rising like ocean waves and crashing against him. The edge of the table dug into her lower back, and Sam’s fingers dug into her thighs. Eva wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts into his chest.
She hadn’t been this hungry for him in years, but she could feel her lust mounting to a crescendo, ready to burst across his lap. He’d likely look like he’d spilled his drink by the time she was done with him.
His thighs tightened beneath hers, and she knew he was close. His dick always seemed bigger and harder just before it exploded within her…and when he did…when the heat melted into her like a hot cracked yolk, she couldn’t stop herself from letting it go. She came.
She came in a great gush across his lap and slumped over him, heaving, holding him. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to him tightly.
“What came over you?”
“I don’t know.”
She laid her head on his shoulder, and…out of the corner of her eye…caught a glimpse of the bartender.
The light from the disco ball glinted off of his teeth as he smiled, and she could have sworn she saw just the hint of a set of horns on top of his head.
It must be my imagination.
Or that damned drink.