Dalton tilted his head back and felt the shot burn as it slid down his throat. He looked over at the woman in the vinyl bustier to his right, and lifted the empty glass to her in a gesture of thanks.
He had been second-guessing himself. Just because he always came here, didn’t mean he had to always come here, did it? He wondered if he was getting tired of it all. He had been feeling restless the last couple of weeks, and couldn’t quite put his finger on what was causing it.
He briefly wondered if he was finally ready to go back home, and fulfill his family’s desires for him. Then the shot had showed up and the vinyl bustier had winked at him, and all thoughts of home and family vanished. He figured he could find someone entertaining to do tonight.
She stood up from the plush wingback chair, and sauntered over to him, to perch on the arm of his chair. Eerily, her face reflected the multi-colored strobe lights: sickly green, mellow blue, demonical red. This last color seemed to mesh well with the abundance of makeup she wore, either to hide her age or hard living, Dalton couldn’t tell, nor did he care.
Her hand encircled his bicep, as she inhaled slowly into his ear. “That’s a nice shirt. Can I talk you out of it?”
He inwardly rolled his eyes at her blatant pick up line, but since the outfit she was wearing had “fuck me hard” written all over it, he decided he shouldn’t disappoint. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap.
This was a club, but The Church on a Sunday night had some pretty lax rules about appropriate behavior. With the bass beat pounding through his spleen, he dipped his head and tasted the woman’s neck. She moaned and leaned into him, pushing her breasts against his chest. That was all he needed.
He nibbled her earlobe, “The last time I had sex in this chair, they asked me to leave.”
“Then let’s get out of here.” Her hand stroked his erection through his pants.
So he obliged her.
Alyssa was making lunches for her kids while they fought over toothbrushes in the bathroom. “Guys, come on! We’ve got to leave in ten minutes. We do not have time for this!” She finished throwing chips and cookies into the brown paper bags, and tossed them onto the couch on her way to the bathroom.
Extricating the princess toothbrush from Cayden’s grasp and placing it into Sierra’s hand, she said sternly, “Now, get to brushing!” Ten harried minutes later, they were on the way to school.
In the car, on the way to school, Alyssa cranked up the radio and tuned out the children. As soon as the bickering faded out, the dream she’d had last night tuned itself in. It had been a good one. She blushed at the pool of warmth forming between her legs.
It must have been some sort of subliminal thing telling her to get out more, because the dream started out in this wild club. Scantily clad women, men decked out in black leather and metal spikes were everywhere.
After the club, Alyssa had gone home with this beautiful woman and done unspeakable things with her, because in the dream, she had been a man. Was that her subconscious telling her something else?
She had been an incredibly hot man, for sure. Auburn hair, gray eyes, muscles everywhere, and apparently a boundless creativity in bed. Saliva pooled in Alyssa’s mouth, and she swallowed, thickly.
At that moment, with her kids in the car, she was thankful her thoughts were private.
It was confusing. Alyssa was not attracted to women, and had never had any desire to be a man, but this dream was so real. In the dream, she had performed delicious sexual acts with a woman, and Alyssa had enjoyed every bit of it. There was something about kissing the smooth skin, the supple softness, being in control of everything, that was deliciously foreign. The feelings her body had experienced were so strange to Alyssa. It could very well have been a wet dream. Did women even have wet dreams? She wasn’t sure, but she was almost positive she had had an orgasm last night.