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The opening beats of "Bring It Back" by Travis Porter blasted through the speakers, and Mira and I were instantly transported back to our secondary school days. We grabbed each other's hands, screaming the lyrics at the top of our lungs, our voices hoarse from the sheer intensity of our rapping.
Brenda watched us with a grin, laughing at our unbridled enthusiasm. This song had been our anthem, our go-to jam, and we knew every word by heart. The memories came flooding back – late-night sleepovers, school dances, and endless sing-alongs. We were living our best lives, and the music was taking us higher!
Run hit that pussy like a crash dummy
Bend it over, touch ya toes
Shake that ass for me
Bounce that ass on the floor, bring it back up
Hit a split on the dick, shawty act up
Now bring it back
Bring it back
Bring it back
Mira jumped up, her body surrendering to the infectious beat, and began twerking like a pro! Her hips swiveled, her ass shaking in perfect sync with the music, and I was completely mesmerized.
"Go girl!" I screamed completely high, my voice hoarse from cheering, as I stumbled to my feet, dancing alongside her. Brenda was pretty out of it also, her giggles turning into uncontrollable laughter, her eyes shining with a glazed-over gleam.
As the final notes of the song faded away, Mira collapsed back into her seat, her face glistening with sweat, and demanded another shot from David.
Just as we were all catching our breath, Brenda slammed her hand on the bar, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "Hey guys, I need to tell you something!" she yelled, her voice piercing through the din of the bar.
"What is it?" I asked, my curiosity piqued, as Mira leaned in closer.
Brenda's eyes darted around the bar, ensuring no prying ears were nearby, before she leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "Guys, I need to confess something... Clyde and I have been together for almost three months, but we still haven't... you know."
Mira's eyes widened in shock, her gasp audible. "What? Why not?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. Brenda's eyes dropped, her voice cracking.
"I don't know... I feel like he's just not attracted to me."
The revelation hit me like a punch to the gut. I felt my stomach churn, the alcohol and shock combining in a toxic mix. My mind raced with thoughts, trying to process what Brenda had just shared.
I downed another shot, trying to process Brenda's revelation.
"Why would you think that, girl? You're absolutely stunning!" Mira chimed in.
Brenda flashed a brief, wry smile. "I know I'm hot, but that's not the point." Her expression crumpled, and she let out a heart-wrenching wail. "It's just... I can't shake the feeling that there's someone else on his mind. He always seems distant, like he's a million miles away, even when we're intimate or trying to be. And then he... finishes too quickly, like he's thinking of someone else." Her words trailed off, and her body shook with sobs.
"You're overthinking it again, Brenda," I said, trying to sound reassuring, but my words felt hollow even as I spoke them.
"I guess," she murmured, her voice barely audible, before her head slumped forward and hit the table with a soft thud.
"Shit, Brenda, are you okay?" I exclaimed, trying to rouse her, but she was already out.
I turned to Mira, my eyes wide with concern. "I think she's passed out!"
Mira rolled her eyes."She's sleeping, I'm going to go dance." And with that, she abandoned us, leaving me alone with Brenda.
I signaled for another round of shots, my mind racing with a devious plan. That two-timing jerk, Clyde, was going down!
I fished my phone out of my bag and dialed his number, a sly grin spreading across my face. When he answered, his sleepy voice sent a flutter through my chest - I also adored his morning voice!
"I looove your voice..." I cooed, trying to sound as seductive as possible.
There was a pause on the other end, and I could almost hear his brain scrambling to catch up. "Are you drunk?" he asked, his tone a mix of amusement and wariness.
"YES, you asshole! Bastard! Motherfucker! Cheat!" I unleashed a string of insults, my anger and hurt pouring out like a torrent.
"Are you done?" he asked, his voice calm and collected, which only fueled my rage.
"Bastard!" I repeated, my voice rising.
"You've already called me that one, remember?" he pointed out, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"JERK!" I spat, my fury boiling over.
He let out a heavy sigh, his patience wearing thin. "Where are you?" he demanded.
"None of your business," I shot back.
"If you don't tell me," he growled, his anger simmering just below the surface, "I'll make sure to fuck every last bit of you the moment I get my hands on you."
I felt a shiver run down my spine as I blurted out "360". The line went dead as he hung up, my pussy was throbbing.
As I gazed out into the crowd, my heart skipped a beat as I spotted him striding into the club, his eyes fixed on me with an unnerving intensity. The memory of our first encounter flashed through my mind - how he had captivated me with his chiseled good looks and charisma.
Now, he towered over me, his presence commanding and imposing. "Stand up," he ordered, his deep voice firm.
I defied him, my voice firm but shaking slightly. "No."
Without hesitation, he swooped down and scooped me up in his powerful arms, lifting me off the stool as if I weighed nothing. I let out a startled squeal, drawing the attention of nearby patrons, who turned to gawk at the spectacle.
"Dick." I cussed as we came out of the club.
"The only dick I want you riding is mine, so shut the fuck up before I do something you're never going to forget for the rest of your life."
I squirmed in him grip and kept quiet.
He put me in the back seat. "I'm not alone." I managed to tell him. Clyde went back inside and came minutes later with Brenda in his arms and Mira trotting after him.
The car ride was a blur of pain and discomfort, my head throbbing with every bump and turn. But when we finally arrived, I realized that we weren't at our place - Clyde had taken us to his apartment, a two-bedroom apartment.
He carried Brenda's limp form to the guest room, Mira trailing behind them, her tired complaints echoing through the silent space. I slipped off my boots, feeling a sense of discomfort as I settled into the couch.
A wave of nausea washed over me, and I bent forward, my head spinning, trying to ward off the dizziness. But it only seemed to worsen, my stomach churning with a violent intensity.
I heard footsteps approaching, but I couldn't muster the strength to lift my head. "Are you okay?" a voice asked, but all I could manage was a weak whisper: "I wanna throw up."
"Come here." He murmured and before I knew it, he had scooped me up, carrying me to the bathroom as if I weighed nothing. The moment I saw the bathroom, something inside me snapped. I lunged forward, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet with a force that left me gasping for breath.
I slumped down on the cold bathroom floor, drained and spent, I made a vow to myself: "I'm never drinking again."
But Clyde's gentle chuckle told me I'd made this promise before, and broken it. He handed me a toothbrush, already loaded with toothpaste, and I took it with a weak smile.
"Thanks," I whispered, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. In that moment, I was struck by my own vulnerability, and the familiar comfort of Clyde's presence.
He nodded and returned with a familiar black shirt, one that held memories of our past. He handed it to me with a hint of awkwardness, his eyes avoiding mine, and quickly left the room. I gazed at the shirt, wondering if I should put it on.
It was a reminder of our time together, when he would lovingly gaze at me and say how sexy I looked in it. The memories came flooding back, and I couldn't help but wonder if wearing it now would be a nod to our past or a attempt to recapture what we once had.
After a refreshing shower, I slipped on the familiar black shirt, its soft fabric a gentle caress on my skin. I emerged into the living room, feeling a sense of trepidation.
Clyde's eyes snapped up, locking onto me with an intensity that made my heart race. His gaze roamed over my body, lingering on the curves of my figure, his expression a mix of longing and desire. The air seemed to vibrate with tension as he rose to his feet, his movements fluid and graceful, his eyes never leaving mine...
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