‘Freda, you dumb cunt, why?’ I howl at myself in the mirror.
I’m not sure how long I’ve lingered in the powder room. A few minutes, half an hour, more? Slightly shaky I straighten the folds of my little black dress.
Fuckin’ Friday-Afternoon-Happy-Hour. Fuckin’ work crowd, all fuckin’ over-aged bullies. This evening I slapped away all their groping hands. Because – I DON’T WANT IT!
On top of all that Kevin spilled half a gallon of beer down my back. I turned around, scratched my nails over his face and ran of to the Ladies to hide.
I could kill him. They all do it, but by far he’s the worst. I actively attempt to avoid wandering hands on my boobs or butt.
Yess, I do know Kevin calls me Frigida and laughs at me with his gang.
Last week I set out to prove them wrong. Needing Dutch Courage I drank too much at the Friday Happy hour bash. Letting their hands travel over my breasts, buttocks, even under my skirt. I hated it, but wouldn’t let it show.
Leonard, the sweet bartender shook his head when I swallowed yet another tequila shot.
‘Some Chinese wisdom?’ He handed me a fortune cookie out of the huge glass bowl on the counter.
I cracked it open: ‘A Friday will bring you happiness.’
Well yes, of course! The pub was about to close and drunkenly I was hanging on to a barstool feeling miserable. After that, everything went hazy.
I woke up in an unknown bed. Sunbeams burst in through the curtains. Lazily I stretched out, still half-asleep. What happened after closing time started to unfold in slow-motion…
In the doorway I spy a silhouette, an aureole of light surrounds him.
‘Is everything fine? Do you need anything?’
His deep resonating voice vibrates straight through my armour. I start to sob.
‘No. Yes! Will you please hold me? Just one second? Please?’
The door closes, shutting the light out. When he lays his body behind mine and wraps his arms around me, all impressions of groping hands disappear.
I let myself sink into oblivion, shift closer to him and bring his hand to my face kissing his fingertips. They bear the scent of a sea-breeze.
He kisses my neck. I moan. His hand cups my right breast, the nipple hardens longingly between his fingers. He sighs, his mouth caresses my shoulder with more kisses, moving down to my left breast, tummy and lower. Turning on my back I surrender. His lips suck on the skin around my throbbing pearl. I melt.
When his tongue touches my piercing, he halts. My breath stops.
Growling he takes the piercing between his teeth and shakes his head. I whimper and breath out. Rhythmical he continues, sucking on my vulva, shaking the piercing between his teeth and fluttering his tongue against my pearl. Panting I raise my pelvis, tighten all my muscles and scream as I hit the height of an earth-shattering orgasm.
He doesn’t stop as his fingers slide around and between my love-lips. I push my yearning vulva against his magic hands. In response two cunning fingers knowingly enter me. A wave washes over my body, taking me out of myself. His hands and mouth let me balance on the edge of myself.
‘Take me, come inside me, now!’
After a second, an eternity I welcome his heavenly cock and float away over the edge.
From above I look down at us – I’m coming and keep coming, yet I can’t see his face…
I didn’t see his face! Wide awake I sat straight up. Head spinning.
Did I end up with someone from Kevin’s gang? Or Kevin himself? Filled with fear and shame I slipped into my dress, sneaking out of the hallway, my high-heels in hand.
The smell of bacon-and-eggs made me nauseous. Gagging, I stumbled down the stairs onto the street and without looking back stepped into a cab.
At home I flushed away my hangover with a shower. Soaping myself I noticed, my piercing was gone!
It can’t be, my barbell. Is it in Kevin’s bed, in his hands?
This last week, I went into the office quiet as a mouse. Every-time Kevin or one of his mates came by, I startled, afraid they would comment. But nothing had changed. Exactly the same lousy remarks and wandering hands I always had to avoid.
However, did nothing change? I was feeling a growing lust for wandering hands.
And now I still am in the ladies, feeling dismayed. Trying to find the courage to go into the bar again. Then Leonard comes in. He looks at me with his kind and inquisitive eyes, handing me a stupid fortune cookie.
‘They are gone, I kicked them out. Please take it, its home-made.’
Something in his eyes makes me take the cookie.
‘SNAP!’ As it opens a glistening trinket falls onto my palm.
Tears run down my face. Leonard wraps his arms around my body and licks the salty drops from my cheeks. I turn away as his hand slides along my spine, up to my neck. Fingers run through my hair, grabbing it and pulling my head back to face him.
For the first time I am looking straight into his eyes.
Our lips meet.
I submitted this story to:
This is a translation of my story in Dutch with the same title.
Thank you May More for editing, You are a gem!
If you’d like to read another of my stories, click HERE