I needed an escape. I worked in doc review for a law firm. The space was absolutely crowded. No windows, the narrow floor made smaller with the desks and the chairs and the columns of documents stacked between them. And the people. Most of them were right out of college, underslept and overworked and overconfident. Everyone had someone to impress. Everyone had a lot to lose. Everyone was out for themselves, with absolutely no room for anyone else.

I hated it, and I hated that I was just like the others. It was a Saturday night, and there I was, in the thick of it, working through what was supposed to be my weekend, hoping to prove myself, trying to convince myself that this was normal or necessary or even the slightest bit tolerable.

There were no windows or fans, let alone an AC unit. The heat made everything heavier, slower, more intolerable. My blazer felt like a winter coat. My skirt felt like it was made out of fur instead of linen. The heat even worked itself into the air, making it as thick as honey or syrup. It thrummed with the noise. And the noise! As if I could ever forget it. The other interns were playing music through their phone speakers, a dozen phones, each one cranked to 100% volume, each one playing a different song.

My own phone pinged and chimed with notifications. I had been ignoring them for hours now, but I decided to pick it up, unlock it, and see what was going on. I was met with messages from my friends, asking me if I wanted to hangout. There were only one or two messages. When I started this job, there had been dozens of invitations to clubs or girls' nights or bachelorette's parties, and I'd told all of them that I was too busy with work to go. After that, the invitations had dwindled over time, most of my friends didn't even try reaching out to me now. They probably assumed I was too busy to go out with them, and they were right. I opened instagram, and I was met with something that I suspected all along: photo after photo of my friends at clubs, bars, and nights out with their boyfriends.

I didn't have a boyfriend. I hadn't had one for years. I hadn't even had one in college. It was law school, I had been too busy. That was the story of my life, wasn't it? Too busy for my friends. Too busy for a boyfriend. Too busy for life. I hadn't even been able to go to my sister's engagement party because I had to work.

"You can go now," a voice said.

I looked up to see Sandra, one of the lawyers I was working under. The disbelief must've shown on my face, because she said it again, smiling.

As I walked down to my car, I unlocked my phone once again and opened instagram. One of my friends was at a club not too far from where I worked. If I rushed home, showered, changed, and…no. It was too late for that. Driving back home would take an hour, so two to get there and back, plus whatever time I'd lose showering and getting ready. I sighed, looking at my reflection in my car window. My hair was a mess, my clothes were wrinkled, and my makeup was smudged.

But I decided that it didn't matter. This was my first free Saturday in months, I had to make the most of it. So what if I looked a little worse for wear? I'd been to clubs before. People looked a little disheveled after hours of dancing, drinking, and having a great time. If I showed up now, I'd blend right in.

So I took off my blazer, touched up my makeup, put on a little perfume, and drove to the club.

The line for the club wasn't as long as I thought it'd be. The club was on a busy street, with dozens of bars, clubs, and comedy theaters. It only took me around half an hour to get in and, when I did, I was met with a sight I'd missed for a long time. The club was dark but filled with dazzling neon lights. A DJ stood in a booth, cranking dials and knobs and blasting electronic music. Below him, the crowd moved in waves of passionate, intimate, and carefree dancing. There were several floors, some with private tables and booths, where groups of friends danced around iced buckets filled with champagne and vodka bottles. The bar was crowded with men and women in dress shirts, dresses, and suits.

I smiled. This was exactly how I imagined it, all these people out on a Saturday night, dancing and drinking and partying their worries away. Suddenly, the office I had just left felt like a bad nightmare.

I began walking toward the bar when I spotted her. My friend Sarah, who I had seen on instagram. I tried waving at her, but she was locked in an intimate dance with a man. Her hands moved over his body, tracing his open shirt and digging into his chest hair, pecks, and abs. I looked away, feeling my cheeks blush and burn with…what? Embarrassment? No. It was more like jealousy.

I walked toward the bar, pushing past groups of people who were dancing in place. Before I got there, a hand closed around my arm and pulled, turning me around where I stood. The movement was fast and unexpected, and it took me a few moments to collect myself and for my eyes to settle on the person in front of me.

It was a man, around my age, wearing a dress shirt and khakis, with an embarrassed look on his face. He had closely-cropped blond hair, blue eyes, and a sort of innocent, boy-next-door quality about him that I found a little disarming and more than a little cute. I felt my anger and indignation at being touched by a stranger fade quickly.

“What?” I asked, turning to look at his hand on my arm. I had to shout over the loud music, and it made me sound angrier than I intended.

As soon as I did, he removed it, blushing and at a loss for words. “I'm sorry!” he shouted, “I thought you were someone else!”

“Who?” I asked.

This question seemed to catch him off guard. “Uh. My ex!”

I smiled. I found myself a little flattered.

“I'm sorry,” he said, “I'll leave you alone!” He started walking away, and then it was my turn to reach out, grab his arm, and turn him around to face me.

“How about you buy me a drink and make up for it?”

We talked over a few drinks and, as we did, I found myself dancing in place, moving my hips closer and closer to his, enjoying the way it made him stop dancing and freeze in shy, but excited terror. His name was Jacob, and he worked not too far from the club, just like me. He and his girlfriend had broken up because her work visa wasn't renewed and she had to leave the country. He had wanted to continue the relationship long distance, but she had cut things off suddenly, telling him she just wanted to move on before blocking him everywhere. Obviously, Jacob was hurt, and it seemed like the whole thing had made him shy and rocked his confidence.

But he was cute. I had just met him, and I really liked him. I liked the way he smelled, liked the way his hand had touched my arm, and I liked the way his eyes lingered on my lips whenever I talked.

I reached out and grabbed his arm again, pulling him closer to me, basking in the smell of his cologne, taking him with me as I moved toward the dance floor.

And the lights turned on. The DJ announced that it was closing time. I turned to look at Jacob, finding him even more handsome now that I could see him clearly. I pulled him closer and kissed him deeply, biting his lip gently as I did.

“Aw, I wanted to dance with you,” I said.

“Well, maybe we could dance someplace else,” he said.

I smiled again, liking his idea a lot. “How about my place?” I asked, kissing him again.

Jacob stuttered and blushed and said, “that sounds great.”

As I pulled Jacob toward the door, Sarah and I locked eyes from across the room. She was holding hands with the man she had been dancing with. They were both sweaty, disheveled, and covered in her smudged makeup. She smiled at me knowingly and I smiled back.

I wasn't going to drive after drinking, so I used a rideshare app to get Jacob and I back to my place.

Once we got there, I didn't waste any time. I kissed Jacob once again, pulled him toward me, and asked “would you like to fuck me?”

“I'd love to,” Jacob said.

We started undressing ourselves and each other, pulling at our clothes, so hard the fabric creaked with the pressure. Our fingers moved at a feverish pace, working desperately to undo and untangle and pull off anything between us. All the while, our kissing got more and more frenzied. We bit each other's lips, kissed and sucked and bit each other's necks and chests, our bodies brought together in a whirlwind of passion that ended in my bed.

Jacob was already hard, so I helped him put on a condom and guided him so that he entered me. He was gentle, thrusting quickly but not deeply, not aggressively. It was too tame for my liking. Jacob was doing things in a way that I would have enjoyed had it been my first time, but this was far from my first time. The more partners I had, the more I realized that I enjoyed rough sex. I wanted things to be wild, to be caught in the throes of desire and lust, wanted to ride and be ridden and push the limits of pleasure.

So I began guiding Jacob. I told him to penetrate me deeper, and harder, and he began to listen to me. His shaft entered me again and again, ramping up the speed and intensity, and I helped by bucking up and down and pulling him closer in. With each thrust and each buck of my hips, Jacob hit deeper and stronger and shot sparks of pleasure through my body. His shy nature was melting with each of my suggestions, but we were far from finished.

I asked him to pull out and I got on all fours on the bed, asking him to penetrate me anally. When he did, I bucked my hips and arched my back, driving him deeper and deeper, asking him to slap my ass and pull my hair. Slowly, both of us were letting go of our inhibitions and grunting, scratching, pulling, slapping, biting, giving into our lust for each other and following our instincts.

I got on my back once again, letting Jacob penetrate me and asking him to move faster, deeper, and harder. As he did, I scratched his back with my nails and asked him to kiss my neck. When that wasn't enough, I asked him to bite my neck, to lick it, and to wrap his hands around it and choke. Jacob was hesitant to do this, and I asked him if it was making him uncomfortable, but he said he had just never done it before. He asked me how hard I wanted him to choke me and, together, we found an intensity we were both comfortable with, and that made both of us more aroused.

Before the night was through, we gave into our instinctual lust. Jacob kissed my breasts, licking, sucking, and even biting them, giving me fiery pleasure with just the right amount of pain.

We were covered in sweat, hickies, bruises, bite marks and scratch marks, his body slathered here and there with my red lipstick. His cologne was on my skin, just as my perfume was on his, my sweat mingled with his, our bodies brought together in a tornado of lust and passion and boundless pleasure.

By the end of it, I had seen Jacob's shy nature disappear, helping him find a more confident, assertive, and commanding part of himself, and I could tell he enjoyed it. He was eager for more, and so was I.

 

                                                       THE END

 

Written by: F. Inglewood

F.Inglewood is a writer who strives to transport readers into vivid, personal and erotic worlds. Each of their stories is a sensual escapade that you might find yourself daydreaming about. After all, it could happen to you!