Never Have I Ever

I’d never done anything like this before and my heart thumped nervously in my chest as I pulled into the parking lot. After battling with self doubt and uncertainty, I released a long sigh and loosened my grip on the steering wheel.

When I opened the visor, sensual eyes looked back at me. You’re going to be dreaming now.

I took a deep breath and ran my hands gently up my thighs, removing my panties before heading toward the building.

The parking lot was dimly lit and as I walked I could hear gravel crunching under my heels.

I shut my eyes for a second and there he was in sharp imagery—his hands, his words, his seductive smirk, stylized details dancing in my mind.

I’d never done anything like this before, but I’ve imagined how it would feel. I’ve imagined wrapping my arms around his neck, wrapping my legs around his waist, wrapping my lips around his—

“April? Oh my god, April is that you?”

A cute girl and guy in Gatsby looking outfits walks toward me, their arms linked at the elbows.

I smile, “Nope, not April.”

They giggle to themselves and she says, “Oh sorry.”

“That’s our fault for thinking April would show up on time for anything,” he adds and they look at each other then throw their heads back and cackle.

I hear a hint of bass as we approach the entrance to the building. The two infront of me hold the door open waiting for me to follow them inside.

“Thanks so much,” I say as I place my hand on the door.

“Sure thing,” she says. Darkness folds around me as I watch her red feathered boa disappear in the distance.

The room seems somehow darker than outside, but there are teeny tiny lights, like little imitation stars lighting the long entryway.

The first floor, I learned, was for dancing. I squeezed through a sea of gyrating bodies, scanning every face I passed, no sign of him.

I took a deep breath and made my way to a staircase in the back of the room. The second floor housed a bar where an intoxicating fog filled the air.

I scanned the room before choosing a seat. Numerous unattended men up here. A few in groups, puffing on vape pens. Several tables with several couples and some with groups of friends.

I take a seat at the center of the bar. Several stools down sits a man who appears to be in his thirties, chiseled body, relaxed jawline. He’s drinking something straight. He smiles at me as I sit down.

The Bartender comes over to ask me what I want, “A martini and a pen,” I answer.

Minutes later I sip my martini and watch the man receive the drink I sent over. He blushes and smiles big at me after reading what I wrote on the napkin.

I’m not wearing any panties, the note read.

I’d never done anything like this before and I finally found someone who was willing to meet me in fantasy and pretend we were strangers flirting at the bar, strangers kissing for the first time on the dance floor, strangers fucking in the corner of a starlit corridor.

Exciting news: you can now support my sensual content by buying me a coffee.

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