“Six months.”
“Then how in the holy hell haven’t you reached your destination?”
“Because I’m driving in circles.”
“Since you don’t have anywhere to be, why don’t we just spend the night?”
I pass him a side eye. “We just did.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He approaches with a hand in separate pockets of his jeans. “There’s a bar down the road. Really run down.”
“Well that sounds like a hootenanny.”
His eyes narrow on me. “I have no idea what you just said, but what’s the harm in having a little fun? It’s already getting late and besides, you haven’t gotten your money’s worth yet.”
He has a point, but he doesn’t know my past. “I have a bad habit of leaving bars with a black eye.”
“Black eyes are so hot.”
“I’m leaving in twenty minutes. If you want tocome with me, I’m heading…” I point in a random direction. “That way.”
He points to the right. “How about we go that way?”
That way we went. Not in my car, but on foot.
Whiskey burns at the back of my throat as we slam our shot glasses onto the wet counter in unison. Seven turns his head to the side, cups his fingers over the lip of his mouth, and exhales sharply. Clearly, he’s not used to the stronger shit.
I run my fingers through my hair, shifting the weight of it away from my forehead. It’s still damp from the shower I took before we headed out. I search the room with my eyes, always on alert. There’s a small group of bikers in the back, three men and two women. They’re gathered around a pool table with a dingy yellow light swaying above the green felt.
The nameless bartender stands at the opposite end of the bar, texting on her phone. She’s tall, thin, and covered in colorful tattoos that contrast sharply against her long black hair. I think I’ll call her Staci. I gesture for another round of shots with a flick of my finger. She lets out a sigh, places her phone into her back pocket, and makes her way down the length of the bar.
Seven takes a seat on an empty stool beside me. Heplaces an elbow on the bar and glances longingly in my direction. “What’s your biggest fantasy?”
“Fuck off,” I scoff.
He places a hand on my thigh. “I’m being serious.”
I swivel on the stool, pulling away from his touch, as Staci pours another two shots. I grab one glass and hand the other to Seven. “Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just like sucking dick.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
I clink my glass against his, throw my head back, and swallow another load of sweet fire. I slam the glass down and meet Seven’s gaze that’s once again fixated on me. To the left, he has placed his shot on the counter, untouched.
“No, I mean like… I love it.” He leans in closer. “Sometimes, I even come without touching myself when I’m doing it.”
“Bullshit.”
“Last night, I came when I was blowing you. Made a mess in my pants.”
I furrow my brow, playfully. “So getting pissed on isn’t your dream?”
“I told you mine. Now tell me yours.”
I reach for his stool and pull him closer to me. The metal feet scrape over the tiled floor. I lean in to whisper, “Nothing makes me harder than a man in a thong.”
“You’re joking. That’s your biggest fantasy?” Heleans back and laughs. “Most men would choose something like a threesome, or being watched, or hell, even spanking.”
