The room music pumping from the speakers, drowned out any thoughts I could have. Just the way I like it. The dark room was musty with the sweat of gyrating bodies clinging to the air. The dance floor was overcrowded, scantily clad girls in high heels grinding on each other and greasy haired college boys who could only attract the attention of a girl in a dark room, or in this case, one with strobe lights. I watched from my perch on a bar stool a blond girl in a red corset top and black shorts with fishnets guided an awkward clearly underage teen into a corner booth. The nightclub was shady at the best of times, barely checking ID's and allowing a couple of prostitutes to do their nightly rounds. I signalled Ben over, the bartender, a burly man in his late 20's with tattoos encasing his body. He gave me a slight nod, before turning to a tipsy blond girl, who was presumably asking for a cosmo or another drink with enough sugar in it to mask any form of alcohol. His handlebar mustache twitches in irritation either by her annoyingly high pitched voice, which could be heard all the way to where I was sitting, or by her request for top end vodka in the cocktail. Ben despised party girls who, despite being unable to taste whatever alcohol was going to be put in the drink, specifically asked for top shelf.
He shuffled around behind the bar, ignoring her attempts and flirtation and brushing her hand off his bicep when he slid her drink across the wood top of the bar. I smirked at her expression of disbelief as he took her money and grabbed whiskey from the back shelf. She stomped her foot, spilling her bright red concoction on the floor, but her glazed eyes indicated that she wouldn't notice. He ambled my direction pouring the whiskey into my empty glass, "Rough night?" I nod at his Irish accent, and reach forward, my semicolon tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of my lacy dress. His eyes glance at my wrist, but he doesn't ask. That's one of the things I like about Ben, he doesn't ask too many questions, but when he does, he understands instead of judges. He glances over my shoulder, whispering, "You have an admirer". He leans back and goes back to work, serving the party girls and the incoherent. I feel his body heat radiating off him in waves and his breath on my neck, "Can I buy you a drink?" I flipped around, expecting to turn him down, expecting the usual tall, dark and handsome frat boy, who had too much confidence and too much to drink, but instead I got a refined man in a tight fitting grey t-shirt under a leather jacket with dark jeans. His mysterious green eyes twinkled with excitement, knowing how his angular face affected the opposite gender. I showed him the drink in my hand, "I already have one". He seems almost surprised at my drink choice, you didn't see straight alcohol often in this bar. He smiles cheekily, "Well in that case, would you like to dance?" He outstretched hand waited for my reply. Dancing with this clearly experienced man would be a welcome distraction from people watching at the bar. It's perfect.
I took his hand, as he led me into the fray. He pulled me against him, our faces inches apart, placing his hands on my hips. He moved his hips against mine slowly, contradicting the fast pace of the song. I matched his pace, resting my hands on his chest, feeling his muscles rippling under the sudden pressure. His hands moved down, sliding to grasp my butt. The way he looked at me, was as if he could see right through my facade. That's impossible. The sexual tension sizzling in the air between us was thick with want. He leaned in closer, licking his lips, presumably for a kiss. I broke away from his gaze, turning my head to the side. I watched the bliss and laughter of the carefree mass unfold before me. It was strange how the blaring music with heavy bass and alcohol brought smiles to everyone who walked through the club doors, guaranteed the smiles were accompanied with swaying bodies, the awkward movements masquerading as dancing made them look like dying birds, and the euphoria coming from the alcohol would wear off in a few hours, leaving them with either a pounding headache, or depression worse than when they came in. I felt his hands release my butt, caressing my hips slightly before turning me around, and pulling me back, so I felt his growing erection. My hands slid up around his neck, as we continued our circular rhythm, his arousal causing my body to respond, matching the growing pressure behind each stroke. His hands found an exposed piece of skin above my tight, shiny, black pants, pushing past my waistband, he crept lower, "Do you want to get out of here?"
His breathy voice caused heat to travel down with his hands, "No" before he could respond I coaxed his hands out of my pants, collided with his lips, I guided him through the remaining crowd towards the nearest booth, my tongue teasing his lips into allowing me entrance. He tripped over the red leather bench, his face falling into one of dazed confusion as I pull the black velvet curtain closed, hiding us away from the rest of the crowd. I shifted my eyes to the hidden clock above his head, 1:56. This will have to be fast. I crossed my arms, pulling the bottom of my shirt over my head. His pupils dilated when he saw that the lacy blue long sleeve was replaced with a strappy black bralette. I straddled his body, my hands undoing his pants and slipping into his underwear. He kissed my neck, his pace speeding up as he made his way toward my breasts. He teased the skin around the fabric with his tongue, I bit my lip to stop a moan from escaping my lips. I could feel his hard member in my hand, responding my fingers tracing patterns on its tip. I could feel his body tense as he tried to keep his assault slow. He reached his hands across my shoulders pushing the straps down, giving his mouth access to what they had hidden. He circled my nipple with his tongue, backing off when I pushed into his touch, a silent torture. His other hand cupped me kneading the soft skin roughly, causing the pain to turn into an all consuming pleasure. I stroked his length, gaining speed with every touch. He groaned, "Fuck" as he moved his head back towards my neck, licking and sucking the crook of my neck. His calloused hands grazed my stomach as they tried to reach into my body. His hands stopped, holding onto my hips as he came all over the red bench. When his grip loosened, I got off his lap, situating my bra back on and slipping my shirt back over my head. I watched the clock as it struck 2. The pounding music stopped, the muffled sighs and disgruntled replies of the crowd could be heard through the curtain, which was ripped open by Ben, "Move it, time's up". The man gave him a look as to argue, but Ben was already gone, with me following in his footsteps back to the bar. Security was herding out the stragglers out and disheveled couples were coming out of the booths. "Wait! Can you at least tell me your name?" I turned back to him, and with a wink I disappeared into the crowd.
I sidled up next to Ben in the backroom, "Under 4 minutes this time". He rolled his eyes, opening the broken locker back up to reveal a chart. Writing in 4:00 on the last line, he mumbled, "Someday you're going to meet someone as insane as you". I responded cheerfully, "Highly doubtful". I skipped out of the club, waving to the security as they made their last checks for the night. I listened to the radio on the way home, singing to every song in an off key, pitchy voice. I collapsed into the sheets of my bed thanking the stranger for helping me break my record.
A/N Shout out to Rachel for being pumped about every update
