Your body inches closer and closer to the ridiculously attractive man you met just minutes ago at this trashy bar. His piercing green eyes fill with lust and want as they become darker by the second.
Your hand trails up and down his chest as you fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. He grabs you by the hand as he drags you willingly to somewhere which you hope is a little more private.
You stand outside the women's bathroom. You stand with your back to the door, waiting for him to make the move. His tall figure towers over yours as his long arm extends out and pushes the door open in one swift motion. He takes a step forward, causing you both to stumble into the empty bathroom.
He grabs your face. His lips crash onto yours harshly, and you can taste the alcohol lingering on his lips. His tongue swipes your mouth asking for permission, as you willingly accept.
Your lips lose contact for only seconds as you both recollect yourselves and run your hands through your tangled hair, only to feel his large hands on the back of your thighs as you are lifted up and placed carefully on the counter. Your lips meet again. Your fingers can't help but run through his messy curls.
One large hand of his holds your face and tugs at your hair as the other becomes dangerously close to your inner thigh.
You feel the knot in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter as you feel the heat become unbearable.
His fingers crawl up your dress as you hear a toilet flush.
Out of one of the stalls walks an little old lady dressed in her Sunday clothes. She chuckles.
You become flustered and pink as you quickly, but very clumsily try to hop off the counter. You don't quite land your dismount as you fall right into his arms. He catches you steady and holds your arms firmly, making sure you are balanced.
You tuck your now crazy and mangled hair behind your ears as you and him stand there silently watching the old lady wash her hands. Through the mirror, you and her make eye contact. She says, "Live your life while your young and beautiful, nothing is stopping you. Trust me, if my husband could still pick me up we would be doing the same thing!" She dries her hands off as she walks out, leaving us with our mouths hanging open and our jaws on the floor.
