Standarding Up

        Climbing into Dexter's car was pretty much the only thing I've done good all day. Wiping my hands clean of sin on my jeans, Dexter stared at me.

His staring made me uncomfortable, "Dex, if you keep staring at me, we're never going to get into the club."

He laughed, a sarcastic one, "Wynter, Wynter, my poor baby Wynter. I can't believe you just broke another innocent soul."

"Dexter, you knew I was going to break up with Sumner today. Why are you acting so surprised?" I was getting pissed off at him. I just wanted to go to the damned club already.

"'Cause Wyn, I thought you changed."

I gawked at him, "changed? I'm sorry Dexter that I didn't want to go out with that boring, lifeless stud anymore."

He clucked his tongue at me, "you know that's not what I'm talking about Wyn. You were only in it for the sex, and yeah I'm a dude, but seriously, you're almost twenty five! It's got to stop."

Oh, dammit! In a way he's right, Sumner plus his penis was like my paradise. It was the only reason for not breaking up sooner, he totally had me hooked. He didn't know it because he still insisted we go out to nice dinners and such. At the moment, I was really having a hard time deciding if I wanted to go back to my so called paradise I broke up with or continue listen to Dexter talk about my sex life.

"So what if I'm almost twenty five? That's like the new young. Seriously Dex, butt out of my personal life."

"Wyn, you know I'm only looking out for you." He started the car.

"Well stop. I can look out for myself. Hell, I've done it for so long I don't even now how to not do it!" I needed alcohol in my system now.

We drove the rest of the way in silence. As we drove up, I saw some of the regular guys I see, typical. No hot newbies to help me get over my break-up. I freshened up by adding new red lipstick on my pouting lips and a dab of glitter on my chest. We strolled out, got asked by the bouncer to see if we were legal. To be honest though, after I turned twenty one, it made me feel good, like they didn't actually think I was legal. But now it's just a drag to pull it out of my big pocketbook that holds so much shit in it sometimes I can't reach the bottom.

We walked in, the music already loud enough for a two hundred year old gramp that lost his hearing twice to hear it. Dexter and I, still not talking, made our way to the bar for some shots. Our bartender was checking out Dexter the whole time after we got our glasses, even though at first I was checking him out. We downed them in record timing and off we sprung to the dance floor.

The buzz of the new substance in my system was refreshing. I hadn't drunk anything stronger than apple juice in a week. Dexter and I do this kind of dance where we tease the other sex members in the club. We grind together super fast, super hard to make everyone else jealous. Some caught on, but some still think we're in an open relationship. What the hell is an open relationship anyway? From what I gathered, it's being able to call some douche your boyfriend, fuck him, but then him turn right back around and blow his load on some other girl's boobs. I'm pretty much opened for anything, but that was something I was not.

"Wyn, that guy over there is totally checking you out."

"Hour?"

"I think he's your nine? You know I'm not good at that!" He mumbled digging his bitten nails in my exposed waist.

I looked to where he described and he was right. Blonde hair, blue eyes, talk about pretty boy! Come to mama! We made eye contact and that's when I did that pop-lock-n-drop to move to Dexter. I could feel Dexter laughing, the rumbling from his hard body. He knew I was tempting the lad to come closer, to see what he could fish for. Would he use a petty worm as his bait or would he use something more forgiving like another type of smaller fish? I saw him walk closer, pull a pretty ginger from her friends and started dancing with her. Ooh, he's good but I was better.