watch but to participate in a night of spontaneous carnal pleasure.
Gasping for air and keeping her wobbly knees from collapsing, she stripped out of her clothes and stepped into the shower. Then, she lathered the shea butter Olay bar across her skin.
Fear momentarily tightened her gut. In thirty–one years she’d never experienced a one–night stand, but that’s exactly what she was planning. Her roommate in college had gone from one to the next like Kleenex, but she’d had youth and alcohol to attribute such behavior. Kat could only blame being horny and behind deadline.
“I have nothin’ to lose, and plenty to gain.” With the decision made, arousal poured through her blood like a shot of whiskey. The overhead spray of tepid water tightened her dusky–colored nipples into beads, the wash of moisture like a damp mouth, hungry with need.
Stepping from the shower a while later, clean and more excited than she’d been in a while, Kat went to the closet to select the right costume to go out on the prowl. She settled on a combination of several styles, the spiked high leather boots, a suede black mini, and a black lacy bra, only slightly hidden beneath a sheer rosy shirt.
A satisfying combo of sweet and sexy.
She applied a covering of make–up, including deep red lipstick, and touched the hot tip of a curling iron to areas affected by the moisture of the shower. She skipped securing her hair back, allowing the dark locks to hang loose around her face. She thought it erotic to have her hair grabbed during sex.
Sex and ideas was what she was after.
Grabbing her purse and heading out the door, Kat decided to take a cab to the closest meat–market since in all likelihood, she’d need a couple of drinks to follow through with what she’d planned.
Chapter 2
Twenty minutes too soon, the cab pulled up in front of the bar. Kat sat in the dim sanctuary of the car’s interior, her forehead pressed against the cool glass, her cheeks on fire. It’d been easy to choose a super thigh–high skirt and a bra–exposing shirt when she’d been in her bedroom, but now, presented with mingling with the public, she wanted to run.
“You getting out?” the cabbie asked.
Kat didn’t answer, afraid she’d order him to turn around and retrace their path. But back at home she’d be faced with the same problem, an article due and no material to write it. Drawing a deep breath, she fished inside her tiny purse, then shoved a twenty toward the driver. Getting into character, she slid from the car and steadied herself upon four–inch spiky heels on the sidewalk.
Above her, the pink neon sign read The Night Kitty, though in reality all men knew that kitty meant pussy and pussy meant sex. Come here, the sign called, and you’ll be assured pleasure. Kat squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and sashayed to the door mustering false confidence. She slipped into the dark smoky interior.
The scent of cigarettes, alcohol, sweat, and endorphins all tuned and primed for fucking crashed around her like a sensual wave. Bass throbbed a heavy beat that blared from the surrounding speakers. A nervous slither crept down Kat’s spine as she kept herself from finding the nearest exit. She hadn’t been to a place like this since her early years of college, but even then she’d had girlfriends to accompany her.
She was alone now, playing a role. Creating a façade. She stepped forward, determined to see her plan unfold.
Fine–ass men littered the room. A most beautiful specimen of male flesh stood alone across the dance floor from her. Yummy enough to be a cover model. LL Cool J–fine. Sex appeal of Wesley Snipes. She’d be happy with a piece of him.
Turning away, the crush of bodies hindered her slow advance to the bar.
“Give me a shot,” Kat said to a young man standing behind the counter who looked too young to drink, let alone serve the stuff.
“A shot of what?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter. Just get me tipsy and fast.”
“Not a prob,” he replied, reaching beneath the smooth surface of the bar and withdrawing a shot glass, which he then filled with a blue liquid, fuller than the standard two fingers. “Enjoy.” He slid the glass in her direction.
“What is it?” Please be strong!
“Does it matter?” he asked, a lopsided grin spreading over his lips.
“Nope.” She grabbed the glass and downed the contents in one smooth motion, not even gasping as the fiery liquid slid down her throat.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“Yeah, another,” she replied, lifting her empty glass.
It was quickly refilled.
“Thanks.” She downed the second serving, left the empty glass on the bar along with another twenty, and walked toward the flashing lights and couples crowded on the dance floor. Stud though he may be, the bartender was on duty and with the blue fluid already making her feel more at ease, she needed material now.
Kat inched her way around the room, watching the couples bumping and grinding on the floor, a planned seduction—foreplay—in view of everyone. Good stuff she filed away in her memory for future articles.
With groping hands, men held women to their groins, hiding the swell that undoubtedly pulsated there. With bodies rubbing, palms were tightly held to feminine hips. In the center of the dance floor the couples took it one step further, backs arched, the women allowed the men access to their necks and breasts, the steady rhythm of their dancing a mimic to fucking.
“What was in that drink?” she mumbled, suddenly aware of how her black thong rubbed against her clit as she walked. She shifted her hips, completing the tantalizing contact. Her pussy became damp, moisture pooled at her crotch and she could feel the telltale evidence of her arousal slick on her inner thighs.
Glancing back at the bar, Kat had to wonder if something had been slipped into her drink. Booze alone had never made her this horny. But she’d watched the entire time as the drink was poured into the glass right before she’d emptied it. Nothing had been added.
The blue liquid she’d swallowed quickly shed the last of her inhibitions. It was unlike anything she’d ever tasted, a heady combination mixed with her resolve to get laid that made her almost desperate for the right man to come along.
Her made–up persona offered her a newly found freedom. She shrugged off the euphoria of her sexual charge and she focused on her mission. It was made easier by the slight alcohol induced lulling of her fear.
She studied the dimly lit room, searching for a man not already coupled. For the hunk she’d seen at the beginning of the Too Short song.
“You here alone?” a husky voice asked her from behind.
Warmth spread across Kat’s skin as the height and breadth of his body closed in behind her, more solid than the wall had been.
She need not bother to turn around, for she’d watched the advance of the man as he’d made his way from across the room, working the border as if he could remain unnoticed. Like hell—every available female in the joint had to be primed for a piece of ass from this guy.
