“Thursdays will do that to you. Delivery day, right?”
I nod. “Still learning the ropes. Product codes coming out of my ears.”
“You’ll get there,” he says kindly. “It’s a lot to take in.”
It’s not, but I smile anyway.
I haven’t even registered I’ve put my cutlery across my plate until he suggests we get the bill. The panic is instant and intense, my heart in my throat as I grab the dessert menu from the stand between us.
“Maybe some chocolate will wake me up,” I suggest, and he rests a hand on his stomach.
“Not for me. I couldn’t eat another thing.” He pauses. “You have one, though. Maybe it’ll pep you up enough to hit a club. It’s disco night down at Divas. Thursday night special, some of the sales guys are already out.”
I watch denim guy down a whisky at the bar then order another. He smooths his moustache with his mouth wide open, staring right at me as Jack calls the waitress to take my order.
Denim guy wants me. I can see it in his eyes.
The sly smile on his lips tells me he knows I want him too.
My dirty soul must be a beacon to other dirty souls out for a good time. It’s always like this.
They must smell it on me. Taste it on the air. Hone into the fucked-up frequencies of freaks like me.
Luckily regular people, like sweet Jack here, have it roll over their heads without a clue.
I don’t want to feel the tingle between my legs as I think of denim guy’s dirty hands on me. I don’t want to clench my thighs under the table as I think about his filthy cock inside me.
I don’t want to want him, but I do.
This place is on the outskirts of the city centre. I already know that the river path runs along the back of the car park.
I know it’ll be dark and quiet on a Thursday evening with barely a soul around.
I’m trying not to look at him when my gateaux arrives. I ask Jack questions about his ten-year history at the office, shamelessly deflecting him from asking any questions about me.
Denim guy’s had two more shots by the time my plate is clear. He licks his lips and smirks as he flashes me the shocker. My pussy throbs at the sight of his extended fingers.
Two in the pink, one in the stink.
He really is disgusting.
I really don’t want to want this.
I feel as disgusting as he is as I meet his eyes and give him the gentlest nod. Jack doesn’t even notice, he’s too busy raising his hand for the bill.
Denim guy finishes up his drink and heads for the rear entrance. He brushes close enough on his way past that I smell the diesel on him. I wonder if his cock smells like that too.
Jack pays the bill before I can protest, all smiles as he grabs his suit jacket and shrugs it on.
“Let’s go hit the dance floor,” he says, and I feel like a bitch when he registers my copout expression.
“I’m still really tired,” I lie. “I should get back home, long day tomorrow.”
He nods. Shrugs. And then he shows he really is a decent guy, unlike the piece of shit waiting for me outside. “Sure, of course. Some other time. I’ll walk you home.”
“No need,” I say. “I’ll call a cab.” I hold up my phone.
“Then I’ll wait for it to arrive,” he offers, but I shake my head.
“Seriously, there’s no need. Head on down to Divas with the guys. You’ll get a decent dance in if you’re quick.”
He looks uncertain until I gather my things. I don’t look at him, pretending I’m keying in the cab number as he dawdles awkwardly. I press the fake call to my ear and tell him I’ll see him in the morning.
I’m still holding the handset when he says his goodbyes and heads reluctantly for the front exit.
I wait twenty seconds before I head for the back.
It’s dark out here, just like I knew it would be. The spotlights cast the kind of ominous orange glow that gives me shivers. The car park is empty enough that it’s easy to see denim guy propped up against a battered old truck. He’s smoking as he waits, barely straightening up as my heels clack across the tarmac in his direction.
I hold up a hand when he tries to speak, flattening my body to his as I land my lips straight onto his filthy mouth. He tastes of smoke and whisky. His moustache tickles my top lip and it makes me shudder.
He flicks his cigarette away and slips his dirty fingers inside my jacket.
My clit tingles at the memory of his hand gesture. Two in the pink. I part my legs as his filthy hand slides up under my skirt.