13
Autumn
I wonder if there’s a medical crew on site, because what would happen if I passed out right here in this chair?
It feels like fainting is a distinct possibility when Adrian straddles my lap, bringing his bare body mere inches from my face. I thought he’d looked good in his street clothes in the parking lot, but that was nothing compared to how he looks now, all of his amazing, toned body stretched out in front of me, gyrating in a way that gives me very dirty thoughts.
Lust is a powerful drug, apparently, and I am completely high on it.
What kind of greedy monster have I turned into that I have Garrett sitting at my table holding my hand, Trevor giving me looks like he wants to give me another orgasm, and now I’m drooling over this near-stranger Adrian?
I don’t even recognize myself right now, but I don’t care.
Maybe all we are, when we strip away everything superficial, is our urges, and my body is telling me in no uncertain terms that I should act on my urges. The message is crystal clear.
Adrian is lowering into a squat, his body hovering just above my legs, his thighs looking powerful enough to crush me if I were trapped between them. I’d pay money for that experience. It would be a beautiful way to leave this world.
I become hypnotized by his ab muscles as they undulate in front of my eyes, so I’m not expecting it when he takes my hands again and places them squarely on his hips. He doesn’t buffer my touch this time — he lays my palms directly on his bare skin. For a moment I’m stunned into stillness, but then I can’t keep myself from exploring. I slide my fingers along his slippery skin, reaching toward the back of his waist and then draw my hands forward, down toward those crushing thighs.
Adrian’s brow is arched as he watches me. Is he wondering where I’ll touch him next? Is anything off limits?
What am I thinking?
No matter how overcome with lust I am, I’m not going to touch himthere,not here on stage in front of hundreds of people. But I am going to lookthere,and when I do, my throat goes dry.
I may be inexperienced, but I’m not naive. I’ve watched videos; I know how it all works, but I didn’t know it could be this big. Does he have a sock tucked in there with it?
As I study him, as he shakes it right in front of me, I catch sight of the outline of the head of his cock, and my pussy throbs. Lord help me, I’m getting wet for this man I don’t even know.
Suddenly I wish Adrian was the one in the chair and that I was straddling his lap, like I did with Trevor last night. I’d come in a matter of seconds; I just know I would.
My legs are wobbly when Adrian steps back and holds out his hand to help me stand. My underwear is definitely damp, and his hand holding mine isn’t helping things as he walks me back down the stairs and over to where Garrett is waiting.
I’m embarrassed when I see Garrett, because surely he saw how I was touching Adrian, and maybe he can see on my face how I’m feeling about it all. I’m afraid he’s going to confront me about it — not that I did anything wrong — but instead he scoots his chair closer to mine and lays his hand on my bare thigh when I sit down. His touch does nothing to help my wet panty situation.
* * *
When the show ends,Garrett and I stay at our table and wait for the picture lines to dwindle. He got drink refills for us before the bar closed, and I’m hoping my second lemon drop will give me the courage I need to take the night where my body wants it to go.
“Do you want to come inside again when you take me home?” I ask Garrett.
“Yeah, I do,” he says. “Are you inviting Trevor?”
“Trevor and Adrian, I was thinking.”
Garrett gives me a long look.
“It looks like they drove here together,” I say, as if I only want to invite Adrian for the sake of convenience or good manners. “You didn’t get much of a chance to talk to him before the show, anyway,” I add.
He leans back in his chair and takes a drink of his beer, while his foot comes to rest against the inside of my foot.
When the lights are bright and the room is nearly empty, Garrett and I walk toward the door, where the dancers are lined up for pictures. Two older women are posing between Trevor and Adrian, each of them hugging the side of one of the men. Can’t say I blame them. There’s a cup against the wall behind Adrian that’s jammed full of money.
As soon as all of the other customers have gone, Trevor ambles over to us, followed by Adrian, who tugs on a shirt that I hadn’t noticed was near the money cup. I’m angry at that shirt, and jealous of it at the same time.
“How did you like the show tonight?” Trevor asks.
“It was extremely up close and personal,” I say.