Page 92 of Never Let You Go

I’ve recently discovered sex is totally for me.

And I want more than the taste Christopher gave me.

The Growler, an actual barn in the hills turned club slash event space slash game room, is the locals’ favorite nighttime hangout. Tonight, it’s packed with bikers showing off their tats on their bare arms, outdoorsy types and farm hands in flannel shirts, and office types with their button-down sleeves rolled-up. The troublemakers and the trouble seekers, both looking for relief after a week of whatever it is they do. There’s a small dance floor off the main bar that’s manned by a deejay, and a live band somewhere in the back.

The place is huge.

The women travel in packs, showing lots of glowing skin. I fit right in with the piece of red fabric barely covering my ass.

Everywhere, there’s the urge to either douse or arouse the sexual tension with too much alcohol.

It’s the kind of night I need. A night to make a mistake I won’t regret.

Drink in hand, I sway with Grace and her girlfriends on the small dance floor, looking for a suitable mate but seeing nothing. Surely, someone will make his way to me and replace the face that’s haunting me—dark eyes, curly hair, shadow of a smile—with something equally appealing.

No one does, yet.

Wandering hands make their way under my skirt, and I whisk them away when they don’t have the right feel. The one feel I’m looking for.

A strong arm grabs my waist from behind, but I don’t like the way his veins don’t bulge. I snake away.

After a couple of hours of this hide and seek, the girls and I travel to the bathroom.

I check my phone for no particular reason and see a text message from Christopher from an hour ago.

10:30pm

Christopher

Where are you

11:30pm

Me:

Growler

Christopher

Why

11:38pm

Me

This girl needs her fun

Christopher

Come home

Me

…

11:40pm

Me

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