Chance Encounters Ch 02

"You did that to him, Chance? You evil minx." Her voice trills like a delicate bird.

I twist the phone cord around a finger and pipe in, glumly, "What's worse, when I got out of the tub he was sound asleep. And to top that, it looked like he'd jacked himself off."

I work my thumb over my lips, listening to her breath for a while before speaking again. "I don't know why, Jen, but we just haven't been intimate lately." I unconsciously caress of a nipple beneath my bra. "And," I pause.

A piqued curiosity on the other end: "And?"

"I've been having these dreams..." Her laughter fills my ears, causing me to smile.

Jen is Hollywood gorgeous with ample hips, ample breasts, long red hair the color of the sky on fire at sunset, and lips always a sultry crimson, ripe for tasting...To sum up, she is completely fuckable. I close my eyes and see myself between her lush thighs. I can even taste her sweet saltiness.

My loins ache and my hand has writhed its way into my panties; my fingers are lubricated by the fantasy. The moisture makes me flush; it is common for me to appreciate a woman's beauty but uncommon for me to desire one's body.

Jen's voice comes to me from far away, tinny: "Earth to Chance..."

My words are as distant when I manage to find my voice, "Sorry, Jen. I was just thinking."

"Evidently. Anyhow, what you need is a girls night out. Meet me at Roxy's at ten."

A finger eases inside my giving sex then between my lips. The smokiness of my arousal fills my mouth and I am again awash in an orgasm. The phone is cradled between my ear and shoulder and I can faintly hear, "If you would like to make a call..."

Its now seven and I've long grown tired of waiting for my husbands homecoming. Bra and panties, having been discarded for another round of self-fulfillment, remain on the floor--passed over for a hot shower. The shower head, artfully placed between my thighs, only increases my wanton appetite. As I climax, the word is in my head again: "Tonight." I find myself repeating the whisper and catching it between my teeth and bottom lip.

It takes me near an hour to pick out the right outfit. But the labor proves worthwhile when I hear Jen's wolfish whistle. I take a brief glance down my body: tall black heels, flirty skirt falling a few inches above my knee, low-cut button down blouse. "Damn woman, if you weren't married, and if I were a male ..." She winks and draws me into the darkened folds of the club already ripe with the smell of sweat, booze and desire.

Four drinks and two skillfully rejected men later, I am feeling light-headed. Jen is laughing at me, calling me a light-weight given my alcohol intolerance. Old school rock pours from the sound system. I hear the first beats of a familiar song and I grab Jen's hand, coaxing her onto the dance floor.

That is when I notice him. He lifts his drink to me in a toast but my attention is jerked away when Jen takes hold of my wrist and compels me into her. She leans in close. The mixture of her perfume and sweet cocktail on her breath is entoxicating. "We could really make the men jealous, yeah?" she near yells. Despite the statement, the distance between our bodies slowly grows; I long for her.

Somebody creeps behind me, moving in sync with my drunken sway. At one ear, a whisper--masculine and forceful--tickles my lobe: "Touch her." I crane my head but there is no one there. "Feel her." A large, cold hand is upon my shoulder, grazing down to my wrist. Suddenly, this uncraven, mysterious man is standing behind Jen, his mouth at her ear and crystalline blue eyes focused on mine. His hands fondle her breasts, slide down her abdomen, cover her mound. Quick as a blink he is gone. Two words echo in my ear: "Fuck her."

Jen sensually dances into my body, wrapping one arm around my neck and the other around my waist like she is in a trance. I welcome it. Our bodies work as one, grinding what we can of our sexes together on the dance floor. My hands explore her breasts, massage the sides of them, and our lips touch, causing my stomach to lurch anticipatorily. When the song ends, however, Jen opens her eyes and deftly moves away from me. Her cheeks are reddened either by desire or embarrassment. I can't tell.

Following Jen to the bar, I boldly caress her ass and she leans into it. She turns with two drinks in tote and says over the crunch of bass, smiling fairly timidly: "Interesting night." Out of the corner of my eye, I spy blue-eyes lingering near the hall to the bathrooms.

I reply distractedly, "Yes ... I'll be right back. Restroom." I leave her standing there, confused and flustered. Both of us drenched in curiosity for the unknown.

He makes no attempt to approach me; instead, he waits with arms crossed and a rogue grin playing on his pale lips. Before I can lean into him and say anything, he swiftly pins me against a wall. Lips but inches from mine, he says, "I was wondering when you would come to me."

I don't think I flinch. "Who are you?"

A thick hand snakes under my skirt, parting my legs. Cool, wide fingers pull my panties to one side and plunge deep into my sex. "Does that matter?" he growls. I can only shake my head. Cold lips explore my neck while unnamed fingers ravage me, undulate viciously within my starving sex. Meaty fingers brutally squeezes a breast and pinches the nipple to the point of pain. My body convulses and I can feel the warm juice, created by my mania, trickle over the man's fingers and down my thighs. But then I am alone. It is possible I always had been.

Jen is standing in the hallway entrance, watching me lean against a wall covered with old flyers, eyes half-lidded and my mouth parted.

"What the hell, girl? Maybe its time I take you home."

I approach her with what I considered cat-like grace, but what was more like a drunken swagger and seize her bottom lip in my teeth. She stiffens but does not shy away, nodding silently when I ask to go to her place.