Behind door number one

She rolled the gin-soaked olive around in her mouth, enjoying the fleshy-cool sensation against her tongue. Then, sucking out the last bit of liquid, she bit into it with a satisfying ‘crunch.’ Glancing around the room, she brought the martini up to her lips and sipped.

It was shortly after 11pm and she wondered if he was going to show while she was still in the mood. She was feeling playful right now and didn’t want the feeling to be contaminated by the annoyance born of waiting too long for someone who could never seem to arrive at the agreed upon time. Four sips into her drink, she was pleasantly buzzed. Should she finish it before his arrival and order a second martini, she knew she ran the risk of intoxication, which could negatively affect her plan.

Just then her phone, which she’d tucked between her legs, vibrated. She pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. It was him.

“Where are you?” she said.

“I’m at the bar. Where are you?”

“Close by. Here’s what I want you to do…”

Propping her elbows on the back of her chair she strained to see through to the next room from her alcove in the back of the club. Identifying his black leather jacket and tall frame, she slumped back just a bit so she could keep an eye on him without being seen herself.

“OK. Get the bartender’s attention, order a drink, sit down near the bar and then call me back.”

“Where are you? Are you …”

She snapped her phone shut and, smiling to herself, took another sip of her martini.

Alone in her little space, she savored this electric moment. Sensing a wet spot between her unclad thighs, she shifted in her chair and reflexively glanced around the room to see if anyone was looking. A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she surveyed the room full of mostly 20-something University students who were huddled in pods of two, four, six. Other than campus commerce, not much had changed in the 20 years since she’d been a student here. She found herself comforted by the durability of higher education, the gray certitude of its halls.

This club was one of the new things. The building had housed a bookstore when she’d occupied this city within a city. She calculated that she was now seated in what had been the room devoted to course textbooks.

She felt the phone vibrate again. Making sure it was him, she flipped it open.

“OK, I got a beer. I’m sitting on a couch next to the bar,” he said. “Where are you?”

“I’m somewhere in the club,” she said. “We’re just going to sit here and enjoy our drinks. When I’ve finished mine, I’m going get up and go to the bathroom downstairs. When I pass by you… do NOT acknowledge me. We don’t know each other. OK?”

“OK.”

“I’m going to go into the first stall… it’s the one against the wall. When I get there I’ll call you. That’s your signal to come down. Just go right into the stall. I’ll be there. OK?”

“OK.”

“When you get there? I’m going to pull down your jeans,” she said dropping her voice, “Then I’m going to take your cock out of your pants,” [she paused for effect] “put it in my mouth,” [long pause] “and suck on it until… you almost come.” [Breathing]. If I think you’ve followed my instructions, I may pull up my skirt and let you fuck me from behind.”

She abruptly broke the connection, sunk into the chair and finished off her drink. Then, rummaging through her purse, she pulled out a tube of lipstick and a tiny mirror. Filling in her lips with berry color she imagined his cock growing inside her mouth and felt the wet spot between her thighs expand.

Standing up, she adjusted her red, mid-length dress. She’d chosen the silk dress for the flattering way it hugged her hips and then flared at the thighs. She wore a faux fur jacket and black leather boots that just missed the hem of her dress, exposing soft pink knees.

Her eyes fixed on the bar she walked slowly, deliberately towards the front of the room. The images and sounds in her periphery became a blur as the spot where she knew he was sitting came into view

Young men and women stood and sat around the long rectangular shaped bar, smoking cigarettes and sucking on drinks that, perhaps they hoped, conveyed something about their personalities.

When she arrived at his spot, their eyes locked briefly, imperceptibly and he raised his beer to his mouth and looked away.

“He’s good,” she thought her lips turning up slightly.

Passing by him she could feel his eyes on her and she brushed her hand over her ass in what she hoped everyone but he would interpret as unconscious grooming gesture.

When she reached the restroom area –- three, 4x6, side-by-side, unisex stalls with curtained, doors –- she stopped. Someone was in the chosen stall. Patrons were coming and going but she waited for stall number one. She washed her hands, fixed her hair and pretended to talk on her phone so that other patrons wouldn’t wonder why she was loitering outside that one particular stall. Two minutes passed. Five minutes. Ten.

“What the fuck is going on in there?” she screamed in her head. She could see a shadow against the curtain but couldn’t interpret its movements. The occupant seemed to be walking around the tiny cube, doing things.

Finally she gave up and went into an alternate stall. Closing the door, she hit the redial on her phone and waited for him to pick up. His phone rang six times and then rolled over to voice mail. Just then she he heard the stall door next to hers open and close.

“Great, the stall is open,” she thought and slipped out of the one she was in and into the chosen.

“Oh my God, she gasped. She was expecting it to be empty but instead….