A SERIES OF FORTUNATE EVENTS

Tequila shots right out of the gate. It was supposed to be a night in which they would drink to forget and forge forward, leaving feelings of the past in the past. They declared it boldly, they clanked their glasses in unified cheers over it, all sealed with a kiss (in between the legs and much later in the evening) and covered by some pretty words. Everyone possessed baggage, and if hers was comparable to a shopping bag, his was an oversized hockey duffle bursting at the edges and in need of repair. She knew this before, but agreed to meet him for drinks anyhow because there was something interesting about him. He wasn’t afraid to stand up to her. To put a difficult woman in her place, and to do so boldly and confidently.

They shared a common experience that bonded them together - The quality of having been involved with someone in which the end result was nothing short of a disastrous, chaotic mess. They shared war stories as hips swayed in unison to the beat of the music they selected from the jukebox - Linkin Park and then various 80s hits. With shot glasses pressed to lips, he threw the amber liquid back with ease, flicking salt at her playfully. He stood up, placing a hand on her side to steady himself before dragging a salted finger across her neck and using his tongue to clean the area. Licks turned to kisses which easily transitioned from neck to mouth, tongues circling around one another in a delicate dance. “I really like you,” he spoke, breaking the kiss. “I didn't know it exactly, at first, but I've really liked you for a while."

It began with horiatiki and numerous entrees consisting of various delicious, succulent meats. It ended, sort of, with chocolate baklava that they agreed they’d rather take to go in favor of continuing their evening elsewhere. In between, her heart skipped beats through conversation that was light, honest, and easy. He spoke about his family, the restaurant, and his interest in her - all while fingertips inched up her bare, exposed thigh in the direction of the heat between her legs. The small black leather skirt she wore covered all of the necessary parts, but she had foregone panties on this particular evening.

A mere half block’s worth of a walk was all they were capable of until he had her pressed up against him, his back firmly leaning against the brick wall of a nondescript Brooklyn building. “I want you so badly,” he growled low and deep into her ear, the urgency of his words matched by her own curiosity and desire to know every part of him. Their lips met, tongues chasing one another as arms and legs became intertwined. “My studio is a ten minute Uber ride away,” Jordana mumbled into his mouth, fingertips sneaking beneath the soft cotton of his T-shirt to graze nimble fingertips against the taut skin of his abdomen, enjoying the sensation of skin against skin. But she wanted more.

The Uber ride was quick. It was a test of patience and desire as each struggled to keep hands and mouths off one another for the duration of the ride - Failing miserably. Once inside of the studio, deft hands gripped at her bare ass as he scooped her up only to place her down on the edge of a shelf before asking permission to eat her out. Truly, a perfect gentleman. As her body shuddered and quaked through orgasm, there was a particularly unfamiliar nagging sense. Despite being perfectly sated only moments prior a part of her felt unfulfilled. And for once, it wasn’t only her pussy that longed for more. Her entire body ached with the throb of an unfamiliar need to be close to him. She wanted all of him - physically, emotionally, and mentally - to the extent that he would positively ruin her.

The blonde and brunette hovered over the lock, heads just barely touching as they coaxed it open with feeble attempts of drunken cooing and fumbling fingers. Eventually, a proudly proclaimed “Got it!” resounded and the lock was tossed to the side.

The pair slipped through the gate and onto the premises as Jordana took a sip from the McDonald's cup filled with Jack and Coke before handing it off to the blonde to suck the rest of it down for herself.

“Over here!” Jordana glanced in the direction of the hoarse whisper and her feet immediately took her towards the woman that stood adjacent to the neatly lined up Go Karts. Jordana, lacking a driver’s license and having been behind the wheel of a car only twice in her entire life, slipped into the seat and took off immediately with wild laughter and a loud hoot into the pitch black night sky. She pressed her foot down on the pedal, firm and steady and with her full weight, before accidentally ramming her car into the neon green one that was being driven by the blonde. Both of the women cackled wildly, chasing one another around the track several more times before...

“HEY!”

Neither of the women heard the steady call of the officer over the roar of the engines, coupled with their laughter and jestful pokes of fun at one another. It wasn’t until he stepped onto the track and the blonde slammed on the breaks, whiplash would undoubtedly be plaguing her later on, that they exchanged glances of concern and acknowledged his presence. They each got to their feet and began their profuse apologies. Jordana’s eyes immediately went to the handcuffs in his hand as the blonde justified why they deserved not to be arrested, sweet talking in that soft baby voice that she knew so well in particular moments. Jordana, tight lipped and holding back a smirk, stood quietly as they were given merely a warning and firm scolding by the officer. Maybe it wasn’t only Jordana that so easily succumbed to the spell that the blonde seemed to so effortlessly cast over everyone and everything that her presence touched.