Below The Surface: Pt II

(Writing Spicy Fall 25’ Prompt 2: Let Me Watch You While You Touch Yourself)

Later that evening…

It was Thursday night and I felt that urge to cruise. The week had been long and a bit of an emotional rollercoaster at work and I had that itch. I couldn’t wait for Friday. I zipped up my bomber jacket brusquely in the evening air, took a cab over to a queer bar that was on the cusp of ending their weekly sex positive trivia night, and pausing before karaoke. 

I ordered a dry whiskey and planted myself at the end of the bar, a perfect spot to gaze who was coming in and going out; I had my own space where if someone approached me, it would have to be very obvious of a squeeze to confront me in this little corner. 

I didn’t really do karaoke, but I did like to watch. I also really loved to watch. I liked to see who was really up there to hold court and then pinpoint the more submissive types who stood there slightly frozen, lip syncing and glad to be swallowed by their group of extroverts. It’s an easy way to cherry pick bottoms, and the shy ones tend to be total freaks in bed, eventually. I liked staring them down waiting for that moment of bravery to see if they could hold me back by gaze. I liked spotlighting the ones that tried to hide.

Raucous groups high from their trivia wins filtered out after paying their tabs, and the drag kings and queens spilled through the door loudly. Some sweet little enby with a curly shag and switchblade earrings sauntered near me and ordered a Long Island, and as I tried to catch their eye, their pinup femme slid around their waist and kissed their neck tattoo, giggling. 

They looked like they’d already fucked on the way here, like this was a mid-game foreplay spot before more. They had that buzz and I shifted in my seat, adjusting the larger packer I was sporting beneath my jeans. 

I leaned back and took in various groups stumbling their way through Dolly Parton, Cardi B., various 80s tracks. My throat had that warmth to it, that smoky amber flavor I wanted to put on some cute girl’s tongue. 

A leather boi whooshed past me on their way to the bathroom, accidentally knocking my jacket from my chair and over apologized with their eyes as they handed it back to me, avoiding eye contact and smelling of tequila and sweat. 

I took it with ease and my hand slid inside the pocket, fingering the note from the girl on the L earlier. 

I reread her “thx for the help.” in delicate script followed by her phone number. 

I stared at the time on my cell. It was only just past 7. A reasonable time to invite someone out. I thought about seeing her walk in here and looking for me, anxious and uncertain but curious. I thought about those beautiful curves she had, the way her doe-eyes had looked up at me gratefully as I stood over her this morning. I wanted to feel that again, longer. 

I picked up my cell and started typing. 

————————-

Zoey:

Standing under the shower with my eyes closed, I let the jets wash the day off my skin. Cinnamon candles and my heat lamp flickered outside the curtain and I could hear Pluto, my white tabby meowing to be let in. 

I peeked out and saw her chubby little paws sticking themselves under the door and laughed over the music I had on my speaker. What a cute little pest. I had my “mood” playlist on, full of bass and industrial and liquid tracks that were sensual and both calmed and aroused me. 

I let my hands travel over my skin like a lover, feeling the tension in my nerves unravel slowly. I thought of them again, like I’d been doing the last few weeks. 

I thought of the sound of them breaking into my apartment, shutting the light in the bathroom out and sliding the curtain open letting the chill of the living room in, as well as that pierce I felt from their eyes. 

I got close enough to them today to smell their scent and it made me want to feel them cast their shadow over me from behind. 

I slid my fingers over my breasts wondering what their hands felt like, wondering if that quiet presence of theirs was real or a guise. Today they were in a charcoal sweater and it showed off their shoulders more than usual. Their bomber jacket matched their leather belt and I tried to not stare when they put themselves between me and that creep earlier. 

It was unexpected but turned me on, so much I’d locked my office when I got to work and got myself off, biting my own hand wishing it was theirs. I felt smaller near them, and this morning that smallness felt–bigger?

I had the urge to lean my head into their stomach, wrap my fingers through the loops of their belt, be against them and feel their body heat. I hadn’t had that before. It made my skin feel more aware of the air it was in, my mind wavery and that gasp in my throat kind of sitting there, hitched to something tugging it upward. 

My fingers slid down my body and against my cunt and I wondered more about them. Lately I kept my sunglasses on and stared at their hand holding the rail above their head, their grip tightening when the car we were in slowed. What would that feel like around my neck, my hipbone? I was wet and slid inside myself and sighed as hot water hit the back of my neck. 

Lost in the music and thoughts of them, my cell vibrating on the sink counter made my entire body jump. 

A number I didn’t recognize appeared in a bubble, 

“It’s me from this morning. Do you have plans tonight?”

My stomach flipped and I felt breathless, in stasis and mildly shocked they wrote me the same day, if at all. 

Tonight. I rarely went out, had plans. I’d become introverted since my last breakup and had gotten a little too used to my solitude, the ease that cradled me when I only had to consider myself and my own longings or needs. My friends were such good company too, I didn’t feel like I was missing much and just enjoying this moment, this pause of decadence and peace. 

I scrolled through all my open tabs and shut them, my banking card, emails that weren’t urgent, a porn scene titled “let me watch you while you touch yourself” I was saving for later, after last night it got me off so hard. I plugged my cell in and stared at the moisture lifting itself off the mirror to reveal my body. 

My chest felt like a drum circle and my fingers felt jittery. I towel dried my hair and wrote back, 

“I’m free tonight. What did you have in mind?”