Just One Night
Submitted by T.A. Woods
She turned to see the same asshole, who’d been hassling her all night, still not getting the hint.
“Hey, how about me and you see what kind of freaky thangs we can do in my van?” His gold tooth shone in the light.
“We are cousins Harry. Get the fuck out of here.” She tried to shrug him off, but his hand tightened.
“We twice removed or some shit. Now c’mon girl. I know you ain’t shy.” She hoped his Afro Sheen wouldn't drip on her dress. She rolled her eyes.
“Your mom is my mom’s aunt. The only removed is you getting your drunk old ass on.” She’d said her dad was his mother’s cousin before. He was just getting drunker and more bold by the minute. She pulled her arm again, and he yanked back.
“Hey, if you gonna dress like that, then you even giving it or selling it. Now which is it?” He leered. He actually leered at her, and made a move for her tit. She was reaching back to get the drink that was sitting on the bar to bash him in the face with, when Mr. Tall Dark and Where The Hell Did He Come From swung Harry around and popped him once in his jaw. He slithered to the ground, an ungainly lump of shiny blue polyester.
“Are you alright?” His voice was as dark as his skin, though his eyes had this silver look to them that showed someone had dipped into a lighter gene pool at some point in his genetic history.
She shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine and I would've handled that myself. Who asked you?”
“I’m working security at the wedding, so yeah that’s who.” Then she took in the dark clothes, with the subtle security written across his shoulder.
“They asked you to punch out every drunken schlub who tried to cop a feel tonight? Because your fist must be really fucking sore.”
She turned away from him, setting the weapon glass down. She reached into her small bag, big enough for some ones, a credit card, the invite and a condom. She set the ones on the bar, and grabbed her drink. She slipped her leg from the bar stool, ignoring the pinch in her toes from the imitation Milanos and strutted away into the rest of the melee.
Kids were running all over the damn place, revved up from the ice cream station. Moms and dads were too busy having a good time to supervise. The older adults had already retired. The younger ones were getting in as many drinks in as they could. There was a lot of sloppy dancing going on, and party fouls splashing onto the ground. She shook her head, taking a slow drink, walking around the room. Her dark eyes not missing anything.
Who would it be tonight? That guy who sat in the corner looking low into his diet cola, rejected by a bride’s maid perhaps? That sadness could be fun to play with. The silver fox sitting at the table, strumming his fingers, his eyes a little unfocused from the bourbons he’d had? Too easy. She needed some excitement. The one guy over there loosening his tie, who was shaking his head a little? Jilted lover of the bride, or maybe the groom? This was the new millennium. Anything goes. She changed direction, letting each hip drop in deliberation, knowing that the light was catching each ebony strand just so. She would look like a dark goddess to him. And she would be, for the night.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” came that voice against her ear. She couldn’t believe she had let him get so close. She must be slipping.
“What do you mean? I have my guest ticket. Want to see it security boy? Or do you just want to drop me like you did my cousin back there?” her voice mocked him, as she pulled out her invite.
His breath was warm against her neck, making her breathing a little erratic.
“This isn't your name. Edith Beltone died three weeks ago. Who are you?”
“Who do you want me to be?”
“I’m disappointed. I didn't expect you would have such trite lines.”
“You say trite, I say classic.” His hand was on her bare back, right above her ass, guiding her away from tonight’s delight toward the exit. His heat poured through her, lighting a fire down to her now soaked thong.
He placed her glass on a waiter’s tray as they walked through the party. His hand firmly in place as he escorted her into the hallway.
“How did you know?” she asked. She’d been crashing weddings for years and no one had ever been the wiser.
“We've been watching you for a while Venise. Aren't you glad we found you?” A cold lump dropped in her stomach. She didn't bother to try to deny her name.
Her eyes darted down the hallways knowing the exits had already been blocked. She knew this day would come, but she hadn't realized it was so close. Her heels seem to sink in the plush carpet. Then she smiled that smile that had gotten hundreds of men before him into so much trouble. She slipped the straps of her dress down, lifting her arms. It danced down her body like a flame, leaving the heels, the thong and the smile.
“Come on,” she whispered. “Don’t you want to know what it is? Can you take me?” She turned, her breasts pressed against his chest. “Play with me pretty boy.” She leaned in and licked his ear. That’s all it took.
He lifted her from the ground, her legs wrapped around his waist like they were made to be there. He swiftly found the unmarked room, opening it with his ID, slamming the door behind him. She barely had time to notice the security screens set up before they were kissing; though less kissing and more a dance of domination, a mark of tongues and teeth and groans. He grabbed her amble ass, lifting her and rubbing her wet slit against his hardness. She arched her back, ready to do what she did best.
He bit the inside of her neck, marking her and then licked it. She laughed throatily, turning to him.
“So you like to bite?” Her voice was almost a growl, her eyes wild. She ripped his jacket down. “So do I, but I save it for the end.” She grabbed the edges of his shirt, ripping it apart scattering buttons everywhere. His body was so hard and perfect, she tried to paint his chest with her mouth, licking, kissing, and scraping her teeth against his nipples. She ran her nails down his back, leaving her signature V. He groaned, taking a handful of her hair and yanked on it, pulling her away from him.
He led her by her hair to a desk, brushing everything off of it. She jumped on top, opening her legs wide to him. He unzipped his pants, and her greedy little fingers had to play to see. He was just as big as she thought he would be. He didn't give her time to breathe, to think. He sank right in, filling her, stretching her.
“Fuck me!” she groaned, her head falling back, squeezing her eyes tightly. His hips started pounding into her. Sounds of flesh smacking against flesh, and rough groans filled the room. He lifted her higher, until he got that perfect angle. That one where she couldn't think, she wasn't even sure if she was breathing. This was so wrong. She was the one who usually had the control, but she didn't care. As long as this never stopped. Her toes flexed in the air.
He was staring down at her, his face an almost angry mask, as he bit his lip, pumping his hips like a piston. She arched her back, and he bent down grabbing one of her nipples hard and ready for his taking. He sucked at her, bit her. Lapping with his tongue to suck on her again.
That’s all it took. Her body shook and contorted in spasms, out of control. She was out of control. She may have hit him, and she definitely scratched him. Still, he kept going until he blew his load, grunting as he let it all go.
He then looked down at her with what almost seemed like regret, and she felt a pinprick in her side. Her eyes widened as she felt herself lose the feeling in her body.
He pulled out of her, straightened his pants and pulled out his radio transmitter.
“The Black Widow has been captured. Repeat, The Black Widow has been captured.”
She felt like she was a marbleized horror show. Only her eyes could move. She watched him walk to a closet and pull out a robe. She couldn't feel it when he put it on her. She couldn't feel the tear fall down her cheek.