- What? With whom?
She smiles, while Jonathan starts with his annoying “Ooh ooh”s.
- With a guy who’s a student’s uncle. Super hot! Single, an engineer, with a divine body.
- Mmmm… What’s the catch?
- None.
- And why didn’t you go for him yourself if he’s that hot?
I ask suspiciously, while Claire just shrugs.
- Because I’m not his type. His nephew is one of the few who behaves in class, so there’s a minimum of civility. The kid is always talking about his favorite uncle and how he needs to have a girlfriend, so every time he came to pick him up, I bugged him until he agreed to go on a date with my best friend, who’s also single and works at Vincius.
- You even told him where I work? If you’re not his type, then I think he’s gay, Claire.
Claire is beautiful; her short blonde hair goes perfectly with her 5’5” frame. Her golden skin tone makes many men fall at her feet. She has such a seductive and delicate look, but they have no idea that she loves boxing and fighting games.
Jonathan perks up the moment he hears my answer, but Claire dashes his hopes.
- Don’t even think about it, Jonathan. He’s not gay—I made sure of that. He was curious about you. I told him you were a quiet, shy woman—small, but absolutely gorgeous.
- AND A VIRGIN!
Jonathan and Bia say in unison, making me steam. Claire laughs.
- I didn’t tell him that, don’t worry. I’d never do a thing like that. But on Tuesday you have a dinner at the Eden restaurant. At 8 p.m. Don’t forget!
- If half the men knew you were a virgin at 28, you wouldn’t have a moment’s peace.
I snort and nod resignedly. What Jonathan says is true; it seems that a woman’s virginity is the best thing a woman can give a man and the best prize a man can have.
More rounds of beer, martinis, and tequila arrived, because it’s a night of drinking to drown our sorrows. A cheese board with jams also arrived as we talked and laughed at each other’s complaints. And of course, at Jonathan’s annoyed face, for having to drink juice because his reason wasn’t good enough.
By the end of the night, I was visibly drunk. The bar was already emptier, and the only loud noise was ours. I could feel the heat on the back of my neck because my hair was down. Our last round was sparkling water. Jonathan was already calling an Uber with multiple stops, visibly annoyed. I know I wasn’t making any sense anymore and all I wanted was to get home and go to bed. We held onto each other to keep from falling, but we looked like a swaying bridge.
Bia was the first to leave, and then it was my turn. Claire was going to stay at Jonathan’s place because her house was too far away. She always kept a small bag with her essentials at each of our houses, in case she had to sleep over at any of our places.
As soon as I walked into my rented apartment, I kicked off my shoes, took off my coat and tossed it onto the sofa, and headed straight for the shower. I let the water run to warm up while I undressed. My drunken mind drifted to a man, Mr. Relentless. I look at myself in the mirror; I’m a glass of milk that, when it catches the sun, turns red instead of tanning. I have a relatively nice pair of breasts, but I’m very short and my thighs are too thick. I’m not a perfect shape, like an hourglass; I’m more of a… pear shape. I’m not the kind of woman he’s used to, nor am I his type, no doubt. But then what was that in the elevator? It was probably just another woman he wanted to sleep with and then discard, without caring about my feelings. I would never allow that! We’re from completely different worlds; he’s the open-relationship type, and I’m more into a committed relationship, cuddling, and marriage. So it couldn’t have been me who put him in that mood, so grumpy. Impossible. Steam begins to fill the bathroom, giving me goosebumps. I unhook my bra and slip off my panties. I step under the shower; the hot water warms me like a blanket, soaking my hair, which begins to slide down my back. The water runs down my erect nipples, forming two cascades. My thoughts are fixed on that man, on that night in the locker room, imagining him lying there touching himself, grabbing his cock and thrusting into himself faster and faster. I feel the heat filling my belly; the desire to be touched by him is evident in the growing wetness between my legs. Without realizing it, I’m already touching myself, sliding my middle finger inside me, my palm brushing against my clitoris. In my mind, it’s his hand between my legs. I arch my back and push my head back, leaning against the wall. I grab my breast with my other hand, sliding my finger in and out of myself, stimulating me even more. I imagine his dick, thrusting hard, soaked because of me. My breathing speeds up and moans escape my throat. I pull my finger out and start massaging my clit with my index finger, feeling a chill run through my body and push me to the edge. I masturbate, thinking it’s my boss fucking me with his hands. I blame the alcohol, even though I know it’s not to blame at all. I speed up and pinch my nipple, exploding into orgasm. As soon as I recover, I wonder, what would it be like to have an orgasm with his penis inside me?