Stroking Midnight

I took a long sip of my dirty martini and leaned into the bar, staring resentfully down towards the end of it. My boyfriend of three years, Ryan, was still engaged in conversation, feeding his ego with clever banter. I noticed the familiar animated expressions, grand gestures, and overly enthused laughter that captivated the small crowd of people he was talking to. I sighed heavily, and settled back onto my bar stool and played with the spear of olives in my drink. It was New Year's Eve, but all it really amounted to was just another night of pretending I was happy. It was something that I had become good at, thanks to several years of practice at trying to be his girlfriend.

Ryan and I had started out, as every other couple seemed to. There had been that magnetic attraction that night at the club when we had first met. It had been another New Years Eve, three years prior. I had been trying to get a drink, along with the surging crowd that had been pushing towards the bar, trying to get any bartender's attention. Being a rather small and diminutive blonde in a sea of tall men, he must have seen my struggle, and moved in to easily impress me with the way he commanded attention. When he handed me a glass of champagne in time for the clock to strike midnight, I couldn't help but be intrigued.

Over the years I had blossomed under the flattery of what it meant to be Ryan's girlfriend. He seemed to know everyone in the city, and everyone wanted him at their parties. He was charming, and entertaining and those bright blue eyes made you feel like you were the only woman in the room. Even though behind the clever front, he was the kind of guy who was constantly aware of every flirty, smiling, long-legged piece of ass that was in his immediate vicinity. He'd make you laugh hard enough to not notice the way he'd steal a quick glance over your shoulder. Sometimes, he would blatantly and openly flirt with another girl while you were standing right there, being distracted by a conversation with one of his friends.

I had wanted to be the "cool girl" back then. I didn't want to seem clingy or insecure, or at least I didn't want it to be obvious. Inside, I was constantly questioning what his motives were or how committed he really was, even after we'd moved in together. I was, as some of his more sarcastic friends would say, the perfect foil. My refusal to appear like the typical jealous girl gave him ample opportunity to come home at 4am, go on guy's trips to Vegas, and spend time sending text messages late at night without me ever having the nerve to confront him. Maybe I didn't want to know the truth. Maybe I knew it and had already accepted it. After all, we were a fun couple; we had a beautiful crowd of exciting and successful friends to party and vacation with. We lived in a trendy condo in the heart of the city, right by the lake, and on the outside we were the couple everyone wanted to be.

Was he cheating? It had been grating on me more and more over the past year. I didn't want to be suspicious or demand answers, but 'work' seemed to be one of his favourite excuses as to why he'd always come home late. It was also the reason he used when he had to run out again just after I'd cooked dinner. He was always 'entertaining clients,' even though I had yet to see his business improve because of it.

"You just need to spice things up again, Erica!" my friend Jennifer had told me once. "Ryan is just another typical 'peter pan boy'. He's never going to grow up. And playing the good girl isn't going to keep him interested forever."

I had tried not to feel offended by her words of advice. It's not that I was a conservative girl, but Ryan and I had never really had a raunchy kind of sex life. Quite honestly, I just didn't think he was that kind of guy. We had always had satisfying sex, and the porn videos he favoured always seemed to be very standard fare with a lot of straight sex and threesomes. He had subscriptions to a few men's magazines, but there never seemed to be anything very perverse about his desires. He loved beautiful, sexy women. That seemed to be the only pre-requisite. And I had always been very careful to ensure I lived up to that image. My hair was blonde and glossy, my body was tight and toned and my smile was always eager. Fine, perhaps I wasn't as openly slutty as those porn star models were. I didn't flaunt what I had, but Ryan had told me he preferred it that way. After all, he said he would never marry one of them. He wanted a girl of quality. At least that's what he had always claimed.

That's why I ended up drinking almost an entire bottle of vodka on the night I found the photos on his computer. Ryan had said he was going to the gym and then out for drinks with the guys. My computer had crashed earlier that day, right in the middle of some online Christmas shopping, so I decided to use his. I had never gone onto his computer before. My friends used to laugh at me, amazed that I could resist snooping on him that way, but I wanted to trust him. And besides, if I found something upsetting or incriminating, how could I confront him? Tell him that I'd gone looking through his computer history files? No, if I was going to find out something, I was going to find out when I was meant to. Besides, who cared if he looked at dirty porn online, right? We didn't need to know absolutely everything about each other.

I clicked his laptop open and was surprised when his email account popped up. He hadn't logged out. I drew in my breath, trying to convince myself to close the screen. But something drew my eyes to the subject line near the top of the page. "Something to add to our dirty little sex album." It was from a name I recognized, as it was an acquaintance of ours from our shared social scene. Ryan had always told me he thought that Kelly Harrison was a slut. He used to make fun of the outfits she'd wear, that were always overtly designed to get attention. They were mostly tiny short skirts and low cut tops that spilled heavy cleavage that didn't belong on that otherwise slim brunette frame.

"She's trash," he'd whisper conspiratorially in my ear. "And unbelievably dumb and neurotic. That's why she's always single. No guy's going to put up that."

My heart started to thud and my mouth went a little dry. Part of me knew what I would find before I ever opened that email, but I felt compelled to anyway. Out spilled an endless assortment of jpegs. Many of them were dark and a little blurry but it was more than enough to cause my jaw to drop and my stomach to turn. There she was, naked and voluptuous on her knees, and spreading her ample cheeks apart to ease the entry of my boyfriend's dick into her ass. Her face was turned to the side, moaning, already slick with cum, making me realize that there had been a few rounds of sex that night. Picture after picture downloaded of Ryan fucking her in every which way he could, gleefully documenting the whole thing with the camera. There was her cum-covered face smiling up for the camera, spreading her pussy lips and grinning at the lens teasingly. And then more with her sucking his cock and balls, and then with her face buried in his ass. I could see the glimpse of pink tongue as it snaked inside him. Her eyes were open, loving the attention, enjoying being a slut for him and for the camera. At first I just sat there stunned. I didn't want to believe what I was seeing.

Their sex looked depraved and raw. Both of their bodies glistened with sweat. Her long dark hair was messy and wild, giving her that freshly fucked look that made the photos seem even dirtier. His hands were gripping her, almost clawing at her hips. I could see the red imprints of the sharp slaps he'd delivered to her ass while he had fucked her. I felt numb. This was everything that our lovemaking was not. He had always been gentle and respectful with me. When I had told him I was too anxious to try anal sex, he had been patient and understanding. Sure, we had enjoyed some very passionate nights, and I had always enjoyed things a little rough, but he had never gone anywhere near the extent that I was seeing in these photos. This girl was his fuck slut. His face was smeared with satisfaction. Clearly he had enjoyed every debased and dirty moment.

I spent the night in shock, crying and drinking vodka until I passed out in bed. I didn't even hear him come home that night, nor did I really meet his eyes or talk to him for that entire week. I made an effort to stagger my schedule so that we were apart most of the time. And when we were together at home, I would watch him out of the corner of my eyes as I pretended to be focused on the television, while he worked on his computer. In my mind, from that moment on, he was always doing something deceptive. Every second he was on the computer, or the phone, and every time he reached for his Blackberry was just another piece of unseen evidence to convince me that he was up to no good. And my anger and resentment grew, slowly and steadily with every day that passed.

I thought about my next move for a few weeks. I didn't want to make any hasty decisions too quickly. I considered whether I wanted to throw away three years together over some dirty cheating with a whore like Kelly Harrison. The decision was weighing on my mind on that cold New Years night, of our third year together. I had dressed sexier than usual, in a little silver mini dress I'd bought the week before, and I'd left my long blonde hair loose and wavy over my shoulders. I would have felt vindicated by my sex appeal from the admiring glances I'd been getting all night, but I was undeniably still distracted by the uncertainty of my relationship. Ryan was clearly having a great time, I realized bitterly. So why wasn't I?

"Can I get you another martini?" The bartender asked me leaning in over the bar. He smiled, almost sympathetically. "You look like you could use it."

I sighed. "Yes. Please...."

"Do you want it dirty?"

His words seemed rather appropriate for the moment I was caught up in.

"Actually... make it filthy."

He grinned at me and winked, and I smiled back, trying to distract myself from the strains of the night. He was the kind of guy that you couldn't help but want to flirt back with. His green eyes were lively and they hinted at a sharp wit and mischievous nature. He had dark hair, and an easy smile and his body was athletic and toned. I watched him as he mixed my drink, and we exchanged a few unspoken smiles.

"I'm Chase by the way," he said as he set the martini down on a napkin in front of me.

"I'm Erica."

"So, Erica... it looks like you look like you have a lot on your mind," he said finally.

I laughed bitterly. "You have no idea."

"Boyfriend trouble?"

"How did you guess?"

He shrugged and gestured discreetly down towards the end of the bar where Ryan was leaning in to whisper something into the ear of a pretty redhead. Whatever he had said made her giggle and playfully swat his arm.

"Well, if you're dating that asshole, then there's got to be some problems."

I laughed out loud. I should have been insulted, but the buzz of the martini had me finding the irony of the moment. I had been through such a roller coaster of emotions over the holidays, I felt like there was almost nothing left in me to feel. I was numb, but it was starting to become a good kind of numb, I decided. It was helping me see clearly again.

"You have good intuition, Chase. He is definitely an asshole."

The bartender grinned at my assessment. "I probably shouldn't say anything. But I've worked here for a while, and I've seen him around. Typical Thursday night crowd arrogance. Him and his friends wander in and pretend like they're high rollers and hit on all the skirts. I just pour the drinks and laugh mostly. But you know... these guys are all the same. They want to feel like men, but in the end they're all just boys. And never appreciative of what they have at home, am I right?"

"Yes," I agreed with a sigh, feeling my resentment starting to grow. "You are absolutely right on that. I really don't know why I stay."

After hearing more validation of Ryan's wandering ways, I began to feel a lick of fire flaming through me. It was a mixture of anger, frustration, and finally a kind of momentum that wanted to propel me forward to take charge of the moment, and change the stakes in the game.

"Have you ever called him on it?" Chase asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"No," I admitted. "But you know what? I was actually thinking of doing just that." And then, surprising myself, I leaned into the bar, letting my dress fall forward to give him a glimpse of the soft swell of my breasts. "Except, I was thinking of doing it in a creative way."

He gaze quickly dipped down the front of my dress, appreciating the view and he raised an eyebrow. "I like creative girls. What do you have in mind?"

I felt a little rush of adrenaline, as I contemplated how far I wanted to take things. I took a long sip of my martini. It was a pivotal moment. I could laugh it off and return to the side of my cheating boyfriend and drag myself through another year of trying to patch up a relationship that already felt shredded. Or, I could seize the moment of New Years Eve. A new year; a new life. The good girl I had forced myself to be all those years suddenly seemed like an empty shell. A mask that I had worn to be the girl I thought Ryan had wanted. But as it turned out, it obviously wasn't what he really wanted. And if I was honest with myself, it wasn't the real me, either. Feeling emboldened by my thoughts, the buzz of dirty martinis, and the premise of a new year, I smiled back at him and cocked my head to one side. It was no longer about Ryan and our relationship... it was about me.

"Can you get away from the bar for a little while?" I heard myself saying.

He grinned, his eyes lighting up with interest. "Well, it's about to hit the stroke of midnight in about 10 minutes, but about 15 minutes after that, I can get have someone cover for me. If you wanted to talk in a quieter place. There's a back office that's empty, just past the women's bathrooms."

I drew in my breath, feeling vaguely light headed by the decision I was about to make.

"I'll meet you there..."

A smile passed between us and I felt my panties instinctively begin to get wet. The deliciousness of revenge surged within me. It was unfamiliar and exciting, and I surprised myself with my sudden desire for it. I ran my fingers through my long blonde hair, and let one of the straps of my silver dress fall low over my shoulder as I slid off the bar stool with my martini, feeling Chase's eyes follow me as I crossed the bar to where Ryan stood.

I didn't try to engage myself in the conversation too extensively. I smiled and nodded and laughed in the right places, but my eyes were still on the bartender as we shared dirty glances as the clock crept towards midnight. I could feel my nipples harden under the silk sheath of a dress I was wearing, as my mind began to imagine and anticipate what I was about to do. All the while Ryan kept a hand on the small of my back, playing the role of my boyfriend, and yet still never quite succeeding at it.

"Everything ok?" he asked me finally.

I returned his concern with a full smile. "Better than ok, Ryan. I'm just looking forward to the New Year. You know what they say. It's a chance to start over... to try new things."

He grinned. "New things? Like what?"

I shrugged mischievously. "You'll see... later tonight."

Midnight arrived in a flurry of cheery greetings, clinking glasses, and perfunctory kisses. I was handed a glass of champagne and I was reminded of the first moment I'd met Ryan, standing beside him in a bar when he'd handed me the bubbly drink that initiated our first conversation. I was still carrying the glass with me when I wandered away from the crowds shortly after I saw Chase hand off the bar duties to the two other bartenders that were working there. Quickly I slipped down the back hallway, past the bathrooms. I saw one of the doors to a back office edged open, and I peeked inside. Chase was standing inside, leaning against the desk.

"Happy New Year," I murmured as I closed the door behind me.

"It's definitely looking like that," he said with a rueful smile. "You've decided to start the year off with a bang, have you?"

"Maybe..." I said finally, walking up to where he was standing. I took a long sip of champagne. "I have a few fireworks planned for tonight."

I set the glass down. The room was dark, with just enough moonlight coming through the open windows to bathe everything in a silvery glow. I stepped forward, pressing my bare leg against his.

"I need your help though," I confessed teasingly.

"Well," he said, reaching out to draw me closer against him. I felt his hands slide up my thighs, and I sighed. His face inclined towards mine, and I felt his warm breath in my ear. "I do like to please my customers."

His hands slipped under the short hemline of my dress, sliding over my ass, needing no further instruction. I moved into him as our lips locked passionately. It had been a long time since I'd been with another man. I had always been faithful to Ryan, and now I relished in the unfamiliarity of the moment. I slid my tongue into his mouth, tasting him, as he kissed me back with intensity, his hands softly squeezing my ass.

"We have to hurry," I whispered. "I can't be away for too long."

Our initial explorations in the dark room, gave way to a necessary urgency.

I felt his fingers on the lace band of my pink thong pushing them down my bare thighs, as my hands moved to his belt buckle, both of us rushing to remove or push clothing out of the way.

"Where does your boyfriend think you are?" He asked as he ran his tongue slowly down my neck.

"Mmm... the bathroom," I murmured. "I just don't want him to come looking for me if I take too long."

"Oh yeah?" Chase grinned, sliding his fingers into the juicy folds of my wet pussy. "Doesn't he trust you?" He began to finger fuck me as I moaned against his mouth.

I smothered a laugh. "Strangely enough, no... despite how faithful I've been all these years. But tonight is about dirty new beginnings."

While he massaged my clit, I leaned into him, grinding my pussy against his talented fingers and put my lips next to his ear. "I have a plan."

I whispered all the explicitly filthy details of what I wanted him to do to me, and how I wanted it all to happen. I could feel his heartbeat quicken as his chest pressed against mine, and I knew he was smiling the entire time.

"You do have a twisted little mind, don't you," he marveled.

"And?"

"And... I think you may have finally met your match."

I let out a little gasp as he seized me roughly about the waist, picking me up and setting me on top of the office desk we had been leaning against. He simultaneously pushed me back against it until I was laying flat. My pink thong dangled on the end of one ankle as he lifted my legs up, still clad in my silver stiletto heels and put them up high in air until they were over his shoulders. He smiled as he shoved the hem of dress up until my bare ass was against the cold table, revealing my glistening, perfectly smooth pussy.

Without another word, he slowly bent forward until I felt his breath hot on my pussy, followed by his warm wet tongue as it slid over my throbbing clit. I moaned and writhed on the table while his hands gripped me firmly. He continued thrusting his tongue inside me, and not letting me escape his hungry mouth. He licked and sucked my pussy while I tried to stifle my moans, even though it was doubtful anyone would hear us with the loud bass beats from the bar thudding through the room. I imagined what Ryan was doing at that moment as I lay on that back office table with my legs clasped around the neck of this stranger who was enthusiastically devouring my pussy. The thought of my devious decisions only served to excite me further, and I found myself bucking up against Chase's mouth, grinding my clit against his tongue until I came in a wave of hot pleasure.