One Good Night

Morning. Moira groaned, cursing the light that streamed merrily through her window. It was at least eight o' clock. She yawned and stretched painfully, reminding herself mentally to buy new pillows. After a brisk shower and pulling on some thick leggings and a beige cable-knit jumper that had seen better days, she headed through to the large farmhouse style kitchen downstairs. After flicking on the kettle she wandered over to the fridge, working her shoulder-length pink hair into a loose pony tail while she thought vaguely about breakfast. Removing the small carton of milk and sweeping her gaze over the wilted salad and slightly mouldy cheese in her refrigerator, Moira decided quickly on the Cheerios sat in the cupboard.

After finishing her cereal and armed with a still piping hot mug of tea, Moira made her way to the small guest bedroom she used as her office, her thick socks padding on the sanded Oak floors. Setting her cup down on the desk, the slim twenty-eight year old sank into a worn office chair and switched on her computer. She gulped the tea down gratefully as she skimmed through her e-mails. She grimaced, wondering if the shameless advertisements for Viagra ever actually

worked

. One e-mail looked promising, and she clicked on it eagerly. Her eyes narrowed as she read through what was in fact a very jovial rejection letter. 'Why can't they just put "rejected" in the subject heading?' she thought huffily. Sighing, Moira thought back to the last time she had woken up with a truly positive attitude. The last time she had switched on her computer or collected her post expecting good news. She couldn't even remember. It must have been over a year, at least. She was sick of going through this every day. She needed something new. Her life seemed like an endless cycle of failures, the only bright spots being when her family came to visit. Since she was nineteen she had lived alone, in a house that was too big for her, co-owned with sisters who had inherited the place after the death of an elderly relative. Those sisters had long since found their own lives and moved on. She was the only one still desperately trying to find her niche, and wondering how on Earth other people seemed to have it all together.

After several fruitless hours spent researching something to write a half-decent article about she was interrupted by a short burst of buzzing. She looked at her phone tiredly. As expected, it was Taylor. A failed relationship with the perky blonde had ended abruptly after only a few weeks, but in the years that followed an irreplaceable friendship had blossomed, and Taylor Daniels had become her lifeline that broke up the monotony of being alone and unemployed. Opening the text from her friend, Moira laughed quietly.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself loser, I'll be over in a few hours to get smashed and go clubbing!!

'So I'm

that

predictable?' She thought sardonically. However the thought of seeing her friend soon did cheer her up considerably, and she set about trying to find something to wear, and rounding up the alcohol hiding around the house from previous binges with Taylor.

Two hours later Moira was stood in her bedroom in a short faux leather skirt and a delicate black lace bra with a glass of cheap Asti in one hand, riffling through the clothes in her floor-to-ceiling wardrobe with the other. Party hits were blasting though the house and her front door was unlocked in anticipation of Taylor's arrival. On a table by the front door was a glass of wine and a note telling Taylor to find her upstairs.

At around five-thirty Taylor pulled up outside. Walking in and seeing the note she smiled, reminding herself that Moira seemed to be completely incapable of dressing herself for an outing. She deposited her bag in the kitchen and took her glass of wine - as well as the rest of the bottle - upstairs to see her friend. She was amused to find Moira still half-dressed and mildly tipsy holding different tops in front of her and studying her reflection in her full-length mirror. As Moira turned to the bed to discard the clothes Taylor snuck up behind her and covered her eyes with a hand.

"Guess who!"

Moira giggled.

"The woman of my dreams?" she ventured mischievously. Taylor laughed and pulled her hand away.

"Got it in one!" Taylor released her hold and proceeded to refill her friend's empty glass. Looking Moira up and down appreciatively she asked how she was.

She was answered with a shrug. "Fine really. Nothing's changed since the last time I saw you."

"That's a depressing thought babe. Have you tried out the dating site I signed you up to?"

Moira grimaced, slumping on the bed. "I tried it once and that was enough to put me off. The minute men realise I'm bisexual they start asking for threesomes, and the minute women find out, they go off me because they presume I'll leave them for a guy."

"Bummer. So you've gone a good year without a shag then?"

Moira threw a pillow at her. "Thanks for reminding me! We're not all out for sex you know! Though I am starting to suspect that my virginity is planning on growing back soon." She laughed.

Carefully putting down her drink on the cabinet next to the bed, Taylor moved closer to her and winked. "I could check that for you." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively and buried her face in Moira's generous bosom. Laughing uncontrollably at her friend's lewd behaviour she tried to shift the girl off her. Despite the ridiculousness of the situation she still felt vague stirrings of desire at the warm contact, and the feel of Taylor's breasts pressing against her stomach.

"Stop it dude," she laughed weakly, "you're getting me wet already it's been so long!" Taylor sat up, red-faced and merry. Gulping down half a glass of wine she turned to face Moira.

"Promise me you'll talk to some new people tonight, you're not even trying to socialise anymore, it takes me forcing you out of the house!"

Moira held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, I promise. I'll speak to some people, and maybe even get laid. But I'm only doing it for you," she said, her eyes narrowed in mock-seriousness.

"Good. Now let's get smashed," grinned Taylor, draining her glass.

The next few hours passed by in a blur of drinking, dancing, and the occasional drunken kissing and fumbling, as often happened between them when alcohol was consumed. By the time they got into the pre-booked taxi to go to Flame, a favourite gay club of theirs - Moira wearing a shimmery gold tube top and killer heels to go with her skirt - she was feeling ready to get out and lose herself in the crush of revellers that frequented Flame every weekend. Her nerve endings stretched to the limit by Taylor's incessant kissing and stroking of sensitive areas, and her inhibitions suitably lowered, she knew she was in for a good night.

The club was already pounding when they arrived and they didn't have to wait too long before they were out on the dance floor in a screaming rush of bodies. Taylor had quickly roped in another girl to dance with, a busty beauty with thick black hair and perfect curves. Wrapping herself unashamedly around her new dance partner, Taylor motioned to a spot a few feet away. Moira looked around, still moving enthusiastically to the music she could feel thumping through the floor. She knew who Taylor was pointing out immediately. A dark haired man stood on the edge of a large group of people, about average height, a few inches taller than Moira herself; he looked self-conscious. Moira gritted her teeth resolutely and made her way across the floor to talk to him.

She tapped him on the shoulder and he looked around in surprise. She smiled gently, trying not to show her nerves. "Hey guy," she talked close to his ear, wanting to be heard over the music. "Do you want to get a drink?" He nodded gratefully and she took his hand, leading him around to the bar, in a quieter section of the club. She ordered a beer for each of them and they sat down in one of the booths.

Moira ran her fingers over the neck of the bottle nervously trying to think of something to say, and trying not to stare at the muscular tattooed arms resting on the table.

He coughed. "I'm David," he started, holding out a hand. She grasped it warmly in hers and shook it. She noted that his skin was slightly rough but that his grip was strong and sure.

"I'm Moira," she returned, glad he had spoken first. "Are you here often? I've never seen you before." Cringe! She knew the question was a cliché before she even said it.

He smiled. "No actually. I'm...well, I'm straight and I was kind of dragged here by some friends..." He shifted awkwardly.

Moira laughed, realising why he had looked so uncomfortable on the dance floor.

"No worries, you'd be surprised how many straight people come here just for the atmosphere."

"So, um, are you...?"

She caught on quickly. "Gay? No. Well. Sort of. Bisexual."

He seemed relieved. "Cool. I would have been terrified trying to figure out whether it was okay to flirt with you." He laughed now, seeming to relax. He had a gorgeous, wry smile; and his lips were only slightly full. She could already imagine herself kissing them. She coughed, shaking herself slightly. She shifted closer to him, inhaling his masculine scent, mostly natural with a hint of soapiness. He glanced over toward the dance floor. "Your friend doesn't waste any time does she?!"

She looked over and groaned in embarrassment. Taylor was making her way over to them, hand in hand with her new paramour, her hair was wild and she had lipstick smeared on her face.

"Hey gorgeous, can I have the keys? We're going to go back to the house." She giggled as the girl behind her snaked her hand around her front and cupped her breast. Moira fished around in her bag and located the keys for Taylor.

"Here you go. Please use the spare room and not my room!" She shouted after them as they left the table. "Yeah, she's not one for moving slowly." She laughed, turning her attention back to David. She felt uncomfortable now. Watching Taylor with the new girl had titillated her, and she was aware of her hard nipples against her tight top. Apparently so was David. In the next half hour, his eyes kept flicking down towards her breasts, which only served to turn her on. As the night wore on she found herself touching his arm more and more, and her skirt seemed to be riding up her thighs through its own will. When it got to one a.m. she found she hadn't lost interest in him through the night, and watching his mouth while he talked was setting her imagination into high gear. Losing all subtlety she leant up to his ear, pressing her breasts against his shoulder. "Do you want to come back to mine?"

He seemed breathless, and she noticed with great satisfaction that he was straining uncomfortably against the front of his jeans. "God yes," he choked. She looked around. The club was starting to empty. A few more minutes won't hurt... She sat back down, keeping her eyes fixed on his. Slowly she spread her legs open, carefully looking around to make sure no one was watching. His eyes widened as she pulled her skirt up to her hips, showing the lace underwear she had on, barely concealing her damp, engorged pussy. Quietly he groaned, unable to take his eyes off the view in front of him. She smiled naughtily and gently ran her middle finger over her wet mound, gasping as her clitoris throbbed at her touch. Moving her finger in lazy circles over her clit, she bit her lip as blood rushed to her pussy, heightening the pleasure she was giving herself. David could barely contain himself. He must be dreaming. He reached out hesitantly, and ran his hand up Moira's silky thigh. His member was so hard it hurt, he knew he had to get some kind of release soon. Feeling the sopping scrap of lace under his touch, he quickly slipped his finger beneath it, feeling her soft wetness against him. She let out a quiet squeak of excitement, and he knew she needed him as much as he needed her. Pulling his fingers away he took her hand.

"Come on," he urged gruffly. He led her swiftly to restrooms near the entrance and locked them in the large disabled stall. She backed herself against the pale grey wall and her eyes glittered with anticipation as she watched him unzip his trousers and free his erect cock. He tugged her hand down and she wrapped her fingers around him. His girth was incredible and she couldn't wait to have him inside her. She stroked his thick erection and kissed him hard on the lips for a moment. Then, backing away she stopped to slip off her underwear, stowing it away in her bag. David grinned and pushed her back against the wall. He wrapped his hand gently around her neck and she struggled against him playfully. With his other hand he forced three fingers inside her waiting cunt and fingered her roughly while she rubbed his cock, desperately needing it inside her. She lifted her leg high and wrapped it around his hip, pulling him close to her. He knew what she wanted but chose to make her wait.

Pulling away from her, he turned her around and motioned for her to hold on to the safety bar. Glad of the mirror making up most of the wall she watched him in the reflection as he pushed her skirt up over her hips, exposing everything underneath. Pulling her legs open to shoulder width he gently fingered her, smothering her juices over her clit and then sucking his finger sensuously, savouring the taste. Then, with a delicious look of mischief on his face, he slowly started to spread her pussy juices around her tight arsehole. Moira was in heaven, she hadn't felt so horny in years. Gently he started to penetrate her tight hole with one finger. Moira pushed back against him, encouraging him to finger her arsehole deeper. When he had worked his way up to two fingers deep inside her arsehole, suddenly he plunged the full length of his cock into her.

Moira screamed with pleasure. Fucking hell, this was exactly what she needed. Watching in the mirror as he pumped her both with his dick and his fingers she used one hand to steady herself and the other to rub her swollen clit. She could hear him behind her, breathing hard and fucking her furiously, filling her cunt with his huge dick. She could feel herself getting closer to cumming, and she could tell by his groaning, and exclamations of "fuck! Ohh fuck yeah!" That he was getting close too. She lifted her back end up to let him enter her deeper and breathlessly whispered his name, "yes, David, fucking cum in me baby!" She tipped him over the edge as she came. Her muscles clenched, again and again, drawing torrents of cum into her dripping hole. Eventually, he relaxed his hold on her and pulled out. Turning her around, he kissed her deeply. She reciprocated, enjoying his lips against hers.

"Give me your number Moira. We

have

to do that again." She smiled and slipped his phone out of his pocket to program in her number. Afterwards, they cleaned each other up, smiling sheepishly when their eyes met. He kissed her again when they left the club, his eyes promising a future encounter. She waved down a taxi, unable to keep the grin off her face. As she climbed in and gave the driver her address; she wondered what Taylor was getting up to with her new 'friend'. Maybe she could use a hand...