My mind turned for the hours' drive to your house the following evening, contemplating the pros and cons of taking you up on your offer. Undecided about what to do, my toy had been packed, and was tucked in the bottom of my overnight bag.
On the downside, I was very nervous about the idea of using my toys in your house, and the potential of you hearing me. You were a good friend, and I didn't want to cross a line and ruin our friendship.
On the upside, the suggestion you had made would give me the orgasm my body so desperately craved; and, in complete honesty, that was of higher importance to me in that moment.
My mind battled back and forth for the duration of the drive, before I finally reached a decision as I pulled into your street. I determined that I would play the evening by ear; if I still wanted it that badly when I crawled into bed that night, I would wait until you were asleep and pull my toys out then.
* * *
The bartender passed our drinks over to you, and we turned to find our favourite table; not in the middle of all the action (it was Friday night, and the pub was bound to get a little rowdy), but not so far away that our mates would miss our presence entirely.
Dinner ordered, we turned our attention to each other. It had been a few months since my last visit, having moved away about a year earlier. I missed you terribly and, although we spoke on the phone weekly, it just wasn't the same as catching up in person.
Talk of the offer made was noticeably absent, as we discussed everything else under the sun. Work, family, mutual friends and relationships; my dating stories were always entertaining to friends, as I somehow managed to get myself into situations that just didn't seem to happen to other people. If I got a laugh out of the things that happened, I figured my friends would too; supporting this theory, I took particular delight as you choked on your beer as I told you the story of my last date, a man who licked my face as we were saying goodbye that evening (I swear, I don't know why, but it always seems to happen to me!).
After a few wines, a delicious buzz overtook my body, and I could feel my pussy start to dampen. I silently scolded myself; I was not a big drinker at the best of times, and I should've recalled that I got flirty while drinking white wine and tended to get turned on very easily.
Reaching our drinking limit (you had been drinking three beers to each one of my glasses of wine), you reached for your phone and ordered an Uber. Walking out the door, not completely drunk, just pleasantly tipsy, we slid into the backseat of the car (an upside to living in a small town was that the Uber never took long to arrive, and it was a two minute drive from the pub to your house).
Pulling up to your house, we laughed walking down your driveway, your dog meeting us with excitement as the front door swung open.
Picking up my overnight bag from inside the front door, you guided me to the spare room and flicked on the light. The cosy room was a welcome and familiar sight to me.
"You know where everything is, Jess," you told me, dropping the bag onto the bed.
"Help yourself to brekkie and coffee in the morning," you said, turning away from me, stepping toward your bedroom.
"Oh, and Jessie?" you asked, turning back to meet my eye. "The offer still stands."