*All characters are above 18 unless otherwise noted.*
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I stood in front of the mirror, surveying my outfit for the night.
Butterflies ran rampant in my stomach. I never did this sort of thing.
My husband was away on a 2-day business trip. I didn't get out of the house too much without him, but my best friend Josephine had convinced me to try out a new club in town.
I had been married to Darrell, my caring husband, for 19 years. We were high school sweethearts and loved each other from the moment we met. But our marriage had grown a little stale ever since we found out he was infertile. My strict Catholic upbringing prevented me from separating (keeping up appearances, and such) and honestly I didn't really want to anyway. Darrell was very nice and a good guy, but just a little plain. So moments like tonight where I got to let my hair down and have fun were few and far between.
In all honesty, I hadn't been extremely receptive to Josephine's plan. When I hung out with fellow wives, it was usually either for upscale bruncheons or drinks at nice bars. Never clubbing.
Josephine was much more adventurous than me. She was always up for trying new things or "living life to the fullest" as she framed it. I was much safer in my comfort zone, and clubs were not included. Even though I was only 39, I was already nostalgic for things far from EDM and grinding.
And yet, here I was. I took a deep breath and surveyed the outfit I had picked out. It was a purple dress that came down to my knees. It was much tighter than I normally wore, hugging my natural curves. It still remained conservative enough to my standards, showing no cleavage.
I had on a pair of black ankle-strap kitty heels, cotton panties, and a matching push-up bra. My D cup boobs were quite large and still pretty firm and round for my age, but the bra definitely took away any of the little sag that existed. I would have liked to be in pantyhose, but Josephine convinced, nay, instructed me to go bare and show off my legs.
My long brown hair was straightened, and I did my makeup a little more stylish than I ordinarily would have, with more mascara, eyeliner, and brighter lipstick. I was looking quite sexy, and feeling it too, something I hadn't experienced in a while. Maybe I would even finger myself when I got back. I only masturbated when I was feeling really horny.
Ready for a night on the town, I drove to the club to meet up with Josephine. I got to the place, paid the cover and went inside. The excruciatingly loud bass made the whole building seem to vibrate, but a few glasses of wine or maybe some margaritas would make it tolerable.
I went up to the bar and ordered a glass of red wine, which seemed to take the young bartender by surprise, although he complied. I sat waiting for Josephine for a few minutes, wondering where she was.
My cell phone buzzed after a while with an incoming call. It was Josephine.
"Hey, what's up? Where are you?" I asked.
"Listen, Kelly, I am so sorry to have to do this to you but on my way out the door, my boss called and reminded me about a project which I had totally forgotten to do, and it needs to be done tonight. I'll work as fast as I can, but I think I've got to cancel," she explained.
"Oh my gosh, that sucks! I totally understand. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Not at the moment. Hey, it sounds like you're already there. Just have fun tonight. I don't want you to go right back home and read a trashy romance novel. That's how you can help me, by letting loose. I've got to go though. I'll call you later if I can still make it."
"Bye, Josie."
"Bye, Kelly. Remember. Have fun!"
She hung up.
I let out a loud exhale. Well, that was unfortunate. I tucked my phone into my large wallet and, counter to her instructions, decided to head home. And at that moment, my drink arrived.
Well, now I had to stay, if only to finish the glass of wine.
I stood by myself for a while at the bar, sipping my wine. Some of the songs that came on weren't actually too bad, and I watched the crowd of people dance.
After I finished up my glass of wine, a late-90s pop song came on. I couldn't remember it, but I recognized it, and it gave me enough incentive to actually go out and dance. I let loose for half an hour, actually enjoying myself for the first time in a while. I found myself pleasantly surprised.
I sidled back to the bar when I got tired and ordered myself a martini. I grabbed my wallet, but the bartender stopped me.
"It's free, ma'am. That group over there paid for your tab."
He indicated with a nod, and I swiveled around to look. It was a group of 5 men at a booth, who noticed I was now staring at them. One made a motion with his hands, signaling for me to come over.
My heart fluttered. Sometimes a girl has to be reassured that she's sexy and alluring, and this was my confirmation. I grabbed my drink and headed over to the table. I just planned to laugh and chat. I would never think of doing anything else.
Two of the men got out of the booth and beckoned me to move right into the middle. I giggled nervously and sat down. I got my first good look at the men. There were 2 black men, one Hispanic or possibly Sicilian, and two Caucasians. They all looked to be early-to-mid 30s, all quite ruggedly handsome and big.
"Any reason such a fine lady as yourself would be here alone? Stood up?" one of the men said.
"Haha, well a friend was supposed to meet me here, but she had to cancel."
"Oh no, what a shame. We figured we might as well offer you some company, since you looked a little lonely. What's your name?"
"Kelly," I answered, and then almost immediately wondered if I should have used a fake name.
I gulped down my martini, almost in one sip. I was super nervous. But it was just talking, I reassured myself. There was nothing to be nervous about.
"Let's get you another one of those," the Hispanic man said and signaled to the bartender.
We began chatting as I sipped on another glass of alcohol.
The man sitting on my left was a tall, thin black man named Curtis. He had gone to Columbia and was now an accountant by day. He was clearly very intelligent and witty, and confident in himself.
On my right was Greg, who had gone to BYU as a baseball player and become a Mormon missionary before leaving and finding a new life as a high-school gym teacher. He had dirty blonde hair and light blue eyes. He was the shortest of the group, and also probably the most reserved.
The Hispanic was Carlos. His parents had immigrated from Spain before he was born, and he was now a bail bondsman. He looked the part too. He had one too many buttons on his short undone, lots of chest hair, and gallons of hair product.
Marcus sat all the way down at the end on the left. He was very tall and extremely muscular. He had been in the army and then become a SWAT officer when he returned back. His dark eyes felt like they could pierce a soul, so it wasn't surprising at all to think of any criminal running scared from him.
Dane was the last one on the right. He had been a high school dropout who ended up on the wrong side of the tracks, but had put his life back together and now worked in construction.
They were all on the same adult-league amateur baseball team, and had grown together as a group for the past few years.
I mostly steered questions about me away, or tried to at least. As the alcohol kept flowing and I got tipsier, my lips started talking more.
Next thing I knew, I had told all of them about my marriage and how little I got out. Carlos and Greg had been married, but were now divorced, so we chatted about the trials and tribulations of marriage. Before I realized, I had opened up my soul to them.
As my guard slipped and I became more comfortable, I stopped noticing things that ordinarily would have set off alarm bells in me. Someone holding my shoulder for a little too long. A hand brushing against mine as I reached across the table for pretzels. Both Curtis and Greg had their thighs pressed up against mine and I made no protest. Maybe it was because I didn't notice, or maybe it was because I didn't care. That, I'll never know.
But it was actually me who unintentionally made the biggest move of all. During a lull in the conversation, I absent-mindedly spun a beer bottle on the table that was on its side. It spun around and ended up pointing to Carlos.
"I guess I've got to kiss you now," I said.
All the men looked at me funnily.
"I spun the bottle around and it landed on Carlos. That means I have to kiss him. Haven't any of you played 'Spin the Bottle' before?"
The men realized what I meant.
"Well, are you going to do it?" Carlos asked. He had just a tiny hint of a Spanish accent that made him very suave and alluring.
Without thinking, I stood up, leaned over to him, and gave him a kiss square on the lips. It lasted five seconds before I pulled away and sat down again. I then realized that I might not have made the smartest decision for my marriage.
In that moment, I couldn't say if it was truly a momentary lapse of judgement, or if I really meant to do it.
Truth be told, I was starting to tire of Darrell a little bit. He was compassionate and nice, but just... milktoast. Personality-wise, that was fine for me. But in the bedroom, he just never seemed to do it.
Darrell was the only man I had ever been with, so I had no scale. But on one drunken night out with the girls, I had found a video on my friend Ashlee's phone of her and her husband.
