When I was a stripper, I was able to confidently approach any man I wanted. With a flash of a smile, flirtatious joking, and a hand on a knee, I could have whisked away any man I wanted, and they'd be putty for me to play with however I chose.
That was years ago though. Since then, I've been married for eleven years to a man who barely touches me. It never dawned on me just how neglected I have been, wasting away for so long. I finally confronted my husband last night. He must let me go outside the marriage so I can be satisfied again. I have gotten his permission.
It is New Year's Eve and I'm at a bar near my house, nursing a cold beer, and feeling very nervous. How am I going to pull this off? I am no longer the vixen I once was. But I will be having sex today. That much I know. I am on a mission.
When he comes to the bar, I know I've found the one I'm going to have sex with tonight. He's talking to the bartender and I nervously wheedle my way into the conversation. We're talking about not much of anything and I don't want to miss my chance.
"So, are you single?" I ask him, and it's totally out of context.
He nods. God I am such a nerd, so out of my element. But he is very handsome, and is eyeing me astutely, as if reading my mind. I really want to fuck him.
"Well," I continue awkwardly, knowing how utterly absurd I am right now, "We should get together then."
"Yeah, okay," he says.