A/N: I've been nervous about posting this story. I've done anything like it before and I'm not too sure how well it's going to be recieved. I woke up the other morning with this idea in my head and I wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else until I got it all out. I wrote this in one sitting and I've onlyproofred it once. So please forgive me for a) grammar b) if the tone of pace is a little funky c) if it's not fleshed out enough to flow well. Also, I've never written in second person before. So bear with me in regards to that as well. With that being said, as always, read, review, follow, favorite and enjoy.
...
You're in a rut. That has to be the reason you feel like this. You go to the same job and do the same tasks, surrounded by the same people. You come home to the same house. You make dinner for the same man you've been with since high school. You talk about the same things with each other. Work, friends, things you would like to do in the future. You watch the same shows. The same nightly ritual before bed. Brush your teeth, wash your face, comb your hair, moisturize. You read the same types of books before rolling over to kiss your husband good night. Some nights you have sex, but even that has been lackluster lately. It's like nothing changes. Day in, day out, it's the same routine. Maybe that's what's to blame for this constant feeling nagging in the pit of your gut. You don't have words to describe what it is, but it's very much there. It's like your life is a perpetual carousel that you can never get off of. Sure the ride is fun the first couple of times, but after a while the monotony is bound to drive anyone crazy.
You're in a rut. One that you're desperate to get out of. Desperate to the point that you'll do just about anything for the sake of adding some variety to your existence. It's Saturday morning. You're in the kitchen making breakfast (another one of your routines). Noah, your husband, is sitting at the nook, reading the paper. You're making one of the four meals that you usually make for the most important meal of the day. Your hands move on autopilot, mixing, slicing, stirring. The process is so ingrained in you that it's doesn't take much concentration anymore. So much so that you have time for your mind to wander to other places. It ventures to its usual train of thought. How different your life might have been if you had made different choices. If you had been bold enough to give in to some of your desires instead of doing what was expected of you. Not that your life is entirely bad. You just yearn for something more. Some sort of spark to remind you that you're alive.
You're brought out of your reverie by the sound of Noah calling you.
"What was that honey?" you say.
You turn to give him your undivided attention. He looks a little antsy. His eyes look everywhere but you're face. He runs his hand over the top of his neatly trimmed hair a couple of times. It's a far cry better than that ridiculous mohawk he used to wear when you were younger.
"So I decided what I want to do for my birthday," he says.
"Okay."
You wait for him to continue and can't understand why his birthday plans would make him this uneasy. You have been bothering him for a month now, wanting to know how he'd like to celebrate.
"Remember that conversation we had a couple of months ago," he starts.
"You're going to have to be more specific than that."
"The one after we went to Breadstix and sat out on the deck."
Oh. That conversation. After one of your date nights, the two of you sat out in your back yard and talked. It was about nothing in particular. Just chatting and enjoying each other's company. Somehow the discussion drifted to you guys talking about your fantasies. Tongue loosened by one too many glasses of wine, you confessed that you always wondered what it would be like to be intimate with a woman. After a little prying from Noah for more details, you also admitted that you would be open to exploring this fantasy together. The conversation had long been forgotten by you, but obviously it was at the forefront of his mind.
You stop what you're doing to take a seat at the breakfast nook as well. Noah still isn't making direct eye contact with you. He'll glance at your face for a second, trying to gage how you're responding to this, before looking away again. The only time you can ever remember him being this nervous is right before he asked you to marry him.
"Yes, I remember it," you answer.
"Well I was thinking that I would like to take you up on that offer and fulfill a fantasy of both of ours," he says.
"Okay."
You draw the word out, making it sound like more of a question. Now you understand why the usually impatient Noah has been dragging his feet in regards to his birthday request. You know exactly where he's going with this, but he's going to have to say the words.
"Q," he lets out a frustrated sigh.
"Noah."
"You're going to make me say it, aren't you?" he asks.
You raise your brow, but you don't speak a word. It's not a surprise, but none the less amusing, how well he knows you. He rubs his head again, the tick showing how anxious he really is. You cross your hands in front of you and wait him out.
"I want us to have a threesome," he mumbles.
He says it so lowly and quickly that you almost don't hear him. Almost. Your first instinct is to tell him no. Scratch that. You want to tell him hell no. When you married him you made vows. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. To love and to cherish. You pledged your unyielding fidelity to each other. Promises that you don't take lightly. Promises you intend to keep. Certainly not to be broken on a whim because of a late night drunken confession.
You open your mouth to say as much, but then you stop. Wasn't it only ten minutes ago that you stood at your kitchen sink, wishing for something to spicy up your life. Now an opportunity has presented itself and your knee jerk reaction is to run in the other direction.
"Okay," you reply.
For the first time since this discussion has started, Noah looks you dead in the eyes.
"Seriously?" he asks.
You try to answer him, but he interjects.
"Lucy Quinn Puckerman you better not be shitting me right now," he says.
His excitement that you're actually considering this idea is palpable. You want to toy with him a little longer. Since the day you met, you always got a sense of enjoyment from stringing him along. You don't have the heart to do it to him now. He looks like a kid who's about to get the one thing for Christmas that they really wanted.
"I'm not. So how would we go about it?" you inquire.
He lays out the whole plan and you really see how much thought he's put into this. He wants you to be totally at ease and thinks that, in order for that to happen, you should pick the girl. There's a couple of strip clubs that his friend Dave frequents. He says that for the right price, most of the girls will do just about anything. You've never been too fond of Dave. You and Noah have known him since high school. The fact that he knows where to go to pay for sex acts is one of the reasons you don't want your husband spending too much time with him.
Noah continues to explain, suggesting that you should go to one of the clubs tonight. It might take a few trips to find the right person, and with his birthday only a few weeks away, he doesn't want to waste any time. You agree and go back to finish making breakfast. You get lost in your head again. This time your mind drifts to your good friend Rachel. You don't have to guess why its drifted to her after the talk you just had with Noah. Back in college, you and Rachel made out once (the things you do when intoxicated). It lasted for a good twenty minutes and didn't go any further than first base, but it had stirred something in you. You've never told Noah about it. You dread what his response would be. He might not be comfortable with your friendship if he knew. Or worse, he might want to do this thing with her instead of a stranger. You know that's something Rachel would never entertain. You don't even speak about what happened anymore. She just chalks it up to a thing that girls do in college. For you it was something more, but you chose not to dwell on it. One of those times you did what was "right" versus what you wanted.
The two of you eat your meal and go on about your day. The rest of your Saturday goes along normally, at least on the surface. But there's this underlying current going through the both of you that after tonight, your life might be anything but normal.
...
You get to the club close to midnight. Noah says that Dave told him that's usually peak performance time and the best girls will be there by then. You are wary of going to such an establishment, especially when the neighborhood doesn't appear all that safe. There's a few clubs on this block, a liquor store and what appears to be an all night diner. Noah pulls up in front of building, The Cat Scratch Club. He comes around to open your door before handing the keys to the valet. You step out, clutching his fingers extra tight. He gives you a look, asking if you're okay. You nod your head slightly, reassuring him as you both head inside.
Your fears abate slightly as you take in the interior of the building. The location is definitely misleading. The club actually appears to be a lot more upscale then it initially appeared. The lights are extremely low, for obvious reasons, but you can see enough to make out the decor. It's tasteful without being too overbearing. There's a bar the runs the length of the entire right side. To your left is an alcove, probably where the restrooms are located. In a far back corner is a door, but you're not sure to where it leads. You see girls coming and going from it. Some times with patrons. Some times alone. The stage is in the middle of the room. It's circular with the tables in the club positioned around it. You figure that's so customers can get a prime look from every angle.
"Do you want to sit by the stage or would you rather sit at the bar?" Noah asks.
"By the stage," you respond.
He leads you to a table, pulling out your chair for you to sit. He picks a spot that's close enough to watch the show, but far enough away so that you're relatively inconspicuous . A waitress comes by, a cute red head who says her name is Pixie, and takes your drink order. Noah ask for a Corona and you order a shot of Don Julio.
"Are you okay?" Noah asks after she leaves.
You've never been into the hard stuff. Your request for tequila definitely has his antennas up.
"Yeah I just need something to take the edge off."
Pixie returns shortly, placing your drink down first. She can barely hand Noah his before you slam the shot back. It's smooth going down, but still has a little bit of a bite. You wish you would have remembered to ask for salt and lime. You ask for a Corona as well before Pixie is off again.
"Are you sure you're okay with this Q? You don't have to do it if you don't want to," he says.
He looks so sincere. You're certain that regardless of how much he might want this, he has your best interest at heart and would never put you in a situation that made you uncomfortable. You take a sip of his beer and hand it back to him. You lean in, giving him a smooch, hoping to assuage his fears as much as your own.
"Yes I'm sure. You don't have to ask me again."
He leans back, sips his beer and turns his eyes to the stage. You grab the bottle that's been delivered to your table and do the same. You watch a couple of performers do their thing, but nobody really catches your eye. There are girls working the floor, giving lap dances and you think getting one yourself might be a good place to start. You mention as much to Noah and he tells you to point out which one you want. You tell him that you'll let him know when you see her. He gets up to 'drain the main vein' as he puts it. He asks if you'll be okay alone and you wave him off. You order another beer (your fourth) and pull out your phone to occupy you while you wait. The pleasant buzz that alcohol brings has started to kick it, and with it, the last of your anxieties have faded away. You're bopping in your seat, enjoying the music as you scroll through your timeline. The d.j. announces the next dancer. You hum along when you hear the intro to a song that sounds vaguely familiar. You laugh a little when you finally recognize what song it is and you wonder who would dance to this. You look up and that's when you see her. 5'5". Skin the color of coffee and cream. A long, raven mane. Deep, dark eyes. Pouty lips. Coke bottle frame. Legs for days. She's dressed as a sexy cheerleader. You are captivated by her. You watch as she dips and rolls. Swinging her hair back and forth. Climbing the pole and coming back down slow. Each piece of her costume that's removed has you more and more riveted to your seat. And you're not alone. She has the crowd eating out the palm of her hand. She finishes her performance to much applause, surrounded by a sea of cash.
"I take it you like her."
You start, Noah having startled you. He's back in his seat, smug look on his face. When did he return from the bathroom? You don't respond, instead taking a drink, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry. The girl comes from the back of the club not long after and Noah signals for her to come over. She heads towards your table and your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest.
"What can I do for you handsome?" she asks.
Her voice is low and smoky, like she enjoys a cigar from time to time. You think it might just be the sexiest thing you've ever heard.
"I'm interested in a lap dance," Noah replies cooly.
She moves to dance for him, but he stops her.
"Actually it's not for me, it's for my wife."
He gestures towards you. Those deep, dark eyes regard you and you feel your face heat up.
"She's kind of shy though. Do you think we could take this some where private?" he asks.
"Sure thing. This way."
You stand and Noah takes your hand again as you follow her to the door at the back of the club. You subtly check her out, watching the sway of her hips in an outfit that's so skimpy that it hardly manages to cover her. Her ass looks sensational. Your finger tips twitch in Noah's grasp, longing to reach out and touch it. When you pass through the doorway, it splits into two separate hallways. To the right you assume is where the dressing rooms are. To the left is another hallway with quite a few doors lining either side. She pulls back a curtain to an empty private room and you and Noah go inside. You sit on the sofa, expecting him to join you, but instead he opts for a seat perpendicular to you. She puts on some music turning to face you.
"What's your name sweetheart?" Noah asks.
"Destiny, but you can call me whatever you want," she answers.
The beat comes in and she starts to move. Having her this close is mesmerizing. Being on that stage didn't do nearly enough justice for how amazing her body really is. Her abs look like she does an insane amount of crunches. They ripple as she gyrates. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to maintain every bit of composure that you have. When you open them, she's inched closer and removing pieces of clothing as she does. You can see Noah in your periphery. His legs are cocked open, arms stretched out along the back of the couch. Destiny loses her skirt and top, dancing so close that if you lean forward you could touch her. Her hips move in a hypnotic rhythm, eyes never leaving yours. She gets on the couch, hands on either side of your head, knees trapping your thighs between her. She hovers over you, grinding the air, but she never makes actual contact. You smell her perfume and the heady scent has you damn near delirious.
"What's your name gorgeous?" she asks.
"Quinn," you stutter out.
"Mmm Quinn are you enjoying yourself?"
You nod your head, unable to form a coherent sentence with this beautiful woman and her beautiful bra and panty clad body moving in front of you.
"Glad to hear it. I'd hate to disappoint. Especially someone as pretty as you."
She reaches behind herself and unclasps her bra. She continues to undulate as she removes it. When her breast are finally free, you let out a low groan. Out of the corner of you eye, you can see Noah slide lower in his seat. You can almost make out the smirk he's sporting, clearly enjoying this. You have half a mind to slap the smile off his face, but you're probably enjoying this more than he is. The dance is over far too soon. Destiny gets up, retrieving her clothes. Noah gives her a sizable tip before she leaves.
"So what do you think? Would she be a good candidate?" he asks anxiously.
"I don't know. Can I think about it?"
But you don't need to think. You knew from the moment you saw her that you wanted her. Things you hadn't felt in years started to rise up again.
"Sure babe. Of course. Anything you want."
You and Noah make your way back through the club to the door. You wait for the valet to come around. You get in, staying silent for the entire ride home. The alcohol is starting to wear off. With it returns your trepidation. You're not sure you want to open this inevitable Pandora's Box of emotions inside of you, but at the same time, there's an inexplicable draw to the alluring woman you just saw perform. So you reason with yourself that what's the harm with a little adventure. You only live once.
...
You return to the club the next week, this time alone. You told Noah you were going out for some air. He kissed your cheek and said he'd see you when you got home. You didn't want to tell him you were going back to The Cat Scratch. Back to see Destiny. You didn't want him to catch on to how eager you really were about all of this. That one interaction had left you so utterly captivated and that you urgently needed to know if the hold she has on you is a one time occurrence.
You go inside, picking a table a little closer to the stage. You order a drink, a Cosmo this time, and wait. You watch and you wait until she takes the stage. You hear her name announced over the speakers and perk up considerably. The energy in the room changes the second she comes into your sights. She dances and it's even more entrancing than it was before. You take in her every move, imagining what it would be like if she did it completely naked, horizontally and on top of you. You shake your head to clear it of such thoughts. You need to focus to be able to do what you came here to do. When she's done, she heads back to the rear, coming out on the floor a little while later. You catch her eye and Destiny heads straight over.
"Hey there gorgeous back for more?" she says.
Again you nod your head, feeling like a fool that this woman constantly renders you speechless. She signals for you to follow her and you know exactly where you're headed. You walk behind her, taking in another piece of cloth masquerading as an outfit. You get in the room and assume the position you had the last time. She does the same, turning on some music and starting her show.
"Couldn't stay away, could you," she teases.
You bashfully shake your head 'no', the embarrassment making its way to your face. She grins, deep dimples forming on her cheeks, taking delight in being able to make you blush.
"Quinn right?" she says.
You falter a bit before you nod, surprised that she remembers your name. You're sure she has quite a few customers. You feel kind of special that you stuck out enough for her to remember you.
She keeps dancing and you almost get lost in her. You can't afford to do that without accomplishing what you set out to do.
"I wanted, to umm, ask you something," you stammer.
"And what's that sexy?"
You start to ramble, going on about how it's your husband's birthday next week and you want to do something special and you hope she is willing to help but you'll totally understand if she can't.
"Wait a minute. So you want me to have sex with you and your husband? Like a threesome?" she asks.
"We'd pay you, of course," you add.
She stops mid dance.
"You're not a cop are you? You know that you have to tell me if you are."
"No, I'm not a cop."
She eyes you suspiciously, before deciding that she believes you. She starts to dance again, taking off her top. Your eyes immediately go to her breast. She lets out a low chuckle. She leans into you, whispering in your ear.
"I'm down, but only because you're really hot. That and I'm curious to hear how you sound moaning my name."
You shudder at the thought, but shake you head enthusiastically. With that taken care of, you enjoy the rest of her show. Afterwards, she tells you to meet her at the club next weekend at closing. You agree, grab your stuff and leave. You sit in the car for a second before you start it, having a surreal moment. This is really about to happen.
...
You practically vibrate in your seat the entire way to the club. You remain silent, but it isn't because of any apprehension. If anything, you're more than a little excited. Ever since Destiny told you yes, this is all you've been able to think about. Noah is equally enthusiastic, but where you're quiet and composed, he's talking a mile a minute. You think a part of him still can't believe that you're going to go through with this. Hell, a part of you still doesn't think that you'll go through with this.
Noah pulls the car around, cuts the engine and you wait. It's a little after three a.m. Closing time was a while ago, so she should be out any minute. You watch as a few dancers filter out of the door. You heart stops when you see Destiny with them. She's in the midst of the group, so you're view is a little obscured, but you would recognize her anywhere. You can't make out what they're saying, but they're all laughing, probably talking about how much they managed to glean from some poor suckers. Noah flicks the headlights twice to get her attention. She says her goodbyes before strutting over. She's in a red dress, if you could call it that. It's short, stopping about an inch and half below her sex. It's strapless and skin tight and leaves very little to the imagination. Not that you have to imagine. You've practically seen her naked already.
Noah rolls your window down and she leans in. You get another whiff of her perfume, detecting hints of Jasmine and Shea butter, and are dying to ask her what it is.
"Well good evening you two," she purrs.
From her current position, you have a perfect view down her dress and you can't help but stare. She and Noah share a bit of small talk while you gawk at her chest like a horny teenage boy.
"Is that alright with you babe?" Noah asks.
You snap to attention in time to catch Destiny giggling, obviously aware that you were too busy leering to hear anything that was said.
"Im sorry what did you say honey?" you ask.
"Destiny suggested we go to a hotel. There's a couple of nice places not too far from here," he repeats.
"Sounds like a plan to me," you agree.
"In order not to wreck the mood, I'd like to talk about payment and how that'll be handled now," she says.
"Not a problem," Noah answers.
The two discuss dollar amounts while you check out again. You try to discreetly lean out the window a bit, taking in her long lean legs and racy high heels. Everything about this woman screams sex. There's no doubt why she's successful in her chosen profession.
"With that out of the way, let's get down to the fun part shall we. If you'd like to follow me, I know the perfect place we can go," she proposes.
You both agree and she strolls back across the parking lot, hopping into a fire engine red coupe. She lets the top down before skirting off, speeding into traffic. It doesn't take long to reach your destination, but the anticipation is killing you as the seconds tick away.
You pull into the parking lot of some nondescript chain hotel. It isn't the fanciest, but it'll do for the night.
"I'm going to go take care of the room arrangements, I'll be right back," Noah announces.
He gets out and you're left alone with your thoughts. You have a brief panic attack as you realize that this thing is really going to happen. You consented to having sex with another woman and your husband for his birthday and it's moments away from happening. You start to shake as you think about what possible repercussions this encounter might have. Would Noah ask for this type of thing again? Would he think it's okay for him to have sex with other women now? So many reasons come at you to why this is a horrible idea.
You see him jogging back towards the car and you've decided that you're going to tell him you can't do it. Yes you know what you said before, but you've thought about it a little more and can't bring yourself to follow through.
You prepare yourself for the disappoint and the subsequent pouting that is guaranteed to come. You all but roll down the window to tell him before something stops you. He's gone to Destiny's car first, clearly handing her a key card and taking some directions before coming back to retrieve you. The sight of the woman does something to you that you can't explain, but you're compelled to find out what it is.
Noah opens your door, offering his hand to help you out.
"Destiny said to give her five minutes than head on up," he explains.
Although she already entered the building long ago, you eyes stay trained to the spot she was just in, unmoving.
"Hey Quinn, look at me," Noah cajoles.
You face him and catch something in his eyes that you can't quite read.
"Are you sure about this?" he asks for the umpteenth time.
"Yes," you reply with more surety than you've felt in weeks.
He leads you into the hotel, through the lobby, to the elevators and finally to the room. You enter and the lights are dim, up just enough for you to make out Destiny perched on the bed, one leg crossed over the other. Noah ventures further into the room but you stay by the door, having lost some of the bravado you exhibited outside.
"So how is this going to go down? Do I do you while she does me or," Destiny trails off.
You look to Noah, not entire sure how to go about all of this.
"Actually I'd prefer if you two did each other while I watch," he says.
Your eyes widen, having no idea that this was what he had in mind. Destiny gives you a salacious grin, motions with her pointer finger and beckons you closer. You audibly gulp, but glide towards her anyway. She stands, hands on her hips, waiting for you. Noah takes off his shirt, pulls a chair near the foot of the bed and sits back.
You make it to her and stand ramrod straight, hands at your sides, clasping at the hem of your sundress. Her eyes give your body a once over and your pulse starts to quicken.
"I've been dying to get my hands on you," she whispers.
She follows the statement by placing a hand on your hip, pulling you into her. The contact sends a shock through your system. You bite your lip to stifle the moan, trying not to betray how turned on that one action already has you. She uses the middle finger of her other hand to place a couple stray hairs behind your ear. She leans in as if to kiss you, but she doesn't. Instead, her finger continues to caress you as you share each other's space. You breathe in the air she exhales and she does likewise. All the while her finger ventures from your ear, to your jawline, down your neck, in between your cleavage. It's blazing a trail and you can feel the heat in its wake.
She takes a baby step back and you're physically pained by the lost. She circles you stopping behind you. She sweeps your hair to the side, placing butterfly kisses on your shoulder, your neck, stopping when she reaches your ear.
"Can I take this off?" she asks.
You let out a breathy 'yes' and she takes your lobe into her mouth, pulling at it with her teeth before releasing it. She wastes little time, using her hands to slide the straps of your dress off of your shoulders. She pushes it down and it unceremoniously drops to the floor. You step out of it, removing your wedges as you go. Her fingers play down the small of your back, stopping long enough to unhook your bra before landing on your behind. She gives it a little slap.
"Get on the bed," she commands.
You do as your told, not sure if you should sit or lay down. You decide to kneel, wanting to have a good view as you await her next move. She shimmies out of her dress and you gasp when you realize that she isn't wearing anything underneath it. She joins you on the bed, kneeling as well. She grabs the back of your neck, pulling you to her and she finally kisses you. The kiss is firm but her lips are amazingly soft. You whimper into her mouth and that only encourages her. Her fingers tickle up your rib cage, underneath your breast before she takes it in her hand, massaging it. You hard nipple hits her palm and the sensation drives you mad. She pulls back slightly, before pecking your lips once, then twice. Her tongue darts out, playing with you lips before sucking the bottom one in her mouth. She lets it free with a loud pop.
"Quinn you know that you can touch me right?"
She demonstrates what she means by placing your hand on her ass. She kisses you again, and you give it a firm squeeze. It feels even more glorious than it looks. You let out few more strangled noises, each one eliciting a stronger reaction from her. Your can barely take in enough air and she stops again long enough for you to catch your breath.
"Do you like how I touch you?" she asks.
All you can do is groan, the capacity to be able to speak having long abandoned you.
"That's okay, I'll find out for myself," she says.
She reaches her hand down, diving straight into your panties. It's her turn to groan at what she finds.
"So fucking wet," she mumbles.
She continues to fondle you and you're embarrassed at how excited she's gotten you just from kissing and a few fleeting touches. She removes her hand, bringing the fingers to her lips. She licks them clean and you feel you walls clinch. You think you might actually climax from the sight of seeing her do that. She resumes kissing you and the taste of yourself on her lips has the arousal pouring from you.
She's as eager to move this along as you are, maneuvering you in a way that you land on your back with a thud. She reaches for the waistline on your underwear, slowly inching them down. Your eyes never leave her face, watching the reaction she has as each inch of you is revealed. Once you're free of your last shred of clothing she spreads your legs before moving in between them. She lies down on her stomach, murmuring something in what you believe is Spanish, before placing a kiss on your inner thigh, right above your kneecap. She travels upward, alternating between licking and open mouth kisses. You throw your head back and close your eyes, the feel of her lips entirely too good. She gets to the tender juncture of your thigh and stops before she reaches your center. Your lids pop back open and you look at her, wondering what caused the sudden pause in action. She has a devious glint in her eyes, like she's all too aware that she has you right where she wants you. You shudder as she moves to the other side, repeating her actions before stopping again.
"Destiny please," you beg.
She crawls up you, kissing and nipping your skin along the way. Her tongue dances on the spot directly below your ear before she sucks on it hard.
"Santana," she whispers.
You blink a few times, not really sure what she just said.
"Huh?" you ask.
"I said I wanted to hear how you sounded moaning my name. It's Santana. Not Destiny."
It finally clicks for you what she's getting at.
She journeys back down your body, resuming her position between your legs. She blows on your sex and you let out a shaky breath. She places one leg over her shoulder, than the other, before plunging in. You jolt up, not at all ready for her mouth to finally be on. Her tongue keeps up an easy rhythm, jutting in and out of you.
You hear a deep grunt from the other side of the room and remember that your husband is here. Over the top of Santana's head, you see his pants are around his ankles as he strokes himself, getting off to the sight of another woman pleasuring his wife.
Santana can tell your distracted and grabs one of your hands, guiding it into her hair. She twirls her tongue and you pull it tightly, your other hand firmly gripping the sheets. You writhe against her, completely lacking any control of your body at this point. It's like she has your hips connected to strings and her tongue keeps tugging at them, launching you forward and subsequently, her deeper. She pulls out, flattening her tongue as she licks towards your clit. She wraps her lips around it and sucks. The heels of your feet dig into her back, your nails scratching her scalp. She's going to have one hell of a headache from all the yanking your doing but it's her own damn fault. Your legs start to quiver. Santana firmly grips your thighs, holding you down, speeding up her pace.
"Fuck. Santana. Oh my. Santana," you call out as you tumble over the edge.
She doesn't relent, the motion of her shapely ass gyrating against the sheets evidence of her chasing her own release. Thankfully she isn't too far behind, there's no way you could continue to endure her ministrations.
"Holy fucking hell," Noah lets out.
Santana rolls off the bed, heading to the bathroom. She returns a short while later with two warm, moist towels. She gives one to Noah. She cleans her own face before offering the other to you.
"Times like this I wished I smoked. I'm in need of a cigarette after that," Noah jokes.
You don't respond, still trying to get your bearings from having your mind so totally blown. Santana doesn't speak either, she just slides back into her dress and shoes. She sits next to you on the bed, leaning over and kissing you thoroughly.
"Amazing," she mumbles against your lips.
She stands, smoothing her dress down.
"This was fun. I'll see you guys around," she announces.
She gives Noah a flirty wink before leaving, the door clicking behind her.
"Worth. Every. Penny," he says.
...
Two months later and you're still thinking about you're encounter with Santana. Her smell. The taste of her lips. The feel of her skin. The sound of her voice. Everything about her floods your every thought. You're desperate to see her again but have no way of getting in contact with her. You even broke down and went to the Cat Scratch looking for her on a few occasions. Every time you went she was never there. You feel so hopeless. How for one night your life could be so irrevocably changed and then to just have to go back to the boring dullness that is your reality, is more than a little frustrating to say the least.
You sit contemplating all of this in a restaurant as you wait for Rachel. She invited you for lunch wanting to catch up. You think it was just an excuse to try this new vegan place and to have you willingly tag along. You rifle through your purse, searching for the notepad you wrote the address on, wanting to make sure you got the right place. You find it and start to flip through the pages when one causes you to pause. On it is a phone number and a name. Santana.