by Zoe Norman
While the other ladies probably wouldn't notice it, I know immediately that it's my boyfriend. Son of a bitch. I start laughing uncontrollably. He looks like an idiot. He can dance, but clearly not as a stripper. He was probably loaded. Oddly, I feel slightly bad for the girl who brought him to the party. She is standing proudly to the side, watching this Adonis dance for her friends, probably thinking they had a chance. I already know he broke up with her two days later, definitely part of the old ‘Owen the playboy’ routine. To say that they were ‘dating’ was a stretch.
"That looks like it was very interesting," I say, laughing, and turn my attention back to my penis and boobie cupcakes, plotting an evening of poking fun at my sexy man. Maybe I’ll get a dance out of it?
By eleven p.m., all the ladies have left, and with the exception of the couch I can't move, our apartment is a relative semblance of its normal state. I have put away the leftovers and wrapped a couple of boobie cupcakes for Owen. He’ll appreciate it. Afterward, I move into our bedroom to slip out of my clothes, put my hair in a ponytail, and get into my night shorts and tank top. I am exhausted. I climb onto the bed and turn on the TV, waiting for Owen to come home.
Around eleven thirty, I hear the door open and shut, and the sounds of Owen's familiar movements—his keys hitting the dish on the credenza by the door, his shoes falling to the floor, and his shuffling steps across the hardwood to our bedroom. He stops at the door to our room, a grin on his face.
"You would never know a bunch of sex-crazed women were here tonight! How was the party?" He moves into our room and starts to take off his clothes, making a show of throwing them basketball-dunk-style into the hamper. Boys.
"It was a ton of fun actually. Everyone had a great time and I got a lot of free things at the end because so many people bought stuff," I say with a winning grin. I was rather pleased with myself and ended up, with Marni’s prodding, with more than my vibrator, lube, and lingerie set.
"Oh?" he says, raising an eyebrow as he slides into bed next to me. "What did you get?" he asks, nuzzling into my neck.
I giggle. "Nothing we need, but lots of stuff to play with."
I can feel him smiling against my neck as he plants kisses there, his arm reaching out and pulling me into him, his fingers lazily drawing circles on the bare skin between my tank and the elastic of my shorts.
"I saved you some boobie cupcakes," I say as he continues to nuzzle me.
"You did, huh? Well, I prefer these boobies." He chuckles and lightly squeezes my breasts.
"Owen, are you trying to start something with me again?" I ask seductively.
"Mmhmmm..." he hums against my skin. "I can't get enough of you today." His voice sends shivers down my body, and I'm ready and willing to give into him, but first...
"Can I ask you to do me a favor before we do anything?"
He halts his movements and pulls back to look in my eyes, confusion showing on his face. “We can move the couch tomorrow, Liv. Come on... Play with me,” he mumbles into my neck.
“That’s not what I was going to ask you, baby.” I smile, knowing he’s going to freak when I ask the real question on my mind.
"Okay..." he replies apprehensively.
I grin widely. "Strip for me."
His face falls and his look of unease increases tenfold. "What?"
"You heard me. Strip for me."
"Olivia, I'm not sure me stripping for you would be half as enjoyable as you stripping for me." He smiles. “In fact, that sounds like a great idea. You strip for me.”
I make a dramatically exaggerated pouty face. "You did it for some girl at a Jack and Jill party. How come I can't get a strip?"
His hands still, his face unreadable, although, if I had to venture I guess, I would call it…horror?
"Oh don't look so petrified, Owen. Some girl tonight was talking about bachelorette parties and showed me a little video of my very drunk man making a sad attempt at stripping."
He still looks terrified, so I push him on his back and straddle him, smiling as I lean down and kiss his chest.
"I was just hating that I haven't gotten a taste of Magic Owen."
"Uh...I did what?" he asks, sounding genuinely bemused.
"You stripped...while drunk...for a roomful of men and women you didn't know," I spell out, stifling a laugh.
His hands slide from my ass, up my back, and to my shoulders, slowly pushing me back so he can see my face. "I so don't remember that." He shakes his head. "But even if I did, you're not mad?" he asks, looking hopeful.
I smile at him. "No, baby. I'm not mad. I'm horny and feeling very, very lucky that I live with a sexy stripper I can have to myself any time I like."
He looks relieved. "Wow. You're really coming around, aren't you?" he says with a wide grin.
I smile impishly and cock my head at him.
He pulls my tank by the hem and drags it off my body, throwing it to the side. Then he flips me onto my back and pulls my shorts off in one swift move, disposing of them as well. As he stands over me on the bed, he does a shimmy of his hips and starts to move his boxers down his legs like a stripper would, eventually dangling them over my face and tossing them over his shoulder. He is being so adorably playful and hilarious, that I start to clap and hoot and holler at him. Suddenly, he drops to his knees, making me bounce on the bed and squeal in delight. Then he turns serious, laying himself over me, leaning on his elbows as he dips down to give me a kiss. When he pulls away he tucks my hair behind my ears, out of my eyes.
"I love you. You know that, Olivia?"
I smile warmly at him. "I do, baby. I really do."
And with that, he leans in and makes love to me, proving that Magic Owen has some damn sexy moves.
OLIVIA AND I HAVE been waiting a long time for today to come around. Olivia’s best friend, Charley, and one of my best friends, Marc, were introduced to each other when Olivia and I met up in Seattle a number of months ago. They started dating recently, and now, for their first trip as an official couple, they’re coming to New York to visit and staying with us for a few days. They arrived earlier today, and tonight, we have plans to live it up. We’re going out for a nice dinner and then to a club in Brooklyn. Olivia and I haven’t been out dancing in a long time, and I know Olivia is itching to get out on the dance floor.
While we wait for Olivia to finish getting ready, Charley, Marc, and I are laughing and swapping stories in our living room over drinks. Mid conversation, Marc lets out a whistle. I turn my head to see Olivia strutting down the hall from our bedroom and nearly choke on my scotch as I get a good look at her. She’s wearing a very short, very tight, black dress, and she exudes confidence. Olivia knows she looks phenomenal. But if I’m being honest, I’m not so sure I want other people getting such a great view of my girlfriend. My slacks grow tight around my hips as she flips her long, curled hair back over her shoulder and fidgets with her clutch.
I throw back the last of my scotch and place the glass on the side table as I stand to my feet. “Excuse me one moment,” I say to our guests as I walk towards Olivia. She’s about to put on some lipstick in the mirror above the hallway credenza, but I stop her. “You’ll want to wait with that, doll. May I have a word with you? Alone?” I say with no anger or malice, just pure, heated need.
My demeanor catches Olivia off guard as I guide her back to our bedroom. She looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes wide with uncertainty.
“What? What’s wrong?” she asks, pleading for answers to my abruptness.
Once inside our room, I turn and shut the door, locking it for good measure. I grab her arms firmly and turn her around to gently push her against the closed door. My hands are pressed on either side of her shoulders, caging her in.
I lean in close and run my nose up her neck, growling, “Just what do you think you’re doing in this amazing dress, Olivia? You’re killing me here!”
Olivia grins and places her fingers under my chin, lifting my face so our eyes meet. “Baby, you don
’t like my dress? Is it too tight?” She runs a hand down over her breasts and down toward her stomach. “Are my heels too high?” She raises her leg and rubs her calf against mine as she slides her hand the rest of the way down the front to her leg.
My eyes following her every move and she’s making me hard. She sees it and grins wickedly.
“Or maybe, just maybe, my dress is too short?” She slowly moves her hand up her thigh and starts to push up the hem of her dress. “Is that it, baby? You’re scared someone might see my—”
I don’t let her finish before my mouth is on hers, my tongue plunging into her mouth. A deep, growling moan rolls from my lips. “Fuck, woman. It’s all of those things,” I whisper into her mouth. “I can’t decide if I want to fuck you or spank you. Either way, it’s a win for me.” I moan as I kick her feet apart with my foot and nestle into her body, pressing my hardness against her core. Removing her hand from the back of my neck, I roughly guide it to my cock and rub it along my length. “Feel that? You always fucking do this to me. I love it and I hate it. But right now, I’m loving it.”
Olivia grips my erection through my slacks and I groan into her skin as my mouth finds hers again. My hand skims down her shoulder and cups her breast through her dress, my thumb dancing across her taut nipple. I can feel that she’s not wearing a bra, and it makes me wonder if she’s wearing any underwear at all.
“Umm…excuse me.” Marc knocks on the door, interrupting us. “I’m not hearing a whole lot of talking in there. Charlotte and I are hungry and we’re ready to go. So wrap it up already or we’re heading out without you. Horndogs…” Marc murmurs as walks away.
“Shut up, Marcus. Get it, Olivia!” We hear Charley yell from the living room.
Olivia and I start laughing and press our foreheads together. I cup Olivia’s face in my large hands and pull her to me for a soft, loving kiss.
“Tell me we’ll always be like this, Owen. Like we can’t get enough of each other.”
I kiss her neck and whisper into her ear, “Forever, baby.”
Dinner is amazing. Olivia chose a very chic sushi restaurant that opened a few blocks away from our apartment. The candlelit restaurant is intimate and the food is phenomenal. Liv and I will definitely be coming back here.
Through dinner, Olivia and I sit on one side of the table. Marc and Charley on the other. The girls are opposite each other and have been busy chatting and catching up. It’s nice to see Olivia so excited and animated with her best friend.
“You’re looking good, man! Glad you and Charley could make it out here to see us.” I smile, raising my glass of single malt scotch.
Marc’s glass hits mine in a soft clink and he smiles back. “It’s twofold actually.”
“Oh? Don’t tell me you have another best friend in the city,” I joke.
“No. You’re enough for me.” Marc chuckles as he takes a sip of his scotch. Leaning forward on the table, he continues, “I’ve been approached by the local NBC affiliate to be the weekend desk reporter and do field work during the week with an emphasis in sports. I’ll be interviewing with them on Monday.”
“Holy shit, Marcus! That…that’s awesome!” I say excitedly. “That’s major!”
“It’s pretty much my dream job, Owen. I can’t believe how quickly my career has taken off. People would sell their firstborn to have an opportunity like this. I mean, it sets me up for bigger things—like going to a national market.”
“What does that one think of all this happening?” I ask, nodding my chin toward Charley. I know their relationship is new, but I also know that Marc is whipped.
“She’s been great about it, actually. Very encouraging. I…I just don’t know how this will affect our relationship. I want the best of both worlds—the dream job and the dream girl. I just don’t know if I can have both. I don’t want the long-distance thing, but I don’t like the alternative either.” Marc sits back in his seat with a thud.
“She is pretty much your match. She’s a female version of you!” I laugh.
“You have no idea.” Marc confirms. “She balances me out. It’s hard to explain.”
“No. No need to explain. I completely get that,” I say, looking at Olivia. “Go to the interview on Monday and see what happens from there. You and Charley can worry about the other stuff when it comes.”
“Hmm? What are you guys talking about? I heard my name,” Charley chimes in as she snuggles into Marc’s side with a smile.
He wraps an arm around her and lovingly kisses her temple. I’ve never seen Marc like this—gentle and loving. It looks good on him.
After we finish up dinner, Olivia and Charley head to the restroom to freshen up before we head out to the club while Marc and I fight over who is paying the bill. Marc insists on paying because he and Charley are staying with us.
“Seriously, do not make me beat your ass like I did in the eighth grade. I’m not afraid to give you another shiner,” he threatens, albeit weakly.
I throw my hands up in defeat. “My face is much too pretty for you to damage,” I chuckle. “That motherfucker hurt too! And all because I jumped out from the bushes and scared you.”
“Dude! You were dressed as a clown in full makeup and in the dark! And you had your dad’s motorized tree trimmer running. It was my worst nightmare come to life! Only when I heard Travis laughing behind you did I realize it was you, you twisted fuck!”
I am laughing hard by the time I see the women approaching. Both have a look of curiosity on their faces as to what could possibly have me so amused. We share the story with them as we load up into a cab outside the restaurant. It is really good to have Marcus here.
Our cab drops us off at a posh nightclub twenty minutes away. As Marc, Charley, and Olivia wait at the back of the line to get in, I make my way up to speak with the bouncer.
“Hey, man. How’s it going? Listen, I’m FDNY,” I say, showing him my badge. “Think we could avoid this mess and get me and my friends inside quicker?”
Without a second thought, the burly bouncer nods his head and stands aside to open to velvet rope into the club. I stand back from the line and get Marc’s attention. He looks surprised, but he ushers the women to the front of the line, much to the grumbling of the other people patiently waiting.
“Looks like you’re Mister Popular tonight,” Marc teases.
“I just work for the right people,” I reply as I slip the bouncer forty bucks for letting us in early.
We fight our way toward an unoccupied high-top table. The ladies take a seat on the two open chairs while Marc and I stand behind our women.
“First round is on me. Marc? Charley? What will it be?” I ask.
“I’ll stick with scotch,” Mark replies as he looks to Charley for her drink order.
“What are you getting, Olivia?” Charley asks while grabbing the drink menu off the table.
“Mojito.” Olivia and I say simultaneously. Olivia nudges my chest with her shoulder and looks up at me with a smile.
“Okay! I’ll have that too.” Charley grins.
“Easy enough. I’ll be back.” I call to the group as I make my way to the bar.
When I return with the drinks, I see the girls twisting in their seats to the music that is blasting through the club. The place is packed with writhing, sweaty, scantily clad bodies. Charley and Olivia are watching the others on the dance floor and appear to be busting at the seams to get out there and join in. I hand out the drinks and the women quickly take a few big swallows before motioning to Marc and me that they’re diving into the sea of bodies.
I lean over and plant a wet kiss behind Olivia’s ear, eliciting a shudder and a beautiful smile. “Have your fun, but remember that I’m watching and you’re coming with me later.”
“Of course I coming home with you!” she clarifies, giving me her brightest smile.
“You’re coming. In our bed and on my dick.”
Olivia’s eyes grow wide as she drains the rest of her mojito. She mouths,
“I love you,” and I repeat the same as she leaves her empty glass on the table and saunters onto the floor. I’m mesmerized by her hips as they move seductively in step with the beat.
I take the seat previously occupied by Olivia and watch as Marc mauls Charley before she pulls herself away and onto the dance floor to join Olivia. Both women turn to look at us, and we nod from our table in appreciation as they start to move. They may not be the best dancers here, but Olivia and Charley are probably the most enthusiastic. They move around each other, swaying their hips and arms in the air, moving their bodies to the thumping bass.
Fifteen minutes of ogling later, Marc and I have finished our drinks. I tell Marc that I’m going to the bar for another round and ask him to keep our girls in sight. Nearly fifteen minutes later, I’m back at our table with our drinks. I look to the dance floor, searching for Olivia, but I’m met with an ocean of gyrating bodies moving with the rhythm.
“Where are the girls?” I ask Marc, who is distracted by his phone.
“Hmm?” Marc says without looking up from his device. “Oh! I was just checking some work emails. They were just right there.” He lifts his head in the direction where he last saw the girls dancing together. “Aaand now they’re not. Don’t sweat it, man. They’re big girls. They can handle themselves,” Marc reassures me, slipping his phone back into his suit jacket.
“You did see what the girls were wearing tonight, didn’t you?” I ask rather gruffly. “Olivia’s barely wearing two hankies sewn together. Of course I’m going to worry about her.”
“Seriously. They’re fine. Have a little faith in your woman.”
“I trust Olivia with my life. It’s these other assholes here that have me on edge.”
A few minutes pass and I’m growing more and more agitated that I can’t see the women. I would be fine if I could just see her—make sure she’s okay—and, yeah…okay, watch her move. I scan the crowd again, and a few people move, clearing the way. When my eyes hone in on Olivia, she has more than Charley keeping her company. I start to get up from my seat and remember that Olivia is an adult. I trust her implicitly. It’s the guy who is dancing with her that makes me see red.
