Restoring Us

by Fabiola Francisco

  Turning my attention back to the brunette, I move our bodies with more purpose, following the hip hop rhythm the DJ spins. Anyone would think I haven’t gotten laid in months with the slight obsession I have towards Stacy’s rejection. She scarred my ego a little bit by not wanting to be a groupie. I feel a set of warm lips on my neck, licking their way up to my jaw. She’s making it known what she wants, and she wants it now. I’d bet my life right now that her pussy’s soaking wet and throbbing for me.

  I reach my hand down and under her dress, pleasantly surprised to see that she’s not wearing any underwear. Easy access. I like the way this woman thinks. We continue to dance in the crowded space, and I insert two fingers at once into her slick pussy. Her moans are muffled by the loud music as my thumb circles her clit forcefully. She throws her head back, and I notice her nipples are hard. She’s probably not wearing a bra, either. If I really wanted to, I could probably fuck her here at the club and not have to worry about driving her home. Or we could just fuck in my car.

  I continue to plunge my fingers in her, giving her a preview of the force my dick will fuck her with, and notice a pair of brown eyes staring at me. I wink at Stacy as my lips make their way down to my brunette’s neck, nipping her, before growling in her ear, “Let’s go to my car, now.” Rolling her eyes, Stacy returns her attention to straw dick. I think we both know I’m the winner tonight. She has straw dick, I’ve got this brunette seductress.

  I release my hands from her folds and lead her out of the club and to the VIP parking. I’m ready for my wild ride. Practically jumping on me, the brunette is very much eager to have my dick. We make our way out of the club and into the garage. The deafening silence leaves the drumming beat of the music stuck inside my head and the thought of a pair of brown eyes staring at me.

  Spotting my baby, I make my way to my car, and spin the brunette around so her hands are placed on the passenger door. I roam my hands down her body and over her pussy. She whimpers, and I firmly say, “I’m going to fuck you hard. Push you to your limits and hear you scream my name.” I begin to finger fuck her, reaching her g-spot and letting her fall into oblivion.

  When her legs begin to tremble, I pull my fingers out, unlock my car and command her to get in after me. She happily obliges, and I love when I am in control. I sit on the passenger seat, and she straddles me. My Maserati is limited in space, but I have a feeling she’ll be able to ride my dick without a problem. Lowering my pants just enough to release my dick from its constraints, I roll on a condom and get to work.

  Without hesitation, she lowers herself on my dick and begins to move over me with skill. She tightens her pussy around me as she moves in circular motions, squeezing herself around my dick. Ah, yes, something different to satisfy me. Lowering the top of her dress, I lick and suck her nipples, causing her to moan. “That’s right, baby. Let me hear you.” The pounding continues as she gets louder and my dark tinted windows become fogged.

  My mind wanders back to those brown eyes acknowledging my presence at the club. What the fuck, Aiden. Keep your head in the game. At the vision of her eyes and laughter, my balls tighten and I feel myself ready to come. I reach my left hand down and move circles over the brunette’s clit. I love a good fuck, and I’m definitely not greedy. I want this woman to fall apart over me because of my dick, and I need to her to do that now, before I come into the thin condom separating our skin.

  “Fuck, yes!” She yells out. “Aiden…This feels so fucking good.” That’s what I like to hear. I know I’m good, and I love to push women over the edge.

  “That’s right, baby, lose yourself.” She trembles over me, and I keep her moving with my free hand on her hip. My balls tighten, and my impending orgasm rips through my dick and releases itself at the memory of that tight short dress on Stacy. I let out a groan, and remove my hand from the brunette’s clit.

  Once her breathing evens, she pulls up the top of her dress, covering up her perfect tits, and pushes herself up off my dick. The brunette kisses me and opens the door.

  “Thanks for the good time.” She smiles wickedly and walks back to the elevator to head back to the club. Just how I like it. Why can’t all women be like her? Fuck and leave. No drama, no problems. I love when there’s that mutual understanding. Some women don’t realize I just want to fuck them, no matter how honest I am, and I’m always honest.

  I take off the condom, zip up my pants, and discard it in a trashcan near my parked car. I need to get myself in check, though. I’ve never thought about another woman while fucking someone, and the brunette was hot and ready. She deserved my attention, but my mind kept wandering back to Stacy. I need to fuck her out of my system ASAP.

  Perfectly Imperfect

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  Chapter 1

  I am startled awake by my alarm clock going off at 6:30 in the morning. Groaning I fling an arm out of the side of my bed to turn it off and keep on my blissful sleep. I feel beyond exhausted. I’ve only gotten home a couple of hours ago and drank way more than I intended to, especially for a weekday. When am I going to learn that partying all night and working all day would literally kill me from exhaustion? But there is always something to do and offers I can’t pass up. Hmmm, thinking of offers I couldn’t pass up reminds me of that delicious piece of ass I had a taste of last night… or early this morning? He knew his way around my body, touching and kissing every inch of it. I feel the moisture building between my legs just thinking about him.

  Going deep in thought about the amazing sex I’d had just a few hours ago and the satisfaction I’d felt against his body, my phone rings. Damn, I think to myself moving quickly but suddenly having to lie back down from my splitting headache and my stomach turning. Yeah, definitely need to learn to control my liquor. My phone keeps shrilling from some part of my room, getting louder and louder. Whoever it is should get the hint that I am not answering and hang up. Who the hell calls at 6:30 am anyways? A few seconds later, it starts ringing again. Now just annoyed at the person on the other side calling, I brace myself for the uncomfortable feeling I am about to endure and hop out of the bed to grab my phone without thinking twice about it.

  Looking at the screen I frown and answer. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mia. Are you up?!” The voice comes from the other line in almost a yell and I have to pull the phone away from my ear. My head is paying big time for last night.

  It’s my best friend and coworker, Steph. “You don’t have to yell. My hearing is just fine. Why are you calling me so early?”

  “Don’t you remember what day it is?” After a long pause, she sighs and says, “It’s Friday, May 11th, the day of the big interview. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. It has only been the buzz around the office for two months now.”

  My eyes snap open and momentarily all unease melts off as what Steph is saying sinks in. I feel disoriented from last night. Surely I hadn’t forgotten about the interview. No wonder my alarm clock had been going off, though. Thank goodness she decided to call me, if not I would’ve slept straight through the interview and my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity would have been someone else’s.

  “Shit!” She lets out a long exhale and knows it has slipped my mind. How had I let such a monumental moment slip overnight? I really needed to get my personal life under control. “I’m jumping in the shower and will be ready in twenty minutes. Meet you at the coffee shop across from Powell’s before going in?”

  “See you there.”

  I hang up the phone, jump in the shower and quickly get ready for the big day. I am interviewing Alexandre Campbell, fashion mastermind and world renowned designer. The fact that our magazine got an exclusive interview with him after years away from the spot light was a huge hit, and even bigger that I would be the one interviewing him. I know there is a lot at stake, and my boss made that very clear every day since she gave me the assignment, warning not to screw this up. I know I won’t and having this opportunity will be my ticket into writing more and more articles for Rave M
agazine.

  Although I’m an editor and began my career that way, my passion lies in writing the articles rather than editing them. I enjoy putting the final touches on my magazine’s work, but being the sole creator of that work is so much more meaningful.

  Like promised, I’m ready in twenty minutes. I put on a white crisp button down shirt fitted perfectly, tucked into a black pencil skirt that falls just below my knees and hug all the right places without seeming provocative. I pull my unruly brown hair back in a high bun being tight on time and put on a pair of purple heels to add some flare to the outfit; being only 5’2” I am able to pull off 5-inch heels with no problem. I run out the door grabbing my purse on the way out and prepare myself for this life altering experience, heading downtown toward the coffee shop and work building.

  A mix of nerves and excitement enter my body, and suddenly my stomach is reminded of my previous night’s overdoing. I need coffee stat. I jump on the MAX and wait for my exit on West Burnside Street patiently. As soon as I get to my destination I spot Steph standing outside the coffee shop waiting for me, two coffees in hand. Ever so grateful, I leap to her and give her a hug, my excitement visible, and grab my coffee. Taking a comforting sip from my natural drug, I close my eyes and exhale contentedly.

  “Good to see you’re alive and well,” she says with a hint of sarcasm. “I thought for sure you’d be a mess when I heard you on the phone. What exactly happened last night? I can’t believe you went out the night before your big interview,” Steph greets me. She always makes sure I am safe and prepared for whatever comes my way, and I know she is overly excited for my interview today and worried I may blow it over some stupid hangover.

  “I am more than alive and well. I am ecstatic. Can you believe the day is finally here!” I squeal as I hug her again. “Nothing happened last night. Normal night out at the bar, had a few drinks, made a few friends, the usual.” I give her my best smile and loop my arm in hers as we begin walking down the street towards our work building. Steph scowls at me but drops it for now. She knows what “the usual” entails. Sex with a stranger to cover up emotions I am afraid of feeling, according to Dr. Steph, PsyD. She really should’ve majored in Psychology instead of Public Relations.

  I know she doesn’t want anything to interfere with my big day though, and giving me a lecture right now about letting my emotions show and accepting them instead of covering them with meaningless sex would only do that.

  The streets are busy with people walking to work, grabbing coffee, and chatting with their companions. There’s a couple on a corner bench cuddling together, laughing as they whisper to each other, and I cringe at the sight. Steph, knowing me better that I know myself, notices my expression and laughs. “I still don’t get you. You look at couples in love like if they were going at it like caged dogs being summoned to fight.” She laughs at me again, shaking her head, and continues, “It’s not the end of the world you know. You’ve never loved anyone to know what it feels like. Maybe if you did, you would realize it’s not half as bad as you think.”

  “That’s not true. I love plenty, my dad, friends, you. I know what love is. I am protecting myself and avoiding the inevitable. Plus, don’t you remember Chase?” My voice is clipped, all humor gone at that last statement.

  Her expression turns more serious, “Mia, you know that wasn’t love. That was a fuck that lasted way longer than it should have and ended badly. You can’t compare that for love, that was lust.” I pout at her, but drop it. I don’t want to think about him right now, or ever for that matter. She just keeps on walking forward leading me to our office.

  “Stop biting your lip, Mia! You’ll do great today; no need to be worried.” Steph comforts me. I let go of my lip instantly, my telltale that I am nervous or uncomfortable. I frown at her but continue walking towards work. She giggles at me again, and leads the way. What would I do without my best friend?

  My office building is in Northwest Portland rising up above the other buildings in a beautiful glass case with 360-degree views of the city. My favorite is the view of Mount Hood in the distance. It is my solace during stressful times at work.

  We walk in and take the elevator up to our floor. Everyone is in a frenzy, running around, barking orders. The stress is clear, and there is no doubt that today is a huge day for Rave Magazine. When I walk in everyone turns to look at me. I hate having that kind of attention, and I know people are whispering behind my back wondering if I have what it takes to do this interview. I blush and avoid any eye contact with my co-workers. When it comes to my career, I am confident with the job I do, but knowing that so much depends on me today has me a little freaked out. It is my dream to write, but maybe I should have started with something smaller. Why did I agree to this again? Oh yeah, to fulfill my dream. I hold my head high, straighten my back, and make my way to my office. Steph notices my nerves and whispers, “You’ll do great.” Always my cheerleader, I give her a small smile and walk away.

  Toni, my boss, is waiting for me in my office when I arrive. She is dressed sharp with an expensive looking pantsuit and pale blue button down. When I first started working here she had intimidated me. She is tall and thin with short, blonde hair and brown, impassive eyes. She always looks ready to pounce on someone if they make one tiny mistake and her demeanor is scary. She intimidated me so much that I would try to avoid her the best way possible, but through the past year and a half that I’ve been here, she’s kind of become my mentor. I know it is a huge deal that she is putting so much trust in me with today’s interview. I am ever so grateful to her, and I won’t let her down.

  “Good morning, Mia. Are you ready for the interview with Alexandre? I want you to know that I have complete faith in you and know you are the perfect person for the job,” she says almost as if she had read my thoughts and previous insecurities.

  “I am more than ready. Thank you so much for this opportunity. I won’t let you down. You know what this means to me, and I know what this means to the magazine.”

  “Don’t thank me so much. I have faith in you and know your potential. I know it will be great, and Alexandre will love you. Everyone does. But don’t fuck this up.” She turns on her heel and leaves me alone to prepare for the interview.

  The truth is that ever since I graduated from the University of Oregon a year and a half ago and came to Portland for my dream job offer, I have worked my butt off to succeed in my career and I have done just that. I have been confident, secure, and willing to take on any challenge that comes my way. Editing wasn’t always exciting, and my heart lies in writing, but I took it to work for the best magazine in the west coast, and one of the top picks nationwide. And boy, are there challenges in editing other people’s writings. When this opportunity came along, I couldn’t resist. I was so excited I worked even harder, staying late nights, preparing my questions, interview strategies, and making sure I was up to date with all his recent endeavors, as well as, studying his past career paths. I am so ready for this interview and the doors it will open to my future.

  The interview went perfectly, just as I imagined. Actually, better than I could have imagined. Alexandre is as charming as they come and easy to talk to. No one would guess he is this extremely creative fashion genius by simply talking to him. He’s humble and down to earth. Well, except for his outfit choice. He is definitely eccentric when it comes to his style, but then again, that is why he is the most admired fashion designer in the world.

  The fact that he opened up to me and gave me such an honest and heartfelt interview made the experience that much more amazing. Not only did I meet an idol, but working so hard in my career and making everything second in my life is finally paying off. I know this is just the beginning.

  After work, a few of us head out for drinks at a local bar to celebrate my success. The bar is buzzing with people who are looking for an escape from their stressful workday. Steph joins me at the bar with a few of our other coworkers. We talk and dance. A few of them congratulate me on
the interview and are excited to see the final product. Honestly, I am beyond excited and proud. I’ve got a stupid grin plastered on my face, and I am floating with glee.

  After a couple of hours, my co-workers go leaving the bar and heading home for the evening or to prior engagements. Steph and I are left and not ready to head home just yet.

  She asks, “Want to head to Luxe?”

  “Sure. I’m not done celebrating yet,” I tell her over the loud music.

  We grab a cab and head south towards Luxe, a lounge nestled in Southwest Portland that serves the best martinis I’ve ever had and hosts some of the hottest men in the city. This is our usual spot on the weekends.

  We arrive, and since it’s still relatively early, it isn’t packed like typical Friday nights. The crowds will soon arrive.

  We enter the gorgeous lounge, decorated in black, white, and red décor. There are small black and white pictures collaged on the walls of runway models dressed in beautiful gowns, some in robes prepping for their fashion shows, and others of hair and makeup. It has a runway feel to it, being long and narrow with intimate table settings with tea light candles on one side and a long bar that runs down the wall on the other. Over the bar is a huge marquee sign with the word Luxe.

  The lights are dim and the music is pumping over the loud speakers, the perfect combination of techno and rock. The bar is busy, but we make our way through the people dancing and up to our favorite bartender. “Hey Kyle! Can we have two martinis, please?” I order.

  “Mia, Steph! How are you? You ladies are early. So glad to see you!” Kyle greets us and gets to work on our drinks. He hands them over to us and I give him my card. “Leave it open.”