Raul

I screwed up. Big time.

I knew I was supposed to keep my hands off Mina. She’s my female kryptonite. My self-control goes to shit around her.

Now I’ve gone and degraded her in the worst way.

It was almost worth it. Almost.

Fuck, I will be jacking off to the memory of her orgasm face every night for a week. It was even better than I pictured it would be.

I scan the crowd remaining, people who need encouragement to leave. Men and women trying to find or solidify their hookups before they go.

“Time’s up,” I call out. “Everybody out.”

I get fuck me looks from a couple girls who hang back.

I’m not tempted. Not really. But part of me thinks maybe I should fuck one of them just to get that red-headed beauty out of my system. Out of my fantasies. Damn she’s been the main feature of them ever since she showed up here at the beginning of the semester with her bold new idea for having go-go dancers.

Somehow, I’d even volunteered to make the boxes the dancers perch on.

A blonde, who’d been prettier in the low lighting than she is under the bright glare, toddles toward me on six inch heels.

I frown and give my head a short shake and she wheels about and teeters out the door instead. I shake my head again, more at myself than anyone else, and help get the rest of the crowd out. As I run the dust mop to pick up the litter of plastic cups, straws, and cocktail napkins, I try to think of something else— anything but the sweet curves of Mina’s ass when she was dancing up on that box. Or the slight curl of her lip when I penetrated her. The way her mouth opened and eyes rolled back when she came.

I’m still replaying it all after we lock up.

“What’s with you, dude?” Trey asks as we walk to our parked motorcycles in the lot.

“Nothing.” I sound surlier than I mean to.

“Did something happen between you and that dancer?”

“Shut up, asshole.” Trey’s my best friend, but sometimes he doesn’t know how to leave well enough alone.

“Uh huh. I thought so. Damian said you were fucking her in the storeroom.” I grab Trey’s collar and fist it up tight, getting my face right into his grill. “I

was not fucking her.”

“Okay,” he says quickly, holding up his palms. “Whatever you say, bud.”

I know all I’ve done is dug my grave now, so I release him and jerk my chin toward his bike. “Go on. I’ll see you at home later.”

“Where are you going?” he asks suspiciously.

“For a ride.”

Trey shrugs and takes off. I wait until he’s gone before I straddle my bike, turning it on with a louder rev of the engine than is necessary.

I tear out of the parking lot. It’s almost three in the morning and no cars are left on the road. At least that’s what I tell myself. The truth is that I’m still back in that fucking storeroom, replaying the part that went south with Mina.

That’s why I pull out of the alley without looking.

I don’t see the car coming. Not until I’m flying over it as glass shatters like a burst of confetti from a party balloon.