CHERRY BLOSSOMS // Revisited // Bachelorette // 2.10

The stripper’s name was Sebastian, and he was a student. After his show, which culminated in putting whipped cream on his penis and trying to get Donna to lick it off (which she refused while laughing heartily), he hung around at the bar in his street clothes. He was trapped by the older women. The younger ones were over it already, but Aunt Stella and Angie’s mom had him at the bar, and their method of seduction was to mother him. Mother him in a somehow creepy touchy-feely way. Nia felt for him. He’d been talking to Lisa and Angie, but they’d moved on, and now he’d got himself trapped. Nia watched him through a nice drunken haze she’d earned with a lot of very good Italian red wine.

The party was over. It was past midnight now, and everyone was headed to the hotel. They’d booked rooms at the Days Inn for everyone who wouldn’t have a ride home, which was more than half of them. The party would likely continue in one of the rooms. Not for all of them, some already expressing great pleasure in passing out right away in their hotel beds.

Nia was handing out her gift packages. She’d been in charge of hangover kits and had done them up in red buckets (for barfing) wrapped in cellophane and bows to tie them up, long tendril ribbons in curls. Alka Seltzer, chocolate, ginger ale, Advil, Gravol, Aleve, candy, a bottle of water, Clif bar, a bottle of Clear Eyes, cold compress, Tums, Pepto Bismol, Scope, hair ties, breath mints, and a cheap pair of sunglasses that came in a sleeve that read I REGRET NOTHING.

Angie wasn’t done having fun, and even as some of the girls stumbled out, eyes with blue half moons curled underneath, she was enlisting them for further drinks, telling them her room number. One girl had insinuated Sebastian should be invited, and while it was rewarded with enthusiastic laughter, there was only one girl drunk enough to fall for that, and she had two friends watching out for her to protect her from such a terrible idea.

The lights in the bar were on and Sebastian watched her again from over Stella’s perm. He’d talked her up at the bar earlier, giving her his most dazzling smile, and letting the lights dance in his dark eyes. She’d thought of what Geoff wanted, thought how Sebastian would be a good lay. Too many witnesses, Geoff, sorry. She’d been aloof with Sebastian, not even wanting her friends to see her spending too much time with him.

Sebastian was indeed a student. Going to Seneca College for social work. Played hockey, Toronto League, A, Under 21. He was a charming kid, and she’d love to feel that body, love to get that dick hard, but he wasn’t the one. Definitely not the one.

He winked at her as she got her purse off the back of the chair by the Hangover table and she smiled, turned her eyes away, bashful. Signing off for the evening.

Angie hooked an arm through hers as they walked out of the restaurant, a hangover bucket tucked under her other arm. They clicked in their heels out past the maître d’s stone-walled enclave, and they went out into the chilly night.

Angie said, “Well, I think we fucking rocked it, don’t you?”

“It was one to remember,” Nia agreed.

“We’re a good team.”

“We are, Ang,” she said, and kissed the top of her shorter friend’s hair. She and Ang had gone to Woodview High together, plus grades four through eight at Sir Alexander Garfield. Grew up on either end of the same suburban Woodbridge street. Ang’s dad was an accountant. Her dad owned a restaurant in the same plaza as her father’s office. They’d been through a lot together.

The Days Inn was across the road, set back from the wide streets, and while not the fanciest hotel, it was selected for its convenient proximity. It was still a decent little hike on drunken heels, and they could see a gaggle of girls up ahead, all also arm in arm, passing along a guardrail, bullrushes beyond that, then the lights of the ten-story hotel. The highway ran along the far side of the hotel and they could hear the hiss of the night time traffic.

“Hey,” Nia said, “go on, catch up with them, I’ll meet you in the room.”

“You coming for a drink?”

“Yeah, I got some life left in me yet. Take my bucket. I gotta get some things from my car.”

She handed over her own hangover bucket. Since she’d brought two dozen hangover kits to the bachelorette, she’d parked the Volvo at the restaurant rather than the hotel. Her overnight bag was still in the Volvo’s backseat.

Ang walked backward, said, “Come up with Stella, okay? Make sure she gets back all right.”

“Yeah, I’ll walk with her,” she said as she made her way in the opposite direction around to the far side of the restaurant. She stumbled her way back to the car, feeling herself getting drunker. They’d done shots at the bar with Sebastian an hour ago and she hadn’t stopped drinking wine. She might not have as much life left in her as she thought. Angie would be disappointed.

All in all, it was a very fine event. Everyone was happy and everyone got right to the border of obliterated, but their passports weren’t accepted and they had to come back. All the girls were leaving on their own accord. There was a girl she knew from York who had a good friend and bridesmaid taken to the hospital from her bachelorette and they had to pump her stomach. Twenty-five years old with alcohol poisoning like a teenager.

She unlocked the Volvo with her fob and climbed into the backseat on her knees and grabbed her overnight bag, resisting the urge to have a little nap back there. It was a chilly night, but the cabin of the Volvo was pretty warm still. When she backed out and stood up, she knew for sure that someone was standing behind her.

She gasped, a brittle shriek catching in her throat.

“Whoa, whoa,” the black figure said, putting its hands up.

Sebastian.

“What the fuck? How old are you?” she hissed and stomped one high-heeled foot, the overnight bag clutched to her chest to protect herself.

“I’m tw—”

“You don’t know not to fucking sneak up on a girl alone in a dark parking lot?”

“I came to say goodnight.”

“Shit,” Nia said and leaned back next to the open door of the car. “It was almost goodnight forever. I just had a mini heart attack.”

“What did you think I was going to do?”

Her heart thumped in her chest, neck swelling with her pounding pulse. Knew she’d have a thick cable running up one side of her thin neck right now. She tried to play it cool, saying, “I didn’t think it was going to end well.”

“Thought you were going to take a stabbing?”

She knew what he meant, but the kid had no idea what a creep he was being. If she didn’t understand that his stabbing meant with that long penis of his, she would have probably screamed bloody murder. “Is that what you do? Stab women in the parking lot?”

“Just the beautiful ones,” Sebastian said, and put an arm up over the open door.

“Thanks,” she said dryly.

“I’ve done a lot of these bachelorettes,” he said. “Met a lot of girls, and I absolutely mean this: you are the most drop dead gorgeous woman I ever laid eyes on.”

“Sebastian, that’s flattering,” she said, then wiggled her left fingers at him, showed him her rings, “but I’m married.”

“A lot of these girls at these shows, they’re all married . . . but that doesn’t stop them.”

“You’re telling me you fuck a lot of girls after you strip for them?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m just telling you that it’s really normal. Lots of women don’t mind one night—just for themselves. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re ten years younger than me.”

“Exactly,” he said. He gave her a smirk, and it hit her. She could do this. Do this thing that Geoff wanted. That she wanted—but only kind of wanted. This kid wasn’t her type, but he had a hot body and he was handsome. He was young and boyish, and twenty-year-old Nia would have gone home with him without a second thought. Despite what Geoff thought of her, she wasn’t some slut, though. She’d always liked sex, but she wasn’t the kind to sleep with a stripper after a bachelorette. Why did Geoff think that was hot?

Sebastian took her quiet to mean acquiescence and moved into her space. She didn’t stop him.

He smiled, and leaned towards her. He smelled nice. Cologne, just a little, coconut oil, male body. He’d danced that little tush off for them and worked himself into a sweat and he smelled of it, too. But she liked it. She let him get closer and huffed through her nose, didn’t smile, gave him one cynical eyebrow that said, Oh, you think so? Still, she didn’t stop him.

He moved closer until she felt his breath in her hair and against her neck and ear. She put a hand up on his chest to stop him, but he pushed on. Then she felt his lips on her neck and her skin crawled. This man wasn’t her husband. She loved Geoff, not this kid. She pushed again, but he didn’t budge. His chest was hard and firm. Big. She knew what it looked like under his tight three-button shirt. His muscles squirmed as his arms came up, and then she felt his hands on her hips.

She let her hands wander. She wanted that. That was cool. Sebastian had a fantastic young body, and she was up for getting a feel of it as long as her friends weren’t around anymore. She squeezed his shoulders and stroked his arms. He was solid. Soft flesh at the surface and then steel hard underneath it, just a millimeter under his bronze skin. His lips were on her neck and it felt too intimate. She didn’t stop him.

The parking lot was empty. Her car the only one that was there. Stella told her the restaurant said she could leave it parked there. Better than her trying to drive it across the street and going into those bullrushes or something, blaming the restaurant for over-serving. The restaurant was closed now. People probably still in there counting all the money up. Employee cars were around the corner, lit up by a sodium light on the brick wall above the dumpster. It was chilly. Not terribly—it was June, and it had been a sunny day, but it wasn’t July yet and it was night. Her nipples tightened, the flesh grabbing and dragging on the inside of her lacy bra. She tilted her jaw and Sebatian’s lips stroked her skin.

This man who wasn’t her Geoff was doing something she swore would never happen again. She’d suffered when she slept with the last man who wasn’t her husband.

Her body reacted, her body wanted it, but she’d sworn she wouldn’t. Now she’d been given license. It was okay. Geoff wanted it. Wanted it if she wanted it. While Sebastian wasn’t what she wanted, he was a good start. He was young and hot.

She let his soft cool and damp lips drag and pluck at her skin. She squeezed the muscles in his big arms. His hands swept up her hips to her waist, and she flinched as they came across her sensitive tummy. She shivered again. He laughed and the hot breath from him—mint and alcohol and lemon—felt nice on her neck and collar.

He stood up straight. Taller than her. Dark and handsome. She heard his fly drawing down, metal teeth unclenching in the night air, loud and close, riding over top of the hiss of highway traffic. He put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back and along the side of the Volvo until he had her sitting in the back seat of the car with her high heels still on the pavement. She looked between his legs, saw that long cock of his swinging, a wink of pale flesh, the shadow of it making a huge black shape on his denim thigh. He pulled her by the neck, quietly but firmly encouraging her to suck his cock.

Her hands came up his thighs and gripped him. His cock protruded out of the open fly, dangling in the cold. The flesh of it was cool. His cock was still soft, and she used her fingers to hold it so she could put the head in her mouth. His hands laced through her hair and pulled her onto his cock. It wasn’t hard, and it buckled against her face, its chilled side pressing softly on her cheek. She reached around and felt his ass. Also very nice, firm and round and strong. His cock fell out of her mouth. It was getting firmer, but he was long and it was difficult to keep it from folding up. The skin of his cock was soft and fragrant, oily, and she liked the feeling of it getting harder in her mouth.

When it was soft, she could stuff more in her mouth, but as it grew harder, she could only suck on his glans and a little farther down his shaft. She ran her tongue around his tip, pulled him with her lips, got him good and hard.

Now he started to fuck her face. Shoving his hard cock into her mouth. She snorted through her nose and squinted. He forced it into her, his hands clutching her hair and holding her head locked in place. She opened her throat and her breath scored through her nose. Her eyes watered and streamed. His cock pushed into her, getting deep. She felt it spreading her esophagus. Then he started thrusting into her, his glans spreading her throat painfully, his cock sliding along the deepest root of her tongue, bumping into the back of her throat and making her think for one nauseous second she was going to vomit wine all over his pants and her dress, most of it spewing out of her nostrils with his cock plugging up her mouth.

She relaxed herself, breathed, let him show off his length. When he withdrew it, she spewed saliva all over her chin and down her lap. She retched and caught herself, coughed and tried to choke in air and not let him see her watery eyes and her blubbering face. She pushed herself back into the backseat of the car, coughing into her fist and waving him in to follow her.

Sebastian climbed in on his knees. Then he was on top of her, mouth on hers, kissing her slobbered face, kissing her chin and cheeks. His hands were moving all over her, grabbing her tits and clawing at her dress, trying to pull it up. She started to panic. This was too much, too fast.

“Easy, easy,” she whispered into his ear while he kissed her neck and down to her collarbone. He’d got himself on top of her, pushed her back like that so she was on her back, legs spread wide. He was between her thighs, her dress hiked up. She could feel the chill from the outside on the flat of her belly, up underneath her skirt. His cock dangled between them, hard and eager, wanting to part her womanhood and slide up inside her hot body. She brought a knee up and closed her sex off in case he was just going to slip it past her panties and fuck her like that, with his feet dangling outside the open Volvo door.

She wrapped a fist around his cock. He was slick and wet from her mouth. She pumped it on him, let him know she was in control here. She stroked him hard and fast like she wanted him to come and his brain shut right off. His face came up, good-looking young kid, and she watched his expression while she stroked him. His eyes closed, his lips parted, and he made short gasps.

She brought her foot around so that he was over her thighs rather than between them. “That’s it,” she whispered, “I love this big cock.”

“Ah, mm, yeah,” he grunted.

“Sit up, sit up,” she told him.

Sebastian grunted again and sat up, her hand never stopping. He leaned way back in the chair and spread his legs wide for her, let her work it.

“Close the door,” she said.

He never opened his eyes, just reached out blindly till his hand rested on the armrest and sat up and yanked the door shut, closing them into her quiet little station wagon. She got herself on her knees next to him and let his cock go, put her hands on his neck and kissed his nice lips. He moaned and kissed her back, sucked her tongue into his mouth and she enjoyed the wet feel of his tongue against hers. Then his hand went up the inside of her parted thighs and she buckled, fell against his chest a moment before getting herself together. His hand climbed up the soft flesh of her leg until his thumb pressed against her panties. She could feel how wet she’d got. His bare finger hooked under her panty crotch, and she gasped as she felt the touch of another man against her most private and most intimate part. She moaned high and made it sexy. Put it on for him.

“What a perfect pussy,” he whispered into her ear.

She kissed him again, and he stroked between her legs, stroked her wet furled folds, brought out more of her dampness until his touch skated across her flesh like it was dipped in oil. His finger pressed her opening, and she gently closed herself up, pressed her thighs together. That was far enough.

She couldn’t do this. It wasn’t what she wanted. This kid was not what she craved. She didn’t want to have dumb, meaningless sex with a good-looking boy. What she wanted was something more distinct. Something this boy couldn’t provide.

“Mn-mnn,” she hummed and shook her head, broke away and looked into his vacant and lustful eyes. She bent over and put her mouth back on his cock and sucked him, bobbed her head on it. He was rock hard and she could taste his semen now, taste the pre-cum leaking from it. She sucked him till she knew she had him close, then sat up, and he sat up straighter, thinking she was ready to fuck.

She said, “No, I’m married, okay?” Her hand found that long shaft and she stroked him again, got him under control til his head fell back against the head rest.