Dirty Girl

She took my hand and led me across the dance floor towards the bathroom.

"In the little boy's room," she smiled and entered the furthest stall, dragging me in with her.

The walls were cold, hatched metal that left icy imprints on my back from being pressed up against them so long. She never put her mouth on mine, since I'd said I was coming down with a cold. Skipping the kisses, she put her long fingers on the top button of my shirt and started murmuring about obedience and the importance of not crying out.

She pulled my shirt open to my shoulders and started sweeping her tongue across my bared breasts. One hand brushing my thigh. The other holding my wrists above my head. Her teeth closed quickly around my nipple and then released, soaking me in endorphins so hot I felt my thighs melt. I forgot whatever qualms I had about being in a public place and barely noticed the voices of two men fixing themselves in the mirrors not 10 feet away.

She whispered "You love this don't you? Dirty girl."

"Yes" is all I said.

Her hand swelled inside me and she repeated in my ear "Dirty dirty dirty girl" until I came.