MISS ME
Mary Jo Vaughn

They’re deadly—those dirty martinis. They’re mean, they are. They’ll blow you away.

I’m not a lightweight. Don’t even let that thought enter your head. I can do tequila body shots all night long. But the dirty martinis are different. They sneak the fuck up on you when you’re not looking, when you’re not thinking much except, “Mmmm…that was good. I’ll have another.”

I was in that sort of a state when Mira found me. I was leaning up against the cool wood bar, my face flushed, my hair pulled high off my neck and captured there with a sterling silver clip. I had on a black turtleneck that I’d just freed from storage and it smelled a bit like the sachet I’d tucked into the box: faded roses and baby powder. A comfort smell.

Mira glided up behind me. I didn’t notice her until I saw her reflection in the blue-tinted mirror behind the bar. She said, “Buy you the next?”

I didn’t turn toward her, simply steeled myself and met her eyes in the mirror. She looked clear and crisp, her short white-blonde hair slicked back, her eyes razor sharp, even in the dim light of the bar.

“You bet,” I said, nodding, feeling her hand snake down the back of my loose jeans. She was checking to see if I had on panties. I didn’t.

The bartender replaced my dead drink with a new one, and Mira turned sideways and watched me down it. When I’d finished, she grabbed my hand and led me down the dark hallway to the ladies’ room.

“You smell like sex,” she said, under her breath, as she pulled me along.

“Roses and baby powder,” I corrected her, taking a whiff of my sweater.

She pulled me after her into the ladies’ room and locked the door behind us.

“And sex,” she said again, pulling the turtleneck over my head, propping me up against the sink while she pulled my jeans down, leaving them on me.

The sink was cold against my naked ass, but her hands were warm as they spread my cunt lips, and her mouth was hot as she pressed it against me. I liked the feel of the metal ball that rides her tongue as she tickled my clit with it. Warm mouth and cool silver combined can start a fire within me. Mira knows that well.

I held on to the edge of the sink, kicked off my shoes and waited for her to pull my jeans all the way off. Then, balancing most of my weight on the sink, I wrapped my slender legs around her, capturing her to me, capturing her face to my cunt. If she wanted to play, we’d play my way, half-drunk though I was.

I loved the feeling of that silver ball rolling back and forth over my clit and then icing my insides as she used her tongue like a cock and probed me deeper. Mira knows what to do. Yes, she does.

There are two mirrors in the ladies’ room, and I stared in the one across the way to watch my face as I came. I moved again so I was standing, and I placed my hands on the back of Mira’s shaved neck and jammed her hard against me, rolling her with the vibrations that swelled inside me and cascaded over. I bounced back and forth, slamming my ass against the rim of the sink and then forward, into her face, and she punished me for the intensity of my movements by digging that silver ball right into my clit, spiraling me into a violent world of pain and pleasure and pain and pleasure…and pain.

“Hurts so good,” she grinned at me when she stood up, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, “doesn’t it?”

“It always does when you ride the helm,” I agreed, staring into her clear eyes and waiting.

“I miss you,” she said next, working hard to get that hurt look to her face that doesn’t belong on it. Mira doesn’t feel any real emotions, so far as I can tell. And after dating her for four years and recently being the one to instigate the breakup, I should know.

“Miss me,” I said as I left her alone in the bathroom. I poked my head in for one last dig, “But thanks for the climax. It was great.”