7:30 AM SUNDAY
        
I’m not sure what woke me: the sunlight filtering through the curtains or the vibration of my cell phone alerting me of yet another missed call.  Thirteen unread texts, four missed calls – all from Adrian; I roll my eyes and set the phone back down.   A smile spreads across my face as I remember the events of last night. I deserve some fun and Adrian can survive a few days alone.  Sliding closer to Morgan, I wrap my fingers around his semi-erect penis, slowly stroking it to life.

9:45 PM SATURDAY

I lean back in my chair, drink in my hand, and watch the girl dancing in front of me.  The fluidity of her movements as she glides up and around the pole belies her impressive strength. My eyes follow as she slides her fingers down her alluring body, but I can not truly enjoy the performance. My mind is clouded with rage towards Adrian, my idiot boyfriend, who couldn’t be bothered to show up to his daughter’s high school graduation.  Something came up, he said, as it always does; so here I am, again, stuck trying to explain his bullshit to Claire.  She doesn’t deserve this – neither do I.

My thoughts are interrupted as a tall, handsome man sits beside me, I turn towards him, quickly assessing his features.  He’s older – a silver fox for sure – with a kind face and piercing blue eyes.

“She’s incredible, no,” he asks in a thick Cockney accent. So sexy.

I smile and nod in agreement, “She is.  Gorgeous.”

My cell phone lights up, another text from Adrian; I begin to type a response, then delete it, type out another, delete it.  Type.  Delete.  Type.  Delete.  Finally, I put my phone down and turn my attention to the woman on stage.

The silver fox leans in and offers me his hand, “I’m Morgan, you alright?”

I place my hand in his, painting on a smile, “Yeah, thanks. Melanie.”  The cell lights up again, I sigh and swipe to ignore.  A new dancer is on stage, not as pretty as the last one, though, I wouldn’t shy from spending a night with her. 

Morgan flags a waitress down and orders himself a gin and tonic and two jager bombs – one for the lady, he clarifies.  I ignore another text.

“You didn’t have to buy me a drink,” I say. 

“No, but you needed one.”

“That obvious?”

“Melanie, I know I’m old – but I’m not blind.  You’re in your early forties, fuming inside a strip club, looking expectantly at your phone but ignoring it every time it vibrates.”

“So yeah… obvious.” 

My phone lights up again as the waitress returns with our drinks. Morgan snatches the phone away from me and places it in his suit pocket.  “That’s enough of that,” he says smiling.  I blink, dumbfounded that he would steal my phone.  “I’m gonna need that back, Morgan.”

“You can have it back if you earn it.”

“And how would I earn it?”

“Finish your shot before I do.” 

“What happens if you win?”

“You give me a kiss.” Morgan hands me the two components of my jager bomb, in an instant our two shot glasses clink at the bottom of their respective tumblers.  I close my eyes and down the drink as fast as I can.  I slam my cup on the table… right next to Morgan’s.  I’ve lost.  I look into his laughing eyes, trying to figure out how he drank it so fast.

I reach my hand out towards Morgan, “Phone.”

He places the phone in my hand and holds onto my wrist. “I believe you owe me a kiss now, Melanie.”

I roughly press my lips against his, after counting to two I pull away.

“Not good enough,” he says.  He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into him, pressing his lips firmly against mine. I feign resistance momentarily before kissing him back.  Surrendering is comfortable, he takes me in his arms. My world is enveloped by the musky scent of his cologne and the brush of his stubble. I flick my tongue into his mouth before pulling away, gently tugging on his lip.

Morgan snakes a hand up my skirt, gently rubbing at the cotton just covering my folds, his touch is magnetic; moaning into his mouth. I press myself against his touch, craving more.

I push myself away from him, smiling apologetically.  “I’ll be right back,”  I say before rushing into the women’s room.  I reach my hands into my skirt and slide my panties over my ass, down my legs and set them on the granite countertop.  After rummaging through my purse, I pull out a sharpie and scribble a message into the crotch of my panties.

Morgan looks at me quizzically when I return.  I lean in to give him a kiss and stuff the balled up panties between his legs.   Pulling away from him for the last time I wink and turn towards the exit and let Morgan examine the panties and the words: FOLLOW ME.