"That was Cheryl. Her favourite band is playing at the City Hall on Friday night. Wants my company," Jo said, stretching her legs out on the couch.

The message was typical Cheryl—short, direct, no room for negotiation.

"You should definitely go," John said, flicking through the channels without really watching.

A football match blurred past, then a cooking show.

"You guys haven’t had a wild night out in ages."

He stopped on a rerun of an old detective series, the kind where everyone smoked indoors, and no one questioned it.

Jo chewed her lip.

"Well, if you're sure," she said, already typing out a reply. The keys made tiny plastic clicks under her thumbs. "I'll let her know."

John looked at her over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. His shirt was rumpled from lounging all afternoon.

"Book a room at the City Travelodge," he said, turning back to the TV. "Then you can drink all you want."

"Right," she said softly, "Might as well."

***

Jo gasped when she saw her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her fingers tracing the outline of her lace knickers.

"Fuck it," she muttered, adjusting the hem of her skirt a fraction higher.

The stockings clung to her thighs, the suspenders biting just enough to leave faint red marks she knew Cheryl would notice immediately. She turned sideways, arching her back slightly—the plunge of her top left nothing to the imagination, her nipples pressing against the thin fabric with every breath.

The hotel room smelled of nail varnish and vanilla body mist, the air thick with anticipation. Jo dabbed a final coat of gloss over her lips, smirking at the way her mouth looked plump, almost indecent. Her phone buzzed—Cheryl was downstairs, waiting impatiently with two vodka cranberries already in hand. The message read, "Hurry up, slut, or I'm starting without you."

Clicking across the tiles, Jo grabbed her clutch, the stilettos making her legs look endless. She hesitated by the door, running a hand through her hair one last time. She could already hear the bass from the venue across the square thumping through the lobby walls—low, relentless, promising.

Downstairs, Cheryl’s eyes raked over her the second the elevator doors opened.

"Jesus Christ," Cheryl breathed, stepping closer to tug playfully at Jo’s skirt.

"You look amazing!"

Jo just laughed, taking the drink and downing half in one go.

Inside City Hall, the bass thudded against their chests like a second heartbeat. The air was thick with sweat and perfume, the strobe lights catching the glitter on Cheryl’s collarbones as they pushed through the crowd.

Already, Jo could feel the weight of stares—some appreciative, some hungry—tracking the way her stockings peeked from under her skirt with every step.

Cheryl grabbed her hand, dragging her toward the dancefloor where bodies moved in a pulsing, chaotic rhythm.

A guy with stubble and rolled-up sleeves grinned at Jo as she swayed, his gaze lingering on the way her thighs pressed together when the music dropped. Cheryl leaned in, her lips brushing Jo’s ear.

"Told you," she teased, nodding toward another group of guys watching from the bar.

"You could have anyone here."

Jo didn’t answer, letting the heat of the room and the vodka in her veins do the talking instead. She arched her back, rolling her hips in time with the beat, her skirt riding higher with every movement. A hand—Cheryl’s? Someone else’s?—grazed the bare skin above her stocking, and she didn’t pull away.

Across the dancefloor, Cheryl was a living provocation, her plunging neckline barely containing the swell of her breasts as she moved. Every dip and twist threatened to spill them free, the fabric straining against the motion. The slit in her dress flashed glimpses of thigh, then higher—just a fleeting tease of lace knickers before the fabric fell back into place. She caught Jo staring and grinned.

Cheryl’s laughter cut through the music, bright and reckless, as a guy in a too-tight shirt pressed against her from behind. His hands settled on Cheryl’s hips.

Cheryl spun around, draping her arms over the guy’s neck—some kid barely old enough to grow proper stubble, his face flushed with cheap beer and desperate want. She moved with him, slow at first, then rolled her hips forward, grinding her pussy against the straining bulge in his jeans. The guy groaned, his fingers digging into her waist like he was trying to anchor himself before he drowned. Cheryl just smirked, tossing Jo a look over her shoulder—’watch this’—before she rocked into him again, harder this time, her lips brushing his ear as she murmured something that made his knees buckle.

Jo watched, mesmerized, as Cheryl toyed with him—her hands sliding down his chest, her tongue darting out to lick her lower lip just as she pushed against him once more. The guy’s cock jerked visibly against the denim, trapped and aching. Cheryl caught Jo’s eye and winked. Jo’s mouth went dry. She gestured with her fingers—’nine inches’—raising an eyebrow in question. Cheryl’s grin turned wicked. She mouthed back, ‘Not even close’, before twisting out of the guy’s grasp, leaving him panting and dazed against a speaker.

The crowd swallowed Cheryl for a moment before she reappeared at Jo’s side, her skin flushed, the scent of sweat and perfume clinging to her.

"Pathetic," Cheryl breathed into Jo’s ear, her fingers tracing the curve of Jo’s waist.

"But you—" her nails dug in just enough to make Jo shiver.

"You could do better."

Jo didn’t answer. The vodka burned low in her stomach, the music thrumming through her veins. Cheryl’s lips brushed the shell of her ear.

"Show me," she murmured, and Jo knew exactly what she meant.

"I need another drink," Jo said, holding up her empty glass.

"Come with me," Cheryl responded.

Jo followed her into the restroom.

"Hold out your hand," Chery instructed as she squeezed something small and pink into Jo's palm.

"Is this....?" Jo smiled knowingly.

"Just half each. Same as what we had in Ibiza," Cheryl assured her.

"It'll loosen you up."

"Same as it did in Ibiza," Jo laughed.

Jo tossed it back, swallowing hard against the bitter chalkiness coating her tongue. Cheryl let the other half dissolve between her lips. 

The fluorescent bathroom lights buzzed overhead, distorting their reflections in the smudged mirrors—Cheryl's pupils already dilating, Jo's fingers twitching with the first prickle of anticipation crawling up her spine.

Back on the dancefloor, the music pulsed deeper, heavier, the bass vibrating through Jo's ribs as the drug curled warm fingers around her brainstem. Colours bled brighter—neon strobes streaked across Cheryl's bared shoulders like liquid paint, the sweat-slick press of bodies around them suddenly electric instead of claustrophobic.

Cheryl pressed close, her breath hot against Jo's neck.

"Feel it yet?"

Jo groaned in response, her fingers tightening in Cheryl's hair—yes, she felt it. The heat wasn't just between her legs anymore; it was everywhere, pulsing in time with the music, turning her skin hypersensitive. When Cheryl's tongue slid against hers again, the taste of vodka and something metallic—the pill, maybe—flooded her mouth. Jo bit down gently, earning a throaty laugh that vibrated through Cheryl's chest and into hers.

Around them, the crowd blurred into a kaleidoscope of swaying bodies and flashing lights, but Jo couldn't look away from Cheryl's lips, swollen and glistening. Her own pulse thundered in her ears, loud enough to drown out the bass. Cheryl's hands slid down Jo's back, nails scraping just enough to make her arch into the touch. The lace of her knickers was soaked through, the fabric clinging uncomfortably now, but she couldn't bring herself to care—not when Cheryl was mouthing at her jawline, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin below her ear.

A stranger bumped into them, his shoulder brushing Jo's bare arm. The contact sent a jolt through her—too much, too sharp—and she flinched, breaking the kiss.

Cheryl pulled back, her pupils blown wide, lips parted.

"What's wrong?" she murmured, her voice rough. But Jo barely heard her over the music.

The young guy behind her—lean, dark-haired, his shirt clinging to his chest—was already swaying in time with the beat, his hips brushing hers with every pulse of the bass. Cheryl caught Jo's eye and grinned, stepping back just enough to give them room. The message was clear: ‘Play along.’

Jo winked her eye towards Cheryl before rolling her shoulders back, arching her spine just enough to press her ass against the stranger's groin. He wasn't shy—his hands settled on her hips, fingers digging in as he matched her rhythm, grinding against her with a confidence that made her breath hitch. The friction was delicious, the denim of his jeans rough against the thin fabric of her skirt. Cheryl watched, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip, her own hips moving in a slow, suggestive roll as if guiding Jo through the motions.

The stranger's breath was hot against Jo's neck, his stubble scratching her skin as he leaned in closer.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he muttered.

One hand slid higher, tracing the curve of her waist, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast. Jo shuddered, her nipples tightening beneath the sheer fabric of her top. She could feel him—hard and eager—pressing into the small of her back, and the knowledge of it sent a thrill through her. Cheryl's smirk widened. She mouthed something Jo couldn't hear over the music, but the thrust of her hips was unmistakable: ‘Keep going.’

Jo obeyed, rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles, the motion dragging a groan from the stranger behind her. His grip tightened, pulling her flush against him, his cock straining against his zipper. The heat between her legs was unbearable now, the ache sharp and insistent.

Cheryl watched with wide, hungry eyes, her lips parted in delight as Jo reached behind her, cupping the stranger through his jeans—each stroke deliberate, each twist of her wrist drawing another ragged breath from him. His hands slid down Jo's waist, fingers digging into her thighs as she quickened her pace, the fabric of his jeans dampening under her touch.

The music pulsed around them, the bass syncing with the rhythm of her hand. Cheryl leaned in, her breath hot against Jo's ear.

"Faster," she murmured, her voice full of anticipation.

Jo obeyed, her fingers tightening around the thick outline of him, her thumb pressing against the head through the denim. The stranger shuddered, his hips bucking against her grip.

Cheryl's laughter was breathless now, her fingers tangling in Jo's hair as she watched the stranger's control unravel. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body taut with tension. Jo could feel the moment he was close—the way his muscles locked, the desperate hitch in his breathing. She slowed her strokes, teasing, drawing it out until he was trembling against her. Cheryl's nails scraped Jo's scalp, urging her on.

"Let him," she whispered, her voice dripping with mischief.

Jo finally relented, her grip tightening just enough to push him over the edge. The stranger's groan was lost in the music, his body shuddering against hers as he came in hot, messy pulses inside his jeans.

She barely had time to step back before he staggered away, crimson-faced and fumbling with his belt buckle—some pathetic attempt at dignity as he vanished into the crowd. Cheryl cackled, loud and unapologetic, grabbing Jo’s wrist and pulling her close.

“That’s what you get when you fuck with a MILF,” she shouted after him, her voice slicing through the bass.

Jo collapsed against Cheryl, their foreheads touching as they dissolved into laughter, the kind that made Jo’s ribs ache and her mascara smear. Cheryl’s fingers dug into Jo’s waist, her breath hot and uneven against Jo’s lips.

“That was so fucking horny, you dirty bitch,” she whispered, her voice raw.

“My cunt is fucking soaking now.”

Jo didn’t need to look down to know Cheryl’s dress clung to her thighs, the fabric darkened between her legs. The scent of her—musky and sweet—hit Jo like a physical touch, sending another jolt of heat straight to her core. Cheryl’s teeth grazed Jo’s earlobe, her voice dropping lower.

“I need you to fuck me. Right now.”

Jo’s pulse stuttered. The crowd around them blurred into a haze of flashing lights and anonymous bodies, but Cheryl’s grip was anchor-sharp. Without thinking, Jo dragged her toward the nearest exit, their heels clicking against the sticky floor as they stumbled past the bouncers into the street.

The hotel loomed across the square—its neon sign casting shadows over the cobblestones. Cheryl’s fingers tangled in Jo’s hair, pulling her closer as they crossed the distance, their breaths ragged. The night air clung to Jo’s skin, thick with the promise of rain, but all she could focus on was Cheryl’s thigh pressing against hers with every hurried step.

Inside the elevator, Jo barely had time to fumble the room card from her clutch before Cheryl shoved her against the mirrored wall. The doors slid shut with a whisper, sealing them in. Cheryl’s hands were under Jo’s skirt before the lift even moved—fingers sliding past damp lace, sinking into her with a groan.

“Fuck,” Cheryl hissed, her mouth hot on Jo’s neck.

“You’re dripping.”

Jo arched into the touch, her back scraping against the cool glass as Cheryl’s thumb circled her clit in rough, knowing strokes.

Their kiss was messy, teeth clashing, tongues tangling with the bitter aftertaste of vodka and sweat. Cheryl’s free hand yanked Jo’s top down, her mouth closing over a nipple through the sheer fabric, sucking hard enough to make Jo cry out. The elevator dinged—some distant, irrelevant sound—but Cheryl didn’t stop. Her fingers curled deeper, dragging a shuddering moan from Jo’s throat as the doors opened onto their floor.

Jo fumbled backward down the corridor, Cheryl’s hand still working between her legs, her own skirt hiked up around her hips. Outside Jo's room, Cheryl pushed her mouth into Jo's ear.

“Now get that door open before I fuck you on this disgusting carpet.”

***

Inside the room, a trail of discarded clothes—some ripped, some just flung aside—led a jagged path to the huge queen-sized bed. Cheryl’s dress pooled halfway across the threshold, one strap torn loose. Jo’s stockings dangled from the lampshade, still clipped to a snapped suspender. The air reeked of sweat, perfume, and the sharp tang of arousal—proof of what they’d been doing since they’d burst through the door.

Jo and Cheryl were completely naked now, their bodies pressed together like they couldn’t bear an inch of separation. Cheryl pinned Jo against the mattress, her tongue tracing the shell of Jo’s ear before biting down hard enough to make her gasp.

“Should’ve known you’d be this filthy,” Cheryl growled, her knee nudging Jo’s thighs wider.

Jo arched into her, nails raking down Cheryl’s back—no hesitation, no shyness, just skin and heat and the slick sound of their mouths crashing together.

Cheryl’s hand slid between them, fingers circling Jo’s clit with the kind of practiced precision that left no room for teasing. Jo bucked against her, a strangled moan escaping as Cheryl’s thumb pressed just hard enough to blur her vision.

Their legs tangled, Jo’s thigh pressing into Cheryl’s slick heat, the friction drawing a ragged gasp from both of them. Cheryl’s hips rolled in slow, deliberate circles, grinding her swollen clit against Jo’s thigh, the wet slide of their skin obscenely audible in the thick silence of the room.

Jo spread her thighs wider, hooking a leg over Cheryl’s hip, pulling her closer until their cunts kissed—hot, swollen flesh meeting in a slick, exquisite press. Cheryl shuddered, her breath hitching as Jo mirrored her movements, their clits rubbing together in perfect, torturous sync.

They moved like that, slow at first, then faster—their breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps, their bodies slick with sweat. The room filled with the sound of skin on skin, wet and desperate, punctuated by Cheryl’s bitten-off whimpers and Jo’s low, throaty moans.

Cheryl’s fingers dug into Jo’s hips, her nails leaving crescent moons in their wake as she ground down harder, chasing the friction. Jo arched beneath her, her head thrown back, her own hands fisting in the sheets—every nerve alight, every muscle taut with the need for release.

It built fast, too fast—the heat coiling tight in Jo’s belly, the pressure unbearable. Cheryl’s rhythm stuttered, her hips jerking erratically as she gasped, “Fuck, Jo—I’m gonna—”

Jo didn’t let her finish. She pinched her own nipples hard, the sharp pain-pleasure shooting straight to her clit as Cheryl’s body locked up against her. A raw, throaty moan tore from Cheryl’s lips, her cunt pulsing around nothing as she came, her thighs clamping around Jo’s leg like a vice. The sight of her—head thrown back, mouth slack, tits heaving—was enough to tip Jo over the edge. Her back arched off the bed, a silent scream trapped in her throat as her orgasm ripped through her, white-hot and relentless.

For a moment, the world dissolved into static—just the wet slap of skin, the ragged symphony of their breathing, the musk of sex thick in the air. Then Cheryl collapsed onto her, their sweat-slick bodies sticking together as they shuddered through the aftershocks.

Cheryl’s lips found Jo’s shoulder, her teeth sinking in just enough to leave a mark.

“Christ,” she panted, her voice wrecked.

“You’re a fucking menace.”

Jo laughed, breathless, her fingers trailing lazily down Cheryl’s spine.

“You started it.”

Jo whispered the words against Cheryl’s collarbone, tracing the damp hollow of her throat with her tongue. Cheryl’s fingers tangled lazily in Jo’s hair, her chest rising and falling in slow, sated breaths. The sheets clung to their legs, twisted and damp from their earlier thrashing, but neither had the energy to kick them off.

They drifted off to sleep thinking about what the morning would bring.