Unexpected Girls Night Out (FF) (Fiction)

Fuck, it was cold.

I wasn’t familiar with this semi-industrial area of Brooklyn, and at ten at night, a time I’d usually be home and watching Netflix with the hubby, I felt nervous alone on the nearly empty street.

I wished I’d made Jenny meet me at the station. Instead, I walked those several blocks quickly, toward the music that grew louder as I approached.

When I arrived at the venue, Jenny was there and waving me over, and even in a winter coat, her killer smile made her stand out among the black-clothed smokers huddling outside.

Jenny was tall as it was but looked practically Amazonian with the added height of her chunky black boots. I looked down at my own almost matching ones and figured she wouldn’t dwarf me by *that* much.

It was emo night at the *Public House*, and at Jenny’s insistence, she and I were there to take in all the now-embarrassing alternative emo pop-punk songs of our teen years.

Not that I didn’t want to go! I did. But I’m a homebody, and I felt the slightest bit guilty at leaving my husband home alone. Jenny had told me I could stay at her apartment that night since it was closer, but I’d yet to make a decision.

We paid our cover, and Jenny and I stepped into the loud, crowded, and grungy venue. She grabbed my hand to pull me through the crowd, winding our way towards a side wall near the front where the surprisingly trusting emo ‘kids’ had all dropped their bags and coats.

She took my bag and set it with hers while I took off my coat.

“Nice outfit!” she said appreciatively, eyes moving from my completely inappropriate black lace bustier down to tight faux leather leggings that disappeared into my bad girl knee-high boots.

I waved her off — “Shut up.”

It was basically a costume — I hadn’t worn my emo-wear in at least ten years (okay, more). The top, which was intended to be worn as lingerie, made my already large breasts look almost fake, but there was nothing to do about that now.

Jenny slipped off her own coat revealing a black cut off band tee that came down just below her breasts, and an asymmetrical black skirt over fishnets. Arguably more appropriate than mine, but god, she looked amazing.

I tried not to notice her nipples through the fabric of her shirt.

Jenny and I had been coworkers for years and had been out a number of times, but only during the day or in a group. Never had I seen her dressed to go out, eye makeup black and smoky, dark lipstick, nose ring on full display.

I’d always secretly thought she was hot, but jeez, tonight? She could have anyone in here — guy or girl.

She’d recently gotten out of an eight-year dumpster fire of a relationship and was back out on the scene. I, of course, wasn’t. But I was company — company who had loved *My Chemical Romance* and *Say Anything* as much as she did.

Jenny pulled me over to the bar and ordered us a tequila shot and a margarita each. She *knows* I hate shots but this was her demanding I have a good time.

“Ok, I’m game,” as I threw mine back was my promise that I would try.

As the band started on one of her favorite *Brand New* songs, we pushed through the crowd, drinks in hand, to get closer to the front. As Jenny smiled, and I apologized to each person we passed, no one seemed to mind.

With clear space, Jenny began to dance and headbang, her chin-length hair messy but perfect. She didn’t seem to care that her margarita was sloshing everywhere. She was into it, and she made me want to get into it as she danced around me.

Already, I could feel that tequila shot hitting — I’m a lightweight — but I tried to chug my margarita all the same. It was a pain in the ass to hold it while dancing.

As the song finished, I tossed my empty cup to the side and raised my hands in a joking victory pose.

“You missed some,” she shouted over the not-quiet music and reached out a finger to wipe a few drops of margarita off my pushed-up breast. She licked her finger, which surprised me a bit, but Jenny was unpredictable, especially post-relationship.

As the music pounded, Jenny and I danced, slowly edging closer to the stage. The room was hot, and our skin was shiny with sweat. We danced in circles around ourselves, arms draping over each other.

I kept closing my eyes — the tiredness of being out late, the heat in the room, the hypnotic nature of the music we could feel in our bodies. But inside, somewhere between my chest and gut was this feeling — a feeling of being fully alive.

The next song started, and it was like Jenny was alone in her room, dancing with abandon. I don’t know if it was her enthusiasm or the way her braless tits kept appearing just a bit under her shirt that caught the band’s attention.

One of the guys went over to pull her up onto the stage — get the hot girl dancing for everyone. But Jenny turned back to me and grabbed me by the waist, and suddenly, we were both onstage.

This should have been my worst nightmare. I mean, it really would have been, except that Jenny has this way of making you feel at ease. It’s the way she looks at you — her eyes connect with yours and nothing else seems as important.

Jenny wrapped me up in her movements and pulled me in closer, shimmying in close — somehow showing off for the crowd at the same time. There was extra cheering, and I knew it was for us. It was getting hot, and fuck if I wasn’t into it.

“Can you believe this?” she mouthed.

“No! This is nuts!”

Something about her, the music — I felt like a teenager with all of the craziness that comes with it. I was high on life. Invincible. And kind of turned on…

When the song came to a close, Jenny struck a pose, and we both hopped off the stage as something more like a ballad came on. We were tired, laughing, and we collapsed into one of those warm female friend hugs.

Except, it didn’t end. Our bodies didn’t separate. And as we swayed with the music, our hands started to drift. This wasn’t playing for a crowd anymore. What were we — ?

My fingers started to play with her hair. I caressed the soft skin of her neck. Her hands moved down my back to graze the small of my back, back to my hips, up my sides.

We were grinding slowly against each other, our faces touching. I turned around and she pulled my in close so that my ass pressed against her, her hands gliding up and down my legs, as my arms reached back to wrap around her and feel all the way down her backside.

She didn’t stop me. I didn’t stop me. I tilted my chin up and leaned my head back against her — felt her breath on my neck, her lips graze my ear as she pulled my hair to one side.

It was as though we moved in perfect sync, our bodies responding to each other. And although the admonishments tumbled through my head, I couldn’t make myself care.

Again, the song came to a close, and this time Jenny pulled away. I had this pang of worry that she’d suddenly realized we’d totally fucked up.

“I want a cigarette,” she said, instead. She found my fingers in hers and led me outside to that place surrounding the door where you will always find some smokers.

She placed a hand on the arm of some guy in a group.

“Hey, can I get a smoke?”

“Sure.”

No questions asked. Smokers code, I supposed. I’m not one — never had been. Although I hadn’t thought she was either.

The guy lit her cigarette for her, and we stepped to the side and away from the little crowd.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” I said.

“I don’t,” she smiled and held it out to offer it to me. I shook my head, and she just laughed.

She walked further away from the crowd, and I followed her, just around the corner of the building, where she leaned up against the graffiti-tagged brick wall.

I took my place beside her, leaning back, eyes tilting up toward a sky too full of light pollution for any stars. I wondered what came next. When we went back in — would we pick up where we left off? Come to our senses?

“A tipsy cigarette is the best, you know,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “Here.”

But instead of holding it out to me again, she took a puff and then leaned in, bringing her mouth to mine to exhale the smoke. I breathed her in, closed my eyes, and let my tongue find hers.

She pressed me up against that wall with her body, each part of which I was intensely aware of against mine. Had I always wanted to feel her body like this? The thought had always been, I realized, somewhere in the back of my mind.

I’d tried to tell myself that I wanted to be like her, when really, I’d just wanted to touch her.

Her lips moved teasingly from mine to my chin, my neck. I heard myself exhale, felt my hand move as though of its own accord to reach out, slide up and under shirt to touch her breast.

Jenny kissed her way down my neck to the tops of my breasts. She pulled the lace cup just far enough away to catch my nipple with her tongue. I gasped and she laughed, moving to the other as she looked up at me for a moment and back down.

I felt her hands move to the elastic band of my leggings, pulling them just far enough away to slip her hands inside, holding my hips. She looked up at me again, and this time, I could tell she was asking for permission.

I just closed my eyes.

I felt her pull my leggings away from my skin and down. I felt the cold winter air on my skin and then her warm breath. She let her lips graze my mound as she exhaled softly.

She began kissing my pussy lips, each point of contact making me shiver. She was slow, careful, hot.

I felt her tongue slide between my folds, starting to trace lines, circles, figure-eights — coming closer to my clit and then moving away.

I’d never had a woman do this to me. I’d always wondered… And yes, it was *so* much better.

The thought popped into my head that if the cops pulled up right then and arrested me for indecent exposure, it would be worth it. Except, well, there’d be the issue of my husband finding out…

I tried to push the thought from my mind, but she must have noticed me tense or something.

“Do you not like it?” she asked, and I laughed because that was so utterly crazy.

“I just don’t want to get arrested,” I said quietly.

I then watched as she slipped a finger inside me, and I inhaled sharply all the same. My pussy was so sensitive — so fucking ready.

“Hmmm?” she asked, beginning to caress the inside of me.

“I don’t — ” I gasped. “Shut up,” I managed to say instead.

My phone beeped then, and Jenny, with her other hand, took it out of the small purse hanging over my shoulder.

She glanced at the screen a moment.

“Dan wants to know if you’re coming home.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but then the phone was ringing. She’d hit call and put it on speaker.

He picked up almost immediately, “Hey babe.”

“Hi,” I said quickly.

Jenny was holding the phone up for me in one hand as she fingered me with the other — her tongue playing with my clit.

I tried to control my breathing.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, a little too breathless. “I um —

I closed my eyes, trying to regain some composure when all I could think of was her fucking mouth on my pussy and how badly I wanted her to make me cum with it.

“It’s pretty late,” I managed. “I think I’m going to stay at Jenny’s tonight…”

——–

Elle Wild here. The above story is my own work. You can find the original link (and from there, the rest of my writer profile here: [Unexpected Girls Night Out. Having too much fun to the music of… | by Elle Wild | The Scarlett Letter | Feb, 2021 | Medium](https://medium.com/the-scarlett-letter/unexpected-girls-night-out-5df12cf1ff2c) )

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/lk6x96/unexpected_girls_night_out_ff_fiction