MUSE
It’s closingnight in Toronto and the after party is insane, as expected. The DJ has the dance floor packed, and the bartenders are staying busy. People who aren’t dancing or drinking have found dark corners to make out in. I’ve run into a few people I’ve met before on a film set or at other functions, but most of these people I don’t know. That doesn’t stop me from dancing, drinking, mingling, and drinking some more. I continue to remind myself to play it cool around the big names, kind around the lesser known, and gracious when possible. Doing that has gotten me where I am today.
Given my hectic schedule and lack of sleep, I fly right past tipsy and into drunk as fuck. My buddy Steve calls this ‘fun times Chase,’ but Jamie calls it ‘dumb Chase that thinks with his dick.’ I call it not giving a fuck about anything anymore. I tip back my drink, but it’s empty, so I head for the bar again. This time, I’ve got the drunk confidence to head for the cute chick pouring drinks instead of the dude.
“What’ll it be, Mr. Cooper?” the knockout of a redhead says to me in a cute French accent. She leans over, licking her pouty lips and pushing her tits together.
“Oh, I’ve got some ideas, but how about another drink first? G&T.”
“Really? I would have guessed you were a whiskey man.”
“It’s what I want, but my trainer would absolutely murder me if I slam those back tonight.” I lean over the bar and read her name tag in the dim lights. “Chloe. How’s your night going so far?”
“Fine, but it could get so much better.” She slides me the drink, her fingers brushing over mine, holding them there a second longer than she needs to as the electricity crackles. “I’ve got some ideas for a new workout you could try. I could show you while I’m on break?” She winks and turns away. She sticks her ass out when she bends over to reach for her bag, damn near flashing me. I don’t think she’s wearing anything under that skirt.
Chloe gets to a hallway and turns back around, holds up a pack of cigarettes, and nods to a back door. I finish my drink and slip away from the bar, glancing around before I follow her down the hallway and out an emergency door that she’s propped open.
“You want a smoke?” she asks, holding the pack out to me. She’s got gorgeous green eyes, like emeralds, but it’s that mouth that has my undivided attention.
“I don’t smoke.”
“Good, neither do I.” She tosses the pack over her shoulder and I’ve got her pinned against the wall in an instant. Our mouths crash together, and the moan she gives me hits all the right notes. My knee slides between her legs as I grab a handful of her ass and squeeze hard. Fuck, she’s beautiful.
She giggles, popping open the buttons on her top. I latch onto her tit in seconds, swirling the piercing with my tongue. She’s rubbing her cunt against me to get herself off as her long leg wraps around me. She’s soaking my pants with her bare pussy, so I let go of her. I smirk when my fingers find more piercings. There’s at least two piercings down there, and I wanna play with them. My brain buzzes from the alcohol and the world spins out of control, so I close my eyes and let my body take over as she fucks my hand.
She unzips my pants and shoves her hand in. The gasp she lets out boosts my confidence, but that could be the booze.
“You’re a big boy, aren’t you?”
“Think you can take it, baby?”
I let out a low, deep moan when her fingers wrap around my cock, releasing me from the boxers. “I wanna take every inch of this cock, Daddy. Please?”
I curl my fingers inside her as my mind slips a million miles away from this small alleyway, letting my body do its thing. It’s hard to pretend there’s a connection in meaningless sex, so I’ve learned how to take my mind out of it and not overthink everything. She’s clenching around my fingers, begging for my cock, and I’m wondering what time I need to wake up to catch my early morning flight.
“Oh god, harder, Daddy! Don’t stop!” She comes apart before I’ve even got my dick in her. She’s still grinding her clit against my palm, working herself through the orgasm when I freeze.
Renate.
“Shit!” I mumble, the fog leaving my brain. I haven’t seen Ren in two weeks, and the last time we talked, she’d told me to go out and screw other people. I’m doing what she wants—railing the hell out of this pretty bartender against the wall. To get Ren out of my mind and replace her with someone whose name I won’t remember in a week?
The air thickens and I can’t breathe. I need to run. I need to get the fuck out of here.
“Everything okay, baby? I have a condom.”
“I, uhm, I can’t do this.” I gulp for air, stepping away from her and shoving my dick back into my pants. “I want to, you’re fucking beautiful, but, I kind of… there’s this girl back home, and we’re… friends, but I—shit. I’m so sorry. I’m…drunk. I’m sorry!”
“Don’t sweat it, baby. Chase Cooper just got me off in a back alley. That’s a win in my book.” She laughs, picking up the pack of smokes and tucking them into her back pocket. “Good luck with the girl back home. Although, I doubt you need it. You know where to find me if you change your mind and need someone to take care of that.” She glances down at my pants and winks. Heat climbs my neck when she gives me a kiss on the cheek and walks back inside.
I find the nearest bathroom, wash my hands, and splash ice cold water on my face. My stomach clenches as I stare into the mirror.Asshole. I pull out my phone and text Cynthia, telling her I’m going back to the hotel. This pit in the bottom of my stomach and the need to throw up won’t leave, even though I didn’t go through with fucking the bartender. If Ren and I are only fooling around, why does this guilt weigh on me? If we’re nothing more than friends, why does what I did with the bartender feel like cheating? Why can’t I get Ren out of my mind?
“Chase?”
I glance up as I’m leaving the bathroom and Cynthia stands there in a sparkling gold gown with her hair still pinned up in a neat bun. It gives her the appearance of being in her late thirties, not her mid-sixties. I rub my temples as she walks toward me, trying in vain to straighten out my shirt and get me to focus on her.
“You’ve got the look of someone suffering from an existential crisis.” She teases. “Did you get stuck in another conversation with Julio Alvez?”
“I fucked up.” I hand my phone to her, showing her a long text thread between Ren and I. Nothing dirty, just innocent conversation and flirting.
