3:42 / AM

3:42 it happened. Again.

Her left eyebrow slowly raised itself. As if it were being pulled up by a string attached to it’s peak. Her smile shifted into a smirk in slow motion. Her eyes glazed over. She stared through me with intent. My night had just abruptly come to an end.

I was just a bit more than 1/2 drunk. Not drunk enough for me to be belligerent. But more than drunk enough to be powerless to the truth. She made this statement:”Did you know that 84% of women claim to have bi-sexual fantasies?”

The statement in itself was meaningless. However, the question that followed was fully intended to stir emotions. Perhaps not the emotions she desired. She asked, “What do you think of that?”

The initial statement had not surprised me in the least. That apparent truth had been supported by my experience dating many a bi-sexual over my adult life. The few that had no experiences at least shared those fantasies with me. There we no exceptions to that. So of course, I answered in kind. “Of course, that makes total sense to me. Pretty much everyone I’ve dated has been bi-sexual”. I was referring to no one in particular. She however, focused in. On the object of her most recent pain. She grew instantly angry. I felt the air thicken around me from the sudden winds of her tornado. In that moment, my night had ended.

She had danced me into a sexual frenzy. The bottom edges of her short dress drifting from side to side with every shift of her lovely hips. We danced, like we had not for many moons. I was in a perpetual state of arousal. Lacking the power to control myself against her sway.

She had removed her very small g-string an hour earlier at my request. Only a vale of silky thin material between my hand and her bare ass. She was most certainly aroused by the persistent glare of sexual intentions in my eyes. We both knew the night could only end one way. That mad, passionate love making that comes only after hours of foreplay.

She stood in front of me facing in the same direction. I was sitting. She danced while I rubbed my hands up and down her clean-shaven legs. Trying not to be obvious to the other occupants of the filled room. I ran my right hand gently up her left inner thigh. She swayed her vagina onto my thumb. Grinding as I fucked her to the beat. It was a hip-hop song. She continued dancing as if I weren’t there. The blank stare remained on her face. She knew not to alert the crowd of her excitement and ecstasy.

It was 3:41. I wanted to capitalize on the moment. We needed to leave. We needed the privacy of an empty bed, a private couch, the front seat of a car, anywhere we could go so that I could penetrate her, and give her what her body had been begging for. And mine had been pleading to let her have.

The second hand hit the top of the clock. And it all crumbled like a sand structure in the midst of a serious earthquake. A pile of dust is all that was left.