Game On(3)

The tiny glass bottles in the minibar clinked as I jerked the door open. I needed a drink. I needed one bad. Somehow in the insanity of the bag and my unmentionables spilling onto the floor of the lobby of a very fancy hotel, I had forgotten, briefly, that my boyfriend of six months had broken up with me and I was getting evicted from my apartment.

“That shithead,” I muttered to myself, staring at the tiny bottles of booze. The price list lay on top of the fridge, but I didn’t want to look. Not yet. I knew I couldn’t afford them, but I didn’t want to know how much I couldn’t afford them. Surely there was a bar nearby that had cheap beer on tap, or maybe a bottle of tequila they were looking to unload.

I pushed back my hair, which had gone frizzy from sweat and frustration, and closed the fridge door. I was going to be following Nathan Ryder for the next week. I couldn’t be mooning over Nick or thinking about how I was going to get my clothes home or worrying about finding a new place.

I pushed back my hair, which had gone frizzy from the humidity and closed the fridge door. I was going to be following Nathan Ryder for the next week. I couldn’t be mooning over Nick or thinking about how I was going to get my clothes home or worrying about finding a new place.

Suddenly the bar shook, the glass bottles inside clinking against each other as something jolted the wall. Then jolted it again. And again. It took a moment for me to realize that the pounding sound was being made by a headboard making contact with the wall. In a few moments, it became abundantly clear that whoever was in the next room, was having a good time. A really good time.

I knew I should probably step away from the wall, or at least turn on the TV or some music and give these people their privacy, but instead, I found myself leaning closer, straining to hear what was happening. My palms were sweating, my mouth was dry. And as it turned out, I didn’t need to make any extra effort to hear the actions going on in the next room. My neighbors were more than happy to make it very, very easy to hear what was happening.

The rhythmic thudding of the headboard against the wall was soon followed by low, clearly female moans, building rapidly in succession. Someone was treating her very, very well. My pulse sped up in my throat and I felt my nipples tighten. It had been a long, long time since I had felt anything that would encourage me to make those same sounds and it took hearing it to realize how desperately I wanted it. Heat pooled in my chest and slid down lower, lower until my sadly neglected lady parts were tingling with anticipation.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” came the voice on the other side of the wall. I imagined what was happening, her beneath him, his hips slamming against hers, his hands grabbing her breasts, her hips, pulled her legs up, opening her wide. Or maybe she was on top, her hips moving the bed. It could be anything, but I imagined that he was on top, deep inside of her. He was kissing her, I could hear it, her moans muffled against his neck. Or maybe his shoulder. Her fingers were probably clutching his shoulders as he thrust against her, the entire bed shaking with the effort.

I realized my own hands were clenched as I listened to a stranger come in the next room.

“Fuck yes!” she screamed, and I could practically hear her shudder her release. I let out a shaky breath, waiting for the headboard banging to stop, but it didn’t. Nope, whoever this guy was he wasn’t finished. And whoever she was, well, I couldn’t help wishing I was in her place. Lucky girl. The pounding continued, but this time it was slower, more controlled. Clearly this guy had lasting power. They were taking their time now, and I could hear the woman’s voice murmuring something low, followed by the husky laugh of her partner. It didn’t take long for the rhythm to build up speed again, her moans making the walls (and my nerves) vibrate. I was hot, so f*cking hot, but goose bumps had sprung up across my skin. I was afraid I might explode just from listening to them.

“Come on, baby,” I heard the guy, his voice deep and sexy. “I want to feel you come.” The sound of the headboard hitting, mixed with her frantic gasps, made everything in my body tense as if I was the one about to reach an orgasm. And when she came for the second time, she let out a moan that made me shudder. But it was his gasp, a deep guttural release that made my lady parts explode with need. My vibrator was good, but it wasn’t that good. And I wasn’t even going to think about how unsatisfied Nick had left me on more than one occasion, after passing out on top of me in a pot-induced stupor. But the couple next door had woken something inside of me. I had thought I could go without that, without headboard banging, multiple orgasmic sex, but I had just been deluding myself.

As they lay in their room, their bed quiet, their voices mixing together, in between laughter and kissing, I placed my hand on the wall, half turned on, half totally pissed that it had been three long months since I had experienced anything half as good as what they seemed to be sharing. Everything below my waist trembled. I was jealous. So totally jealous and I hated that feeling. I hated the sensation of being left wanting, but that’s what I felt. Because right now all I wanted was what they had. At the moment all I wanted was to get some too. And hey, if he wanted to cuddle afterwards, that would be fine. But unfortunately that wasn’t what I was here for. I didn’t have the time. The mind-bending sex would have to wait.

I took a deep breath, and then bent down, opened the fridge and stuck as much as my head as I could fit in there. The cold gave me the shock I needed and I sucked in the freezing air, waking up my system, shaking off the hot desire that had coursed through me. Focus, Sophie, focus, I thought and stood up, my lips cold. Hot, intense sex could wait, couldn’t it? I had survived this long, I could survive a little longer. I had work that I needed to do. I pressed them together, trying to remind myself why I was here.