1. Get Laid?

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~FIONA CARLSON~

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"Come on, Fi. Don't be a spoilt sport. Live a little."  Heidi, one of my oldest friends, hooked her arm with mine as we walked through the mall. It was a Saturday afternoon and we had nothing better to do. 

Heidi's three-year-old was with her paternal grandmother and I was single with no children. Then again, I was only twenty-six as compared to the thirty-year-old friend I had because of our fathers going way back. 

"I don't do clubbing no more. I am tired after a week of toiling away at Russo Corp and would like some rest now." I tried giving her the infamous pout but she was not one to fall for it. 

"Nope. We are going and that's final." 

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The day I somehow manage to get my way with things, it would be worth celebrating. Because after all the declining I did, here I was at this stuffy nightclub, downing tequila shots like it was my Monday morning coffee. 

"And someone said they had no sorrows to drink away!" Heidi rolled her eyes next to me. 

I gave her a flat look. "Let me live a little." I slurred. 

"Yes yes..." She chuckled. Both of our attention fell on her phone, which was vibrating on top of her black glittered purse. 

It read, "Her Royal Devilishness." 

"Who's that?" I asked, hiccupping.

"My mother-in-law." Heidi grinned at me before picking up the call. "Yes, Grace?" 

"Uh-huh."

"Uh-huh."

"I am so sorry about that, Grace. I will be right there."

Heidi hung up and rolled her eyes again. "My husband did not pick Poppy up and Grace has a kitty party to get to. I guess we have to leave now." 

"You leave. I am staying." I hugged my shot glass.

"You are in no state to be left alone right now darling so you are coming with me." 

"No. Let me live a little." I slurred, throwing her words back at her. 

"Don't worry, I will make sure she gets on a cab and leaves safely." The bartender who was serving us for the past two hours and listening to my sob stories pitched in, her eyes warm and joyful despite her goth attire.

"I-" 

"Go." 

I shooed her away before continuing to converse with Ray, the bartender. 

"Ms. Carlson."

I whipped my head in the direction of the voice, feeling dread because one, I felt like I recognized that voice, and two, even if it was someone else I did not want anyone I knew except Heidi, Mazy, and maybe Ray, the bartender, to see me in the state I was in. 

"Signore Russo!" My shrill voice hurt even my own ears so I could not blame poor billionaire Dante Russo for looking like he got pinched in the ear by a Florida stone crab. 

"Signora, maybe you wanna calm down there," Ray spoke up, smiling at Mr. Russo. "I take it that you know her?"

"I am her boss." His voice was cold and emotional. 

"Oh boy," Ray said. I know right? I don't know why but I feel like I am in a hell of a lot of trouble. 

"How about I take you home now, Ms. Carlson?" He asked. 

"I don't think that will be a great idea," Ray said. I love this Ray girl. She is a girl's girl. I love her. 

"Ray, I love you!" I yelled. "Will you do me the honor of being my best friend forever?" 

She laughed despite the tension in the air. "I would be honored but now, you need to go home." She was taking off her funky apron that was part of the otherwise liberal uniform. 

"I said I will take care of that." Mr. Russo's voice was thick with his Italian accent. Was it possible to smell his accent? Because I wanted to. 

"She is drunk." Ray tried. 

"I know." He grabbed my bag and phone off the table and pulled out his wallet, passing Ray his black card. "We are leaving." 

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Albert, his driver, brought Mr. Russo's black Rolls Royce to the entrance of the club and I was ushered into it like my mother used to usher me to the school bus. 

"Ms. Carlson?" Albert seemed surprised. 

"Long story short, your boss is a party pooper!" 

Albert looked at the grim look on Mr. Russo's face and then back at me before shrugging, "He is both of our bosses." 

I could not reply because Mr. Russo pressed the switch to pull up the privacy partition. 

"Hey, I was talking to him!" I scowled. 

"What were you thinking?" He asked, completely ignoring my annoyance.

"That I was talking to Albert?"

"What were you thinking getting drunk like this?" 

"I thought I should live a little. Get laid a little." I had no idea what where the last part came from but the smell of whiskey and this man's scent and the sweat glistening on his exposed chest was brewing a sex potion in my nether regions. 

"Get laid?" He was turning red. 

I do not know why he was turning red. What did he care?

"I have needs." I held up my index finger for a whole speech but he slapped it away. 

"You have needs huh? So you are ready to fuck any sleaze you find on the street?"

"In the club, yes." I nodded, matter of factly. 

His anger was starting to sober me up and it was fun to see him all riled up. 

"Alright." He became cold all of a sudden and I felt a lump in my chest. 

Tension filled the backseat.

He leaned in, grabbing the back of my head and pressing his lips to mine. I stayed frozen for a few seconds but he was demanding. He nipped and pulled at my lips until I finally gave him access. Then his tongue invaded my mouth, lapping at every inch it could touch, his lips moulding with mine. A moan escaped smothered as his hands found my breasts. He showed no hesitance in lowering my spaghetti straps and cupping my naked mounts.

He pulled enough long to say, "You are not wearing a bra." 

I gasped when he painfully pinched my nipples. 

"Last minute plan. I didn't have one that went with the dress." 

And then his lips were back on mine. He kissed me with open mouth and then trailed down to my chin and then my neck, biting and nipping. I gasped every time and in response, he soothed them with kisses and licks. 

"Are you wearing panties?" He asked as his mouth reached my right breast. He grabbed my ass cheeks hard and pulled me to his lap before continuing to suck my breast while kneading my ass. 

"Yes!" I gasped out, covering my mouth when I saw the silhouette of Albert turn his head just a bit before staring ahead. He must be so used to this in the back of this car but as a first-timer, even though fully wasted, I was embarrassed. 

"Take your dress off." It was an order. 

Sober, I might have said no for the tone in which he spoke to me. 

But I was drunk and needy, or I had the excuse to use later, so I immediately obeyed him and scrambled off of him, shimmying the golden glitter dress off, leaving me in just my black thong while Mr. Russo sat there, his eyes pools of black ink, as he sat there fully clad in a suit while taking in every bit of me. 

"Everything off." 

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