Go to a bar

You sit there in the driveway, engine clicking as it settles, James's fingers still dancing along your inner thigh, sending little shocks through you. The tension's thick, built up from everything that's happened today, and your body's screaming for something, anything, but the idea of being stuck like this forever scares the hell out of you. Gwen's just inside the house, probably asleep, and the thought of dragging her into this mess feels way too raw, too permanent in all the wrong ways.

"James," you murmur, your voice catching as you nudge his hand back a bit to clear your head. "We can't do Gwen. It's family. What if it screws everything up for good?"

He lets out a frustrated groan, head dropping back against the seat, but when he looks at you, there's a flicker of agreement under the heat in his eyes. "Damn it, yeah. You're right."

The bag from the pharmacy is slumped in the back seat, heavy with all those little helpers, including the ones that could turn the odds in our favor without needing perfect timing.

"So the bar it is," you say, the idea spilling out fast. "Ladies' night—place will be crawling with people looking for a good time. We spot someone who's game, buy her a drink... and we make it count." You nod toward the bag. "One of those tabs in her glass, give it twenty, and she's all yours. No strings, no fallout. Gone by dawn."

James's breath stutters, his dick jumping under the sweatpants like the thought alone is enough. He pulls you in for a messy kiss, rough and needy, his hand sneaking back between your legs, stroking until you're gasping. "Hell yes. But damn, I need something now or I'll crash the car on the way."

No arguments from you. You lean over the console, shoving his sweatpants down just enough to free him—thick and hard, already leaking at the tip. You wrap your lips around him, taking him deep, tongue swirling as you bob your head. The taste of him fills your mouth, salty and urgent, and he groans low, one hand tangling in your hair to guide the rhythm. Your own hand slips under your dress, fingers circling your clit fast and slick, building that pressure while you suck him harder, hollowing your cheeks. The car's rocking slightly with it, windows fogging, and you're rubbing yourself frantic, thighs clenching as you chase your own edge. He bucks up with a curse, flooding your mouth hot and thick—you swallow what you can, the rest spilling messy down your chin as you come too, fingers buried deep, shuddering through it.

Breathing hard, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, grabbing napkins from the glove box to clean up the rest. James tucks himself away, firing up the engine with a satisfied, wolfish smile. "Okay, now we hunt."

The drive downtown's quick but buzzing—you're both eyeing the sidewalks, picturing the scene ahead: girls in tight outfits laughing over drinks, maybe one sitting solo, open to whatever the night brings.

You park a block from the place, neon buzzing overhead. James pockets one tab, his eyes sharp and hungry. "We choose together. Someone who seems like she'd be down for a ride she won't forget."

Your heart's pounding—a weird cocktail of nerves and thrill—as you push through the door into the thump of music, the swirl of bodies, the haze of scents and promise.