Look up old girlfriends

You decide the best thing to take your mind off of Doe is to hook up with someone else, re-live memories that have nothing to do with her or how she tore your heart out and stepped on it.

Looking in your little black book, you find yourself remembering one of the hottest nights of your life, and trying to figure out which girl it was - all the memories sort of blend together in your fragile state. Your memory is a little hazy as to her name, but you remember meeting the statuesque brownette that night in the club at the bar, how you'd smiled at her over your drink, admiring how she filled that tight minidress, and feeling the mutual attraction thick in the air, as tangible as the smell of smoke or the heavy bass thumping of the music. Soon enough you were out in the crowd, with barely enough room to dance, so the two of you clearly had **** other than to press up against one another - you cupping her ass as she shook her body in front of you, she reaching back to caress your thigh. There was a concert that night, and soon the lights dropped on the floor so the focus was on the band onstage, and your hand groped lower, gripping her inner thigh below the hem of her dress, then caressing upward while her hand moved up to stroke the straining bulge of your cock, both of you exploring by feel, watching the stage as if nothing was happening, the crowd around you bumping your arm or her arm, each inadvertent contact making one of you gasp and fingers pressed harder, probed deeper. Soon your fingers had pulled aside her panties and were plunging into her wet snatch, just as her hand had disappeared down your pants to jack you off faster and faster. In the end, you'd had to pull away to avoid staining your clothes by cumming all over your pants, but she'd followed you to the fresh air out the back exit, and as the crowd screamed their adulation of the band, you were pumping your dick into her, propped up against the gritty brick wall, the two of you screaming in orgasm with the crowd inside.

Flipping through your book, you realize that you never got that girl's name or her number. But there were plenty of others: your high school girlfriends, a girl on the high school debate team, girls from your high school swim team, those girls who worked with you at the fast food restaurant, girls you took to the movie theater, girls you took up to lover's lane, a girl from your college economics class, girls who lived in the same dorm as you, girls you met at other clubs, a female professor, your college girlfriends, and the woman you worked with at the bank.