That night, Janet forgot who she was. Someone's mother, someone's wife, but now she was no one. She was just a Milf preying upon a young soul.
It all started on women's day out. Janet was desperate to take a break, from life, from marriage and just about everything else. And the opportunity just happened to drop upon her when her friends "Sarah" and "Mary" asked her to join them on a women's day out.
Janet was fed up being a housewife and wanted more to herself. More Than a wife, a mother and much like feminist she just couldn't shake the feeling of being left out. Even after having a loyal husband and a gentleman like son, Ben.
For the first time in many years Janet became selfish for herself. She ran off straight through the door and never looked back, as if leaving all her past behind.
It was a sky view county, famous for its rich nightlife. That was in every way epic and wild. With male gigolos waiting at every corner. Particularly in nightclubs. And this is where everything starts to fade. Janet and her friends were at the club, with a wild crowd towering over them. People leaning, touching all over the place. It was a sex drive that screamed throughout the atmosphere.
The music was too loud and the lights were dimly lit with neon like drizzles across the place. The more Janet watched the more tempted she was. Her body started to feel the growing tension, the silent orgasm.
She hadn't dressed to impress anyone that night. Just a black dress that hugged her hips tighter than she'd remembered it did, a little too much gloss on her lips, and a spritz of perfume that hadn't touched her skin in months.
Mary and Sarah were drunk beyond control and were already halfway through their third round of cocktail, laughing too loud, flirting too freely. They decided to take a break and go to their room for a moment of peace.
Janet was alone drinking a beer, nothing too wild but then her eyes met with Charles.
He was barely a man by the standards of her world, but he sure did move like one. Tall, lean, careless. His smile was reckless. Just about the same age as Mary's son.
Charles voluntarily made his way towards her, confident in a way that made her heart twist. He leaned in closer barely touching her body, as if they were already acquainted.
"You don't belong here," he said, his breath brushing her ear.
She laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "Neither do you."
But that was all a lie. He did belong there in the pretense of the wild vibe and drunken nature of the night. She on the other hand didn't belong there, she had a family to care for, but tonight, she let that truth slip between the cracks in her memory.
As Janet and Charles were talking their way out through their differences. Charles wanted to get her more comfortable, so he took her hand to the stage as they danced—too close, too slow for the kind of music that played. Her hands instinctively found it's way to his shoulders. His fingers trailed down and reached her back. The heat between them felt criminal.
"What's your name?" she asked.
He smiled, "Does it matter?"
His lips met hers and before she could speak again she lost her body. Gentle at first, almost respectful. But then hunger took its turn. The playful kiss turned dangerous, uncharted. He kissed her like he wanted to claim her—like he had the right.
And she didn't stop, she let him devour her like a piece of cake dripped in nectar.
Pressed up against a mirrored wall in the corner of the club, hidden in plain sight, Janet moaned into his mouth. Her hand slid up his shirt, grazing over his taut skin, her touch trembling.
"I shouldn't," she whispered softly, but she didn't pull away.
"Then don't," he replied, kissing her harder. "Just feel."
His hands knew no hesitation. They explored her waist, the curve of her back, the edge of her thigh where her dress had risen too high. The bass of the music matched the racing of her heart as his fingers danced dangerously close to where her thighs met.
At that moment, Janet wasn't anyone's anything. Just a woman, craving for a desperate touch. A heart aching for escape.
They slipped out the back of the club and into the isolated lane. The alley was warm from the breath of the night, and when he pressed her against the wall, she didn't resist.
Her dress lifted off. His belt unbuckled. The air between them tremble with great anticipation.
And when he slid inside her, she gasped—not from pain or pleasure, but from the shock of who she had become. A whore, a slut, a cheating woman.
Every thrust was a rebellion. Every moan, a betrayal. And yet—she clung to him like salvation, freedom in the dark.
Pulling it out just in time to give her a natural facial. Slowly and eventually it was all over, they stood there, panting, the air thick with sweat and sin.
"I won't ask for your number," he said, voice husky. "But I'll never forget you."
Janet nodded slowly, pulling her dress down. The spell was broken. Her body remembered who she was. Her heart, though—it wasn't sure anymore. Was it too much, or was she like this from the start.