Chapter 1: Bathroom Confessions
The bass from the pub’s speakers thumped through the floorboards, a dull heartbeat against the soles of Divakar’s shoes. His phone buzzed for the third time in ten minutes. He finally pulled it out, the screen glowing with Tanya’s name over a picture of her laughing, her dark hair whipping across her face.He answered.
“He’s a fucking bastard.” Her voice was a raw scrape, half-drowned by the roar of traffic. She’d been crying.
“Where are you?” Divakar asked, already shrugging on his jacket.“Don’t know.Just walking.He threw a vase. Missed my head, hit the wall.” A shaky inhale.“I need a drink. Meet me at The Hole.”
“I’m on my way.”
The Hole was exactly that—a dim, narrow cave of a pub where the beer was cheap and the lights stayed low enough to hide most sins. He found her at the far end of the bar, a line of empty shot glasses already standing like little glass soldiers in front of her.She wore a tight black dress, the strap on one shoulder torn. A bruise was blooming on her upper arm, vivid and purple against her skin.
“Hey,” he said, sliding onto the stool next to her.She turned, her eyes glassy with tears and vodka. Without a word, she leaned into him, burying her face in his shoulder. He caught the scent of her perfume, jasmine, and beneath it, the sharp tang of sweat and panic. His hand came up, hesitated, then settled on her back. He could feel the tremors running through her.“Fuck him,” she muttered into his shirt.
“Fuck him,” Divakar agreed, his voice low. He caught the bartender’s eye, pointed at her glasses, and held up two fingers.They drank.Another round came. The music swelled, something with a deep, primal rhythm that seeped into the bones. Tanya slammed her latest shot down, the glass cracking against the wood.The vulnerability in her eyes hardened, replaced by a reckless, burning glow.
“Dance with me,” she said, it wasn’t a question.
She grabbed his hand, her fingers hot and tight, and pulled him onto the cramped dance floor. Bodies pressed in on all sides, a sweaty, undulating mass. Tanya moved immediately, a rhythmic sway that was all hips and rolling shoulders. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, letting the beat take over. Divakar tried to match her, but his movements felt clumsy, too aware of the space between them.Then she turned, backing into him.Her ass pressed firm against his groin. She ground against him in time with the music, a slow, deliberate circle. He stiffened, a jolt of pure electricity shooting up his spine. He tried to shift back, but there was nowhere to go—just more bodies.She felt it.Of course she felt it. The hard length of him, straining against his jeans.She gasped, a short, sharp intake of breath heard over the music. Her grinding didn’t stop; it became more insistent. She reached back, one hand snaking behind her to grab his thigh, pulling him even tighter against her.
Then she turned her head, her lips brushing the rough stubble of his cheek. Her voice was a hot, vodka-soaked whisper in his ear, the words perfectly clear despite the surrounding roar. “I need to taste it, Diva.Right now.”
Every rational thought, every thread of loyalty, snapped.
His hand clamped around her wrist.He didn’t speak. He just dragged her, weaving violently through the dancing crowd, ignoring the annoyed shouts. He shouldered open the door to the men’s bathroom—a wall of sound and stale, humid air hitting them. Neon light bled from a broken fixture, painting everything in sickly green and red.The floor was sticky. A sink was clogged with melting ice and lime wedges.He checked the stalls. One locked, the other empty, door hanging ajar. He kicked it open, pulled Tanya in after him, and slammed the bolt home.The world shrank to the four graffitied walls of the stall. The music was muffled here, just a deep, percussive throb. Light slashed under the door.Tanya looked up at him, her chest heaving. The reckless fire was all that was left.He didn’t kiss her. He grabbed the hem of her little black dress and yanked it up around her waist. His fingers hooked into the sides of her black lace panties and dragged them down her thighs.They pooled around her ankles.
“Sit,” he growled, his voice foreign to his own ears.She obeyed, perching on the closed toilet seat. He dropped to his knees on the filthy floor.The cold tiles bit through his jeans. He hooked his hands under her knees, wrenching them apart. She was already wet, her folds glistening in the low, harsh light.He could smell her—musky, sweet, desperate.
He didn’t tease. He buried his face between her thighs, his tongue finding her clit in one firm, flat stroke.She cried out, her hands flying to his hair, fisting violently. He locked his arms around her legs to keep her still and ate her out like a man starving. His tongue worked her hard and fast, a relentless, circling pressure, then flattening to lap at her, drinking her in. He shoved two fingers inside her, curling them, fucking her with them in a rough, steady rhythm.
“Oh God… oh fuck, Diva…” Her words broke into gasps.Her hips bucked against his face.He felt her body tensing, tightening around his fingers. He sucked her clit into his mouth, applying a vicious, delicious pressure.
She came with a shattered moan, her whole body shaking, her thighs clamping around his head. He rode her through it, his tongue gentling until she was pushing his head away, oversensitive and trembling.
Before she could recover, he came up, and kissed her on her mouth, making her taste herself on his lips as they share her taste, he’s fumbling with his belt buckle. His cock sprang free, thick and violently hard, jutting out from his body. A bead of pre-cum already gleamed at the tip.Tanya’s eyes locked onto it, wide and dark. Without a word, she slid off the toilet seat, landing on her knees before him. She didn’t hesitate.Her hand wrapped around the base, her grip firm. She leaned forward and took just the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the crown.A low groan tore from his throat.
Then she took him deeper.And deeper. Her other hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently as she worked her mouth down his shaft. She gagged once, pulled back with a string of saliva, then dove back down, taking him all the way. The head of his cock hit the back of her throat, and she relaxed into it, swallowing around him.
“Fuck, Tanya…” he breathed, his head thumping back against the stall wall.
His hands went back to her hair, not guiding, just holding on as she set a brutal pace. She deep-throated him, pulling off to lick and suck the length of him before swallowing him whole again. It was sloppy, wet, and raw.The sounds were obscene—gagging, sucking, his own ragged breaths. He watched, mesmerized, as her lips stretched around his girth, her mascara smudged, her eyes watering.The pressure built, a hot, coiling tension in his gut. “I’m gonna come,” he warned, his voice strained.She didn’t pull away. She just looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, and took him deeper, her throat convulsing around him.That was all it took. With a choked shout, he came, his hips jerking forward as he spilled into her mouth. She gagged again but held him there, swallowing once, twice, until he was spent, until he was softening in her mouth.
She finally pulled back, catching her breath, a trail of cum on her chin. She wiped it with the back of her hand, never breaking his gaze.The lock rattled.Someone jiggled the stall door handle. “Occupied!” Divakar barked, the word rough.
The silence that followed was heavier than the music.He tucked himself back into his jeans, zipped up. Tanya stood, pulling her panties up, smoothing her dress down. She found a piece of toilet paper, wiped her chin.They didn’t speak.
When he unchained the bolt and opened the door, the pub’s noise rushed back in. They walked out, past the guy waiting by the urinals, past their own reflections in the foggy, dirty mirror—strangers with dark, knowing eyes.
He took her hand again, leading her out of the bathroom, back into the pulsing dark of the pub.The night wasn’t over. It had just begun.