Chapter 1: Dirty Lessons at Last Call
The bass line was a physical thing, a thrumming pulse that moved up through the soles of Liz’s shoes and settled deep in her bones. Elmo’s Place was a sweaty, neon-drenched box of sound and bodies, and she was determined to lose herself in it. The sting of finding Mark’s texts to that girl in his sociology class was still fresh, a raw wound she was trying to scrub clean with cheap vodka and loud music.
She backed into Amber, grinding her ass against her best friend’s hips in time with the beat. “He’s a fucking idiot,” Amber yelled into her ear, her breath warm against the shell.
“I know!” Liz shouted back, the words feeling true for the first time all week. She tossed her fiery red hair, a deliberate performance for anyone watching. Let them look. Her tight top and mini skirt were armor.
Then she saw him. Across the writhing mass of the dance floor, leaning against the long, gleaming bar, was Mr. Aggadi. Her former math teacher. His dark eyes were already locked on her, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. It was a look that had no business in a classroom, but here, in the sticky dark, it sent a bolt of pure, undiluted heat straight to her core. She felt herself clench, wetness blooming against her thong.
“Amber,” she hissed, her rhythm faltering.
Amber followed her gaze. “No fucking way. Is that…?”
Before she could answer, the two men were cutting through the crowd toward them. Mr. Aggadi moved with a lazy confidence, while Mr. Johnson trailed behind him, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Ladies,” Alex Aggadi’s voice was a low rumble that cut through the music. He didn’t shout. He knew they’d hear him. “Fancy seeing you here.” His gaze swept over Liz, lingering on the swell of her breasts. “Those IDs must be masterpieces.”
Liz’s heart hammered against her ribs. This was trouble. This was also the most alive she’d felt in days.
“Mr. Aggadi. Mr. Johnson,” Amber said, her voice tight.
“I think we’re past that, don’t you?” Alex smiled. “It’s Alex. And this is Carl.”
Carl Johnson gave a tight, uncomfortable nod. His eyes darted to Amber, then away, but not before Liz saw the flicker of something hungry in them.
Then Alex’s hand was on her. It was calloused, rough against the smooth skin of her thigh. He didn’t ask. His fingers slid under the hem of her mini skirt, his thumb stroking slow, possessive circles high up on her leg. Liz’s breath hitched. She should knee him in the balls. She should walk away. Instead, she leaned into the touch.
“You look like you need a real man to wipe that pathetic look off your face,” Alex murmured, his mouth close to her ear. His breath was warm and smelled of whiskey. “I’ve been imagining bending you over my desk since you were seventeen. You’d look perfect with your ass in the air and that red hair spread across my grade book.”
A shocked, filthy thrill shot through her. Her pussy throbbed in response, a needy, aching pulse.
She glanced at Amber and saw Carl had her pinned against the bar’s edge. He was speaking into her neck, his body shielding hers from the crowd. Amber’s eyes were wide, but she wasn’t pushing him away. One of her hands was fisted in the fabric of his shirt.
“She’s still got her trainers on,” Carl was saying, his voice a low, rough thing Liz had to strain to hear. “I want to see you in just those. Just those little white trainers and nothing else, spread out on my kitchen table while I eat your perfect little cunt.”
“Jesus,” Amber whimpered, her head falling back.
Alex’s fingers pressed harder, higher. “See? We all have needs. And you, Elizabeth Carson, look like you need to be fucked hard until you forget your own name.”
He was right. The betrayal, the hurt, it was all morphing into a raw, reckless hunger. She was wetter than she’d ever been with Mark. This was dangerous. This was wrong. This was exactly what she wanted.
“Your place or mine?” Liz heard herself say, the words bold and slutty and exactly what the moment demanded.
Alex’s smirk widened into a victorious grin. He didn’t answer with words. He just took her hand and started pulling her through the crowd, toward the exit. She glanced back once. Carl had Amber’s hand, leading her out a side door. Amber met her eyes for a split second, a look of shared, terrified excitement passing between them before they were both swallowed by the night.