Plan Z

My first week in Spain, I woke up each morning to the sun, drank a cup of coffee on my balcony, took Spanish lessons in the afternoon, and dipped into the ocean alone at sunset, allowing the salty water to wash over me. My second week in Spain, I met two sisters from Madrid here to enjoy a holiday similar to mine. After a handful of long lunches, they invited me to go dancing with them at a small club near the ocean. I haven’t been out dancing in what feels like years, and as I do my silver hoops and lipstick, a rush of excitement hits my stomach—I almost forgot this feeling.

We enter the club, and the jostle of people’s sticky bodies rub against me as they sway to the dull throb of music. We grab a drink at the bar and make our way into the crowd to join the sway. It’s not long before I feel a man’s hand snake around my waist and pull me into him.

“Is this okay?” he asks; as I turn my neck to look at him, I let out a small breath. I can see his big brown eyes and soft curls framing his face in the darkness. I nod my head and hold his gaze. He smiles and pulls me closer.

“My name is Ex,” he says, “and you’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” I say, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

I close my eyes and turn away, savoring the feel of our bodies moving perfectly in sync with the music. Our dancing is quickly becoming more sensual than the beat, more explorative. I slide my hand behind me and under his shirt, running my fingers over his hard stomach, pressing the back of my head into his chest. He has one hand gripped to my hip and the other cupping under my breast. It isn’t long before I feel he’s hard, pressed tightly against my back.

I turn my head to the side as Ex trails a gentle kiss down my neck, and I lock eyes with a man watching us from the bar. Where Ex’s face is boyish and bright, this man holds a smoldering gaze, studying us. He stands tall and broad, and his eyes bore into me as I feel my stomach clench. His light eyes offset jet-black hair and several days’ dark stubble. Something comes over me, and I extend my hand long, beckoning him over with a finger. He raises an eyebrow, amused, before shifting off the bar and walking over to us on the dancefloor.

As he gets closer to us, my heart begins to race. Although I am living from one moment to the next, I feel powerful, alive, and fully in control of the situation quickly unfolding before me. Ex holds me close as this stranger bends down, a hand on my face as he whispers in my ear.

“Are you two together?”

I shake my head, refusing to break eye contact, soaking in what I make out to be a slight Australian accent over the loud sounds of the club. I know that Ex has heard him and can still feel his hardness pressed against me,

“Do you want to be?” he asks.

“I want to dance,” I say, and suddenly, I am situated between these two men, working in unison to make me feel the heat of the music. I don’t care if anyone is watching us or where the night is going. Our bodies move harmoniously as each beat pushes my ass into Ex and my pelvis into the new stranger. I am single, happy, and alive. I groan as I lean into Ex, and as my head tilts back, my stranger grasps the back of my exposed neck.

“I want to kiss you. Is that okay?”

I nod and close my eyes as I feel his mouth on mine. My lips part for him, and our tongues roll together. His hands travel up my torso and down my thighs. Our kiss is only heightened by Ex behind me, grinding his cock into me through our clothes and breathing heavily into my ear. Every hair on the back of my neck stands up as I feel four strong hands roving over my body, getting teasingly close to the places I want them to be but never actually getting all the way there. I glance around for my friends, the sisters, and they blow me a kiss from the bar, thoroughly enjoying the predicament I’ve gotten myself into.

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