1 Happy Birthday to Me

His breath was just as exotic as his looks. He leaned in to put the most perfect set of lips Jessie had ever seen on a man to good use. Slowly, gently, they felt each other out, looking for that fit that new lovers always seek, that balance of pressure and fit that had the potential of turning a flame into a raging inferno.

Jessie so wanted to focus on that full lower lip, suckling, nibbling until he moaned for more, but this wasn't the time. This was the time for keeping things simple, feeling him out. Learning the right buttons to push at the right time. He most assuredly was pushing all the right buttons with her with warm hands anchored on her waist and a strong, firm body from what she had felt so far. She wanted more.

Stepping in closer, his mouth opened, inviting Jessie to deepen their kiss. Their tongues entwined. She couldn't get enough of him as her insides turned into liquid heat. When she grazed the roof of his mouth with the tip of her tongue, he moaned. His hands moved from her waist. One hand pressed against Jessie's midback. The other cupped her ass, pulling her in closer until her curves pressed into the heat of his body.

Wanting more, she slid her hands from where they rested on his chest to encircle his neck, her fingertips sliding into his hairline. His midnight-dark hair was thick and silky. Another time, she could have gotten lost there, but a more urgent need pressed against her stomach. Jessie could think of a much wetter, hotter place for that appendage than in his pants.

Jessie couldn't resist raising her leg and hooking an ankle around his hip. He took the hint and lifted her, hands beneath her ass, urging her to grind against the length of his cock.

At that moment, with his mouth now on her neck and her body throbbing against the way too short jean shorts that every waitress at The Buzzed Bee wore, Jessie would have given a month's pay to be somewhere more private. Instead, the smell of spilled beer permeated the storage room. The bass thumped on the other side of the door. It fought for dominance over the roar of the partying crowd.

Jessie never did this. She never helped herself to a willing customer, especially on company time. She never left the floor until closing, not even for breaks, but tonight was different. It was her birthday—her fortieth birthday, and the fifth anniversary of her untimely divorce to David, her high school sweetheart and the asshole who shredded her heart and destroyed her trust in humanity. For once, she wanted to know what it felt to be touched by someone else. This was her gift to herself, this mindless passion with someone she never expected to see again.

And what a way to celebrate. She dipped her head, seeking out that killer mouth, missing those plump lips, the spicy breath, and the way his tongue played with hers until she wanted to meld into his body.

A shrill whistle startled her into dropping her grip around his neck, and she slid to the floor.

"Jessie. Floor. Now."

The door that Jessie failed to hear open closed with a bang, taking with it the steam out of her impromptu ploy for passion.

She realized she was still holding onto her stranger. Jessie stepped back and ran her hands through her short hair, wondering if her no-smear, all-day lipstick had stood up to the hot and heavy makeout session when he reached over and cupped her face.

"Let me," he said.

With a tilt of his head, he brushed his thumb along the corner of her lip.

"No good." He held the thumb up. "Lick."

"Huh?"

"Spit. I need moisture to clean up your lip line."

"Ah." Oddly modest now, Jessie hesitated.

With a cocked eyebrow and the hint of a smile, he asked, "Or would you rather I use my own?"

That settled it, and she licked his thumb, trying not to think about some other body part where she would have rather used her tongue.

Gently, he cupped her jaw and tilted her head toward the light before cleaning up her lip line.

"There. Better." He stepped back and assessed her thoroughly. "Clothes are straight. The flushed look is fading. Makeup will pass under the dim bar lights. Good to go."

The flush returned under his gaze. "I've got to go."

She turned and rushed to the door.

"Jessie? You don't want my name? My number?" He called after her.

"No."

The noise from the bar drowned out anything else he might say as Jessie opened the door and rushed out.

She muttered to herself as she rushed to her tables, "Best birthday present ever."