Free One Hot Night by Megan West Page A

people, acquaintances really, who were into
it. And, of course, there was Bethany. Privately, she supposed that the idea of
letting someone take charge, of being trapped in a scenario where there was
nothing for her to do but feel… it did
seem alluring. But she had a hard enough time finding men for regular sex that
weren’t total assholes. She wasn’t sure that men who enjoyed dealing out pain
would be any better—and she suspected they might be significantly worse.

 
        She decided to go simple. She didn’t have a
lot in the way of skimpy clothing, since her preferred night out was a good
gastropub and maybe some live music or a walk through the city to the next bar
that had good beer on tap. She liked the kind of nights that involved a pair of
worn-in, rolled-up chinos and a loose blouse, with flats for walking. But she
supposed, for Bethany, she could make the effort.

 
        She pulled a short black dress from the back
of her closet. She had maybe worn it once before, to a nightclub opening that
one of her friends had been a DJ for. She was sensing a theme here.

 
    It hit mid-thigh,
and the fabric was skin-tight. She silently thanked herself for having been
going to the gym regularly. The dress had thin straps, and a deep v that
definitely revealed more than she was used to.

 
        She rummaged through her underwear drawer,
settling on a black silk thong that wouldn’t leave any lines in the tight
dress, and a leopard print push-up bra. She shimmied into the dress, hopping up
and down once or twice, and tugged up the zipper with a little effort. Once she
was in, however, she had to admit she looked pretty good. It was a clear
departure from her usual wardrobe—either work or casual.   She settled for brushing out her thick, dark
brown hair and curling the ends. Anything else wouldn’t last when she got
outside, anyway.

 
        Glancing at her watch, she saw it was
nine-thirty. She hurriedly pulled out her makeup bag, doing a quick job of her
face. She focused more on her eyes, shadowing and lining them in record time until
they looked wide and smoky. Then she swept on rose-colored lipstick before
smacking her lips with a slight smile.

 
        She rummaged for a pair of heels, settling
on lace-up stilettos, and quickly slid in her one pair of diamond stud
earrings, a graduation gift from her mother years ago. She grabbed a black
clutch, tossed in her apartment key, ID, credit card and the lipstick, and
reached for her phone to dial a taxi, taking a deep breath.

 
        I
guess I really am doing this. She thought to herself as she walked out the
front door with a heavy sigh.

 
    ***

 
        She texted Bethany from the taxi.

 
    - I’m on my way. No promises on how long I’m
staying.-

 
        Her phone chimed a few seconds later.

 
    - Good! I’m so excited! I think you’ll enjoy
it!-

 
        Bethany was clearly excited. And why
shouldn’t she be? Katherine reasoned. Even if it wasn’t a particularly
traditional career path, Bethany loved it. Her friend had paid her way through
college by stripping and graduated with a degree in psychology, but she hadn’t
wanted to go on to graduate school. She’d moved to San Francisco with Katherine
largely because it was a city that was so accepting.

 
    Katherine had
followed a job offer. Some days, during particularly slow hours at the office, she
wondered if she had made a mistake by following such a traditional path. She
worked at a magazine, put in her eight hours, hit the gym, and either went out
for dinner with friends or ordered delivery to her apartment more often than
not.

 
    She dated
occasionally, had downloaded Tinder, and had sex about as often as she figured
other attractive women her age did. It was good sex usually, ‘normal’ sex. She
didn’t have any hang-ups about her body or her sexuality, and she’d always
considered herself a pretty well-adjusted woman in her twenties.