But the next morning I was so lazy in bed, I didn’t feel like getting up right away and since it was a Saturday I didn’t have to. I sent her a flirting text in the morning (“Why aren’t you heeere?”) and lay back on my pillow and daydreamed.In my mind we were both in that club, or one like it, sipping drinks at our own corner table. We had a candle, and a long green tablecloth, and our cocktails, but we could barely see them or our shadowed faces because of the spotlight on the stage. This time it wasn’t old style jazz but something new and very French, like some of the tracks in her Spotify.We listened, there in the club in the cavern of my mind, not even touching, just sharing the place and moment where sensuality and spirituality intermingle. I didn’t run my fingers down her back. The notes of the music did that for me, and lifted our spirits up to those places where life’s bullshit and frustration don’t matter the slightest bit.When the moment felt right I slipped down as if I were. The massage began anew, his fingers fully inside her. Alice lay back and surrendered, staring at the ceiling. Saliva dripped from her mouth and onto the table. A finger penetrated anus and she lost her damn mind.Oh, God. No, please not now. Orgasm rolled over her body like a rolling wind traveling over her. Her legs quivered and her pussy quaked despite coach’s tight grasp. She bit her lip and buried a whimper in her throat. Seconds later she was ready to cum again.“This is worse than I thought,” he said. “You’re very sensitive.” He wiped his hand on Alice’s stomach and dabbed the drool from her face with a towel. “I’m going to try something drastic. I need you to stand up and bend over the table.”Alice fumbled to stand in the orgasmic haze. She was still shivering. She noticed a sizeable bulge in Coach Garren’s trousers as she slid off the table. Alice did not have a lot of experience but she’d fooled around enough to know that his “bulge” was was too big for her.She turned around.
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