One kiss shouldn’t change the world.  The sight of a beautiful naked woman shouldn’t stomp a hole in your reality.  Forgetting Charley was the only option I had and in order to do that, I had to find something more distracting than liquor.  I needed to get laid.  I didn’t just need to fuck someone, I needed the filthy stuff.  I needed a girl that would let me pull her hair, smack her ass, and fuck every hole until my cock couldn’t take another thrust.  Someone like that would leave me tired, sore, and I wouldn’t give a shit about anyone when I was done.  I could coast from pussy to pussy until I had my fill and Charley was a distant memory.  Drinking hadn’t worked.  Jacking off barely rubbed the edge of my lust.  It was time to take things up a notch and try to figure out exactly what kind of dirty things I had to do in order to forget that I was a terrible pervert with my desires resting with someone young enough to be my daughter.

Okay, let’s do this.

It had been a long time since I had even gone to a bar.  Occasionally, I would feel obligated to have a drink with coworkers, but that usually just led to an early bedtime.  Madison’s mother was pregnant before I was old enough to legally drink, so I didn’t exactly have the life of most men in their early twenties—especially men that didn’t have a wife or girlfriend at home.  I loved being Madison’s father and I had no regrets about spending my youth raising her, but with her out of the house and away at college, it was long past time for me to stop spending the evenings alone.  The interaction with Charley was a wake-up call, if nothing else.  I drove downtown to a fairly sleazy bar that wasn’t known for much more than cheap drinks and cheaper women—a few guys I knew from work used to talk it up when I was climbing the power poles.  I pushed open the door and walked inside, surveying the scene from corner to corner in hopes of finding someone to catch my eye.  Nobody really did, so I sat down at the bar.

“Can I get a beer?”  I pulled a few dollars out of my pocket and placed them on the bar.

“Draft or bottled?”  The bartender was a plump older man with almost hollow eyes set beneath white curls that hung past his eyebrows.

“Draft is fine.”  I pointed towards the line of taps.  “Bud Light.”

“Coming right up.”  He knocked on the bar and grabbed my money before walking over to the taps.

The drinks appeared to be the only thing still wet in the bar.  It seemed like the stories from my past had dried up, along with the patrons.  When I was able to get a good look at the entire scene, I didn’t see a single person in the whole bar that appeared to be anywhere near my age.  One beer was definitely going to be my limit.  If I wanted to salvage the night, I was going to have to find somewhere else to find companionship.  I turned back towards the bartender and watched as he poured a tall glass of Bud Light.  I usually preferred something stronger, but I wanted to find a good prospect to keep my bed warm before I started throwing them back.  The only woman who even seemed to be alone was at the end of the bar, and she definitely wasn’t attractive.  On top of that, she appeared to be talking to herself or her glass of beer—neither of which were exactly good signs.  The bartender finally brought over my beer and put it down.

“Thank you.”  I nodded and picked it up.

“So are you running from a woman or looking for one?”  The bartender grinned, splitting his pudgy lips with a smile.

“I guess you could say it is a little of both.”  I shrugged and sipped the beer.

“You’re in the right place to hide, but we don’t get many single women around here anymore.  It’s mostly just regulars.”  He picked up a glass that was tucked under the bar and gulped down what appeared to be whiskey.

“I thought this place was a little more lively.”  I looked around the bar again and then back at him.

“Yeah, we used to be, but we’re not hip or hop or whatever the kids think is cool now.”  He chuckled and took another drink.  “Works for me.  These guys drink enough to keep the place going and I drink for free.  I like the tranquility.”

“I was looking for something different...”  I stared at my glass and then raised it to my lips again.

“You sure about that?”  He took my beer and refilled it the second I sat it down, even though I had barely finished a quarter of it.  “I see your type from time to time.  What is it?  Did you have a big fight with the missus and you just went looking for the first neon sign?”

“Not quite...”  I sighed and took a bigger sip from my refilled beer.  “I’m not married or anything, I just got interested in the wrong woman.”

“A married woman?  I been there.”  He chuckled again and started refilling his drink.

“Not married, just not really someone I can get involved with.”  I decided it was time to finish my beer and get going, so I started drinking it a little faster, holding onto it so he couldn’t try to whisk it away for a refill.

“Those are the only women that are fun.”  He leaned against the bar and narrowed his eyes at me.

“Maybe...”  I let out a sigh and kept drinking.

“If you want to torture yourself, be my guest, but I wouldn’t trade a single woman I shouldn’t have gotten involved with for a million cheap fucks—I always liked living on the edge.”  He reached for my glass.

“I think this is the last sip for me.”  I finished the beer and pushed the empty glass towards him.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for.  If not, we always have cold beer on tap.”  He took the glass and dropped it in the sink.

“Thanks.”  I dropped a few more dollars on the bar and headed for the exit.

I sat down behind the steering wheel and let out a long sigh as I considered my options.  My first attempt at cheap pussy had been an ultimate failure, but there were other bars.  I certainly didn’t have to stop looking.  I could give it another shot at a seedier bar, or maybe go uptown and try to land a classier woman with a wild side.  None of it felt right.  Perhaps it was the watered-down beer that didn’t sit right on my stomach or it was just the apathy of realizing I was ultimately going to end up with someone who couldn’t scratch my itch.  I cranked up my car and started driving home.  I knew I should have taken the right turn that took me home, but I couldn’t help myself.  I hit the left blinker and took the turn that carried me right past Charley’s house.  I let the car crawl as I rolled down her street.  It wasn’t late, but every light was off, but I could see the flashing of a television through the front curtains..  Her car was the only one in the driveway—she was home alone.

Do I dare?  She made it pretty clear that she didn’t want to take it any further—is it worth another rejection just to satisfy my curiosity?

“Fuck it,”  I muttered as I slammed the gear shift in park and stepped out of my car.  “I know what I want.”