I sip on my rum and Coke while the woman in front of me dances slowly. Her dark hair is curled, leaving her long locks to spring with every step or movement she makes.

Her finger goes to her mouth. Her tongue darts out, wetting it before she simulates a blowjob. I grab my dick, letting her know exactly where her mouth can go, but she doesn’t catch my drift.

She continues to saunter in front of me, bending to show me her voluptuous ass. I’m tempted to grab a hold of her hips and pull her to my face so I can taste her, every inch of her, but I refrain. I like this little game that she’s playing.

Her hands snake behind her back as she looks at me from over her shoulder, tossing her hair at the same time. It’d look glorious threaded through my fingers. Knowing this excites me. I rub the front of my pants again, showing that with each teasing moment, she’s making me harder and harder.

The clasps on her bra are undone and she pulls her shoulders forward, as if she’s suddenly shy. Doesn’t she know that she’s here for me? That I came here to watch her? Fuck her? I hate this teasing shit and am about to tell her as much, except she turns around and shows me her tits. They’re massive, more than a handful, but something I can definitely motorboat. I’m desperate to see her taut nipples, but her hair is in the way. I reach out to brush it aside, but she sidesteps out of my way.

She starts to dance and I lean forward to get a better look at her nipples. Only they’re covered by fucking tassels. I throw my hands up in frustration, but she just shakes her head. This is all a game to her. Doesn’t she understand that I need her? That my cock is aching to be sucked by her naughty mouth?

No, she doesn’t because she continues to gyrate the air, as if the mother fucking air is the man that she wants to be with. Another rum and Coke appears. Thank fuck because I need it to quench my thirst. I sip it slowly, savoring the amber taste as it drips down the back of my throat. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that she’s intent on getting me drunk.

She comes back over, this time crawling toward me. When she’s in front of me, she licks her lips and sits back on her knees, thrusting her breasts inches from my face. I reach for a tassel to pull it off, but it doesn’t budge. It must be stuck with superglue or something because I’ve pulled those off before. Haven’t I? I can’t recall, but it seems like a normal thing to do.

My girl comes back toward me, teasing me with the thin straps of her thong. She pulls them out, away from her body, only to snap them back in place. She does this again and again, each time showing me a bit more of her pussy. I’m growing tired of her cat and mouse game. I want to get down to business. I’m a busy man and she knows this.

Standing, I rip the button of my slacks off, yank the zipper down, and rub the front of my bulge. She licks her lips. Oh yeah, baby, two can play this game. My dick grows harder, begging to be let out from its cloth confines. Gripping the elastic waistband, I push my briefs down until they’re resting around my knees.

My cock springs up, slapping against my skin. The woman crawls toward me, licking her lips as she does. She beckons me toward her, but I sit back down in the chair and start stroking myself.

She sits back and spreads her legs, pushing her thong aside. Her finger slides up and down her pussy, finally inserting two fingers deep inside of her core. I move my chair closer so I can get a better look and she does the same thing.

“Yeah, baby,” I say as I tighten the hold on my dick. “Fuck those fingers.”

She does as I command, rocking her hips back and forth. She looks fucking sexy up there and I need a better look. As I get closer, she lays back. My free hand spreads her leg out wider so I don’t miss anything.

“I need …” she mutters.

“What do you need?”

“This,” she says as she sticks her foot into my mouth.

Foot. Toes. Toenails. Toe jam. Callous.

I start gagging and she moves her toes against my tongue. A nail jabs into the roof of my mouth. I try to pull away, but she only moves with me. I can’t breathe, and feel my stomach starting to roll. I slap at her foot, but she only crams it harder down my throat.

My cheeks expand like I’m holding a gallon of water in my mouth, except it’s not water. Everything from my stomach expels all over her foot, leg and pussy, none of it getting onto the floor.

Her eyes turn red as she roars, growing taller and taller as she hovers over me. She reaches down and pulls my dick until it pops off. I cry out but she just laughs and disappears behind the door.

The lights come on. I look around and find everyone laughing at me. Slowly, I glance down at my crotch and find my dick missing. I’m not bleeding and it doesn’t hurt. It’s just that my dick doesn’t exist anymore.

I startle awake, heart racing. What the fuck did I just dream about? My heart is racing in fear. My hands are at my side, pressing into the mattress. Sweat drips into my eyes, but I’m afraid to move to wipe it away. Hell, I’m afraid to move in case that woman is still somewhere in my room. Talk about a nightmare from hell.

My phone rings. It’s not on my nightstand but in the other room. I try to move, but my muscles fight against me. My eyes adjust to the small sliver of light peeking through my blinds, but it’s not enough for me to see around my room. I try to calm my heartbeat so I can hear what’s going on in the living room, but aside from my ringing phone I don’t hear anything else.

The last thing I remember is being with Parker and Bryant … Bryant and that stupid fucking club.

“God, did I go there with him last night?” I finally move my hand to rub it over my face. My groin twitches. I’m hesitant to look under my covers, fearful that I did in fact lose my … my stomach rolls as visions start replaying in my mind.

Toes. I remember sharp toes being crammed into my mouth. I hate toes and their unhealthy habits. I can’t take it anymore. Throwing my comforter back, I turn until my feet are touching the hardwood floors.

Slowly, I look at my crotch. “Thank you, Jesus,” I mutter as I see my morning wood peeking through the flap of my boxers. I don’t think I have ever been so excited to see my dick before.

My phone rings again, and this time I make my way into the living room to answer it.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Kai, did I wake you?”

She knows she did. She called twice. “Nah, I couldn’t find my phone.”

“Oh, do you have a lady friend over? What’s her name?” She sounds so excited.

“Um …” Pausing with my mother is never a good thing.

“Oh no, we’re you … you know, giving her the nuts?” The woman’s lost her damn mind. It must be all the romance novels she reads. My father loves it. He keeps saying I need to find a woman who likes to read. Apparently, their sex life is better because of it.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “There isn’t anyone here, Mom. And if there were, I don’t think I’d be calling it ‘giving her the nuts.’ I don’t know where you heard that shit from.”

She bursts out laughing. “Some of the ladies at work were calling it that. I thought it was the new trend. I won’t call it that anymore.”

“Thank you.” I walk into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. I need it after that fucked up dream.

“Are you even meeting any women out there?” she asks.

“Not yet. I’ve only been here for a few days. Give me time,” I tell her.

“You know it’s okay if you’re gay. Your father and I will understand.”

I shake my head. “I’m not gay, Mom. I will meet someone soon.” I just chose not to tell her about all the women I’ve slept with. Once my coffee’s done, I pour myself a cup and sit down on the couch.

“How’s your job? Is your boss being nice to you?”

“Of course. We’re getting ready to start a huge project.” Closing my eyes, I fall back onto my couch. I tell her everything that is going on, what I’m going to be doing for Sweet Briar. She tells me that her and my father will look it up and see if it’s a place that she wants to visit. She never will. Every time I’ve moved, she’s said the same thing, but always found a reason not to come visit. I get it, she’s afraid to fly and the thought of driving doesn’t appeal to her. Anything that isn’t within thirty minutes of home is out of the way for her.

“Well, that’s good sweetheart.”

“How’s dad?” I ask, finishing up my coffee. I hurry into my bedroom to get ready for the day. My mother can talk for hours on the phone if I let her. She’s funny as hell though.

She sighs. “Not too bad. He has to have a colonoscopy next week. That’s what happens when you get old.”

“I see that. Tell him I hope it goes okay.”

“Oh, I will. And just so you know, I read a study on the prostate the other day. It said that to avoid issues, make sure to have sex frequently. If you don’t have a partner, then take matters into your own hands … literally.” She giggles and I shake my head. I thank any deity that is listening that she is saying this over the phone and not out loud in front of a bunch of people. Whose mother reminds them to jack off frequently to keep their prostate healthy? Mine does as if it’s an everyday conversation to have with your son.

When she finally hangs up, I stay where I am and analyze my dream. If I hadn’t been to that club, I wouldn’t have had that nightmare.

Feet.

In my mouth.

The thought makes me want to hurl.

I rush to the bathroom and quickly brush my teeth. I don’t care if I it was a dream. I can still feel something in my mouth. After I thoroughly rinse out my mouth, I stare at myself in the mirror. I regret filling out that form, listing my fetishes. I have none. I have fears, and my nightmare played out my worst one.

I pray that I’m never called.