[17] “Storm” prompt Inktober2020

Boring days were distracting, full-eventful ones even more. Claire couldn’t really put a finger on what was so goddamn annoying for her. From studies, to work, to back home, to emails, calls, video meetings, battling own self during moments of being alone in a room with oneself.

She was tired, yet mind was all over the place.
“Tea? Coffee? Maybe straight off to wine and screw today?” – She paced around her kitchen.
After another call from work about work being cancelled, well, due to the world pandemic. The tone and news were absolutely not pleasant.
“Just when the fuck is it going to end?” – She flopped on a chair, now with a bottle of Chardonnay, opening up to not entirely seize the day, but catch mist in the night… or so the tale would say.

“Screw that !” – She let out, then drunk right out the bottle. – “I know what will help me out!”
And she went for the wardrobe.
Some hours later, with stunning looks, with make-up, dress, heels and leather goods, she walked up to mirror and smiled:
“Babe… God, babe, you’re divine.” – She kissed own reflection. – “Now, where’s the protection?”
She grabbed mask, condoms, shoved those into purse, called self an Uber and went into club.

To those unaware – yes, some clubs still do work, although quite illegally, yet that’s not… Cork – out from another wine bottle!
The dancing, the music, the booze and the hurdle. Glass after glass, she’s on dance floor as goddess. Sexy, amazing, confident… Charming all left and right, centre gasps in delight.
She’s the bomb, she’s the storm, she’ll take some handsome bastard to her home.

With keys opening door and two walking in wobbly. Claire stopped in the moment and closed the door sturdy.
He, so handsome and sweet, he went down, licked her deep, stroked what’s needed, kissed right, he was the candy delight.
After moans, after climax, he went home, she’s in silence.
“Hope he doesn’t remember my address for the future… I don’t need random men posing in doors, as suitors…”

Deep in sleep, having dreams.
Then the morning comes sweeping in.
Buzzing alarm, crusty eyes, smudged-up make-up.
“Oh you girl, you needed some shake-up.”

unnamed file from web

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