Erotic Fiction by Medea

Not Enough

	This is not enough, she thought.  Not enough to keep me here at all.  
So she left him, her boyfriend of two years, moved from Kansas to Chicago, and 
tried to start over.  But starting over is never easy, and meeting new people 
is slow.  For a few months, she thought she saw him in the midst of crowds, at 
the grocery store, at the mall.  She found a job in accounts receivable, in a 
small office of friendly, boring people, and let the petty concerns to 
day-to-day life distract her for a while.
	This was not enough, either, but it would do for a while.
	She let herself work late, built up her reputation as a solid employee,
let six months slide by.  And then one Saturday she woke up after sleeping in 
'til mid-morning, and knew what she had to do.  It was time to have a social 
life again.
	She went shopping.  She bought sexy black underwear, somewhat 
impractical strappy black heels, and a dress that was low-cut and form-fitting 
to a point that would make her friends back in Kansas blush.  She had her 
nails done, her hair cut, and then she went home to relax for a while.
	Nine PM saw her entering a club the local weekly papers called 
'trendy', 'stylish', and 'the place all the coolest Gen-Xers will want to be 
seen'.  She entered the crowds with the best show of confidence she could 
muster, making her way to the bar, then finding a place nearby to sip, watch, 
and be seen.
	She made eye contact with men from across the room, smiling in a way 
she hoped was flirtatious.  When her drink was finished, she danced, sometimes 
with others, sometimes alone, enjoying the opportunity to do as she pleased.  
After a while, one tall, handsome man she had been dancing with asked if she 
might want to head somewhere more private.  And even as she savored the smell 
and warmth of his body, she declined, almost apologetically.  When the song 
ended, she found a place to sit down again, and think about why.
	In her head, she imagined all of the men in the room with pants open, 
cocks stiffly poking out, stroking themselves as women watched on, then knelt 
to lick and suck.  All this sexual energy in the room, but what was it worth?  
She laughed at the absurdity of it all, of thinking casual sex and the 
affection of mere strangers could sate a deeper desire, for something that 
felt like touch but pushed far below the surface.  She let the men return to 
dancing, once again fully dressed, and started home for a long, hot bath, and 
the pleasures of her own fingers.