1. Jolie

one

Jolie

Six Months Ago

T he free birthday drink sits untouched in front of me on the smooth woodgrain of the bar. What was I thinking spending my twenty-fourth birthday alone at a hotel bar?

That's the problem—I was thinking too much about the significance of this birthday—turning twenty-four. Ten years younger than when my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. The recommended time to start screening myself for the horrible disease that took her away from me when I was only ten years old.

The radiology tech was super nice when I had my first mammogram done today, talking me through the process and making sure to make me as comfortable as possible with such an uncomfortable test.

My best friend, Anna Marie, and my father offered to accompany me to the appointment, but I declined. I needed this time to be about me and my memories of my mother.

I begged off the celebration they planned for me, letting them know I wanted a few days to myself. This only meant spending two days in a nice hotel in the same town where I live.

Real adventurous, Jolie.

I have one semester left before I complete my graduate degree to become an athletic trainer. My final internship is with the Minnesota Norse Hockey team, which starts in a few weeks during the pre-season.

It's a coveted internship, and I'm lucky to have been chosen for it. I should be at home preparing for it instead of dressed in a tiny red dress and matching red come fuck me, high heels—which, at the time when I picked out the outfit, it seemed fun and flirty, but now after sitting at the bar by myself declining offer after offer from slick guys in business suits offering to take me upstairs to their hotel room I'm beginning to think it's more seductive then cute.

But isn't that what you wanted?

A voice pops into my head, the one I've been trying to push down deep inside and ignore its existence. The one that begs me to live life to its fullest since you never know what tomorrow may hold.

I think about my new reading obsession with how one woman shares herself with more than one man at a time. The thought of having so many hands and mouths on me at the same time causes my lace panties to dampen. I cross my legs, needing a little friction against my throbbing clit to hopefully take the edge off the fantasy.

If I'm being truthful, I would admit I want to try that, if only for one night. It would be something I could look back on with a smile, knowing I lived out a fantasy that most women only dream of. And if some deadly disease takes my life at an early age, I'll be able to leave this world with one less regret.

Before she died, my mother made me promise to enjoy my life to its fullest. At the time, I didn't understand what she meant. For a ten-year-old girl still playing with Barbies, I couldn't comprehend why she was so adamant that I make that promise.

A few short months later, she was gone. The disease took over, leaving me and my father alone. My father did his best to raise me, and I will be forever grateful to him, but the looming potential future has me making up my mind to give myself a birthday present I'll never forget.

I pick up the now-melted margarita, place the salty rim to my lips, spin my barstool around, and casually assess the single men filling the hotel bar. Business attire seems to be the theme for the night. While I would typically go for the put-together professional type, tonight, I want something else—something wild and untamed—willing to help me live out my fantasy.

The selection of suits dampens my wildside. With a sigh, I twist my hips and swing the barstool back to its original position, but not before my eyes land on three absolutely striking guys with varying shades of brownish-black hair looking out of place in a sea of corporate suits in their tight t-shirts that hug their muscular chests, paired with jeans and tennis shoes. My heart rate increases knowing I've found the perfect partners to make me feel alive tonight.

Taking one last sip of the liquid courage, I place the glass back on the counter. I stand, fluff my hair, fighting the urge to pull down on the hem of my red dress, knowing it has ridden higher than some would consider an appropriate length. Now is not the time for me to worry about what's appropriate or not as I'm about to proposition three strangers into having their filthy way with me tonight.

My body heats up at the thought. I place one foot in front of the other and let my hips sway seductively from side to side, walking toward a fantasy that might soon become a reality or a bad idea doomed to fail.

I weave through the crowd, deflecting their grabby hands as I pass by guy after guy on my way to my ultimate goal. I reach my destination and place my hand on the only unoccupied stool at their high-top table, conveniently bringing their conversation to an end.

"Is this seat taken?" I hold my ground as three pairs of eyes roam up and down my body. I try not to squirm at their heated gaze.

Instead, I imagine how they see me—a young single female in a short tight red dress with nipples as hard as steel poking through the low-cut top of the dress, unbound breasts barely contained in the scrap of fabric clinging to them with the skirt riding so far up my thighs I'm sure they can see my red lace panties. The four-inch high heels bring my height from a modest 5'6" to an almost goddess-like 5'10", making me feel sexy and powerful all at the same time.

Now, if only that feeling could give me the courage to go through with my fantasy, it would be a truly happy birthday.