Women Eat Eggplants.

Alex felt the stickiness of spilled alcohol on the bottom of his shoes as he bypassed some people who smelled sweet and some people who smelled musty. It was Friday night—or was it Saturday morning already? Time blurred in places like this. Alex had wandered in around midnight, seeking solace from the corporate grind that had left him hollow. At 32, with a mid-level job in finance that paid the bills but starved his soul, he craved something visceral, something to remind him he was alive. He perched at the bar, nursing an Old Fashioned as he scanned the dance floor.

A particular woman dancing caught his attention. Her name, Mia, though he wouldn’t learn that until later. She was 28, and a nurse. Tonight, she wore a slinky black dress that clung to her curves, the hem riding high on her toned thighs as she swayed. Her dark hair snapped in the air around her face, and her mouth tugged into a smile that suggested she knew something you didn’t—and wouldn’t share unless it amused her.

Mia noticed the man at the bar with the brooding intensity. He carried his looks without polish—broad shoulders pressing against the fabric of his shirt, the sleeves shoved up as if he had better things to do than mind appearances. The dark stubble along his jaw made him look less like he’d forgotten to shave and more like he preferred the edge it gave him.

She danced closer to the edge of the floor, her movements becoming more deliberate, an invitation wrapped in rhythm. Alex set his glass down, the ice clinking like a decision made. He pushed through the crowd to get to her.

“Mind if I join?” he shouted over the music.

Mia turned. “Only if you can keep up,” she teased, grabbing his hand and pulling him into her orbit. 

They danced like strangers destined to collide. His hands found her waist, fingers splaying across the fabric of her dress, feeling the warmth beneath. She pressed back against him, her ass grinding into his hips in time with the bass drop. Sweat glistened on her skin, and he inhaled her scent. Their bodies synced effortlessly, a push and pull that built tension with every beat. Mia tilted her head back, her hair brushing his chest, and whispered, “You’re good at this.” 

Alex leaned down, his lips grazing her ear. “You make it easy.” As the songs blurred into one another, the chemistry ignited. Mia spun to face him, her arms draping around his neck. Their faces inches apart, breaths mingling. She could see the hunger in his eyes, mirroring her own. 

“I’m so hot and tired, lets go somewhere more… private?” 

Alex nodded, and she led him away, her hand in his, weaving through the maze of revelers toward the back hallway. 

The bathrooms were a dimly lit sanctuary, the fluorescent bulbs buzzing overhead like a faulty heartbeat. They ducked into the men’s room—empty, mercifully—and Mia flipped the lock with a decisive click. The space was cramped: white tiles smeared with graffiti, a row of urinals, two stalls, and a sink with a cracked mirror. The distant thump of music vibrated through the walls. 

Alex backed against the sink, pulling her close. 

“I’m Alex,” he said, finally introducing himself. 

“Mia,” she replied, her fingers already unbuttoning his shirt. Their lips met in a fierce kiss, tongues exploring each other’s mouths as if they held something stolen from each other. He tasted like whiskey and mint. She simply tasted good. Like a woman. His hands roamed her body, cupping her breasts through the dress, thumbs circling her hardening nipples.  

Mia moaned into his mouth, her nails raking down his chest. She broke the kiss, trailing her lips along his jaw, down his neck, biting softly at his collarbone. Alex’s breath hitched, his erection straining against his jeans. “God, you’re driving me crazy,” he murmured. Mia smiled against his skin, her hands dropping to his belt. “Good. That’s the point.” She unbuckled it slowly, teasingly, the metal clinking in the quiet room. The zipper followed, and she tugged his pants and boxers down in one fluid motion, freeing him. 

He was impressive—thick, veined, and fully erect, the head flushed with arousal. Mia licked her lips, dropping to her knees on the cold tile. The position was submissive, but she felt powerful, in control. 

Mia gripped Alex’s thighs for balance. She licked along the underside from base to tip. Alex gasped and grabbed Mia’s hair, not pulling but holding. The taste was musky, salty, uniquely him. She circled the head with her tongue, flicking the sensitive frenulum, watching his reactions. His hips twitched forward involuntarily. Mia wrapped her lips around the tip, sucking gently and stroking the shaft in sync as if she was operating a machine. Inch by inch, she took more of him in. The warmth enveloped him, wet and inviting. She bobbed slowly at first, building a rhythm, her cheeks hollowing with each pull. Saliva dripped down, lubricating her hand as it pumped what her mouth couldn’t reach. Alex groaned. “Fuck, Mia…” Her free hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently.

Mia varied her pace—slow and deep, then fast and shallow—keeping him on edge. She deep-throated him, relaxing her gag reflex through practice and will, her nose brushing his pubic hair. Tears pricked her eyes from the effort, but she pushed on, loving the fullness, the control. Alex’s mind raced with pleasure. Every nerve ending fired; the world narrowed to her mouth, her touch. He watched in the mirror, the erotic sight amplifying everything: her head moving, hair disheveled, dress hiked up exposing lace panties. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he panted, his fingers tightening in her hair. 

Mia pulled back for air, strings of saliva connecting her lips to him. She stroked him firmly, twisting her wrist at the top. “You like watching?” she asked, voice breathy. Before he could answer, she dove back in, sucking harder, her tongue pressing flat against the vein. She grazed her teeth lightly along the length—not biting, just teasing—then soothed with soft licks. Time stretched; the act became meditative. Mia’s jaw ached, but the ache was sweet, fueled by his moans. 

She felt her own arousal pooling, thighs slick, but this was about him—for now. She quickened, sensing his build-up: muscles tensing, breaths shortening. “I’m close,” Alex warned. Being a gentleman in case Mia didn’t want to swallow his sperm.

Mia didn’t stop. Instead, she took him deep, humming again, her hand squeezing his base. He came with a cry, hips bucking as he released in hot spurts down her throat. Mia swallowed every drop, milking him until he was spent, soft in her mouth. She stood, wiping her mouth while smiling. Alex pulled her into a kiss, tasting himself on her tongue. They adjusted clothes, shared a laugh at the absurdity.