Casual sex doesn’t make you a bad person.  It doesn’t make you a slut either.  As long as you’re an adult and he’s an adult and you’re both willing, it’s a perfectly normal and healthy way for one to relieve stress and have some fun.

At least that was what Sarah was telling herself over and over as she painted herself up in the hotel bathroom mirror.  While she hadn’t convinced herself just yet that she wasn’t doing anything wrong, the cocktail she had mixed from the wet bar was lessening her ability to care.

The mascara wand froze near her left eye and she tilted her head towards the music streaming from her cell phone.  Sarah grinned and turned the volume up as high as it would go.

Hey babe, your hair’s alright

Hey babe, let’s go out tonight

You like me, and I like it all

We like dancing and we look divine

The music caused her foot to tap while she applied sticky pink gloss to her lips, and as she made her way from the ensuite, her hips sashayed with the rhythm.

After slipping her feet into a pair of heels that made her at least five inches taller, Sarah took a deep breath and faced herself in the full-length mirror.

If anyone had been walking by the door to Sarah’s room at that moment they might have thought that someone was choking to death on a macadamia nut, for the laugh that erupted from her belly was not her usual lady-like giggle; guffaw was the more appropriate word.

Sarah looked like a whore.  Well, a high class whore anyway, one who could afford a three-hundred-dollar dress, four-hundred-dollar shoes, and a day at the spa that included a hair blowout, manicure, pedicure, massage, body hydration therapy, a collagen mask, and brow grooming (all of which cost more than Sarah wanted to think about again right now, thank you very much).

Oh, let us not forget about the Brazilian wax.  Sarah was reminded of it every time she felt a draft.

Anxiety-riddled adrenalin began to burn through the alcohol in Sarah’s system, and she had to brace herself against a nearby dresser as she let her head fall and gathered some air.

Stop it, she told herself.  Stop it this instant.  She forced herself to look in the mirror again, shoulders squared and now ready for her reflection.

While the halter dress was short, tight, and revealing, it was still obviously expensive and therefore classy.  Even though her normally straight, convenient hair was full of volume and waves, and her eyes were thickly lined in black, she was going out on a Saturday night, and merely looking the part.  And the fact that her hardened nipples were clearly defined in the dress’s fabric- well, Sarah couldn’t think of a justification for that one- but to hell with it.

You’re single. Sarah told herself.  Single!  You’re in another country where no one knows you or your family or your cheatingsonofabitchhusband, so put on your big girl panties and suck it up!

The big girl panties thought made her guffaw once again, as no one would dare describe the skimpy bit of lace covering her waxed- and slightly chilly- area as “big girl panties”.

Sarah downed the rest of her cocktail and forced herself to sashay out of the hotel room.

Hot tramp, I love you so!

The club was a veritable buffet of single people; every inch of it was crawling with men and women, and my god, they were all beautiful.  The women especially, and Sarah hadn’t thought she stood a chance when she first arrived but that quickly changed when as soon as found a spot near the bar, several gentlemen offered to buy her a drink.  Wanting to pace herself, Sarah declined all of them, purchased her own drink, and nursed it while she watched and waited for him.

She didn’t know who “him” was, but she knew she would know when she spotted him.  Not about to waste the one night she was allowing herself to be… unscrupulous… on just average, Sarah was on the prowl for a man with particular features, ones that would fit her every fantasy.  And then there he was.

Many believe that the tall, dark, and handsome type only exist in movies, but that isn’t so.  You just have to know where to look for them.

Tall?  He was at least six feet of strapping male.

Dark?  His skin was the type of golden that only came from living somewhere close to the Mediterranean, and his hair and eyes screamed, “Si, I am Latin.”

Handsome?  The man looked like geneticists had spliced the DNA of Christian Bale with Javier Bardem.

Sarah was staring, gawking really, and then she noticed that he was staring right back.

Her first reaction was to lower her eyes and blush, but she commanded herself to hold his gaze and give him her best come hither look.

You aren’t Sarah tonight, she told herself, you aren’t the conservative wife of an investment broker, or the PTA president, you’re…you’re…

Fuck, why hadn’t she thought of a fake name?

“And what might your name be?”

Christavier had made his way over to Sarah during her internal pep-talk and was now smiling a mere two inches away from Sarah and her nipples.

“Rebel,” she croaked and then cleared her throat and repeated.  “Rebel.”

Mental high-five for that one, Sarah.

“Hello, Rebel,” he said in a gritty, thickly accented voice.  “I am Gerard.”

People who were watching Sarah and Gerard- and many were- assumed they were lovers.  They certainly moved on the dance floor like they were, their hips pressed closely together, their hands roaming to the piercing beat of the music.  Sarah, now three drinks down, was gleefully lost in the haze of lust and booze, and she didn’t bother to think about what she was doing, only that she was having a good time.  The thrill of more was promised when she turned her body and pressed the curve of her ass against Gerard.  He was as turned on as she was.  As only a brazen rebel would, she continued to move her hips, and when Gerard’s arms wound around her from behind, she encouraged his roaming hands with her own.

A cool, sobering piece of metal grazed along the fingers of Sarah’s left hand.  Her eyes went from half closed to full alert and she brought Gerard’s left hand close to her face to be sure.

Yes, he was wearing a wedding ring.

Sarah spun to face him, accusations perched on her tongue, but before a nasty word could be spoken she was turned back around and Gerard spoke into her ear.

“That’s my wife over there.” He gestured towards a blonde woman sitting alone.  “She likes to watch.”

Did you know that while uncommon in the United States, establishments in Europe, such as the one Sarah was patronizing, catered to the private needs of its guests for a small fee?  The room was not large, but it was cozy and clean, dimly lit, and the music from downstairs was fed quietly through speakers in the ceiling.

Gerard’s wife, who was even more gorgeous than her husband, did not seem to speak English, but had a friendly air about her.  Sarah did not feel completely at ease, but as she sipped champagne, the tension in her shoulders lessened.

A slower song began to play and Gerard’s wife spoke.

“She wants us to dance some more,” he translated.

This time they danced facing each other, but their bodies were close just as they had been in public.  From over Gerard’s shoulder, Sarah watched his wife remove her shoes and get comfortable on a chaise.

Smooth fingertips played at the skin just below the hem of Sarah’s dress and then slipped beneath.  A small gasp escaped her when those same fingertips dug into the flesh of her bottom and pulled so that Gerard’s hardened cock pressed right between her thighs.  She felt the last of the nervousness leave her body when warm lips pressed against the skin of her neck and Sarah gasped again as she felt her clit throb.

She was lifted from the ground and for the short distance to the settee, her legs wrapped tightly around a trim waist and she opened her mouth against Gerard’s, their tongues taking over the dance they had started.

Sarah wasn’t thinking about her expensive dress when the low neckline was pulled away and she felt teeth close around her bare nipple.  A gentle bite that was replaced with the warm wet sensation of a flicking tongue had her aching and while she wished to press her thighs together, Gerard was stationed between them.  As he continued to pay homage to her breasts, first the left and then the right, his hands worked on hiking her dress up and her panties off.

Foreign words were spoken and Sarah was reminded that they weren’t alone.  Through hooded eyes she glanced at their voyeur, now reclining with her legs spread and a hand inside her panties.  Rather than self-conscious, Sarah felt exhilarated and she moaned while Gerard kissed up the inside of her left thigh and his wife touched herself.

The lips of her sex were traced with the pointed tip of Gerard’s tongue and Sarah heard his wife speaking to him again- soft words that Sarah couldn’t understand but she thought maybe they were instructions, telling him what to do and how to do it.

His tongue split her, licking up the length of her slit and she cried out, Gerard groaning as he got his first real taste of her.  His tongue drew lazy circles around her clit and then he snaked his arms beneath her knees and yanked her closer so that he could properly suck on the swollen nub.  Though it was not an easy feat, Sarah’s clouded eyes stayed open so that she could continue to watch their audience of one.  The blonde’s hips were rolling in time to the music as she continued to finger herself, her breathing just as labored as Sarah’s.

Never before had Sarah touched herself during sex, and so she was a bit surprised that the hands pulling and twisting her nipples were her own.

You aren’t Sarah tonight, she thought to herself, you’re Rebel, and Rebel fondles her tits while a man eats her pussy and his wife watches.  The thought elicited a laugh, much to the amusement of her foreign friends.

Just as her cunt was beginning to weep with the need to be filled, Gerard pressed two of his fingers inside and glided in and out slowly, smoothly, as his tongue kept at her clit at a more furious rate.  Sarah could feel the tightness begin to pull at her insides and she let her head fall back.  While she could no longer see Gerard’s wife, she could hear her soft moans mixed in with her own and they both grew louder as both of them approached orgasm.  Sarah felt her own hips begin to move and without shame she grinded her cunt against Gerard’s face, right there in front of his wife, and fuck, that was so fucking hot, and just as Sarah started to come Gerard sucked her clit between his lips once again and slipped a third finger inside her, stretching her pulsating cunt.  Sarah was usually quiet when she came, but not Rebel.  Rebel cried out each time her body spasmed and bucked, and when the orgasm didn’t stop right away she moaned the word “fuck” repeatedly.  And through the euphoric fog, she could hear Gerard’s wife coming along with her, making the orgasm that much more intense; that much more pleasurable.

The lobby of the hotel was mostly empty at two a.m., but every pair of eyes of those who remained were on the American woman who walked across the tiled floor alone.  Normally Sarah would have been mortified, for those who saw her knew what she had been up to, but not tonight.  Rebel strutted towards the elevators, a smirk on her lips.  As she took in her reflection in the mirrored doors- her disheveled hair, her smudged makeup, her unkempt clothes- she sang quietly to herself.

Rebel Rebel, you’ve torn your dress

Rebel Rebel, your face is a mess,

Rebel Rebel, how could they know?

Hot tramp, I love you so!