AFTER THE LAST SONG

The restaurant still smelled of sweat, sweet hookah smoke, and expensive whiskey long after the disco had shut down. The lights were dimmed to a warm amber, and a microphone sat cooling on the stage. I, Anna, a thirty-nine-year-old widow, was standing at the bar trying to gather scattered napkins when Mark, the forty-year-old neighbor from across the courtyard, suddenly got too close.

"You danced tonight like you wanted to burn someone with your eyes," he said in a low voice, almost brushing against my back.

I turned around. His eyes—dark, hungry—locked onto mine immediately. My heart slammed hard. Forbidden. He lived in the apartment across the yard; we'd said hello for years, and now in this half-lit room where the bass still echoed, something between us suddenly ignited.

"Maybe I did," I replied, not looking away. My voice came out husky.

His hand grazed my waist as if by accident, pretending to fix a supposedly fallen strap on my dress. His fingers lingered. The heat from that touch shot through my skin like electricity. I didn't pull away. Instead, I stepped half a foot closer. His breathing deepened, and the space between us stretched taut like a wire.

"Anna..." he breathed, "are you sure you want me to stop right now?"

"Are you sure you can?" I whispered, staring straight at his lips.

He didn't answer with words. He just yanked me to him, hard, dominating. Our bodies collided. His palm pressed into my lower back, pulling me tighter. I felt his cock already stiffening through his trousers, pressing into my stomach. Desire hit me hot and wet between my legs.

We kissed greedily, almost viciously. His tongue invaded my mouth, and I matched him, digging my fingers into his shoulders. Mark's hands slid lower, hitching up the hem of my black dress to my waist. He grabbed my ass, lifted me, and set me on the edge of the bar counter. Glass clinked; one tumbler fell and shattered, but we didn't give a fuck.

"Take off your panties," he ordered hoarsely, unbuckling his belt.

I raised my hips, peeled off the thin fabric, and tossed it aside. Mark unzipped his pants, and his thick, heavy cock sprang free. I wrapped my palm around it, running my fingers along the full length, feeling it pulse.

"I want you right here," he growled, spreading my knees wider.

He slammed into me with one powerful thrust. I arched back, clinging to his neck. His cock filled me completely, stretching my slick walls. We both groaned. Mark started moving hard, deep, almost ferocious. Every stroke made me moan louder. The counter creaked, and my heels banged against the wood.

"Harder... more," I gasped, wrapping my legs around his waist.

He grabbed my hips, driving himself even deeper. Our eyes met—everything was there: months of silent longing, the taboo of being neighbors, the widow's grief I'd finally shed. His breath burned against my neck. I felt his balls slapping against my soaked pussy, my clit grinding against his pubic bone with every thrust.

"You're so tight... so hot," he whispered in my ear, speeding up. "I wanted you every time I saw you through the window..."

"Then fuck me like it's the last time," I answered, biting his earlobe.

He growled and flipped me over. Now I was standing, braced on my elbows against the counter, and he entered from behind. This angle was even deeper. His cock hit at a different angle, grazing that sensitive spot inside. I screamed with pleasure. Mark held my hair with one hand and my hip with the other, pounding hard and rhythmic. The wet sounds of flesh filled the empty room.

"Come inside me," I breathed, feeling a tight wave building. "I want to feel you pulse inside..."

He sped up to the limit. My legs were shaking. The orgasm hit me suddenly; I clenched around his cock, screaming his name. Mark thrust a few more times and froze, flooding me with his hot load deep inside. His moans mixed with mine.

We froze, gasping for air. He pulled out slowly, leaving behind a pleasant emptiness and warm wetness trickling down my thigh. I turned to him, still trembling. Mark pulled me against him, and suddenly we both laughed—quietly, relieved, almost childishly.

"So how do we say hello across the courtyard now?" he asked, kissing my temple.

"Now we don't have to stop at hello," I answered, smiling into his shoulder. Lightness spread through my body like warm wine after a long winter.