Friday night karaoke at the Rose and Crown was either brilliant or awful. No in-between.
Tonight was leaning brilliant, mainly because of the tiny blonde absolutely murdering "Since U Been Gone" on stage. She couldn't hold a note to save her life, but the passion was there. Full Kelly Clarkson energy.
She finished to scattered applause, took an exaggerated bow, and stumbled off stage directly into my path.
"How was I?" she demanded, pink-cheeked and breathless.
"Incredible."
"Liar." But she was grinning. "I'm tone deaf. Everyone knows it."
"The confidence made up for it."
"That's what my voice coach said. Right before she fired me." She stuck out a hand. "I'm Chloe."
"Matt."
"Matt. Nice. You gonna sing tonight, Matt?"
"Was thinking about it."
"You should. The key is commitment. Doesn't matter if you're shit—just own it." She grabbed my arm. "Come on. We're doing a duet."
"We've known each other thirty seconds."
"And you've already seen me at my worst. We're basically married now."
"Mr Brightside" wasn't meant to be a duet, but Chloe didn't care. She sang Brandon Flowers' parts, I sang Brandon Flowers' parts, and somehow we met in the middle for a chaotic mess that the crowd absolutely loved.
"WE DID IT!" she screamed when we finished, throwing her arms around me. "We're legends now!"
"We're something."
"Legends," she insisted. "Come on—reward drinks. I'm buying."
Three drinks later, we were in a private karaoke booth she'd somehow blagged from the manager. Just us, a sticky microphone, and a screen full of questionable song choices.
"Right," she said, scrolling through options. "We're doing 'Don't Go Breaking My Heart' next. It's mandatory."
"Is it?"
"It is if you want to keep impressing me."
"Am I impressing you?"
She looked at me—properly looked, green eyes sharp despite the alcohol. "Yeah. You are."
The song started. We didn't sing.
Chloe kissed like she sang—chaotic, committed, all in. Her hands were in my hair, her body pressed against mine on the sticky booth seat.
"Been thinking about this since you said I was incredible," she breathed.
"That was twenty minutes ago."
"I think fast." She was working at my jeans. "Tell me if you want me to stop."
"Don't stop."
"Good answer."
She dropped to her knees, the karaoke machine still cycling through songs in the background. Her mouth was warm and eager, her technique surprisingly skilled.
"Fuck—Chloe—"
She hummed around me, looked up with those green eyes. The image was seared into my brain—her on her knees, mascara slightly smudged, lips stretched around me while "Sweet Caroline" played overhead.
"Need more," she said, pulling off. "Need you to fuck me."
She climbed onto my lap, hiked up her skirt to reveal no knickers underneath.
"I was feeling optimistic," she explained with a grin.
"Thank fuck for optimism."
She sank down onto me, both of us groaning. The booth seat creaked beneath us, definitely not designed for this, but we made it work.
"Yes—fuck—right there—"
She bounced on my lap while Neil Diamond told us good times never seemed so good. The absurdity of it—the setting, the music, the randomness—made it even hotter.
"Touch me—please—"
I found her clit, rubbed while she rode me. Her moans got louder, competing with the karaoke.
"Cumming—fuck—Matt—"
She came with a scream that hopefully blended with the music. I followed seconds later, pulling her down hard as I finished.
We sat there, catching our breath, while "Total Eclipse of the Heart" started playing.
"Fitting," Chloe said, laughing.
"The song?"
"The moment." She kissed me, soft this time. "That was fun."
"That was incredible."
"Liar." But she was grinning. "Give me your number. I'm here every Friday. We can make duets our thing."
"Musical duets?"
"Among other things." She winked, fixed her skirt, and opened the booth door. "Come on. I need a drink. And you owe me a proper song."
I followed her back to the main bar, already looking forward to next Friday.
Best karaoke night of my life.