Oceana Obsession
"The cheese room at Oceana provides the perfect setting for a filthy encounter with a curvy stranger"
Oceana on student night was either the best or worst decision of your life. Cheap drinks, multiple themed rooms, and the kind of chaos that only happens when hundreds of twenty-year-olds get absolutely trollied together.
I was in the cheese room—disco balls, 80s hits, the eternal joy of "Mr Brightside" at 1 AM—when she danced into my life.
Curvy didn't cover it. She was thick everywhere, barely contained by a sparkly dress that showed more than it hid. Brown skin glowing under the disco lights, natural hair in a massive afro, and a smile that said she was having the best night of her life.
She saw me watching and danced closer. Then closer. Then close enough that her arse was grinding against me while S Club 7 played overhead.
"You're cute!" she shouted over the music.
"Thanks! You're—" I gestured at all of her. Words failed.
She laughed. "I'm Aaliyah! You wanna get out of here?"
"The club?"
"This room! Too hot! Need air!"
"Air" turned out to be the corridor behind the VIP section. Darker, quieter, definitely not for general admission.
"How'd we get back here?" I asked.
"I know people." She leaned against the wall, grinning. "Also, I just walked through. Confidence is everything."
"Clearly working."
"It really is." She grabbed my collar, pulled me close. "So here's the thing. I've had six vodka cranberries, I think you're fit, and I want to do bad things in this corridor. You in?"
"I'm in."
"Thank fuck."
She kissed me—all tongue and desperation and the taste of cranberry. Her hands were under my shirt, nails raking down my back.
"Need you," she breathed. "Right here."
"Here?"
"Here." She was already hitching up her dress. "Quick. Before someone finds us."
I lifted her—she was heavier than expected, all that beautiful curve—and pressed her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around me, guiding me in.
"Fuck—yes—there—"
The bass from the cheese room vibrated through the walls. Someone had put on "Reach" by S Club 7. Appropriate, given the circumstances.
"Harder—come on—"
I gave her everything, pinning her against the wall. Her moans competed with the music, not quite drowned out.
"So good—fuck—right there—"
She came with a scream she tried to muffle against my shoulder. I followed seconds later, burying myself deep.
We stood there, catching our breath, while "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls started playing.
"Perfect timing," Aaliyah said, laughing.
"Really tell you what I want?"
"You just did." She fixed her dress, grinning. "That was fun."
"Fun's an understatement."
She pulled out her phone, handed it to me. "Number. I'm here every Saturday. We can make this a regular thing."
"Same corridor?"
"Maybe." She winked. "Or maybe we graduate to the disco toilet. Really live dangerously."
I put in my number, handed her phone back. She kissed my cheek, left a lipstick mark.
"See you Saturday, handsome."
She walked back to the cheese room, already dancing. I watched her go, stupid grin on my face.
Best night out of my life.