Sleepless Night：A Highlander Time Travel
CHAPTER ONE
Lexy
"Hottest guy? Fireman," my friend Hannah offered without any thinking. "Hockey player. Italian race car driver."
"That many?" Ali asked her.
Hannah brought her finger to her chin in a gesture of thinking hard. "Gladiator. Viking. Pirate."
"Not just pirate, space pirate," Tracy added.
All of us oohed and ahhed over that answer. We'd spent the past ten minutes coming up with the kind of guy we'd just let ravage us. No names, no questions, just drop the panties and fuck.
"I'd drop 'em for a cowboy," Ali replied, grinning. She poked at an olive with her fork and popped it in her mouth. "Especially if he had to chase me down, lasso me, then tie me up."
"God, I think that's better than any of mine," Hannah said, not disappointed to have her ideas topped by a bondage loving man in chaps.
"How about you, Lexy?"
My three best friends stared at me across the table. We were into our second glasses of wine over lunch and by the turn our conversation had taken, it was, perhaps, one glass too many. It was more wine bar with small tapas than restaurant, so the small appetizers of food didn't do much to sop up the alcohol. I was definitely feeling the effects of daytime drinking.
I stared at my friends, worried about my answer I stalled by spreading some hummus on a small slice of bread. Wine had softened my senses, and I worried I'd blurt out something I'd regret. "What?" I asked, trying to keep my look blank.
Three sets of eyes rolled as I shoved the bread in my mouth to give me more time.
"We told you our fantasy man—men," Tracy said, waving her fork in the air, then pointing it at me. "We now know that Ali likes to be tied up. Not only that, but if I can share that I want to get down and dirty with an overly dominant duke, you can spill."
I bit my lip. "Fine." I took another gulp of wine for fortification. Lunchtime was a little early to be drinking, but it was my birthday and it was five o'clock somewhere. "But I've only got one. A Highlander."
They all squealed in delight and several people near us in the restaurant turned to eye us.
Tracy patted my hand with a mixture of glee and lust in her eyes. "God, a man in a kilt?" She glanced at Ali. "Sorry, a kilt trumps chaps."
Ali held up her hands. "I agree."
"Who needs more than a hot man in a kilt?"
Ali leaned in and lowered her voice. "I think I just came at the idea."
We couldn't stop another fit of giggles. For some reason, I'd always been interested in Highlanders. All those bodice ripper books with a hot man in a kilt on the cover were the ones I always bought. It was as if I were drawn to them. Strange, but not that strange, if Ali wanted a space pirate to fuck her.
"It's your birthday, Lex, so you win," Tracy said, topping off my glass with the last of the wine bottle. "A Highlander is the hottest lay of the day."
"No hot Highlander is going to want an old lady like me," I said with a pout. "God, I can't believe I'm thirty."
It was my birthday. My thirtieth birthday. Ugh. Where had all the time gone? It wasn't like I was on the brink of old age or anything, but when you hit the big 3-0, certain bucket list items should have been checked off. Sure, my career was taking off. I was on track for partner at the law firm. I owned my own house. That was the boring stuff. I hadn't done any of the good stuff, like travel. I'd never been out of the country, not even to Canada. I'd start simple with an English speaking country. Australia. England. No, Scotland. Definitely Scotland. Why a man in a kilt made my panties damp instead of the new James Bond guy or a tattooed motorcycle rider, I'd never know. But finding one in my Midwest hometown was pretty much impossible. At least, I hadn't found one yet. Not even a man in a kilt. Just a man.
I certainly hadn't done one yet. I wasn't a virgin. I'd had a few men in my lifetime, but nothing memorable. Or memorable enough.
No pushed up against the wall, headboard banging, sheet tangling, wild monkey sex. No crazy sex toys or even handcuffs. No spanking. Not even the tiniest bit of kink, and for some reason, I liked kink. Worst of all, no all consuming climaxes. Just small little O's. Not the big O. At thirty—thirty!—I damn well deserved one. Just one.
I groaned, then took a big gulp of my drink. "You're all so much younger. Your girl parts aren't old like mine."
Tracy was only three months younger, but Ali and Hannah were both twenty-seven. I was the first to be an official old maid. If I got much older, I'd be classified a cougar.
"You make it sound like you're on the brink of menopause." Hannah glanced at her phone, then frowned. "I have to go. I'm sure my boss is going to be thrilled I'm tipsy at work, but maybe it will help coming up with ideas for this ad campaign I'm working on."
Lexy
"Hottest guy? Fireman," my friend Hannah offered without any thinking. "Hockey player. Italian race car driver."
"That many?" Ali asked her.
Hannah brought her finger to her chin in a gesture of thinking hard. "Gladiator. Viking. Pirate."
"Not just pirate, space pirate," Tracy added.
All of us oohed and ahhed over that answer. We'd spent the past ten minutes coming up with the kind of guy we'd just let ravage us. No names, no questions, just drop the panties and fuck.
"I'd drop 'em for a cowboy," Ali replied, grinning. She poked at an olive with her fork and popped it in her mouth. "Especially if he had to chase me down, lasso me, then tie me up."
"God, I think that's better than any of mine," Hannah said, not disappointed to have her ideas topped by a bondage loving man in chaps.
"How about you, Lexy?"
My three best friends stared at me across the table. We were into our second glasses of wine over lunch and by the turn our conversation had taken, it was, perhaps, one glass too many. It was more wine bar with small tapas than restaurant, so the small appetizers of food didn't do much to sop up the alcohol. I was definitely feeling the effects of daytime drinking.
I stared at my friends, worried about my answer I stalled by spreading some hummus on a small slice of bread. Wine had softened my senses, and I worried I'd blurt out something I'd regret. "What?" I asked, trying to keep my look blank.
Three sets of eyes rolled as I shoved the bread in my mouth to give me more time.
"We told you our fantasy man—men," Tracy said, waving her fork in the air, then pointing it at me. "We now know that Ali likes to be tied up. Not only that, but if I can share that I want to get down and dirty with an overly dominant duke, you can spill."
I bit my lip. "Fine." I took another gulp of wine for fortification. Lunchtime was a little early to be drinking, but it was my birthday and it was five o'clock somewhere. "But I've only got one. A Highlander."
They all squealed in delight and several people near us in the restaurant turned to eye us.
Tracy patted my hand with a mixture of glee and lust in her eyes. "God, a man in a kilt?" She glanced at Ali. "Sorry, a kilt trumps chaps."
Ali held up her hands. "I agree."
"Who needs more than a hot man in a kilt?"
Ali leaned in and lowered her voice. "I think I just came at the idea."
We couldn't stop another fit of giggles. For some reason, I'd always been interested in Highlanders. All those bodice ripper books with a hot man in a kilt on the cover were the ones I always bought. It was as if I were drawn to them. Strange, but not that strange, if Ali wanted a space pirate to fuck her.
"It's your birthday, Lex, so you win," Tracy said, topping off my glass with the last of the wine bottle. "A Highlander is the hottest lay of the day."
"No hot Highlander is going to want an old lady like me," I said with a pout. "God, I can't believe I'm thirty."
It was my birthday. My thirtieth birthday. Ugh. Where had all the time gone? It wasn't like I was on the brink of old age or anything, but when you hit the big 3-0, certain bucket list items should have been checked off. Sure, my career was taking off. I was on track for partner at the law firm. I owned my own house. That was the boring stuff. I hadn't done any of the good stuff, like travel. I'd never been out of the country, not even to Canada. I'd start simple with an English speaking country. Australia. England. No, Scotland. Definitely Scotland. Why a man in a kilt made my panties damp instead of the new James Bond guy or a tattooed motorcycle rider, I'd never know. But finding one in my Midwest hometown was pretty much impossible. At least, I hadn't found one yet. Not even a man in a kilt. Just a man.
I certainly hadn't done one yet. I wasn't a virgin. I'd had a few men in my lifetime, but nothing memorable. Or memorable enough.
No pushed up against the wall, headboard banging, sheet tangling, wild monkey sex. No crazy sex toys or even handcuffs. No spanking. Not even the tiniest bit of kink, and for some reason, I liked kink. Worst of all, no all consuming climaxes. Just small little O's. Not the big O. At thirty—thirty!—I damn well deserved one. Just one.
I groaned, then took a big gulp of my drink. "You're all so much younger. Your girl parts aren't old like mine."
Tracy was only three months younger, but Ali and Hannah were both twenty-seven. I was the first to be an official old maid. If I got much older, I'd be classified a cougar.
"You make it sound like you're on the brink of menopause." Hannah glanced at her phone, then frowned. "I have to go. I'm sure my boss is going to be thrilled I'm tipsy at work, but maybe it will help coming up with ideas for this ad campaign I'm working on."