[Cross-referencing local records... Lori Grimes. Wife of Rick Grimes, Sheriff's Deputy, King County. Marital tension detected — recent argument, subject.]
Lori Grimes. But not the Lori I knew from the show. In this universe, it seemed Kareena Kapoor was the actress playing Lori Grimes, and somehow she'd become real, sitting right here in front of me.
I took the seat next to her.
"Rough night?" I asked, keeping my voice easy, unhurried.
She glanced sideways at me — a flicker of appraisal, the kind women get good at doing quickly — and apparently didn't dislike what she found. "You could say that." A short, humorless laugh. "You could also say I'm not in the mood to talk about it."
"Fair enough. I won't ask." I signaled the bartender for a drink of my own. "I'm Ryan. New in town, more or less."
"Lori." She turned fully toward me now, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. "Nobody's new in King County. What'd you do, get lost on the highway?"
"Something like that." I let the corner of my mouth curl. "Figured I'd stop somewhere that looked like it had character. This place has character."
"This place has a broken jukebox and a bartender who waters down the whiskey," she said, but she was smiling now, just slightly, despite herself.
We talked. Not about Rick — she steered around that with practiced ease, the way people do when a wound is too fresh to touch directly — but about everything else: her son, small towns, how she used to want to leave Georgia before she married a man who'd never leave it. There was an ache under all of it, the specific loneliness of someone who felt unseen inside her own life. I didn't manufacture sympathy for it. It was real, and I let her feel heard, because that alone did more work than any line I could have thought up.
Somewhere around the second round, the conversation stopped being about words at all. It was in the way she leaned in a fraction closer every time she laughed, the way her hand found an excuse to rest near mine on the bar top, the charged half-second before either of us said anything, where we both silently agreed on where the night was going.
"I should go home," she said, not moving.
"Should you?" I asked.
She looked at me for a long moment — weighing something, maybe her marriage, maybe just her own restlessness — and then she didn't answer at all. She just reached over, curled her fingers into the front of my shirt, and kissed me like she'd already made the decision three drinks ago and had just been waiting for permission to admit it.
The kiss wasn't tentative. It was hungry, demanding, her lips parting instantly as her tongue found mine. There was no hesitation, only the raw, pent-up frustration of a woman who'd been arguing with her husband and was now seeking a very different kind of release. I met her intensity with my own, my hand sliding up her back to tangle in her dark hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. She tasted like cheap whiskey and desperation, a potent combination that went straight to my head.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were dark with desire, her chest heaving. "Not here," she said, her voice husky. "Follow me."
She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me toward the back of the bar, past a few curious glances from other patrons. I followed willingly, my cock already hardening in anticipation of what was coming. The women's restroom was small and dingy, smelling of bleach and cheap air freshener, but Lori didn't seem to care. The moment the door was locked behind us, she was on me again.
This time, there was no buildup, no teasing. She dropped to her knees right there on the dirty tile floor, her hands already working at my belt buckle. "I've wanted to do this since you sat down next to me," she said, her eyes never leaving mine as she freed my cock from my jeans.
I leaned back against the door, watching as she took me in her hand. Her fingers were cool against my heated skin, her touch confident and sure. She stroked me slowly, her thumb brushing against the sensitive head, spreading the bead of pre-cum that had already formed.
"God, you're big," she murmured, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "Bigger than..."
She didn't finish the thought, and I didn't need her to. Instead, she leaned forward and took me into her mouth, her lips wrapping around the head of my cock. The wet heat of her mouth was incredible, her tongue swirling around the sensitive underside as she took me deeper.
I groaned, my head falling back against the door as she worked me with her mouth. She was skilled, her movements practiced and confident. One hand gripped my hip while the other cupped my balls, rolling them gently as she bobbed her head, taking more of me with each downward movement.
"Fuck, Lori," I breathed, my fingers tangling in her hair. "That feels so good..."
She hummed around my cock, the vibrations sending shivers down my spine. After a moment, I could feel myself getting close already, the familiar tightening in my balls as my release approached, but I didn't want it to end like this, not yet.
Suddenly, she pulled away with a wet pop, leaving my cock glistening and throbbing in the cool air of the bathroom. Before I could protest, she was standing up, turning around to face the sink counter. She hiked up her skirt, revealing she wasn't wearing any panties, and bent over, presenting herself to me.
"I need you inside me," she said, her voice thick with desire. "Now. Right here."
I didn't hesitate. I moved behind her, aligning my cock with her wet entrance. I could feel how ready she was, her pussy already glistening with arousal. With one smooth thrust, I buried myself inside her.
We both cried out at the sudden penetration. She was tight, hot, and incredibly wet, her muscles clenching around me as I buried myself to the hilt. I gripped her hips, holding her steady as I began to move, setting a rhythm that had her bracing herself against the sink.
"Harder," she begged, pushing back against me. "Fuck me harder..."
I complied, my movements becoming more forceful, more demanding. The sound of our coupling filled the small bathroom — the slap of skin against skin, her breathy moans, my guttural groans, as she met each movement, lost in the steady, unbroken pace. We stayed in that rhythm for a long time, adjusting positions to prolong the heat, keeping the intensity. I could feel myself getting close, the familiar tightening in my balls as my release approached.
"I'm going to cum," I warned, my voice strained. "Lori, I'm going to cum inside you..."
"Yes," she cried out, her movements becoming more frantic. "Cum inside me... I want to feel it..."
With a final, powerful thrust, I buried myself deep inside her as my orgasm hit. I came hard, pulsing waves of pleasure as I filled her with my release. The sensation sent her over the edge again, and she cried out as her pussy clamped down on me, milking every last drop.
We stayed like that for a moment, both of us breathing heavily, my cock still inside her as we both tried to catch our breath. Finally, I pulled out, watching as my cum dripped down her thighs.
"Wow," she said, turning around to face me with a satisfied smile. "I needed that."
"Me too," I agreed, tucking myself back into my jeans. "But I'm not done with you yet."
Her eyes darkened with desire. "Good. Because I'm not done with you either."
We straightened our clothes as best we could and slipped out of the bathroom. The bar was still noisy, oblivious to what had just happened in the women's restroom. We made our way outside, the cool night air a welcome relief after the heat of our encounter.