Friday night and Drew Stewart, on a lads night out with his three mates, raised his pint to his lips. He had travelled up on the train with Alex and Rod after work. In just over an hour they had arrived at Edinburgh's Waverley station and made a beeline for Deacon Brodie's bar on the Royal Mile. There they met up with Jimmy, who lived in "Auld Reekie" itself.

The four of them, from different walks of life, had met on Facebook a few years ago having all been members of various gaming pages on the site.

Jimmy, tattooed, dreadlock wearing, partial to the odd spliff, worked in a music store, called Sounds, which his father had founded thirty years ago. It sold everything from CD's, DVD's, Bluray, to books, musical instruments and memorabilia. His father was an amazing guitarist and had been known to take on the odd student keen to learn the instrument, but it was rare. He played mostly for pleasure and regularly teamed up with his son Jimmy, who played the fiddle and the bodhran. They often performed at various folk festivals both locally and further afield.

Alex worked for a local newspaper chain, The Tweeddale Press Group. He worked in the pre-press, designing the layout of the pages, columns and advertisements. He was the peacock of the group, always primping and preening and immaculately turned out. He had a string of girlfriends the size of one of his newspaper print runs and moving, changing almost as fast.

Rod was a tradesman. A joiner primarily, but also knew his way around masonry and plastering. He broke away from his employer two years ago to start his own business.  Built like a brick outhouse, he was a gym addict and had a physique that had many women ended up with lolling tongues, not to mention a few men too.

Tonight the lads were celebrating Alex' thirty-fourth birthday and so they all met to engage in a night of drunken debauchery.

The conversation, as it usually did, turned to the subject of women. Drew was the first to be questioned. They had met Sarah a couple of times though it had taken a lot of effort from Drew to get her to go out. He had also spoken of her often enough when the guys all met up for their booze riddled nights out. This time, of course, he had to adopt a story that Sarah herself had suggested. He informed them that she had left suddenly, taking up an offer to move abroad, for a few months anyhow. He just couldn't bring himself to say she was gone forever, even in a trumped-up story.

     "So, ye miserable bastard, did ye fuck her before she left?" Rod asked.

Drew raised the pint to his lips again but paused for a moment before he took a drink. The question had been expected. Still, it left a slightly bitter after-taste and no, that wasn't attributed to the beer.

     "No," came his reply, before he continued with his pint. He shrugged, trying to imply it was not a big issue for him. His eyes quickly scanned his group of friends before looking away towards the bar. Inwardly, he sighed. The sooner this conversation was over the better, so just roll with the punches, he told himself.

A look passed between the other three with raised eyebrows and shrugs. "Maybe for the best," Alex offered. "Great body and she was a looker but, Christ, she was a dour bitch. First whimpering over her failed marriage, then walking about like a zombie after the pile-up."

Drew bristled at Alex' slating of Sarah. There was so much more to her than the times she hit rock bottom. Still, he couldn't afford to go charging in fiercely defending her, otherwise, the guys wouldn't let the subject go.

     "Be fair guys, even you weren't easy to put up with when particular relationships failed. I can recall us all, at one time or another, trying to drown one of our sorrowful asses in a few pints and other substances. And as far as the accident was concerned, that would shock the shit out of anyone. I saw it happen, it wasn't pleasant!"

They mumbled in agreement then started on one another cataloguing their successes and failures with the opposite sex, punctuated with uproarious laughter and innuendoes. Drew just smirked and nodded now and again to give the impression he was listening, but his mind was elsewhere.

It had only been five days since Drew's return from Azeroth, but still ... he missed her terribly. Sarah! It had been hard enough coming to terms that she had fallen in love with,  by all accounts, a make-believe character in a game – an image on a computer screen. Now, however, having been part of the world of Azeroth for real, he knew better. Those animated individuals actually lived, loved and could even procreate, in another dimension. And there lay the very thing that drove the blade into his heart. Sarah was pregnant; by an NPC in World of Warcraft.

He had felt a brutal tug on his heart when he had slipped through the portal back to his home. Alone. But, it didn't really hit home until he had sat at his desk at work, looking at her empty seat, trying to come up with a feasible story as to why she wasn't there. And never would be again.

The words "faithful puppy" came unbidden, into his mind. The corners of his mouth twitched as he recalled her little term of endearment. Yes, he had been attracted to her, from the first day he'd seen her. And yes, he'd gone out his way to help her, tried to make her smile when she was at her lowest, take her out – although that was very rare, and always in a group. He'd even subjected her to this rowdy bunch a couple of times. And, he had been the very one who introduced her to the ruddy game of Warcraft in the first place.

It had taken an unbelievable journey to the fantasy world, a close and personal encounter with a beautiful blood elf demon hunter, Sarah nearly dying and being saved and marked by Illidan Stormrage, and the announcement that she was pregnant – by a fucking pixel! – before the truth finally flared up in his face. It was more than just a sexual desire.

He was in love with her. That had even surprised him when he admitted it.

Tiene Firefury made him surrender to the honesty of it. The beautiful and oh, so tragic demon hunter who had seduced him in a forest. She'd opened his eyes to his true feelings. On hearing Tiene's story the night before he left Azeroth, about the man who owned her heart, he admitted to his own heart-rending predicament. Tiene said she'd seen the look in his eyes when he was close to Sarah. Yes, she knew. Sweet Tiene. Drew's mouth played a sad smile at the memory and he had to turn towards the bar again so his friends didn't see.

Staring at the bottom of his glass, he felt the need for many more full ones of these.

     "Another round?" he asked his friends, holding up his empty pint. They all agreed. Drew went to the bar, relieved to get away from the table for a few minutes.

He stood, waiting to be served, being elbowed by others desperate to be first in the line. He looked at the barman as he approached and held out a twenty-pound note over the heads of some other punters shoving their way in. He was the next one served, much to the annoyance of those still pushing beside him. 

A shout from behind let him know Rod was on hand to help take the drinks over.  He handed a couple of pints to Rod, spilling some on a scantily clad, heavily painted woman whose bust was pushed so far up, her chin nearly rested in the cleavage. She was his senior – by millennia! Smutty. Gagging for it. A cougar. A very drunk cougar.

     "Care to lick that off, sweetie?" she said, pouting at him as she swayed back and forth in the sea of bodies at the bar.

     "I'll pass, thanks." He turned with the other two pints and started trying to wedge his way through the thirsty crowd. The woman inched closer and he had to raise his arms so her ample breasts didn't knock the glasses from his hands. The tactic failed and he watched as a trickle of frothy lager slid down her cleavage.

Her painted face looked up at him, powder embedded in the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. She purred, licking her top lip in an attempt to look seductive and shimmying her breasts against him. "Are you sure about that handsome? Do you have any idea what you're missing?"

Drew was repulsed. Huffing, he stared at her heaving bosom, then looked her straight in the eyes. Revulsion fuelling his retort, he replied "Suffocation, for one thing, I would think, ma'am!" 

It was uncharacteristic for Drew to be rude to any woman, but tonight, this fossilised succubus made his flesh creep. Tonight he just wanted to get blasted. Dull the pain.

     "Faggot!" the woman spat back. She then quickly moved on to the next young man in the queue, pressing herself up against him. He looked equally mortified.

Drew shook his head in disbelief. He managed back to the table without too much more spillage. 

Reaching the table, he found the conversation had steered in a different direction. Gaming.

When he put the drinks down he looked up to see his friends had been joined by three other punters. Two men, both in their late twenties, were talking and laughing with Jimmy. The topic was role-playing in-game. 

The woman with them, a redhead was equally animated in the conversation. Her eyes turned to Drew as put the glasses down. She took her time checking him out, then a slow smile crossed her full lips before she turned back to Jimmy and her companions.

Retaking his seat, Jimmy introduced him to the newcomers. "Drew, this is Mel," he said, gesturing to the man nearest him. "He's a regular at Sounds. Plays a mean blues on the guitar and into gaming, like us."

Drew nodded, "Hi."

     "Hey, Drew."

     "This is Mick," Jimmy proceeded, pointing to the other guy. Average looking, the severely sculpted hair being the most interesting thing about him. Mick said hello, as did Drew.

     "And I'm Bernadette," the woman said, holding her hand out to Drew. "But I prefer Bernie."

Drew reached over and shook her hand. Her fingers were covered in rings and beaded bracelets adorned her wrist. Tribal tattoos travelled up her arm, bleeding onto her collarbone and up her neck. He noticed her facial piercings, lip, nose and brow. She was quite a striking woman, and her hair, although not a natural red, was long and silky.

Music: Innocent Man by Rag 'n' Bone Man

https://youtu.be/iGPb_rLB3O8

Warning: Some mature content follows, namely of a sexual nature

They all engaged in the discussion of gaming. Characters, preferences, gear, drops, mounts, lore, achievements, quests, format, cross-realms, cross-games, role-play. Lots of hilarity. Boos and cheers.

Drinks flowed, refills bought, downed. Tequila hit the table and the challenge was on. Sometime during the night, a little hallucinogenic substance wormed its way in. More drinks. Music turned up, booming.

Bernie, on Drew's lap, gyrating.

Sarah making breakfast dancing and singing to T-Rex' Get It On.

Nuzzling his earlobe. Tongues duelling. More drinks. A ring-encrusted hand on his crotch.

A forest. A waterfall. Fucking in the ferns. Tiene.

The buildings swimming, pulsing. Car horns blaring. Taxi drivers cursing out their windows. Obstacles in his way. 

One pissed off Watcher - Maiev.  Tyrande and Malfurion are against it.  Killing demons with a Worgen. Extracting the mighty demon hunter from the Vault.

Bernie's hand inside his jeans. Hard and throbbing trying to get free.  Twenty-foot demons thundering through the Royal Mile. What? Staggering along the street to Jimmy's flat. Giant fucking felbats overhead. Duck!  His hand under Bernie's mini-skirt in a dark doorway. Wet. 

Gul'dan lurking in the entrance to the Seat.  Battles. Sucking life.  The Draenei, Ocel – dying.  Sad. Erik firing arrows and traps.  Illidan emerging from his felblood prison. Sarah's limp body.  Portal. Suramar.

Lights glaring, dimming, spinning. Curtains rippling at an open window.  Another demon stomping past. The sound of traffic coming up from below.  Flopping onto a bed, Bernie falling on top of him frantically undoing his zipper.

Sarah is on a bed, alive. Illidan healed the wounds over her body, cauterising her flesh. Imbuing her with power.

Hot bodies. Kissing. Sucking. Biting. Growling felhound in the corner, red eyes flashing. Pert, pierced nipples. Tattoos.

Sarah, half demon hunter, markings over her breasts. Hot. Lighting up. Fuck!

Room spinning. Carried by demon hunters. Heavy breathing. Green fel. Pulsing. Deep throat. Erect.

Azeroth rising. Shields over the allies. Blasted the fuck out of Sargeras. Sliding into the gaping tomb.

Deep inside Bernie. Riding hard. Her legs wrapped tightly around his hips. Oh, fuck! Release.

Pregnant! Sarah staying with Khadgar – the father of her baby. A portal in the throne room. Going home.

Alone. 

She's in Azeroth. 

Tired. Just so fucking tired.  

The key to making a portal. Must return. Have to...

Blackness.

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Light filtered through the gap in the curtains. It found its way to the body sprawled on the bed, drawing laser lines over the ribbed torso. Drew stirred, pulling his arm over his eyes. The exertion caused him to grunt. His muscles ached and his head felt like someone was inside it banging a sledgehammer in his skull. 

"Jesus, fuckin' Christ!" he groaned. His dark lashes flickered against his forearm. Slowly he moved his arm and quickly shut his eyes again. "Shit!" It was way too bright. He rolled onto his side away from the light source.

Once facing the door, he tentatively opened his eyes once more. He was alone. He vaguely remembered a redhead with lots of rings and piercings. He became aware of something tickling him between his legs. He looked down. "What the ...!" A beaded bracelet was looped round his penis with a note attached. He removed the bizarre token. Scrunching up his eyes he read the note.

Delicious!

Hope to taste you again.

Maybe in Azeroth?

Bernie x

A lipstick kiss was after the name and also where the note had been attached.

Maybe in Azeroth? He tried to recall what was said the night before. His mind drifted erratically to Deacon Brodie's. The cougar. For a second, his heart stopped, thinking this Bernie and the cougar was one and the same. The image of a redhead came to the fore. He exhaled. Thank god for that! His hazy inner ear tried to interpret the conversation and gradually it came back. Gaming. Role-playing.

Just how much he'd said, was unclear, but surely Bernie would have either thought Drew was merely talking role-play or, that he was crazy, a few sandwiches short of a picnic. No one would believe he was talking the truth - if indeed he had.

He pushed himself up. His head swam. Never again! his sensible inner voice said. Until the next time, his true self replied. Head in hands he groaned. He needed to get home.

Gathering his clothes, he thought about how much he'd consumed last night. As he slowly pulled on his boxers, he wondered how on earth he'd managed to drink so much and indulge in other substances without passing out hours before he reached the flat. In Azeroth, it took him only two mugs of ale to be rendered useless. Well, the first time it did anyway. Next time when he was out with Erik, he managed more and stayed compos mentis.

He staggered his way through to the bathroom. The light coming through the window hit every pristine white surface it could find, creating a blinding brilliance, and making negotiating his way to the sink a painful journey. Once he reached it, he clung to the edge. Glancing at the toilet, it issued an invitation for last night's indulgence to escape. His stomach lurched. Invitation accepted. He flushed. Out of sight out of mind.

Pulling himself straight again, he looked at himself in the mirror. He was overcome by a stab of guilt. What the hell for? he asked himself. It's not as if he was unfaithful to Sarah. All he had of her, was friendship.

He didn't feel like this when he lay with a demon hunter. Tiene made him feel that being with her was just cushioning the blow, finding a little comfort from the harsh reality of owning a wounded heart.

For some inexplicable reason though, last night felt like a betrayal. Furthermore, and rather shamefully, sex with the redhead had meant nothing to him. It had simply been a bodily reaction to a woman who was more than willing to indulge in sexual gratification. Hell, he couldn't even remember if it was any good. Her note stating he was "delicious", however, tended to suggest it was. Truthfully, he didn't care if he never saw Bernie again.

But, he did care about not seeing Sarah. Splashing his face with water, he wondered, as he often did, why it was he felt so strongly about her; especially now that she had made a commitment to Archmage Khadgar and was pregnant with his child. She was even more unreachable, untouchable, unavailable.  Maybe there was just no answer, it just was, and that was it; one of life's little quirks that liked to piss you off.

He knew well enough there was no hope, but he desperately wanted to see her again. Only six days had passed since he'd returned, but it could be months later now in Azeroth. Perhaps she had had her baby? He knew not why he wanted to put himself through this agony, but somehow he needed to.

Squeezing some toothpaste on his finger, he cleaned his teeth - no way did he use other folk's brushes. A quick swill around with the mouthwash and that task was finished. He looked at the shower. He knew he really should take one before he went on the train. He switched it on, dropped the boxers and stepped in. Breathing deeply, he just let the water cascade over his shoulders. It felt good.

Refreshed and dried, he dressed and moved through to the kitchen. There, he found a note from Jimmy on the fridge-freezer.

'Help yourself to breakfast. Had to go to work. 

Rough as a badger's arse, but can't let the old man down.

Rod and Alec are viewing a flat this morning, by the way, and

said they'll catch you back home.

See you when you back up in the city.

And next time, try and keep the noise down eh?

Don't know what your technique is but that Bernie left

this morning looking very happy. All I'm saying is,

thank fuck it wasn't coke you took last night

or yous would still be going at it!!

LOL

See ya

J'

Drew laughed. Jimmy never was one for quick notes - they always ended up like a Russian novel. Drew's version would have been much shorter.

After some toast and a coffee, he felt more like himself again. He checked the time. Should be a train around one-thirty, so he'd head off now. But before he did, he left a note for Jimmy. He smirked as he wrote:

'Great night. Thanks.

Who's Bernie?

See ya

D'

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