It seems that I wasn’t quite as finished with her as I first thought.
It was already my most ambitious project when I first started the original trilogy in 2012, but why not four more?
Dates and titles are all tentative, but here we go…
It seems that I wasn’t quite as finished with her as I first thought.
It was already my most ambitious project when I first started the original trilogy in 2012, but why not four more?
Dates and titles are all tentative, but here we go…
Circe looked at the house across the street before turning to him. “Seriously? That’s the place?”
“Sonnefeld or Burton could have used it for a horror movie, I know. Very eerie place with modern buildings either side.” Jeff’s eyes moved down to her.
The streets were still damp from rain deluge the night prior as it had yet to warm up enough to evaporate much. Two cars squealed past spraying water on the sidewalk followed by a hovering police car chasing after them with sirens blazing.
She linked her arm into his. “Okay, then. Lead on MacDuff.”
“You know the quote is actually Lay on, not lead, right?”
She grinned. “Of course. Just testing you.”
With her in her long black skirt, black boots rising beneath, and navy topcoat; and him in his button-down shirt beneath his elbow-patched cream sweater and gray slacks; they appeared as any professional couple heading out for dinner after a long work day.
At the door, he stopped. “Are you ready?”
Wide brown eyes looked up at his graying hair and blue eyes. A long breath followed as her chest showed shaky nerves beneath her coat. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.” He opened the door.
The aroma of chlorine greeted Circe. No surprise being there were multiple pools in the place, but it was not expected to be the first thing she noticed. Her eyes found the advert posters on the wall opposite from the reception desk detailing upcoming events featuring “Bukkake”, “Some Entangled Evening”, and “Knights of the DTF”. After a few extra blinks, she turned to see Jeff signing in.
The massive brute at the reception desk had sleeves of tattoos beneath his teal tank top. Even with a hard solid colour on the shirt, hints of more tattoos tried to get out from under the fabric.
Jeff handed over his credit card and waited.
“Okay,” the brute said handing the credit card back. He smiled over at Circe through a beard Grizzly Adams would have been frightened by. “We have two lockers for you.” He held up a heavy wrist rubber band with a key dangling from it for Circe.
She accepted it and clutched it close as if that would help her nerves.
Brute continued, “And your wristband.”
First, she looked at the one clutched at her chest and then back to the brute. “What’s that one for?”
He held a thin printed plastic one. “In case things go awry and you lose your key, this one is printed with your locker number.”
“Awry,” she said with a nod. She held out her right arm and the brute delicately wrapped it around her wrist.
A second set of wristbands were then given to Jeff, albeit the brute was not as delicate. The brute grinned on catching arm hair in the wristband’s adhesive seal. After a joking glare at the brute, Jeff opened the curtains to allow Circe into the club.
After a joking glare at the brute, Jeff opened the curtains to let Circe into the club.
“This isn’t what I expected,” she whispered to him as he followed her in.
“You knew the bar was here. Pool is out there,” he said pointing out a glass door to her right. “Jacuzzi is over there with the showers.” This time he pointed right again but further forward. “I’ll take you to the locker room and show you the play areas upstairs.”
“I expected a mass of naked people.”
A young woman behind the bar laughed. “Too early.”
Circe glanced over. “Oh?”
Sharp brown eyes on her ebony face peered between half-full liquor bottles at them. “On a colder weekday, we don’t pick up until late evening.”
A grin and slight nod were all Circe could muster. “I see.”
“Come on, you.” Jeff took her hand and pulled, leading her towards where he had suggested the Jacuzzi and showers were located. A quick right and he led her up a flight of stairs.
The white industrial light of the locker room was to the right of the stairs at the top.
“What locker number?”
She looked at her printed wristband. “Forty-two.”
“You’re here.” He tapped on a tiny school like locker, second row from the bottom. “And I’m here.” He took the key he had been given and used it to open the padlock on locker forty-one. “Everything gets left here. I mean, you can carry your phone around, but it really isn’t a very good idea. Better to come back here and check if you need.”
Circe opened her locker and glanced around. “A gender neutral locker room?”
“Yes, but empty for now. Don’t be modest yet.” He gave her ass a gentle smack through the fabric of her clothes. He then grabbed towels from a shelf beside the lockers and put two on the step in front of her locker.
“That’s it, is it? My fashion options for the evening?”
He laughed. “You can wear lingerie if you’d rather. Believe it or not, the towels will cover you up more.”
“True,” she agreed and pulled her coat off. Her skirt and blouse quickly followed before she divested herself of bra, panties, and stockings as well.
Jeff, already undressed, held her towel out as if helping her into a coat. “I don’t think you’ll need this long. The modesty tends to evaporate once you realize everyone here is naked and doesn’t care.”
“But what if I see someone who knows me?” She asked, tucking the white towel in just under her left shoulder. The seemingly tiny towel covered her down to half thigh.
“Then you’re all in the same boat, aren’t you? You don’t have to play nor socialize with them if you do,” he reassured. “Just acknowledge them and remind yourself that they get outed if they out you.”
“Logic,” Circe said with a grin. “What a concept. You not putting that on?” She pointed at his towel that hung off his left forearm.
“Nope. You have a problem being escorted around these premises by a naked man?”
She pursed her lips. “Not at all, sir.”
“Follow me, my lady.” He led her past the stairs and down a hall with a white wall on one side and a railing looking down at the staircase on the other.
At the far end two rooms split off from either side of the hall, a solid wooden door was straight ahead, and a second staircase ascended overtop the lower one.
“This,” Jeff said pointing to the right, “is the dungeon.”
Circe stepped inside the dark wooden paneled room.
A St. James Cross leaned against walls at both ends with a few exercise benches and massage tables scattered around the chamber. Implements of torture, from floggers to horse crops, hung from hooks on the far wall.
“They do massages here?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Sometimes, yes, but these massage tables are more for scenes like wax or cupping.” Stepping from her to one of the massage tables, he reached behind it to lift up a restraint. “This would hold you in place while I did whatever.”
“Whatever,” she said with nerves rising.
He returned and took her arm. “That room across the hall is for larger group functions or if they have a presentation to do. And that door is to the smokers deck. Poor bastards in winter, I tell ya.” He turned them around to the new stairs. “Up we go.”
She walked up the skinny staircase ahead of him to the next floor.
More white walls greeted her with multiple openings to other areas.
“This is the play floor. That’s that the red room,” he said pointing straight ahead to a red curtained opening. “It’s a large red mattress that takes up the entire space.”
“You could fit a few in there.”
“Oh, you have no idea.” He took her arm and led her to the right of the red room. “A second bar area here opens when they’re busy.” Pulling her through the bar area, he took them through another passageway. “This is what we want, though.”
The room was orange.
Very orange between furniture and wall artwork.
A long plush orange almost, but not-quite-a-sofa piece of furniture ran the entire length of one wall. Beside the entrance from the bar area was an alcove with a large screen TV and a similarly plush to the not-quite-a-sofa, but blue bench beneath it. A second opening went back out to the main hall and stairs. A Plexiglas case held a variety of condom and lube packages as treasure.
Jeff pointed out to the stairs. “The other two areas are like this, but larger and more spread out.”
“Can I see them?”
“Yes, later,” he said and tugged at her tucked in towel.
“You will see it all, but now it is time for something else.” He pushed her back on the towel, and she bounced. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
He grasped a handful of her brunette hair and tugged lightly. “Speak up, please.”
“Yes, Sir,” she answered more solidly. Her eyes found his limp penis right at her face level. Opening her mouth, she placed her lips on the shaft just beneath the tip. Her right hand grasped the other side to keep him in place, and she ran her mouth along his length to his scrotum.
“Good girl,” he groaned. His turned so his thick cock, now fully at attention, pointed straight at her. “I want your mouth.”
She opened and accepted his thrusts without moving. Although she had no issue taking his length, she had to open wide to avoid getting his girth with her teeth.
His hand remained matted in her hair as he thrust between her lips.
Circe closed her eyes and concentrated on the salty taste and rubbery feel of his flesh. A dampness was forming between her legs in anticipation of what would be coming next.
With a tug of hair, he pulled her back from his cock and pushed down on her back leaving her legs dangling off the edge. He stepped to the side and reached into the condom container for a pouch.
Opening her eyes and lifted her head until her chin touched her breastbone. Circe could not hide the surprise she felt on seeing another couple on the blue bench watching. She’d not heard them come in with her hard concentration on Jeff’s erection.
The male of the couple had a fringe of dark hair around a balding head, and a slight beer belly protruded over his towel. The female had short auburn hair in a page-boy cut.
Circe guessed they were maybe in their early fifties.
“No concern, my love,” Jeff whispered as he crawled on top of her. “They only watch unless you invite them in.”
A gasp passed from her lips as Jeff’s tongue slipped inside her pussy lips. Her voice offered whispering notes as she felt him flick at her clitoris and search for just the perfect spot.
He found it.
The whispering notes became a solid moan as she arched her back and pushed her hips harder at his face.
“Very nice,” the male of the couple whispered just loud enough for Circe to hear.
Her eyes opened, and she looked at them again.
The two stood and moved away, towards the bar area entry.
“Wait,” Circe croaked.
All three in the room with her stopped.
“I want…”Her arm, in more spasm than point, gestured to the female.
The woman smiled, and she came up behind Jeff. “May I?” she asked him.
“Please do.” Jeff moved and sat beside Circe on the not-quite-a-sofa.
The male returned to his bench.
With a smile, the woman removed her towel, folded it, and placed it on the ground. She knelt on the towel and lowered her face between Circe’s legs.
Circe’s moans quickly turned into loud cries of pleasure until she rode the woman’s face to her first orgasm.
With her face soaked, the woman pulled back and set her chin down on Circe’s pelvic bone. “It helps when the one doing it knows how she likes it, doesn’t it?”
A giggle was the lone response Circe could offer so far.
“I’m Maggie, by the way. That’s Tom.” She reached forward to shake hands.
Tom waved from his vinyl blue perch.
The giggle turned to laugh as Circe accepted the hand. “This might be the oddest introduction I’ve ever had.”
“You taste wonderful,” Maggie said, “but I think your boyfriend wants to fuck you, so I should leave you.”
“May I taste you?” Hearing the question in her own voice surprised even Circe. She sat up and moved over towards Jeff.
Maggie shrugged. “Like you have to ask me twice.” She picked up her towel and spread it over the not-quite-a sofa so she could lay back long ways, so her feet were where Circe had been.
On hands and knees, Circe moved between Maggie’s knees and pushed them apart. Lowering between them, she looked at the pussy in front of her. An odd feeling of recognition and yet foreign object struck her as she ran a finger along the slit before pushing it inside. Next, she applied her tongue and felt the lips spread quickly.
“Oh, fuck me, yes,” Maggie squealed.
In excitement, Circe plunged her tongue deeper until her nose was between Maggie’s pussy lips as well. After a moment, she had to pull back for breath, but she quickly went back in.
“Gorgeous,” Tom cooed.
Scrunching noises of vinyl told Circe that Jeff was moving behind her. The familiar ripping of the condom package followed, and she guessed what was about to happen. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she also saw Tom up and moving towards Maggie.
Removing Tom’s towel revealed a long erection that found its way into Maggie’s mouth.
The feeling of her pussy opening as Jeff’s cock slid in caused Circe to gasp and stop licking, but only for a moment. After a few more tastes of Maggie, the thrusts pushed Circe up further until she and Maggie were kissing.
Their tongues exchanged pleasantries until Tom’s erection was introduced between them.
To Circe’s surprise, she took turns with Maggie sucking him with no second thoughts. Then things blurred a bit for her as she rolled off Maggie.
Jeff replaced his condom and went to Maggie while Tom, with a new condom of his own, came to Circe.
“May I?” Tom asked as he crawled between her legs.
“May you?” Circe laughed. “Just fuck me already.” She felt Tom’s length go much deeper than Jeff, but his erection was neither as thick or as durable.
He also came after only a few thrusts and pulled back with an embarrassed look. He was surprised with the look of satisfaction on Circe’s face.
“This is not at all what I expected,” she gasped.
He climbed back on the not-quite-a-sofa and cuddled with her. “What were you expecting?”
Maggie screamed causing both to look over and see Jeff thrusting deep into her from a missionary position.
Circe pointed at them. “I didn’t think to watch him fuck another would be so flaming hot.”
Tom laughed. “It is, isn’t it. Live porn with your partner as the star.”
Steam lifted off the darkened street as cars passed through puddles. The streetlights offered spots of light between the deluge and the wind. The full-length windows muted the sound of cars skidding past below.
Kent stared into the darkest part of his reflection to look outside. The fluorescent lighting in the hall made it difficult to see much out there. He stood in his blue uniform with his first name embroidered on his right chest with a broom over his shoulder. No one would mistake him for a soldier carrying a rifle, but he still smiled at the thought.
A car sprayed water on the sidewalk causing nearby pedestrians to scatter away from the edge.
Kent chuckled and returned to his hall trek. He began whistling “If I Only Had a Brain” because if people wouldn’t mistake him for a soldier, perhaps they just might think he’s Dick Van Dyke. No one had yet pointed out to him that Mr. Van Dyke was not in The Wizard Oz, so Kent’s error had gone unchecked for twenty-something years.
The white clock with black hands and numbers stared down at him and suggested it was near eleven.
Late classes ended at 9:30 which usually meant that, by this time, Kent had these hallowed halls to himself. There were occasional stragglers of profs marking papers or students getting up to the naughty, but that was rare. This was why seeing one of the dark blue doors set against the muted blue wall further up the hall offering a crack of light through it seemed so odd to him.
If for nothing else other than to protect the computer equipment in these rooms, that door should have been closed and locked.
Kent counted off doors and felt his heart jump when he realized it was room 442. “Maybe,” he whispered, and a smile crept over his face.
Circe Daya, a professor in the school’s chemistry department, had a late class in that room. She was a petite, slim goddess that usually kept her wavy brunette hair in a tight ponytail. Often, her fashion involved skirts down to mid-calf that swayed when she walked.
Kent was not a tall man, but he always felt tall around her. His shift started just as her last class would have started at seven. He always knew to be in the lobby just before so he could give her a smile and wave while his heart did flips as she came in. Due to the schedule of his rounds, he was never able to get back over to see her again before she left unless she stayed late. When she did stay late, and he would see her, the ponytail would be unleashed and he would dilly-dally in her room just to steal glances.
She never returned the glances. Other than a nod to acknowledge he was there, she never said anything to him either.
He neared the door and heard what sounded like slapping coming from inside. Halting, he cocked his head and listened for a moment as it is hard to hear over the attack of rain on windows. Setting the broom against the wall, he resumed walking and looked through the crack in the door.
The lights in the room were off except for the single security light in one back corner.
After a moment of eye adjustment, Kent’s eye first caught the swaying of Circe’s brunette hair. She was fully in silhouette he, at least, assumed it was her.
With the silhouetted body bent over one of the laboratory counters at the head of the class, it was difficult to confirm.
His eyes followed her silhouette to find the bunched up fabric of her skirt. A shard of security light revealed the smooth skin of her ass beyond that.
Her muscular legs were covered in dark stockings and high heels were the only reason her feet were still on the ground.
A male figure was behind her slowly pulling back revealing a long dark, cylindrical shadow between them before pushing forward again to cause the slapping sound. His toned ass was fully visible in the light. Above his waistline was completely in shadow.
Kent put a hand over his mouth the keep from gasping. He had not idea who the massive brute behind her was.
A feminine moan slipped from Circe as the silhouette of her head turned back to her lover. Her left hand moved back to grasp the man’s hip, and her red nails slipped into the security light.
The male’s hand came down lightly on one of her ass cheeks causing another soft smacking sound.
Circe giggled. “That’s not like the other night,” her voice whispered and confirmed it was her.
An erection formed in Kent’s uniform pants. He considered if he should announce his presence as he would were these students. Most students would cease immediately before moving on after the embarrassment. A couple of times, Kent had needed to call for assistance and had the perpetrators hauled off in cuffs.
This was Circe, however. Not some early twenty-something kid getting their hornies out.
Kent wanted to join in.
Inside, the scene changed. The man pulled out and stepped back from her until his thick erection was in the security light as if he’d planned it.
Circe stood and turned around to him.
“On your knees,” the man growled in a voice Kent did not recognize.
Lowering to her knees as commanded, Circe’s face appeared in the light as she moved forward to accept his offering.
A groan nearly escaped Kent on watching her lips go around the erection tip and sucking the full length inside her mouth.
The man grabbed a handful of Circe’s hair and controlled the rhythm of her mouth with that of his thrust. He groaned once and stiffened.
A sound came from Circe and she, too, stopped moving.
Kent assumed the contents of the man’s balls were now in her mouth.
After a moment, she released his cock and looked up at her partner with a smile. Her hand wiped something from the corner of her lips.
Kent stepped back from the door and looked down at the tent at the front of his own pants. “Damn,” he whispered. He took a few steps back and retrieved his broom. He looked around for his own hiding place but heard the click of high heels coming from the classroom too quickly.
How was he to explain his being here?
A thought occurred, and he reached into his breast pocket. Fishing out a pair of headphones he’d found in one class, he put a bud in each ear. Then he began to sweep.
The door squeaked as it opened. “Oh,” Circe’s voice quietly said.
Kent kept his back to them. He turned his head slightly left to show the white earbuds and cord which went to nothing in his breast pocket.
“He didn’t see or hear us?” the male voice asked.
“I don’t think so,” she whispered back. Her voice, though still hushed, got louder as she continued, “He’s got music on.”
“Shame indeed,” Circe agreed.
With stomach now in his throat, Kent pushed the broom away from them. He leaned heavily on it for fear of falling over.
“Maybe next time,” she offered before more clicks meant they were walking away.
I mentioned yesterday on Twitter and Facebook that our 16-year-old has come out to us as transgender.
We were very proud for her in having the strength to talk to us for starters. She has done so much research and soul searching on this, that it was time. Her shock came in how we embraced her words and offered to help. I suppose any child is afraid to tell their folks for fear of rejection. Imagine the surprise when not only did we accept that they want to look at becoming a trans male and choosing a new masculine name, but offering to help find the connections they need to move forward on this.
Those of you regularly reading my work would know we are not the most traditional of situations, to begin with, but our children don’t quite fathom this. Our two teenagers are aware to a limited degree, and in this case, 16 is the younger of the two teens.
The pronouns and name will take some getting used to after 16 years of calling her and by a female name, but it would be completely hypocritical of what my wife and I are not to support and guide in this. Even writing this is difficult as I keep wanting to refer to my daughter, but knowing it is not how he would want that. I shall soldier on. I already had to go back in that first paragraph just to edit the pronouns.
Thus yesterday we took them and their younger sister down to The 519. The 519 is one of Toronto’s best-known community centres for the LGBTQ+ community at 519 Church Street, just north of Church and Wellesley.
For anyone walking in, the place looks like any other community centre would look like with the reception desk, sitting area, and office listings. At first, we did a cursory search for literature laid out for any groups or meetings that we could be part of. Next, the receptionist was very helpful in giving us a listing exactly of what we wanted and also two councilor names involved with youth and/or trans issues. A volunteer overheard us and came out for a quick discussion that gave us more references.
The volunteer also introduced us to the group PFLAG. PFLAG is Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays which I will be talking further about in a future post.
All fantastic helps, as we thank them for this.
At one point the volunteer stopped, pointed at me and asked, “Are you the father?”
I said yes and the shock on the volunteer’s face was hard to miss. Another gentleman who had come out with the volunteer said he was in awe of the fact I was there.
At first, the pride of knowing I had done right for my child swelled, but then disappointment kicked in.
No one at The 519 did anything wrong, absolutely to the contrary. We will be using their help going forward.
The disappointment came in realizing that these people rarely see the fathers bringing their children in and supporting them in this transition.
One could write some of this off to the child, afraid to tell the folks at first, coming in on their own. I’m hoping this is the majority of the reason that my appearance in this scenario was so rare. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem realistic.
The other is that many of these people show up looking for help without the support of their fathers.
Here we were with these three strangers all willing to give my child a helping hand with no questions asked. The thought of anyone walking in their alone without the support of either of their parent’s (or both) devastated me.
This is where I take a deep breath before starting to yell at these men.
SHAME ON YOU, YOU BASTARDS!!!
Sorry, I failed there.
The disgust that, even once, any father or mother would refuse to support their child in this is a disaster. There is so much talk of mental issues requiring heavy therapy in the LGBTQ+ community and with parents that won’t support their children in these transitions, is there any wonder why?
Obviously, archaic traditional religious thinking has much control over these reactions. Another problem is the theory that the offspring’s actions and choices reflect on the parents. Am I the only one that thinks this is literally backward thinking? The antecedent to rebellious children would often be the actions and choices made by said child’s parents.
Step backward here in that gay, lesbian, and trans is not a choice. The choice is whether or not to ignore the impulses one’s nature might have, and I’m a firm believer that ignoring what one actually is could be the most unhealthy of choices.
Our child may, or may not move forward with medically altering from female to a trans male. My wife and I will get this child all the help we can. They will make an informed choice with our support regardless of what that choice turns out to be. The choice, however, will not alter how we view this youth in our lives.
This life is the child’s, and not ours. Our life is to guide them to where they need to be and where they need to go for them. To quote that Genesis tune I opened with:
“It’s not about us anymore…”
Good as those strangers in the reception at The 519 are, imagine how your child would be with your support behind them as well.
Well, even that is not entirely true. We, as parents, are in a better place when we support our children. Getting them the help they need is what will reflect well on us in the long run.
More importantly, it will help our next generation feel free to choose what life they need to live. That is something worth exploring.
Author’s note: It’s been awhile since I’ve offered a new series here, and after a few weeks off it is about time I returned with a Wicked Wednesday post. This is the first part of a new project I’m calling “Black Rings”. Based on my notes, this one may go for a while. For the record, the last time I said something like that was the beginning of Savannah. This could be fun.
She walked towards him from the club’s bar area. A grin crossed her lips as she thought he looked perfect for the thoughts of erotica that her mind was basking in.
He sat with his eyes transfixed on a ring on his right hand. A leather coat was open showing a dark button-down collar shirt beneath it. His graying, brown hair flickered with colour from the stage lights flashing.
“A long day,” she said as she slumped into the chair beside him and set her tiny pink purse on the small table beside her.
His dark eyes glanced at her as he lifted the long neck bottle to his lips for a gulp.
Def Leppard crooned about a photograph as guitars wailed and drums hammered from the club’s speakers. The place was an industrial warehouse turned into a club. The metal rafters were camouflaged behind many flags dangling; a decoration left over from a previous World Cup theme.
“Mind if I sit here?” She brushed a stray strand of blonde off her left shoulder. A playful smile graced her lips and her left hand “accidentally” brushed the top of his thigh. “I’m Daisy.” Her stage name still felt weird coming from her mouth after five years working at the club.
His eyes looked away for a moment after being attracted by the stage lights where another blonde pranced, now on her third dance and completely naked. His eyes returned to her. “Kline,” was all he said.
She wasn’t sure if it was a first, last, made up, or nickname; but it didn’t matter. “Nice to meet you.” Offering her right hand to shake his, her left squeezed the top of his thigh again. No way to be certain, but a hunch told her the name was made up.
All eyes in this place were dark, simply due to the lighting, but his had something devious and mysterious behind them.
“I bet there weren’t more than fifty guys in here all day,” she said just loud enough to be heard over the thump of the music. “We normally get a couple-three hundred or so.”
He growled and nodded.
This was agreement, she assumed.
“Snowstorm keeps the wimps away,” he offered and, again, sipped his beer.
“Yeah, the wimps.” She giggled. “I even had a new lipstick shade I was hoping to get opinions on. Do you like my lips?”
His eyes shifted down on her face. “They’d look better wrapped around something.”
“I’d love to do that for you,” she said with a wild smile.
“You’re drunk.” His leathery face cracked for a slight grin.
“Maybe.” She shrugged and looked at the stage. “Had a tequila and Tabasco sauce. Have you ever had that?”
He shook his head. “Tequila and lime, but not Tabasco.”
“Yeah, it was interesting.” She looked at him again. “By the fourth shot, I was feeling pretty horny.”
“Funny how that works,” he growled.
“Help a girl out?” Her eyes looked at his left hand and saw the gold wedding band. Drifting to his right, the band on his right ring finger was similar in shape but black.
He sighed as disappointment crossed his face. “I don’t have enough.”
In five years, she had learned how to read the men. Her observation said this was real disappointment on his part, and not simply a negotiation ploy. She stood and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I didn’t ask how much you had.”
He tensed with her so close.
Daisy’s right hand slipped between his legs and found that his slacks were hiding an erection already. “How much do you have?”
“Sixty,” he answered in a gruff voice.
She gave his cock a squeeze through the fabric. “I’m horny. Let’s go.”
He blinked as she pulled back from him. After taking a moment to let his eyes run over her pink bikini clad body, he got to his feet and left his empty beer bottle on the small table to his other side.
She led him between dark, mostly empty tables and into the VIP private dance areas. The VIP was also empty as she went to a back corner that was well hidden behind old fabric chairs. “I like this chair with the arms,” she said and gestured for him to sit in it. “It’s easier to get some good thrusting.”
He chuckled and sat. He pulled car keys and a mobile phone from his pocket to set on the table beside the chair.
She quickly pulled the bikini off before pulling a wooden, kitchen-type chair up, to sit opposite him.
“Again, I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ve only got sixty dollars. I’ll pay for three dances.”
Standing, she lifted her left leg and planted one of her high heels on the arm of his chair. It offered a perfect view of her already glistening pussy lips.
The invitation was not missed as he leaned forward and licked.
After a moment, she squealed, giggled and pulled back. Lowering into the chair, she leaned forward and began tugging at his belt. “Too much hardware. Oh, my.” Opening his fly, her hand slipped immediately beneath the waistband of his briefs. “You just got harder.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Do with it what you will.”
“I intend to.” She winked at him and pulled his penis out and set it between her breasts. Reaching behind her, she produced a condom package from the small purse. After opening it, she held the reservoir tip between her teeth and lowered her mouth over the tip of his erection. Holding the top with her lips, her hands unrolled the condom on him.
A new dancer introduction by the house DJ was followed by Howard Jones’ “Stir it Up” flowing from the club speakers above.
Lowering her mouth on him, she kept going until he hit the back of her throat and kept him there.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered. He grasped a handful of her hair.
Saliva dripped from her lips as she pulled her mouth off him. “You’re so thick. My pussy is gonna love this.” Turning around as she stood up, she leaned on her chair and lowered her ass onto him. Reaching between her legs, she guided the rubber-sheathed erection into her pussy.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he gasped.
“Good.” After only a few thrusts, she was off him again and turning. Bending over, she took him back in her mouth again and held him deep. Following this, she climbed onto the chair and dangled a leg off each arm while lowering her pussy back down.
His erection found the spot without a hand, this time.
She gripped the arms and began to raise and lower herself on his erection. “I’m gonna cum,” she whispered into his ear.
Reaching between them, his fingers found her clitoris and rubbed it hard.
“Oh yeah, baby,” she squealed. Her body shuddered, shivered, and collapsed on top of him. “I got nothin’ left.”
He laughed and kissed her shoulder. “No worries. You needed this.”
Pulling back, she looked into his dark eyes. “Yeah, I did.”
After both re-dressed, he pulled folded bills from his pocket, peeled off three bills, and handed it to her. The remaining bill, or bills — she couldn’t tell — disappeared back into his pocket.
“No tip?” she cried in a tease.
He sighed. “I told you my budget and was quite realistic about it. That’s my kids’ bus fare for next week.”
As her goodbye, she gave him a tight hug.
He started the engine of his car and waited for the engine to warm.
In exchange, the car radio offered Pink Floyd performing “One Slip”.
The mobile phone buzzed on the passenger seat.
He pushed the call accept button and waited for the car speakers to click into action. “Hello?”
“Hi, Bill,” the familiar voice of Carly, his wife, came through the speakers. “You heading home soon?”
“On my way now.” He smiled at the thought of cuddling with her in front of the fire after the kids were in bed.
“Great. Dinner will be ready in an hour. Could you stop for ketchup on your way?”
“You got it.” He put the car in drive and pulled from the parking spot.
“Did you fuck Bunny?”
He laughed. “No, she wasn’t there tonight. I did play with a dancer named Daisy, though.”
“She was fun.” He looked at the black ring, again, for just a moment before returning his gaze to the road.
“I’m glad. Get home safe.”
“I will. See you shortly.”