Note from the Editor: this story is an installment in the XXX Chronicles by Erika B. Michaels. Look for a new episode from Esaes Peligrosa coming this summer!
WARNING: this story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or not is purely coincidental. Photos are used for illustrative purposes only and photo copyrights remain with the original photographers and/or publications. This story contains graphic scenes of an intimate nature. Please do not read further if you are not of age in your jurisdiction and/or if this might offend you.
WARNING: this story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or not is purely coincidental. Photos are used for illustrative purposes only and photo copyrights remain with the original photographers and/or publications. This story contains graphic scenes of an intimate nature. Please do not read further if you are not of age in your jurisdiction and/or if this might offend you.
XXXD by Esaes Peligrosa
My heart skipped a beat as the gravity of what she said weighed on my conscience. She had given me an ultimatum—well, it sounds harsh when you say it that way. Madame X, the owner of XXX, had gently yet firmly informed me that while I had enjoyed my initial visits to the private club, the terms would now be altered. I would be required to undergo an initiation of sorts if I wanted to attain full membership, that is, if I wanted my visits to continue. In order to insure the utmost loyalty from her clientele, Madame requested a deposit from them.
The velvet tones of her cultured voice slid past my ears like the waters of a hot spring. “As you can imagine, we strive to provide the absolute finest in personal entertainment. Everything is top notch: the wines, the food, the tapestries and paintings. I had the very best European designers create custom 1200 thread count linens; the best African artisans hand carved the beds. The floors are geo-thermally heated, and each room has an individually controlled ambient atmosphere from the temperature, to the lighting, to the soundscape. Our members come from all over the world to partake in this paradise where anything goes just as long as everyone is respected. We have heads of state, religious leaders, nationally renown authors, businessmen who are perpetually on the Forbes list, Nobel Prize winners, and of course, top entertainers,” she said with a wink.
She leaned forward in her overstuffed chair providing me a clearer view of her dark chocolate colored mounds heaving and swelling beneath the silken emerald corset she wore atop a superbly fitted black leather skirt. I made a mental note to have my people get the contact info for whomever did her leatherwork. “As diverse as our members are, the one thing they all have in common is the desire for discretion. As I said, we strive to fulfill our members’ deepest desires—desires they might not want announced to the world. Any leaks, whether intentional or not, could prove catastrophic for their lives and careers. In order to prevent this, everyone is asked to provide irrevocable collateral for their membership: a video of a performance of their choosing.”
Madame X had crossed her long legs which were clad in black seamed stockings and began to absentmindedly rock the top one over the bottom one ever so slowly. She was tall; even without the stilettos she had to be almost as tall as I. The movement was hypnotic. “These videos are done tastefully and fully directed by the participant. In fact, most members choose our remote controlled camera to enhance the feeling of privacy, unless of course, their predilection is for performance art. You would get to control whatever action occurs, as long as it is sexual and in line with your preferences from your previous visits. We do check carefully to make certain we are receiving an authentic performance. Each video is stored on a flash drive and kept locked in my safe in an undisclosed location; only myself and one other person know of the whereabouts of these videos, my ledgers, and membership rosters. This is for your safety as well as my own. To further insure my safety, one additional encrypted copy of your performance is stored on a server in an undisclosed off-shore location. In the event of my untimely demise, I have left instructions as to their disposal...or their release.”
“I realize I have given you much to think about. Why don’t I leave you alone for a while to mull it over.” With that, she arose from the chair and glided out of the room, a previously unseen manservant stepped out from the shadows and opened the door in anticipation of her departure. Her absence left a vacuum filled only by the spice of her perfume and the sound of my breathing.
I gripped the glass in my hand oblivious to the cold that had spread through my skin into the bones of my hand. I gulped and realized I needed another drink—a stiff one—and fast; I threw my head back and swallowed the entire contents in one shot. The ice had begun to melt ever so slightly, but not enough to temper the burn of the vodka as it went down.
“Shit!” I exhaled.
“Yeah, they make the drinks here nice and strong. That’s one of the things I love about the place. She wasn’t kidding when she said they serve up only the finest--”
“No, David, it’s not that. It’s just…I love performing, but not in that way and not on tape!
“How do I know she won’t sell this tape to the Sun or the Enquirer? I’m sure they would pay big bucks to see The Freak get his freak on!”
“Come on man, she wouldn’t do that. It would kill her business. She does it for her own protection and to make sure whatever happens here stays here. Most of the people here wear masks for the anonymity, but even so, I’ve managed to find out who a few of them are. And man, they are into some kinky shit! People here do some of the freakiest things, shit you know they can’t do at home. Since everyone has a tape, no one here would dare breathe a word about what they see or hear. They wouldn’t want their own secrets to get out.
“I trust Madame X. She really does know everything about everyone here and she would never let on let alone allow one of those tapes to get out. It would end her, and I’m sure this is a very lucrative business. A while back a lawyer member tried to get information on a prominent judge to gain leverage on a case he was trying. The lawyer engineered a heist of the club with a hired gang. They broke into the office, held the staff hostage.”
“Really? Wow! So what happened to the case?”
“Well, rumor has it the gunmen didn’t even make it ten blocks from here. The lawyer was later found naked and surrounded by kiddie porn and coke in his apartment, an apparent suicide.
“Damn…I slumped back with a thud chewing on my bottom lip.
“Ever since then, Madame beefed up security, deepened the background checks, and I don’t want to alarm you, but everyone who enters here is subject to extended surveillance once you leave. I don’t know how long it lasts, but it isn’t intrusive. They just want to make sure you have the right intentions, that you are who you say you are, and that you keep your mouth shut about the club.”
“Wait! You mean someone’s been following me? For how long?” I sputtered.
“I told you, I don’t know. I have never actually seen the guys, I just know they are there. Everyone is followed from what I’ve heard,” answered David.
“I don’t believe this,” I shook my head. “I can’t believe what you’ve gotten me into.”
“Hey wait a minute man. I didn’t get you into anything. Your dick got you into this situation. You’re the one who’s been visiting here on a regular basis to see your little peep show. You didn’t have to come in the first place and you didn’t have to keep coming back.”
“Leave her outta this--
“Listen, if you want to continue, all you have to do is just indulge as always…just…with an audience. And maybe a cast.”
“Fuck!”
“Exactly. That’s exactly what you have to do--and I know it’s nothing you haven’t done before,” David smirked as he finished off the rest of his drink.
Just then, the air in the room changed again as Madame glided back into the room. Her bodyguards—I presumed that’s what they were—flanked the doorway and proceeded to do their best imitation of statues I have ever seen. I made a mental note to audition a few of them for my next tour. “So gentleman, have you made a decision?
I sat up with resignation, raised my recently freshened glass and gave her my most dazzling smile. After all, when I commit to something, I give it 1000%.
Her ruby lips parted to reveal a movie star smile of her own, “Till Tuesday then. Jim will send your people the details.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The velvet tones of her cultured voice slid past my ears like the waters of a hot spring. “As you can imagine, we strive to provide the absolute finest in personal entertainment. Everything is top notch: the wines, the food, the tapestries and paintings. I had the very best European designers create custom 1200 thread count linens; the best African artisans hand carved the beds. The floors are geo-thermally heated, and each room has an individually controlled ambient atmosphere from the temperature, to the lighting, to the soundscape. Our members come from all over the world to partake in this paradise where anything goes just as long as everyone is respected. We have heads of state, religious leaders, nationally renown authors, businessmen who are perpetually on the Forbes list, Nobel Prize winners, and of course, top entertainers,” she said with a wink.
She leaned forward in her overstuffed chair providing me a clearer view of her dark chocolate colored mounds heaving and swelling beneath the silken emerald corset she wore atop a superbly fitted black leather skirt. I made a mental note to have my people get the contact info for whomever did her leatherwork. “As diverse as our members are, the one thing they all have in common is the desire for discretion. As I said, we strive to fulfill our members’ deepest desires—desires they might not want announced to the world. Any leaks, whether intentional or not, could prove catastrophic for their lives and careers. In order to prevent this, everyone is asked to provide irrevocable collateral for their membership: a video of a performance of their choosing.”
Madame X had crossed her long legs which were clad in black seamed stockings and began to absentmindedly rock the top one over the bottom one ever so slowly. She was tall; even without the stilettos she had to be almost as tall as I. The movement was hypnotic. “These videos are done tastefully and fully directed by the participant. In fact, most members choose our remote controlled camera to enhance the feeling of privacy, unless of course, their predilection is for performance art. You would get to control whatever action occurs, as long as it is sexual and in line with your preferences from your previous visits. We do check carefully to make certain we are receiving an authentic performance. Each video is stored on a flash drive and kept locked in my safe in an undisclosed location; only myself and one other person know of the whereabouts of these videos, my ledgers, and membership rosters. This is for your safety as well as my own. To further insure my safety, one additional encrypted copy of your performance is stored on a server in an undisclosed off-shore location. In the event of my untimely demise, I have left instructions as to their disposal...or their release.”
“I realize I have given you much to think about. Why don’t I leave you alone for a while to mull it over.” With that, she arose from the chair and glided out of the room, a previously unseen manservant stepped out from the shadows and opened the door in anticipation of her departure. Her absence left a vacuum filled only by the spice of her perfume and the sound of my breathing.
I gripped the glass in my hand oblivious to the cold that had spread through my skin into the bones of my hand. I gulped and realized I needed another drink—a stiff one—and fast; I threw my head back and swallowed the entire contents in one shot. The ice had begun to melt ever so slightly, but not enough to temper the burn of the vodka as it went down.
“Shit!” I exhaled.
“Yeah, they make the drinks here nice and strong. That’s one of the things I love about the place. She wasn’t kidding when she said they serve up only the finest--”
“No, David, it’s not that. It’s just…I love performing, but not in that way and not on tape!
“How do I know she won’t sell this tape to the Sun or the Enquirer? I’m sure they would pay big bucks to see The Freak get his freak on!”
“Come on man, she wouldn’t do that. It would kill her business. She does it for her own protection and to make sure whatever happens here stays here. Most of the people here wear masks for the anonymity, but even so, I’ve managed to find out who a few of them are. And man, they are into some kinky shit! People here do some of the freakiest things, shit you know they can’t do at home. Since everyone has a tape, no one here would dare breathe a word about what they see or hear. They wouldn’t want their own secrets to get out.
“I trust Madame X. She really does know everything about everyone here and she would never let on let alone allow one of those tapes to get out. It would end her, and I’m sure this is a very lucrative business. A while back a lawyer member tried to get information on a prominent judge to gain leverage on a case he was trying. The lawyer engineered a heist of the club with a hired gang. They broke into the office, held the staff hostage.”
“Really? Wow! So what happened to the case?”
“Well, rumor has it the gunmen didn’t even make it ten blocks from here. The lawyer was later found naked and surrounded by kiddie porn and coke in his apartment, an apparent suicide.
“Damn…I slumped back with a thud chewing on my bottom lip.
“Ever since then, Madame beefed up security, deepened the background checks, and I don’t want to alarm you, but everyone who enters here is subject to extended surveillance once you leave. I don’t know how long it lasts, but it isn’t intrusive. They just want to make sure you have the right intentions, that you are who you say you are, and that you keep your mouth shut about the club.”
“Wait! You mean someone’s been following me? For how long?” I sputtered.
“I told you, I don’t know. I have never actually seen the guys, I just know they are there. Everyone is followed from what I’ve heard,” answered David.
“I don’t believe this,” I shook my head. “I can’t believe what you’ve gotten me into.”
“Hey wait a minute man. I didn’t get you into anything. Your dick got you into this situation. You’re the one who’s been visiting here on a regular basis to see your little peep show. You didn’t have to come in the first place and you didn’t have to keep coming back.”
“Leave her outta this--
“Listen, if you want to continue, all you have to do is just indulge as always…just…with an audience. And maybe a cast.”
“Fuck!”
“Exactly. That’s exactly what you have to do--and I know it’s nothing you haven’t done before,” David smirked as he finished off the rest of his drink.
Just then, the air in the room changed again as Madame glided back into the room. Her bodyguards—I presumed that’s what they were—flanked the doorway and proceeded to do their best imitation of statues I have ever seen. I made a mental note to audition a few of them for my next tour. “So gentleman, have you made a decision?
I sat up with resignation, raised my recently freshened glass and gave her my most dazzling smile. After all, when I commit to something, I give it 1000%.
Her ruby lips parted to reveal a movie star smile of her own, “Till Tuesday then. Jim will send your people the details.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I fretted about our appointment all week.
What would be required of me? How many people would be watching? Would I be able to perform? Who would I be performing with? Would she make me do kinky shit?
No! Madame X had said I wouldn’t have to do anything I wouldn’t want to do. That still left a whole lotta ground! I walked around perpetually horny, yet reluctant to do anything about it except fantasize and exercise my own hand and imagination. I wanted to do a whole lot of things, just only with a specific woman—or two—who had my heart and set my loins on fire.
I barely slept, barely ate anticipating the big day. I spent all afternoon Tuesday planning what I would wear to the club that evening. It seemed strange to plan such a big night on a Tuesday, but then I guess such people didn’t keep to regular Monday through Friday 9 to 5 schedules like normal folk.
Not that you’re the paragon of normalcy, Jackson.
I laid out outfit after outfit.
Should I go with something conservative: a suit? A tie?
Something flashy since I would be performing? No…I don’t want to be obvious.
Best that I remain as incognito as possible.
After modeling suit after suit in the wall of mirrors in my personal suite, I finally settled on a charcoal grey three piece number with a blood red French cuffed shirt with matching red cuff links. I wore black penny loafers and my ever present white socks and white t-shirt underneath. I also wore my new Euro-styled Egyptian cotton briefs. Normally I preferred boxers with my suits for a cleaner line, but for some reason tonight I wanted the briefs. Something reassured me about the thought of my jewels being held close to the glove, protected from whatever they were about to undergo. Besides, I liked the way they hugged my ass giving it a little lift, not that I needed any help in that department. It struck me as funny to spend so much time planning clothing that was just going to come right off.
Yeah…hilarious Jackson. What if your bare ass ends up splashed across some tabloid. Who’ll be laughing then?
Still, I did not consider backing out. I rather enjoyed my little trips to the club and could not bear to give them up. The thought of never seeing that little hottie who put on the solo show for me every time I went made me sad. Recollections of her last little performance made me stiffen. I was just about to reach down to caress myself when I remembered I had a performance that night—perhaps the most important performance I had given to date. I needed to make certain I was in perfect form. With that, I began to think about the orphanage I had visited in Romania on my last tour. My cock immediately began to deflate.
Good. At least I can do something right.
I was a nervous wreck on the ride over there. I simultaneously wished away every single red light while willing them to take forever. Each pedestrian who stepped off the curb to jaywalk only prolonged my agony. It seemed as if we had instantly teleported when my driver pulled up to the discreet entrance in the alley.
“Sir?” my driver called for the fourth time as he politely held open the door. He looked genuinely worried. Poor guy must have thought I had lost it. He should have been used to my eccentricities by now.
I felt like I was walking on Jupiter as I swung first one leg then the other through the doorway of the Town Car; the gravity of what I was about to do made it nearly impossible to lift myself. I have no idea how I got from the car to salon where we met the last time, but my next memory is of melting vodka-flavored ice cubes in a cut crystal glass.
“Care for another, sir?” inquired Jim.
“Uh…yeah. Yes, please.” I handed him the glass as I looked up grateful for the distraction. I had no idea how many glasses I had already consumed, but apparently I had not had nearly enough to calm my nerves. I sipped strongly in anticipation of what would come. My eyes darted around from the hand carved Indonesian masks hung on the wall to the African talking drums arranged in the corner. The small sculptures in the display case were simply exquisite, the hidden spotlights illuminating them just so.
I almost wished David were here to talk me through this, but at the same time I was glad he was not around. We were friends, but I would be mortified for him to see me like that. It is bad enough I would be taped. I wondered if they would broadcast it to other rooms?
Oh God, what have I done?
Just as I was about to freak out and get up from the upholstered chair, Madame entered.
“Good evening Mr. Jackson. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. Believe it or not, Tuesday is one of our busiest nights. Still, I assure you, you are our utmost priority this evening,” she flashed a dazzling smile.
Madame looked flawless tonight. The makeup on her cocoa brown skin looked natural and dewy, her eyes highlighted with gold shadow and her lips expertly outlined with liner slightly darker than the ruby gloss that covered her full pout. It made me self-conscious of my own and glad I had declined to let Karen make me up for the evening. She did not seem to know how to do anything other than heavy theatrical makeup. I knew she was in love with me, so I did not want to hurt her feelings, but I often had to redo my own makeup for social occasions after she left.
Yeah…hilarious Jackson. What if your bare ass ends up splashed across some tabloid. Who’ll be laughing then?
Still, I did not consider backing out. I rather enjoyed my little trips to the club and could not bear to give them up. The thought of never seeing that little hottie who put on the solo show for me every time I went made me sad. Recollections of her last little performance made me stiffen. I was just about to reach down to caress myself when I remembered I had a performance that night—perhaps the most important performance I had given to date. I needed to make certain I was in perfect form. With that, I began to think about the orphanage I had visited in Romania on my last tour. My cock immediately began to deflate.
Good. At least I can do something right.
I was a nervous wreck on the ride over there. I simultaneously wished away every single red light while willing them to take forever. Each pedestrian who stepped off the curb to jaywalk only prolonged my agony. It seemed as if we had instantly teleported when my driver pulled up to the discreet entrance in the alley.
“Sir?” my driver called for the fourth time as he politely held open the door. He looked genuinely worried. Poor guy must have thought I had lost it. He should have been used to my eccentricities by now.
I felt like I was walking on Jupiter as I swung first one leg then the other through the doorway of the Town Car; the gravity of what I was about to do made it nearly impossible to lift myself. I have no idea how I got from the car to salon where we met the last time, but my next memory is of melting vodka-flavored ice cubes in a cut crystal glass.
“Care for another, sir?” inquired Jim.
“Uh…yeah. Yes, please.” I handed him the glass as I looked up grateful for the distraction. I had no idea how many glasses I had already consumed, but apparently I had not had nearly enough to calm my nerves. I sipped strongly in anticipation of what would come. My eyes darted around from the hand carved Indonesian masks hung on the wall to the African talking drums arranged in the corner. The small sculptures in the display case were simply exquisite, the hidden spotlights illuminating them just so.
I almost wished David were here to talk me through this, but at the same time I was glad he was not around. We were friends, but I would be mortified for him to see me like that. It is bad enough I would be taped. I wondered if they would broadcast it to other rooms?
Oh God, what have I done?
Just as I was about to freak out and get up from the upholstered chair, Madame entered.
“Good evening Mr. Jackson. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. Believe it or not, Tuesday is one of our busiest nights. Still, I assure you, you are our utmost priority this evening,” she flashed a dazzling smile.
Madame looked flawless tonight. The makeup on her cocoa brown skin looked natural and dewy, her eyes highlighted with gold shadow and her lips expertly outlined with liner slightly darker than the ruby gloss that covered her full pout. It made me self-conscious of my own and glad I had declined to let Karen make me up for the evening. She did not seem to know how to do anything other than heavy theatrical makeup. I knew she was in love with me, so I did not want to hurt her feelings, but I often had to redo my own makeup for social occasions after she left.
Madame X’s hair was done in some sort of exotic twists that were then coiled on top of her head in a New Age chignon. The back hung down past her shoulders and played between her shoulder blades. Tonight she wore a royal purple raw silk dress with Gianmarco Lorenzi stilettos. The shoes themselves were absolutely breathtaking! They had a Swarovski crystal snake coiled around each spike heel. They signified temptation on more than one level.
Simply beautiful. She always has impeccable taste.
The Swarovski snake complimented the other crystal jewelry she sported: drop earrings and a tennis bracelet. Simple, yet elegant. I hated when women wore too much of anything: jewelry, makeup, perfume…clothing. I momentarily wondered if we would be making the movie together. Madame was a beautiful woman. I could imagine those long legs wrapped around me while we writhed in ecstasy, my ministrations causing her to abandon her poise and be stripped down to the most primal state. I could see that hair coming loose, a sheen of sweat across her collar bone while her head tilted back in the throes of passion lips parted and teeth bared. I bet she liked it from behind. Yeah, I would grab her hair and make her beg for it, those twin globes rushing back to meet me again and again as I smacked her ass making it jiggle like a firm set gelatin mold.
Yeah baby…that’s it. Come to Daddy!
“Mr. Jackson, may I have Jim freshen your drink?”
“Huh? Oh, no, I’m fine thank you.” I needed to keep a clear head for the rest of the evening.
“As I was saying, for these rendezvous we normally allow our patrons to choose their own cast, but I wanted to do something a little special for you…”
Was she offering herself up? Was my fantasy about to come true?
“I took the liberty of bringing in someone I think you’ll thoroughly enjoy. Someone…from your past.
“When she learned we were considering you for membership, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She insisted on being a part of your special night. Given her level of expertise in the types of…services we offer here, I’m quite certain you will not be disappointed.”
How did she know about my little hottie?
While Jim did not seem the type to blab about anything, I do suppose it was Madame’s job to know exactly what was going on in her establishment and with whom. David did say they were thorough in their investigations. It only made sense they knew all about my little voyeuristic sessions in the rooms upstairs. I wonder if she had those on tape, too?
God! What have I gotten myself into?
Despite my apprehension, my pants tightened a bit at the thought of finally getting to sample that forbidden fruit that had hung just out of my reach on the other side of the television screen for all those weeks. Her pussy was exquisite. I wondered if she would flush all over her breasts as she had done the last time. I wondered if she would turn away again while she came, still determined to keep a little part of herself secret.
“You will be shown to a private suite of rooms. These rooms are separate and apart from the wing you have previously visited. They are reserved for our most special patrons. We wouldn’t want you running into anyone else or being distracted by our other entertainment this evening. The rooms are equipped with any and everything you could possibly need, from food to clothing, to music and movies. They are climate controlled and sound proofed. Jim and his staff will be on call to provide your every need in order to make your film go as smoothly as possible. Unless you call them, they will be out of sight. As a matter of fact, our cameras will be completely out of sight. You will soon forget you are being watched and lose yourself in the moment.
“But…you are being watched, Mr. Jackson. Please remember, we want your movie to be as authentic as possible. The purpose is to capture you indulging in your deepest desires, those desires previously known only to you. I make it my business to bypass what my patrons appear to want and to delve into what it is they truly crave. I supply that primal need, that soul hunger that can only be satiated by complete abandonment of inhibitions in a cocoon of safety and acceptance. You are safe here, Mr. Jackson. Safe from judgment. Safe from ridicule. Most importantly, you are safe from the disappointment of having that which you most strongly yearn for continually snatched away from you. Tonight your every wish will be fulfilled. You will taste the forbidden fruit.”
The Swarovski snake complimented the other crystal jewelry she sported: drop earrings and a tennis bracelet. Simple, yet elegant. I hated when women wore too much of anything: jewelry, makeup, perfume…clothing. I momentarily wondered if we would be making the movie together. Madame was a beautiful woman. I could imagine those long legs wrapped around me while we writhed in ecstasy, my ministrations causing her to abandon her poise and be stripped down to the most primal state. I could see that hair coming loose, a sheen of sweat across her collar bone while her head tilted back in the throes of passion lips parted and teeth bared. I bet she liked it from behind. Yeah, I would grab her hair and make her beg for it, those twin globes rushing back to meet me again and again as I smacked her ass making it jiggle like a firm set gelatin mold.
Yeah baby…that’s it. Come to Daddy!
“Mr. Jackson, may I have Jim freshen your drink?”
“Huh? Oh, no, I’m fine thank you.” I needed to keep a clear head for the rest of the evening.
“As I was saying, for these rendezvous we normally allow our patrons to choose their own cast, but I wanted to do something a little special for you…”
Was she offering herself up? Was my fantasy about to come true?
“I took the liberty of bringing in someone I think you’ll thoroughly enjoy. Someone…from your past.
“When she learned we were considering you for membership, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She insisted on being a part of your special night. Given her level of expertise in the types of…services we offer here, I’m quite certain you will not be disappointed.”
How did she know about my little hottie?
While Jim did not seem the type to blab about anything, I do suppose it was Madame’s job to know exactly what was going on in her establishment and with whom. David did say they were thorough in their investigations. It only made sense they knew all about my little voyeuristic sessions in the rooms upstairs. I wonder if she had those on tape, too?
God! What have I gotten myself into?
Despite my apprehension, my pants tightened a bit at the thought of finally getting to sample that forbidden fruit that had hung just out of my reach on the other side of the television screen for all those weeks. Her pussy was exquisite. I wondered if she would flush all over her breasts as she had done the last time. I wondered if she would turn away again while she came, still determined to keep a little part of herself secret.
“You will be shown to a private suite of rooms. These rooms are separate and apart from the wing you have previously visited. They are reserved for our most special patrons. We wouldn’t want you running into anyone else or being distracted by our other entertainment this evening. The rooms are equipped with any and everything you could possibly need, from food to clothing, to music and movies. They are climate controlled and sound proofed. Jim and his staff will be on call to provide your every need in order to make your film go as smoothly as possible. Unless you call them, they will be out of sight. As a matter of fact, our cameras will be completely out of sight. You will soon forget you are being watched and lose yourself in the moment.
“But…you are being watched, Mr. Jackson. Please remember, we want your movie to be as authentic as possible. The purpose is to capture you indulging in your deepest desires, those desires previously known only to you. I make it my business to bypass what my patrons appear to want and to delve into what it is they truly crave. I supply that primal need, that soul hunger that can only be satiated by complete abandonment of inhibitions in a cocoon of safety and acceptance. You are safe here, Mr. Jackson. Safe from judgment. Safe from ridicule. Most importantly, you are safe from the disappointment of having that which you most strongly yearn for continually snatched away from you. Tonight your every wish will be fulfilled. You will taste the forbidden fruit.”
With that she rose and glided out of the room, her serpentine heels click clacking on the marble floors. Without looking she gestured with her left hand and a man I had never seen before stepped forward from the shadows. He was a tall, bronze Asian man dressed in black leather pants and a charcoal grey form-fitted shirt.
I really must know who does their leatherwork. Those pants fit him perfectly.
He wore hand-made leather boots. I knew they were hand-made because I had two pair just like them; I got them on the Asian leg of my tour some time ago. He stood there expectantly until I arose from the chair. I looked around and reached out to place my empty glass on the hand-carved teak table in front of me. Before the glass could make contact, another smaller man shot out seemingly from the walls, and intercepted it with a tray.
Where did he come from? I wondered. The walls truly did have eyes here.
I followed the first man out of the salon and down a narrow hallway I had never seen before. It followed a winding path until we came to a dimly lit stairway. We took the stairs up one flight then began walking down a catwalk overlooking the main room of the club. From this vantage point we could see all the patrons as they entered and sized each other up. She was right, the club was packed tonight. Men and women and people of indeterminate sex were milling about discreetly peeking at each other, dancing, and flirting. I spotted David off in a corner whispering in some young blonde’s ear. She giggled as if he were the wittiest man on Earth. He glanced up in my direction for a split second, raised his glass, then returned his attention to the home run perched on the barstool in front of him. Before I turned away, I watched him slide his hand underneath her dress causing her to gasp.
My guide continued onward bringing us to another staircase, this one entirely mirrored. We went up another flight and emerged into a vestibule. He gave a series of knocks then stepped back. The wait was interminable. During that entire time, he never moved a muscle.
He would be great for the TDRCAU number during the tour.
After what seemed like 15 minutes, a panel in the door opened. A man on the other side peered out at us. My guide gave a nod and the man nodded in turn. We were granted entrance. The door swung open to reveal a grand hallway carpeted in plush crimson. The walls were upholstered in the same shade of silk and candelabra flickered in the recesses.
“Right this way sir,” bowed Jim. I wondered where he was all this time. Jim took over duty as my guide, showing me down the hallway until we came to the third door on the left. He produced a key and unlocked the door. The scene that greeted us was as posh as any of the finest hotels I had seen on my travels. The living room alone was as large as mine at home. There seemed to be several rooms radiating off the main room: a sitting room, a bedroom, and another room whose door was closed. There was also a large balcony which overlooked the extensive gardens. The French doors were thrown open to let in the night air. I could see stars twinkling in the sky.
Where did he come from? I wondered. The walls truly did have eyes here.
I followed the first man out of the salon and down a narrow hallway I had never seen before. It followed a winding path until we came to a dimly lit stairway. We took the stairs up one flight then began walking down a catwalk overlooking the main room of the club. From this vantage point we could see all the patrons as they entered and sized each other up. She was right, the club was packed tonight. Men and women and people of indeterminate sex were milling about discreetly peeking at each other, dancing, and flirting. I spotted David off in a corner whispering in some young blonde’s ear. She giggled as if he were the wittiest man on Earth. He glanced up in my direction for a split second, raised his glass, then returned his attention to the home run perched on the barstool in front of him. Before I turned away, I watched him slide his hand underneath her dress causing her to gasp.
My guide continued onward bringing us to another staircase, this one entirely mirrored. We went up another flight and emerged into a vestibule. He gave a series of knocks then stepped back. The wait was interminable. During that entire time, he never moved a muscle.
He would be great for the TDRCAU number during the tour.
After what seemed like 15 minutes, a panel in the door opened. A man on the other side peered out at us. My guide gave a nod and the man nodded in turn. We were granted entrance. The door swung open to reveal a grand hallway carpeted in plush crimson. The walls were upholstered in the same shade of silk and candelabra flickered in the recesses.
“Right this way sir,” bowed Jim. I wondered where he was all this time. Jim took over duty as my guide, showing me down the hallway until we came to the third door on the left. He produced a key and unlocked the door. The scene that greeted us was as posh as any of the finest hotels I had seen on my travels. The living room alone was as large as mine at home. There seemed to be several rooms radiating off the main room: a sitting room, a bedroom, and another room whose door was closed. There was also a large balcony which overlooked the extensive gardens. The French doors were thrown open to let in the night air. I could see stars twinkling in the sky.
“Sir, will you be needing anything?”
“No, thank you.”
“Very well then. Please make yourself comfortable. You have some time before the Lady arrives.”
I smiled nervously as Jim backed out of the room.
“If you need anything, please press that buzzer there.” He pointed to a gold buzzer that was camouflaged by ornate metalwork. “There is one in every room. If you should feel uncomfortable at any time and wish to stop, there is also a red buzzer.” He pointed to a similar signaling device I had also failed to notice while sizing up the room.
He stood up a little straighter then and nodded, “Good luck, sir!” With that, he disappeared from the suite.
I was left alone to mull over my fate. I really was not sure what to do in such circumstances. I paced the floor a bit, admiring the art and décor. I went over to the balcony and looked out at the gardens. I sat down on the sofa, but that did not feel right either. I could not relax.
Should I undress? No, that would seem too forward, too desperate.
I really did not know what was expected of me from here. Exactly what was the etiquette for fucking a complete stranger? But then, Madame X had said this was no stranger. She said it was someone from my past, someone I knew. And I knew exactly who it was, though we did not exactly know one another.
The thought of finally coming face to face with her while not having my feet trampled excited me and terrified me simultaneously. I would finally get to press my nose into her curls and caress those alabaster breasts. Would her skin be as soft as I had imagined? How long would it take me to satisfy her? Would I even be able to satisfy her? What would she think of me?
So many thoughts swirled through my brain. I tried to crowd out my apprehension and focus on the excitement of what we were about to do. I pretended I were about to step on stage before a crowd of 100,000 screaming fans. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I envisioned that moment just before the curtain rose, just before they caught their first glimpse of me in the spotlight. That was the most intense, highest moment of my life. Nothing could compare.
I jumped up and strode over to the bedroom. It was always good to size up your stage so you knew just how many steps to take, just how to use every square inch of space to your advantage. The bed was so huge it had to be custom made. I had never in my life seen such a large bed, it was bigger than a California king. The room was decorated similarly to the rest of the suite. It had tasteful and expensive antiques and artwork indirectly lit to avoid harsh shadows. I noticed music wafting softly from speakers hidden somewhere in the bookcase. There were several seating areas and a desk with a chair. What I presumed to be the bathroom was off to the right.
I approached it hesitantly. I was thoroughly relieved to both a large shower area in the corner and a huge double sized claw foot tub right in the center of the enormous space. The water closet was off to the right beyond the generous vanity and gilt mirror. I inspected my makeup one last time.
I paced beside the bed. She was taking forever. Had she gotten cold feet? I was drawn away from the bedroom towards the balcony. I stepped out to get some fresh air and was greeted with the scent of Night Blooming Jasmine. Somewhere in the distance a fountain burbled and crickets sang.
I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. What on Earth was I doing here? Why was I going through all this? I was possibly jeopardizing my career, my safety, my health, all for what? A piece of ass? A woman I didn’t even know? How did I let David talk me into this? This wasn’t who I am. I’m not that man who goes around having casual sex. I had to be in a relationship, to be in love to really let loose and enjoy myself. Yet, for whatever reason I was drawn to the mysterious brunette. She had consumed my every waking moment for the past few weeks. I could not concentrate on my writing or my dance. All I could see were her curls caressing that beautiful face, the peaks of her nipples as they flushed with anticipation, the flood of her womanhood as it filled with excitement. And here I was, about to touch and taste her in person.
There was a soft knock at the door. At first I did not hear it, I was so deep in my own thoughts of self-doubt. The knocking came a little louder, snapping me out of my chastisement. I took a deep breath and strode across the living room reaching out for the door knob to let Jim in. I swung the door open and stopped cold as my eyes locked with another pair. All breathing ceased in an effort to allow my brain to record every detail of her for permanent storage. She was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. I was terrified.
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Hers was the face of my longstanding dreams, the face of my heart from the sparkle of her eyes to the quick flash of her smile to her womanly giggle, she made my heart skip. I had loved her since we first met all those years ago, back when we were both much younger, more naïve—well, at least I was naïve. Years ago I had thought of her as innocent, the picture of virtuous womanhood. Many years and many men—many, many men—later, I knew better.
“Well, are you going to just stand there like Scarecrow or are you gonna let me in?” she purred. Without waiting for an answer, Diane brushed past me bringing with her a flood of emotions. I had both longed for and dreaded this moment of seeing her face to face. I assiduously avoided her phone calls precisely because I did not to want to deal with this conflict, this amor et odium.
“Well, are you going to just stand there like Scarecrow or are you gonna let me in?” she purred. Without waiting for an answer, Diane brushed past me bringing with her a flood of emotions. I had both longed for and dreaded this moment of seeing her face to face. I assiduously avoided her phone calls precisely because I did not to want to deal with this conflict, this amor et odium.
Diane had been my first love, my only love for much of my childhood and young adult life. She became like a big sister to me, shepherding me through the music business and taking me under her wing at the record company. She had a special in with the owner and he instantly took a liking to me and my brothers with her as my guardian angel. We performed together, had fun together. She took care of me like a mother when my own mother could not be there for me. I loved her for it.
She introduced me to a whole new life, a life where I could be free. A life where I could love. I experienced a lot of firsts with her: my first ride in a speed boat, my first big Hollywood party, my first drink of wine…a lot of other firsts. She was my mother, my friend, and later, my first lover. As a young man, I met many girls on the road performing shows, taping television specials, recording songs, visiting celebrities. Many pretty girls, all of whom fawned over me, wanted a piece of me, the shining young star. None of those girls could hold a candle to My Diane.
She had known me since I was a little kid hamming it up with my James Brown routine; had proudly held my hand when I was an awkward gangly teenager still trying to live up to the specter cast by that pint sized superstar; and had shepherded me into manhood, introducing me to all the right producers and encouraging me to find my voice separate and apart from my brothers just as she had found hers away from her well-known group. A star in her own right, out of all the women I had known in my youth, she was the only one who had loved me for me and not for the singer, the dancer, the star…or so I had thought.
When I was at the pinnacle of my career with everything and more than I could have hoped for: awards, hit records, more money than I knew what to do with, and most importantly, independence from my overbearing father, I thought we could finally make a life together. After all, we had lived together all that time, albeit in a guardian and ward type of relationship. The world was used to seeing us together. We were well matched…it turns out a love-struck kid like me was no match for a perfectly practiced barracuda like her. As successful as I was, it was not what she wanted. As hard as I tried, my efforts no longer pleased her. She pulled the rug out from under me by running off with that that man. Sure, he was rich, but he could not love her like I did…like I do. I wish it was did.
I was completely inconsolable when Q broke the news. I cried for weeks, refused to come out of my room. I did not even rehearse. What was the point? It was like the light went out of my life. She had been my muse. I had been devastated with her first marriage, but this one, this European, had completely demolished me. When I finally managed to reach her by phone months later, she had laughed off my tearful, snot filled pleas to leave him and come home as a ‘silly teenaged infatuation’ and insisted she and I were simply good friends, that we had just been having a “good time.”
She had known me since I was a little kid hamming it up with my James Brown routine; had proudly held my hand when I was an awkward gangly teenager still trying to live up to the specter cast by that pint sized superstar; and had shepherded me into manhood, introducing me to all the right producers and encouraging me to find my voice separate and apart from my brothers just as she had found hers away from her well-known group. A star in her own right, out of all the women I had known in my youth, she was the only one who had loved me for me and not for the singer, the dancer, the star…or so I had thought.
When I was at the pinnacle of my career with everything and more than I could have hoped for: awards, hit records, more money than I knew what to do with, and most importantly, independence from my overbearing father, I thought we could finally make a life together. After all, we had lived together all that time, albeit in a guardian and ward type of relationship. The world was used to seeing us together. We were well matched…it turns out a love-struck kid like me was no match for a perfectly practiced barracuda like her. As successful as I was, it was not what she wanted. As hard as I tried, my efforts no longer pleased her. She pulled the rug out from under me by running off with that that man. Sure, he was rich, but he could not love her like I did…like I do. I wish it was did.
I was completely inconsolable when Q broke the news. I cried for weeks, refused to come out of my room. I did not even rehearse. What was the point? It was like the light went out of my life. She had been my muse. I had been devastated with her first marriage, but this one, this European, had completely demolished me. When I finally managed to reach her by phone months later, she had laughed off my tearful, snot filled pleas to leave him and come home as a ‘silly teenaged infatuation’ and insisted she and I were simply good friends, that we had just been having a “good time.”
Yeah, ‘just friends’ don’t sit on each others’ laps and publicly grind them into a hardon. Friends don’t hold hands and gaze into one another’s eyes and declare their love. Friends don’t fuck. Friends don’t fuck each other over when somebody older, richer, more pliant comes along.
In time I got out and dated again here and there. It took me years before I could even look at another woman and even then, I compared them all to her. She had her marriage, her divorce, her remarriage, and her various dalliances. For her, monogamy seemed an antiquated concept. The Lady needed to be adored, idolized, and amused at all times. It seems me with my career, my star shining at a magnitude exponentially greater than her own significant lumens was too much of a distraction.
She would not have me as her husband, her official lover, but she still wanted me in her harem. I guess for a novice, I was still pretty good at…that--or at least I was a quick study.
That tearful phone call precipitated hundreds of others; me pleading with her to take me back, to have me as her man, professing my love, and her luring me in with promises to reconsider, but why don’t I come over for the night? I fell for it every time. She would romance me and we would be together, as husband and wife, she my mother-lover-friend again, if only for a moment, then it would all dissolve like sugar cubes in the Spring rain: unbearably sweet then diluted by the inevitable dirt that always manages to seep into the warm puddles.
She would not have me as her husband, her official lover, but she still wanted me in her harem. I guess for a novice, I was still pretty good at…that--or at least I was a quick study.
That tearful phone call precipitated hundreds of others; me pleading with her to take me back, to have me as her man, professing my love, and her luring me in with promises to reconsider, but why don’t I come over for the night? I fell for it every time. She would romance me and we would be together, as husband and wife, she my mother-lover-friend again, if only for a moment, then it would all dissolve like sugar cubes in the Spring rain: unbearably sweet then diluted by the inevitable dirt that always manages to seep into the warm puddles.
I had only recently grown weary of her game of false hope, but that did not keep my heart from leaping when I opened that door…or my pants from tightening when she brushed past me. Her perfume remained the same: Brooke could keep her Shalimar. Diane’s scent was far more heavenly. She turned, framed in the light from the room and I saw not the mature woman standing before me, but that young starlet who dominated the charts and stole the hearts of all the men at the record company. I saw the queen in black hot pants and hoop earrings from my first visit to her home; I saw a goddess.
She threw her beaded clutch purse on the loveseat, strutted over to the French doors, turned and struck a pose with her arms akimbo the lights shining directly on her. “So, I understand you want to join the club.” Diane always had to make a dramatic entrance, to be the center of the spotlight.
“Diane, what a surprise to see you here! What are you doing in Madame’s club?” I was reeling from a mixture of utter shock, joy, thrill, and fear. I took in every detail of her from her flowing gossamer gown, to her jeweled high heeled sandals, to her bat wing eyelashes. Every exquisite detail. Her hair radiated about her like a mane. When I was younger I loved to bury my face in that hair to inhale her scent. I would curl up in the crook of her arm, my little body pressed into her side and ask her to tell me stories about life on the road: when she met famous stars and how she performed on this or that television show. I would often fall asleep there, my arm draped across her breast, secure in her embrace, knowing even though my beloved Mother was thousands of miles away, someone right here loves me. Diane liked to tell me I was the baby she didn't have.
I inevitably woke up alone with a thin blanket tossed over me, the couch a cold reminder of her radiating warmth. Frequently, she wasn’t even in the condo we shared, she having run off to this or that meeting with her agent or manager. She left me a note saying not to wait up. She had business. Business always came first with Diane. I was no longer naïve enough to believe this time would be any different.
“What do you mean what am I doing here? Madame's is the most exclusive club in town, the most sought after invitation this side of the Rockies. Of course I'm a member dear.”
“...oh...I see...” Confusion clouded my mind. I knew Diane was experienced before we...before we became intimate, but I just could never bring myself to think about her with other men. And I knew there were others. Many others.
“Well, don't just stand there gaping, pour a girl a drink.”
“Of course! Where are my manners. What are you having?”
“Dear, you know I love to have my Highland Sling. I hope they stocked the Auchentoshan. The last time I had to make do with Glenfiddich.”
“You're in luck! I guess Madame wanted to make sure everything went smoothly tonight,” I said absently as I strained the mixture from the shaker into the highball and garnished with the lemon peel. I thought about my abject despair the last time we spoke. She had blithely dismissed my feelings as I swallowed my own tears, once again crushed that she used me for her temporary comfort. It had taken months for me to recover outwardly. Still, I was inwardly thrilled to see her here and terrified at what to do with her. For my part, I poured two-fingers of Scotch over the rocks. There was no need to get fancy; I would need my liquid courage for this. I lifted both glasses, bit my lip, and turned back to face Diane. I strode forward two steps and held the highball out to her.
She reached for it with a perfectly manicured hand, a six carat pear-shaped yellow diamond glittering on her right ring finger; it was eclipsed only by the veritable constellation on her left hand. Diane was never one for understatement. She brought the drink to her lips and took a sip as if it were the most delicious elixir. Smacking her glossed lips slightly, she sighed and placed her hand on my chest.
“Oh Michael! It is so good to see you again.”
“It's good to see you, too, Diane.” And I meant it. She had not removed her hand from my chest. When I did not go on, she hesitated for a moment, then began to pick at imaginary lint on my jacket. I knew it was imaginary, because I took hours meticulously grooming myself prior to leaving my place. Not knowing what else to do, I took a step backwards, swirling the drink around in the cut glass tumbler.
Her scent was playing in my nose, drawing forth poorly-repressed memories of those unguarded times we spent alone in her condo, her hair playing on her shoulders, face as naked as our bodies. Sometimes we would sit at the piano, her singing soprano to my tenor as I accompanied us to show tunes. I composed several love songs in that post-coital glow enveloped in her love...her lust. I remember once watching her sleep for at least an hour, her head cradled on her delicate hands on top of her satin pillow; the afternoon light streamed in around the peach-colored sheers.
Inspired, I finally slipped away to the black Baldwin baby grand in the sunken living room, carefully lowering the lid to muffle the sound. I began tinkering, the melody flowing from my fingers as if I had practiced it for months. I hummed a sweet melody, a silly smile upon my lips. Diane had that effect on me. No matter how long she stayed away, no matter how many calls she ignored, when she finally answered, I came running and was happy to do so. I cannot say I was surprised when she silently padded up behind me, slipped her arms around my waist, and laid her head upon my shoulder as I sang. It was memories like that that kept me going, kept me hoping for so long even though she crushed me again and again.
“Michael, I've missed you so much! You have no idea how difficult it has been for me without you there.” She batted her eyelashes and affected a very slight pout. She cast her eyes down and stepped forward, decreasing the space between us. She flitted the wrist of her free hand, a diamond bangle glittering in the light of the chandelier as she turned towards the balcony, slowly following my arc through the French doors. “I get so lonely sometimes. Life on the road is difficult and Berry is so demanding!” She took another swig from the highball. “He just doesn't understand that in this business, sometimes a diva needs a break. I've been carrying that group—all of the label really—for so long. It's a lot of pressure...”
By now she was completely outdoors and we could hear the water gurgling in the background over the crickets.
“Sometimes I just need to relax. Being a wife is difficult—we always need to keep up appearances—but sometimes my husband just can't give me what I need...what you used to give me.” Her hand clutched at her collar bone. “That pure innocence, the feeling like I'm the only woman in the world. I miss that Michael.”
She placed the glass on the balcony wall and gazed out over the dark gardens lost in thought for a moment.
“Do you remember that time when we had that show in Chicago? I wanted to try out some new material and had that idea for the new costumes with the green dresses? I tried for weeks to get Berry to listen to me, but he never had the time. You were in the middle of laying down tracks for a new project with your brothers, but you made the time to come over at two o'clock in the morning to listen to my ideas...you always were thoughtful like that. I remember how you held me when Avi left me for the first time. I cried and cried—you were always the only one I could cry around. I had to be strong and perfect for everyone else. You told me you would always be there for me, knowing we could never be together. My schedule was too busy and I needed a real man on my arms.”
I winced internally at that blow to the gut, but my outward appearance betrayed nothing.
“You were so young and naïve then, so refreshingly wonderful, always so good to me. We were good together. We made good music together and were good in other ways, too. Michael, I need you.”
I took a step closer to her. Then another. I was just about to close the length between us when I was brought up short by her gasp.
“Oh look! It's a shooting star! Quick, make a wish.”
I closed my eyes, swaying slightly for half a heartbeat then continued on, my mind made up.
“I want to be together again, Michael. Say you'll be my lover.”
When I did not answer immediately, she turned to face me, eyebrows raised, a beseeching look written across her visage.
I brought the glass halfway up and hesitated, looking into the face of my one true love. Her cheeks were carefully blushed to give the illusion of the flush of youthful excitement. Her lips were highly glossed. She had a dusting of glittery powder along her décolletage. She had that look in her eyes of hunger; it was a look I had seen many times before. Diane the huntress had her prey in her sights and fully intended to make the kill. I brought the tumbler all the way to my lips and drained the glass: not tonight.
Tonight the huntress would become the hunted.
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“Michael, I've missed you so much! You have no idea how difficult it has been for me without you there.” She batted her eyelashes and affected a very slight pout. She cast her eyes down and stepped forward, decreasing the space between us. She flitted the wrist of her free hand, a diamond bangle glittering in the light of the chandelier as she turned towards the balcony, slowly following my arc through the French doors. “I get so lonely sometimes. Life on the road is difficult and Berry is so demanding!” She took another swig from the highball. “He just doesn't understand that in this business, sometimes a diva needs a break. I've been carrying that group—all of the label really—for so long. It's a lot of pressure...”
By now she was completely outdoors and we could hear the water gurgling in the background over the crickets.
“Sometimes I just need to relax. Being a wife is difficult—we always need to keep up appearances—but sometimes my husband just can't give me what I need...what you used to give me.” Her hand clutched at her collar bone. “That pure innocence, the feeling like I'm the only woman in the world. I miss that Michael.”
She placed the glass on the balcony wall and gazed out over the dark gardens lost in thought for a moment.
“Do you remember that time when we had that show in Chicago? I wanted to try out some new material and had that idea for the new costumes with the green dresses? I tried for weeks to get Berry to listen to me, but he never had the time. You were in the middle of laying down tracks for a new project with your brothers, but you made the time to come over at two o'clock in the morning to listen to my ideas...you always were thoughtful like that. I remember how you held me when Avi left me for the first time. I cried and cried—you were always the only one I could cry around. I had to be strong and perfect for everyone else. You told me you would always be there for me, knowing we could never be together. My schedule was too busy and I needed a real man on my arms.”
I winced internally at that blow to the gut, but my outward appearance betrayed nothing.
“You were so young and naïve then, so refreshingly wonderful, always so good to me. We were good together. We made good music together and were good in other ways, too. Michael, I need you.”
I took a step closer to her. Then another. I was just about to close the length between us when I was brought up short by her gasp.
“Oh look! It's a shooting star! Quick, make a wish.”
I closed my eyes, swaying slightly for half a heartbeat then continued on, my mind made up.
“I want to be together again, Michael. Say you'll be my lover.”
When I did not answer immediately, she turned to face me, eyebrows raised, a beseeching look written across her visage.
I brought the glass halfway up and hesitated, looking into the face of my one true love. Her cheeks were carefully blushed to give the illusion of the flush of youthful excitement. Her lips were highly glossed. She had a dusting of glittery powder along her décolletage. She had that look in her eyes of hunger; it was a look I had seen many times before. Diane the huntress had her prey in her sights and fully intended to make the kill. I brought the tumbler all the way to my lips and drained the glass: not tonight.
Tonight the huntress would become the hunted.
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I brought the glass back down slowly, a lopsided smirk on my lips. For a moment the clink of the ice cubes chimed above the chorus of the crickets. Diane looked at me curiously then crossed her thin, elegant arms in front of her gown hugging her body.
“Michael, it's getting a bit nippy out here; why don't we go back inside?”
“Nippy?” I smirked. “Of course, after you.” I extended my hand back towards the main salon with a smile. Diane smiled gratefully and glided back through the French doors, her gown fluttering behind her.
“Be a dear and freshen my drink, will you?” She handed me the highball without waiting for an answer. I strode over to the wet bar and tossed the ingredients into the shaker. In contrast to her usual tendency to become pourable by the end of the night, I intentionally made her drink weak; I wanted her to remember every single detail about this encounter.
“I called you, you know,” I said nonchalantly with my back to her as I agitated the shaker. I grasped the tongs to lift one, two, three cubes from the ice bucket, then grasping the highball, I languidly turned around. I sank into the plush sofa several feet apart from her and relinquished the drink.
“What's that dear?” She said with raised eyebrow, sipping from the glass and knowing full well what I had just said.
“I called you...after the last time. I called you for three weeks straight. Q told me I should just leave it be, but I just...I couldn't. I kept hoping you would pick up...answer the messages I left for you, but you never did.” I looked her straight in the eyes daring her to tell me the lie I knew was already on her tongue, having been loosed from the depths of her black heart by her liquid libations. I raised my own eyebrow in a challenge and leaned back into the cushions, prepared to wait out any stall tactics she might devise.
She took her time sipping slowly. When she finally lowered the rim of the crystal from her moist lips they had been fashioned into a Cupid's pout. She scooted towards me, placing the glass on the coffee table in front of us. I fully expected Jim to shoot forward out of the shadows to insert a coaster barrier between the condensation-coated glass and the fine wood of the table. When it became clear he would not be interrupting us, I retrieved a coaster from the matched set on the corner of the table and settled it beneath the glass myself.
Diane seemed irritated at the correction, but I hardly cared. She liked to think of herself as the cultured lady and she never had to worry about things like that; that's what the help was for. She reached out for my arm, grasping me just above the elbow. “I know you did and I meant to call you. It's just...I was so busy, and I thought it would be best that way. You get so wrapped up and with my career, and yours, it would never work.”
“Yet you still call me,” I said in a deep measured voice, the high whispery tones I reserved for most of my planned interviews forgotten with the intensity of my memory of her abandonment.
“Of course I call you Michael! You're my baby, you always will be...in more ways than one.” She scooted even closer to me on the sofa so that now our thighs were touching, the heat from her leg was searing through her gossamer gown and penetrating the material of my slacks. She traced the nail of her index finger up and down the crease in my pants, coming dangerously closer to her prize with each stroke.
I cleared my throat and slightly lifted my hips off the seat cushions in a vain effort to ease the tightening in my trousers.
“...you know there can only be one star in a relationship darling, and well...”
She continued her tracing up my arm, pausing to squeeze my biceps before reaching for the tiny remote control on the table. The crooning of Smokey filled the space like honey spreading out in a honey jar. Diane reached for my cheek and cooed something in my ear, but I could not make out the words over the blood filling my ears. It was a wonder I had any left after the rush of fluids to my cock.
The nerve of her! I could not believe her gall at turning on a song by one of my best friends—and one of her many conquests. It stiffened my resolve as much as it stiffened my prick.
“...your star is on the rise, and I'm already a legend. It just wouldn't work. How we are is good, Michael. I just don't think you could give me what I need.” She laughed huskily. “Ah, let me re-phrase that darling. You've got exactly what I need...right now.” She overcrossed her legs, rubbing her calf along my own and tilted her mouth up to mine for a kiss.
I looked down into her eyes and for the first time saw that what I thought was the twinkle of genuine love was in fact the reflected sparkle of my own fire for her intertwined with the glitter of my own personal fame. Her own eyes were flat shallow pools with no depth, no current of their own. I wish I could say that prevented me being drawn to them like a schooner sailing the doomed circumference of a whirlpool. My lips touched hers and sealed our fate; the Kraken had been summoned.
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The nerve of her! I could not believe her gall at turning on a song by one of my best friends—and one of her many conquests. It stiffened my resolve as much as it stiffened my prick.
“...your star is on the rise, and I'm already a legend. It just wouldn't work. How we are is good, Michael. I just don't think you could give me what I need.” She laughed huskily. “Ah, let me re-phrase that darling. You've got exactly what I need...right now.” She overcrossed her legs, rubbing her calf along my own and tilted her mouth up to mine for a kiss.
I looked down into her eyes and for the first time saw that what I thought was the twinkle of genuine love was in fact the reflected sparkle of my own fire for her intertwined with the glitter of my own personal fame. Her own eyes were flat shallow pools with no depth, no current of their own. I wish I could say that prevented me being drawn to them like a schooner sailing the doomed circumference of a whirlpool. My lips touched hers and sealed our fate; the Kraken had been summoned.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I deepened the kiss, shifting my weight over her slightly more. My left hand roamed up her slender thigh to cup her ass under the gown. The silk of her stockings ended in an elaborate lace band mid-thigh held up by the clips to her garters. My hand drifted north along the garter belt to play along the edges of her lacy panties. Diane often went without bra or panties; she said they ruined the lines of her designer clothes. She often eschewed panties, but she always wore her thongs just for me. All for me.
That's what she told me at the Wiz premiere. Thank God she did wear the thong. It was the only thing that saved us from certain embarrassment. My dark velvet suit would have hidden evidence of a murder, but her white pantsuit would have certainly given away our secret that I had been caressing her under the table to the point of dripping out.
Newly divorced, Diane wanted to get back out and spread her wings...or legs as it were. She had more than her fair share of dates with up and coming producers, record execs, and businessmen eager to hitch their names to the still-shining star of the Supreme Miss D. In between the romance and the caviar, she called me. I was her go-to escort whenever she either sent another beau or husband packing or he realized the relationship was only designed to benefit one member, and it was not him. I accompanied her to parties, movie premiers, and red carpet events. We danced, ate, held hands. She introduced me as her “dear friend” and sometimes as her “baby,” but the things we did in those limos were anything but childish.
The party celebrating our movie opening was packed with people in various stages of inebriation. The entire cast and crew was there along with the producers and their friends. No expense was spared. We held court at a huge booth that seated 16; others who wanted to be near the stars had pulled up seats to the edge of the action. As usual, Diane and I were hip to hip, pushed even closer together than usual by the crush of hangers-on. I was still slightly shy in such a big crowd even though we had worked together for better part of the past year. I made a concerted effort to laugh at all the jokes and make eye contact when absolutely necessary. One of the choreographers had just told a story about how I showed up all the other characters on the set with how quickly I learned my dance routines when I felt something on my leg.
I looked over at Diane while everyone else was pealing in laughter, my eyebrows drawn up in shock. She fixed me wit her huge round eyes and brought the index finger of her other hand to her lips with a shush. The she looked across the table to answer a question one of wicked witches asked her. My mouth was still slightly agape when she started massaging my thigh in small circular motions. My dick sprang to action making my already tight pants downright unbearable. My throat suddenly parched, I leaned forward to grab my ice water.
“Hey man, don't be such a square! Have a little of this liquid fire.” The set carpenter called out to me, punching his buddy in the shoulder.
I blushed and began to stammer, “I, I don't..”
“Oh Peter, you know Michael doesn't drink that stuff,” Diane defended. “He's drinking wine with me.” She placed the goblet in my hand encouraging me to drink up.
I stared at the crimson liquid for a moment before bringing the crystal up to my lips and taking a sip. If Mother could see me now she would have a fit!
Her hand grew bolder, traveling closer to my turgid member in tiny little arcs. She continued rubbing up and down on my covered zipper then cupped me fully in her long, slender fingers.
I choked a little at the heat of the red wine as it slid down my palate, a blood sacrifice for all the atonement I would have to do for these sins.
Just then the songwriters, Nick and Valerie, arrived, escorted by Q. Diane rose to greet them with a kiss on each cheek, while I shook their hands and kissed the back of Valerie's hand.
“Ooh Diane, he's such a gentleman!” Valerie exclaimed, blushing and beaming towards me.
“Yes, that he is,” she replied with a wink at me.
Diane sat back down on the cushions, closer than ever this time, but instead of resuming her ministrations on my member, she grabbed my hand and quickly shoved it in the V between her legs.
I was so confused and incredibly turned on, I began to wiggle my fingers against the fabric of her tuxedo pants. I opened and closed my hand and drew squiggles with my index finger. My thumb beat a staccato while my other fingers were drawn inward by her heat.
Diane carried on several conversations at once, never giving any indication of the naughty sign language being spoken beneath the table top. I was not a total novice to her sexy games, but I was nowhere near as good as she at the necessary multitasking; I gave up on following the conversations around me and just stared at her. The way her mouth formed around the words, the tinkle of her laugh, the batting of her eyelashes. I drank it in as if it were all new to me, as if I had not spent the equivalent of months of my life memorizing her lines, her sound, her smell. Her body temperature rose a fraction of a degree. I knew her well enough to recognize the almost imperceptible quickening of the pulsing in the hollow of her neck, the way her eyes opened a millimeter then closed for a moment. She was spent.
I withdrew my hand to my own lap, sat back, and exhaled. I looked around the table; it did not seem as if anyone else was aware of our secret. Everyone was lost in their own conversations with their companions or scanning the room for a better one. I finished the second half of my wine in three large gulps; the rest of the night is a blur better recounted by photographs than my own hazy memory. All I know is I had a blast.
I looked over at Diane while everyone else was pealing in laughter, my eyebrows drawn up in shock. She fixed me wit her huge round eyes and brought the index finger of her other hand to her lips with a shush. The she looked across the table to answer a question one of wicked witches asked her. My mouth was still slightly agape when she started massaging my thigh in small circular motions. My dick sprang to action making my already tight pants downright unbearable. My throat suddenly parched, I leaned forward to grab my ice water.
“Hey man, don't be such a square! Have a little of this liquid fire.” The set carpenter called out to me, punching his buddy in the shoulder.
I blushed and began to stammer, “I, I don't..”
“Oh Peter, you know Michael doesn't drink that stuff,” Diane defended. “He's drinking wine with me.” She placed the goblet in my hand encouraging me to drink up.
I stared at the crimson liquid for a moment before bringing the crystal up to my lips and taking a sip. If Mother could see me now she would have a fit!
Her hand grew bolder, traveling closer to my turgid member in tiny little arcs. She continued rubbing up and down on my covered zipper then cupped me fully in her long, slender fingers.
I choked a little at the heat of the red wine as it slid down my palate, a blood sacrifice for all the atonement I would have to do for these sins.
Just then the songwriters, Nick and Valerie, arrived, escorted by Q. Diane rose to greet them with a kiss on each cheek, while I shook their hands and kissed the back of Valerie's hand.
“Ooh Diane, he's such a gentleman!” Valerie exclaimed, blushing and beaming towards me.
“Yes, that he is,” she replied with a wink at me.
Diane sat back down on the cushions, closer than ever this time, but instead of resuming her ministrations on my member, she grabbed my hand and quickly shoved it in the V between her legs.
I was so confused and incredibly turned on, I began to wiggle my fingers against the fabric of her tuxedo pants. I opened and closed my hand and drew squiggles with my index finger. My thumb beat a staccato while my other fingers were drawn inward by her heat.
Diane carried on several conversations at once, never giving any indication of the naughty sign language being spoken beneath the table top. I was not a total novice to her sexy games, but I was nowhere near as good as she at the necessary multitasking; I gave up on following the conversations around me and just stared at her. The way her mouth formed around the words, the tinkle of her laugh, the batting of her eyelashes. I drank it in as if it were all new to me, as if I had not spent the equivalent of months of my life memorizing her lines, her sound, her smell. Her body temperature rose a fraction of a degree. I knew her well enough to recognize the almost imperceptible quickening of the pulsing in the hollow of her neck, the way her eyes opened a millimeter then closed for a moment. She was spent.
I withdrew my hand to my own lap, sat back, and exhaled. I looked around the table; it did not seem as if anyone else was aware of our secret. Everyone was lost in their own conversations with their companions or scanning the room for a better one. I finished the second half of my wine in three large gulps; the rest of the night is a blur better recounted by photographs than my own hazy memory. All I know is I had a blast.
Here I was repeating the performance except we had no audience save the crickets—and now my fingers were quite a bit more experienced and determined in their goal. I traced the scalloped edge of the lace on her garter strap up and down arcing over her hip and back again. I spread my fingers wide across her flat belly, my pinky and thumb each touching a hip bone, and gazed into her eyes. “Is this what you want?”
She gazed back at me languidly, “you know what I want,” she answered with smoke in her voice, her hip undulating beneath me.
I inhaled the scent of her, nuzzling her neck, placing my head on her shoulder. I had an up-close view down the delicate neckline of her gown; her small champagne flute breasts were still magnificent and perky, defying their age. I closed my eyes and was transported back to a happier time, a time when she would hold me on her lap with no motive other than my own comfort. I was so lonely then without Mother. I would sit in her lap with my head on her breast listening to her heart beat. In those moments I was not the child prodigy. No one expected anything of me. My only task was to just BE. She was my rock, my anchor, my everything. And I was her Baby.
I sat back, pulling her away from the back cushions of the couch and turned her slightly away from me. The smoothness of her skin was intoxicating. Without looking, I expertly opened the hook and eye to her gown and pulled down the zipper to her hips. I used to fumble on tasks like this, too eager and embarrassed to muster the necessary dexterity. I pushed the chiffon material off her chocolate shoulders and spun her to face me. I beheld the large brown areolae drawing me in like a beacon, dipped my head, and began to ravage her breasts, first sucking in the left one. I could hear the loud smacking noises reverberating off the hard surfaces of the furniture.
“Michael, what's gotten into you?” Diane exclaimed, the final syllable devolving into a moan. She jumped slightly when I nipped at the tender skin, I quirked an eyebrow at her then resumed my ministrations. I did not normally take the lead in our intimate encounters, so she was legitimately surprised by my new-found aggression. She clasped my head in both her hands urging me into her bosom.
I moved from mound to mound feasting on the delicious dessert offered to me. I teased the ebony skin of one nipple, lapping at it with my rough tongue until it responded by wrinkling into a diamond hard peak. I suckled at its neighbor, rolling the eager nubbin between my teeth as she cradled me in her arms. I simultaneously bit the top of her breast while palming her ass, squeezing the twin globes left to roam free by the absence of material. “Is this what you want, Diane?” I inquired again, fire in my eye
She stared at me agape, attempting to catch her breath. “Who are you and what have you done with my Baby Boy?” She exhaled almost inaudibly. Her chest heaved as she collapsed back against the plush cushions of the sofa. I turned and grabbed my tumbler, turning the ice cubes over in my mouth, sucking the last of the liquor from their recesses.
I let the cubes fall back into the glass and carefully placed it back on its coaster then leaned towards her and captured the nearest nipple in between my teeth. I elongated its hardness, causing her to flinch against me. Diane keened like the din in a machinist's shop. Just as she hit her highest note, I withdrew my arctic pincers, my mouth tipped up in a wry smile. I wink-blinked at her, grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her limp body up with mine. “Come on. Let me show you what your Baby can do.”
She half-leaned on me on the way to the huge master bedroom. I caught sight of the two of us as we passed a gilded mirror; she was half-naked, her gown stripped from her torso, her skin flushed and dewy. I was still dressed. We both were smiling, relaxed, and looked carefree. This is the way it should be. I wanted so much to be hers, for her to claim me as her man. No matter how many events I escorted her to, no matter how many times I heeded her midnight beckon, I knew she never would. The more perfect a gentleman I tried to be, the less she seemed to want me.
I had had enough of being a gentleman anyway.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“Michael, what's gotten into you?” Diane exclaimed, the final syllable devolving into a moan. She jumped slightly when I nipped at the tender skin, I quirked an eyebrow at her then resumed my ministrations. I did not normally take the lead in our intimate encounters, so she was legitimately surprised by my new-found aggression. She clasped my head in both her hands urging me into her bosom.
I moved from mound to mound feasting on the delicious dessert offered to me. I teased the ebony skin of one nipple, lapping at it with my rough tongue until it responded by wrinkling into a diamond hard peak. I suckled at its neighbor, rolling the eager nubbin between my teeth as she cradled me in her arms. I simultaneously bit the top of her breast while palming her ass, squeezing the twin globes left to roam free by the absence of material. “Is this what you want, Diane?” I inquired again, fire in my eye
She stared at me agape, attempting to catch her breath. “Who are you and what have you done with my Baby Boy?” She exhaled almost inaudibly. Her chest heaved as she collapsed back against the plush cushions of the sofa. I turned and grabbed my tumbler, turning the ice cubes over in my mouth, sucking the last of the liquor from their recesses.
I let the cubes fall back into the glass and carefully placed it back on its coaster then leaned towards her and captured the nearest nipple in between my teeth. I elongated its hardness, causing her to flinch against me. Diane keened like the din in a machinist's shop. Just as she hit her highest note, I withdrew my arctic pincers, my mouth tipped up in a wry smile. I wink-blinked at her, grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her limp body up with mine. “Come on. Let me show you what your Baby can do.”
She half-leaned on me on the way to the huge master bedroom. I caught sight of the two of us as we passed a gilded mirror; she was half-naked, her gown stripped from her torso, her skin flushed and dewy. I was still dressed. We both were smiling, relaxed, and looked carefree. This is the way it should be. I wanted so much to be hers, for her to claim me as her man. No matter how many events I escorted her to, no matter how many times I heeded her midnight beckon, I knew she never would. The more perfect a gentleman I tried to be, the less she seemed to want me.
I had had enough of being a gentleman anyway.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
My tongue entered her mouth, forcing her lips apart. She sucked me in tasting the liquor, feeling the cold. The pink tongues began an erotic dance coupling, tangling, withdrawing, and repeating again. She was a helpless vessel to the slippery invasion. I broke apart with a gasp, caressing her shoulder, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. My hands continued to caress her neck, tracing along the delicate collarbone down the line between her breasts to her navel. I hooked my pinky there, wiggling it with a small giggle.
Diane broke a smile, looking down shyly, remembering our private game.
I took hold of the gown pooled around her hips and began to shimmy it down until it fell to the floor in an iridescent cloud. She looked every bit the goddess who was her namesake standing there in just a pair of kitten heels and a lacy silk thong. She stepped back on her left foot, her right heel at right angles to her instep; it was a model's pose—one that, coupled with her arms akimbo and confident smirk, made her simply irresistible.
“Girl, you just don't know!” I whispered.
“What was that Michael?” Diane asked.
Instead of answering her, I slowly spun towards the wet bar. Apparently every room in this suite was fully equipped. I called over my shoulder, “I'm just fixing another drink. Don't move.” For once, Diane obeyed. It was wholly unlike her.
I thought about the first time I had seen her nude. I was 11-years-old and staying with her while my parents were out of town doing something or another. It was mid-afternoon and she had just awakened from her night's sleep. Diane never got up before noon; she believed in beauty rest. She usually lolled about in her dressing rooms for another hour or so. I wanted to paint in the living room, but did not know where she put the new oils. I took the stairs up to her level and padded down the hallway to her suite. The door to her bedroom was slightly ajar. I was just about to knock when I caught a glimpse of her through the crack.
She was standing on the carpets next to her bed wearing a red satin dressing robe and matching maribou heels. Her hair was wrapped in a turban she used for sleep. Her robe hung open and I could see her breasts swelling beneath the lapels. She was humming softly to herself and admiring herself in the gilded mirror behind her vanity. Diane removed her turban and fluffed out her curls. She allowed her gown to slide off her shoulders and pool at her feet in a crimson cloud. She was completely nude underneath. She sat on the little bench at her vanity and began to lotion and powder her body, taking care to apply perfume to her pulse points. I was riveted; she was the most exquisite creature I had ever seen. That day, in that moment, I was ruined forever.
When I turned again to face her, I was once again sucking on the ice cubes from my drink, rolling them around in my mouth like baoding balls. I mumbled my command to her.
“What's that dear?”
I allowed the cubes to slip through my lips and land in the tumbler with a 'clink.' “I said turn around. I want to see that ass.”
Diane extended her hands like a dainty ballerina and minced from one foot to the other completing a half turn. When she faced the opposite wall, she once again put her arms akimbo, this time thrusting out her backside with a little wiggle.
I sauntered forward to place my hands on her hips and smoothed them over her buttocks. I completed the southern portion of my journey by cupping the globes and allowing the fingers of my left hand to slide between them tracing the thin equator of her thong. I could feel her wetness seeping through the silk fabric; her excitement acted as a slip-n-slide allowing first one, then two fingers to rub along her womanly pout unhindered. I unconsciously thrust my hips slightly forward; they swayed from side-to-side in time with my journey forward and back along her slit. I followed the downy runway along her outer lips forward and pulled the fabric aside. My middle finger circled her pearl and pinched it between it and my thumb. She swayed backwards and began to roll her hips.
I sank to the floor, never losing contact with her honey pot. I rubbed my cheek along her ass, the stubble leaving a swath of redness in its wake. Suddenly, my right hand took a hold of the T of her thong and pulled diagonally downward, ripping it from her body.
“Oh Michael!” she sobbed.
“Is this what you want?” I rasped.
“Ooh Baby...”
I soothed the scarlet trail with my kisses then marked her with a tiger's bite at the apex of her cheek.
“Uhn!” Her thighs began to tremble with the effort of keeping her body upright.
“No, not yet. You're not allowed to cum yet.” I slid first one, then two fingers inside her love canal and slowly moved them in and out while continuing to circle her clit with my thumb.
“Ummmmm. Yeaaaah, that's it.”
I strummed her clitoris like a Gibson guitar, her every nerve ending singing to my melody, her breath raspy. I continued to twist my fingers in and out for a few moments, then stilled, withdrawing them from her molten center. Their absence was met with protest followed by surprise as I substituted my tongue.
Diane's eyes widened in shock as she realized I must have slipped another ice cube in my mouth while I fingered her. I parted the engorged outer lips turned burgundy by my earlier attentions and delved into her moist caverns. The delicate shell of her pink inner lips framed the opening to her cunt with a sassy pout. I tentatively stuck my tongue to the slit and probed in and out then withdrew and blew across her pussy. The effect was one of a sudden arctic wind on a tropical isle. She squirmed and whimpered, her hips forming a lopsided figure eight.
I squeezed her left ass cheek in an attempt to keep her still. I massaged her lips, tapping lightly on the hood to her clit then lapped again and again with more insistence. I was rewarded with a flood of icy treat from her frozen-molten center. The cold contrasted with the heat from her core to send her over the edge. Her trembling thighs could no longer hold her and she collapsed backwards in a heap supported by my arms.
Her head lolled on her shoulders as her body pressed against my front panting. I nuzzled against her neck, placing tiny kisses along her soft cheek. When her breathing started to slow again, I licked along the shell of her perfect ear. I sucked in the pillow of the lobe with its sharp barb of a diamond stud then expelled it slowly between my lips. I began rolling both her nipples between my fingers, elongating the points and whispered to her again, “Is this what you want Diane?”
When she did not answer, I pinched them eliciting a moan as her hips bucked back against my groin. The movement served as further enticement for the cock already straining at my briefs. I pushed her forward onto her hands and knees taking a moment to admire the curve of her back as it dipped and rose again in the magnificent twin peaks of her rosy ass. I whipped off my jacket as I rose from my knees and began unbuttoning my shirt. I winced in pain as the fabric of my briefs skimmed across my penis. I almost forgot to retrieve the foil packet from the breast pocket of my jacket. On my previous visits I noticed there were bowls of them discreetly placed in each guest room, but I preferred to use my own: a high tech Japanese brand engineered to be micro-thin for maximum pleasure for the well-endowed man.
I fell to my knees again at the same time ripping the corner of the packet. I wasted no time in pulling back my foreskin and rolling the sheath onto my manhood; I pinched the tip just to be careful. I would not want to put her in the position of having to pass off my child as her husband's—not that I would allow my seed to be claimed by another man anyway. I desperately wanted children, and wanted them with the woman I loved. A son or a daughter would further declare to the world that she was mine and I was hers forevermore, but Diane just laughed every time I brought it up and changed the subject.
“You know what I want, Michael,” she whispered over her shoulder.
Diane wiggled her hips impatiently. “Uh uh,” I smacked her ass. “I'm in charge here and we don't do anything until I say it's time.”
She whined in response. I slipped two fingers into her again, pumping a few times then withdrew and placed the head of my cock at her dew cavern. I steered her ass backwards towards me then shot forward towards the bulls eye. My cock was buried to the balls in one thrust that seemed to knock the wind out of her. Her eyes bulged out and her mouth opened and closed like a fish suddenly flipped on dry land, no water in sight. Before she could catch her breath, I began to pound into her.
I was relentless in my rhythm, thrusting into her again and again. I had my arms around her waist now to give myself more leverage as I forced her forward onto her elbows, her face in the carpet, and ass pointed skyward. My balls beat a staccato cadence on her clit as her juices made them slippery as hard boiled eggs. I thrust twice quickly then, seized with an idea, suddenly heaved up to my feet. Attached to me by our carnal cord she had no choice but to rise with me.
Again, I drove into her faster this time. Her titties bounced up and down as if she were riding a crazed pogo stick. Her upper body seemed devoid of any internal support and flopped over this way and that, her breaths coming in irregular gasps. I varied the rhythm from fast to slow, shallow to deep strokes, her ass smashing against my belly with a sucking sound.
Just when her gasping seemed to become more savage, I lowered her toes to the floor in front of an overstuffed brown leather chair. In passing I noted it bore an uncanny resemblance to an Eileen Gray Dragons chair I once inquired about at auction. I bent her over the soft back drawing her buttocks apart and shifting the pressure on my prick. She spasmed around me her skin burning. I smacked her left ass cheek again to bring the color in line with the right and allowed my thumb to stray downwards towards that forbidden cave of her little rosebud. She stiffened in anticipation of the taboo treat; Diane frequently pressured me to fuck her there, but I always declined. I wasn't about to give her what she wanted tonight, at least not in that way.
I entered her again with a grunt and began a series of lazy orbits around her backside. She alternately clenched and released me internally, bobbing her bottom like a dingy on the surface of a lake on a windy day. I thrust into her slowly, deliberately feeling the ridges of her walls massage me like a washboard. She began to circle in a counterorbit, clenching her muscles each time I withdrew. I did not know how much longer I could hold out.
“You feel so good Michael,” she cooed and swiveled her hips in sweet torment. “I—I've been waiting on this for a whi---” Her insides began to quiver on the bottom half of her circle around my cock shoving me over the cliff. A torrent of fire was unleashed from my viscera as I growled from between clenched teeth. I shook my curls and my sweat rained down upon her back. The silvery drops shone like diamonds on her brown skin.
“Uh! Wooo...girl. Oh!” I shouted grasping her hair from the nape of her neck and flexing her body up against mine. My breathing was ragged as I clung to her, our sweat mingling in a lake of perfumed dew between us. “You.Shouldn't.Have.Done.That,” I panted lowly in her ear. “I told you I'm in charge tonight, and I didn't want to come. Now I think you should clean my cock.”
I walked over to the front of the Dragons chair and sank into the overstuffed cushions. Diane sashayed in front of me and grasped me by the shoulders. She tilted my chin up to look at her. I tried to avoid her eyes, those pools of despair trapping me like mahogany quicksand. I kept my expression unreadable as she bent to place a tender kiss on my lips though internally I was in turmoil. This was the woman I loved above all others, and I had her all to myself...for now.
Diane bent her knees and knelt between my open legs. She alternately kissed both my shoulders then my brown nipples, pausing to flick the right one with her long sharp nails. She continued down my stomach deliberately tonguing two light patches on the skin along my sides. She kissed the down on my washboard then eased on down to her real treasure: the real Muscles.
She flicked her pink tongue at the pearl of moisture that sat on the tip like the crown on a monarch's head. I shuddered, grasping at her shoulders to urge her onward. Once again, she tasted my man-dew then enveloped the head of my manhood in her hot moist lips. She slowly sank her mouth down around my steely heat, lavishing the underside as she went. Her fingers formed a ring around the base and squeezed rhythmically as they jacked in unison with her bobbing head. Her mouth was a lush, hot rainforest and my resolve was a hailstone slowly melting away layer by layer. Her cheeks hollowed with her efforts to pull my essence from deep within my core, red hot magma bubbling beneath the surface.
When she did not answer, I pinched them eliciting a moan as her hips bucked back against my groin. The movement served as further enticement for the cock already straining at my briefs. I pushed her forward onto her hands and knees taking a moment to admire the curve of her back as it dipped and rose again in the magnificent twin peaks of her rosy ass. I whipped off my jacket as I rose from my knees and began unbuttoning my shirt. I winced in pain as the fabric of my briefs skimmed across my penis. I almost forgot to retrieve the foil packet from the breast pocket of my jacket. On my previous visits I noticed there were bowls of them discreetly placed in each guest room, but I preferred to use my own: a high tech Japanese brand engineered to be micro-thin for maximum pleasure for the well-endowed man.
I fell to my knees again at the same time ripping the corner of the packet. I wasted no time in pulling back my foreskin and rolling the sheath onto my manhood; I pinched the tip just to be careful. I would not want to put her in the position of having to pass off my child as her husband's—not that I would allow my seed to be claimed by another man anyway. I desperately wanted children, and wanted them with the woman I loved. A son or a daughter would further declare to the world that she was mine and I was hers forevermore, but Diane just laughed every time I brought it up and changed the subject.
“You know what I want, Michael,” she whispered over her shoulder.
Diane wiggled her hips impatiently. “Uh uh,” I smacked her ass. “I'm in charge here and we don't do anything until I say it's time.”
She whined in response. I slipped two fingers into her again, pumping a few times then withdrew and placed the head of my cock at her dew cavern. I steered her ass backwards towards me then shot forward towards the bulls eye. My cock was buried to the balls in one thrust that seemed to knock the wind out of her. Her eyes bulged out and her mouth opened and closed like a fish suddenly flipped on dry land, no water in sight. Before she could catch her breath, I began to pound into her.
I was relentless in my rhythm, thrusting into her again and again. I had my arms around her waist now to give myself more leverage as I forced her forward onto her elbows, her face in the carpet, and ass pointed skyward. My balls beat a staccato cadence on her clit as her juices made them slippery as hard boiled eggs. I thrust twice quickly then, seized with an idea, suddenly heaved up to my feet. Attached to me by our carnal cord she had no choice but to rise with me.
Again, I drove into her faster this time. Her titties bounced up and down as if she were riding a crazed pogo stick. Her upper body seemed devoid of any internal support and flopped over this way and that, her breaths coming in irregular gasps. I varied the rhythm from fast to slow, shallow to deep strokes, her ass smashing against my belly with a sucking sound.
Just when her gasping seemed to become more savage, I lowered her toes to the floor in front of an overstuffed brown leather chair. In passing I noted it bore an uncanny resemblance to an Eileen Gray Dragons chair I once inquired about at auction. I bent her over the soft back drawing her buttocks apart and shifting the pressure on my prick. She spasmed around me her skin burning. I smacked her left ass cheek again to bring the color in line with the right and allowed my thumb to stray downwards towards that forbidden cave of her little rosebud. She stiffened in anticipation of the taboo treat; Diane frequently pressured me to fuck her there, but I always declined. I wasn't about to give her what she wanted tonight, at least not in that way.
I entered her again with a grunt and began a series of lazy orbits around her backside. She alternately clenched and released me internally, bobbing her bottom like a dingy on the surface of a lake on a windy day. I thrust into her slowly, deliberately feeling the ridges of her walls massage me like a washboard. She began to circle in a counterorbit, clenching her muscles each time I withdrew. I did not know how much longer I could hold out.
“You feel so good Michael,” she cooed and swiveled her hips in sweet torment. “I—I've been waiting on this for a whi---” Her insides began to quiver on the bottom half of her circle around my cock shoving me over the cliff. A torrent of fire was unleashed from my viscera as I growled from between clenched teeth. I shook my curls and my sweat rained down upon her back. The silvery drops shone like diamonds on her brown skin.
“Uh! Wooo...girl. Oh!” I shouted grasping her hair from the nape of her neck and flexing her body up against mine. My breathing was ragged as I clung to her, our sweat mingling in a lake of perfumed dew between us. “You.Shouldn't.Have.Done.That,” I panted lowly in her ear. “I told you I'm in charge tonight, and I didn't want to come. Now I think you should clean my cock.”
I walked over to the front of the Dragons chair and sank into the overstuffed cushions. Diane sashayed in front of me and grasped me by the shoulders. She tilted my chin up to look at her. I tried to avoid her eyes, those pools of despair trapping me like mahogany quicksand. I kept my expression unreadable as she bent to place a tender kiss on my lips though internally I was in turmoil. This was the woman I loved above all others, and I had her all to myself...for now.
Diane bent her knees and knelt between my open legs. She alternately kissed both my shoulders then my brown nipples, pausing to flick the right one with her long sharp nails. She continued down my stomach deliberately tonguing two light patches on the skin along my sides. She kissed the down on my washboard then eased on down to her real treasure: the real Muscles.
She flicked her pink tongue at the pearl of moisture that sat on the tip like the crown on a monarch's head. I shuddered, grasping at her shoulders to urge her onward. Once again, she tasted my man-dew then enveloped the head of my manhood in her hot moist lips. She slowly sank her mouth down around my steely heat, lavishing the underside as she went. Her fingers formed a ring around the base and squeezed rhythmically as they jacked in unison with her bobbing head. Her mouth was a lush, hot rainforest and my resolve was a hailstone slowly melting away layer by layer. Her cheeks hollowed with her efforts to pull my essence from deep within my core, red hot magma bubbling beneath the surface.
Over and over I neared the precipice, but snatched back my composure, reluctant to give her the satisfaction. Sensing my withholding, Diane plopped me out of her mouth and blew across the sensitive head inducing a burning current that ran straight down the raphe of my testicles and entered my spine. Her tongue flicked at the sensitive underside of my cock just beneath the head: light insistent movements like the legs of a cricket as it sings. And so I began to sing, my panting ending in a high-pitched whine as the wind whistled in and out of my inflamed lungs. She enveloped my length taking me down to her throat and began to hum. The darkness behind my tightly-shut eyes exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors as I snorted for breath fisting her hair. I grasped blindly at the arm of the chair as my hips hunched upwards into her hot mouth, my juices pulsing down her throat.
I roughly pulled her to her feet and kissed her mouth hungrily my hands roaming up and down her lovely little body. We both fell backwards onto the bed without breaking the seal of our lips devouring one another. Diane climbed up my sweat-slicked body and straddled my hips, attempting to take the lead as she usually did, but I had other plans. I was in control here, the master of this universe. I scissored my legs with hers and flipped her eliciting a shocked giggle.
I gazed down into her face for a moment trying to read the feeling behind her languid expression. I had often imagined that we could be together, that this love—no this thing--we had would be enough. I fantasized that I would be what she wanted. In truth, I loved and desired Diane, but she was never satisfied with me and what I had to offer. I was a “big boy” now, but I would always come up short in her eyes. The best I could do was try to make her reconsider.
My own feet shoved hers further apart while I fumbled around for the tie I had so carelessly strewn upon the bed. I tied Diane's wrists to the headboard, then sat back on my haunches to admire my captive. I had never bound Diana before, but then tonight was a night of a lot of firsts.
She squirmed with desire, a rosy flush extending from her collarbone down to her navel. Her small breasts sat upright and perky, their nipples dark and hard as stone. Her body was soft in all the right places and she smelled feminine and spicy. I could see evidence of my love bites and markings on her breasts; she would remember this night for some time. The black silken hair of her mons exhaled her cassolette, her nether lips opening and closing with a pucker as she writhed. I dipped a finger in to taste her honeydew.
“Is this what you want Diane? Tell me what you want.”
Her sex clenched in anticipation of meeting Muscles again.
“So you want me to fuck you again, do you?” I said as I flicked over her swollen clit. I was aching for her. I kept my face was impassive, loathe to let her know the depth of my desire. Her cleft wept; I dragged my fingers up and down the lips, and she began to purr as I petted her.
“Yess,” she hissed between clenched teeth, her hip slithering beneath me.
I bent to kiss her again, my tongue stroking slowly and sweetly over hers. I moved the kiss down to her breasts. I caressed down to her nipple and bit at it harshly. I soothed the sting with little kisses. She was already slippery for me, but I ducked my head between her legs once again awestruck by the beauty of her ferocious flower. Diane kept her pubic curls even when the shaving fad began. To me, her trimmed little bush made her look womanly, her sex hidden and forbidden.
My tongue dipped inside, tasting her essence in long leisurely licks. My tongue fluttered over her like the youngest of butterflies on a new spring leaf, sending her into a frenzy. I found her glistening pearl and allowed the butterfly to alight there before enclosing it with my lips. My cheeks hollowed as I increased the suction. I worried her knot of nerves until her world exploded.
The little gutteral noises she emitted in the throes of passion were the most arousing thing I had ever heard. The scent of our love was on her. It awakened something feral in me. I lost my rational mind then, reduced to the more primitive instincts to possess and to conquer. I grasped her thighs hard enough to leave hand marks and spread them as far apart as they would go.
“Oh baby! Come to Mama. Gimme whatchu got!” She hissed like a forgotten kettle.
I once again sheathed my cock and positioned the head at her entrance burying myself in one stroke. She was so wet it was like driving through a huge deep puddle at full speed; I slid in quickly enough, but eventually the delicious friction slowed me down and made me reconsider who was in control.
I thrust in a steady rhythm while drawing circles on her clit. Her hips began to wind reflexively in response to the spirals on her love button. The sensation almost tore my concentration sending jagged shards of pleasure into my plan to make her beg for it. My jaw tightened and my gaze darkened dangerously: I was determined to resist her lovespell. I heaved into her several more times before grasping both her legs and throwing them over my shoulders granting me access to deeper waters.
She cooed while she worked her inner muscles in ripples. Diane's secret was that she was a karezza. In my younger days, I was astonished to discover she could often make me come just by slipping me into her and rhythmically caressing my young cock; she was as insatiable then as now, never missing an opportunity to milk out my innocence no matter who was around or the risk of getting caught. She was an adrenaline junkie and thrilled in those encounters right under Berry's nose in the studio or with my brothers or father in the adjacent rooms of her house.
My skin prickled with the electrical current running between us as I fought down the rising tide of pleasure in my prick. I pounded into her body with an animal need; she met me thrust for thrust, despite her hands being bound to the headboard. Again and again I launched into her molten core, losing myself each time. Diane wriggled beneath me, her breasts swelled, and her nipples harden even further. Her skin was burning as hot as my need to merge my body with hers until she could no longer deny me the love I had earned.
I quickened my pace, driving into her with all my anxieties, all my fears, all my tears. My thoughts skittered like pebbles on a lake. My orgasm began deep in a hollow space between my my heart and the bile of my liver. I came apart, unraveling the cord that had been tightly wound around my self-control. I poured my seed into her womb as if this were the umbilical cord that could bind us forever as man and wife. I came with a low rumble that built to a growl then a full throaty scream like a ferocious animal; I was the panther caught in her ring of fire with no way out, no escape from her heat.
My breathing serrated, I reached up and untied her wrists, freeing her to ride her own wave of pleasure. Her breathing was jagged, her eyes squeezed tight. Diane immediately embraced me whispering silvery promises of forevermore.
“This is what I want, Michael. I want this...with...you.” Her eyes were moist and doe-like, her expression lovelorn and earnest. “Michael, let's give it another go. I missed you.
“I want you.” Her fingers tangled in my wet curls holding me close.
“I need you.” Her hands caressed up and down my sweaty back cupping my buttocks. They flexed involuntarily, driving my softening cock into her clit again with a moan.
I gazed down into her face for a moment trying to read the feeling behind her languid expression. I had often imagined that we could be together, that this love—no this thing--we had would be enough. I fantasized that I would be what she wanted. In truth, I loved and desired Diane, but she was never satisfied with me and what I had to offer. I was a “big boy” now, but I would always come up short in her eyes. The best I could do was try to make her reconsider.
My own feet shoved hers further apart while I fumbled around for the tie I had so carelessly strewn upon the bed. I tied Diane's wrists to the headboard, then sat back on my haunches to admire my captive. I had never bound Diana before, but then tonight was a night of a lot of firsts.
She squirmed with desire, a rosy flush extending from her collarbone down to her navel. Her small breasts sat upright and perky, their nipples dark and hard as stone. Her body was soft in all the right places and she smelled feminine and spicy. I could see evidence of my love bites and markings on her breasts; she would remember this night for some time. The black silken hair of her mons exhaled her cassolette, her nether lips opening and closing with a pucker as she writhed. I dipped a finger in to taste her honeydew.
“Is this what you want Diane? Tell me what you want.”
Her sex clenched in anticipation of meeting Muscles again.
“So you want me to fuck you again, do you?” I said as I flicked over her swollen clit. I was aching for her. I kept my face was impassive, loathe to let her know the depth of my desire. Her cleft wept; I dragged my fingers up and down the lips, and she began to purr as I petted her.
“Yess,” she hissed between clenched teeth, her hip slithering beneath me.
I bent to kiss her again, my tongue stroking slowly and sweetly over hers. I moved the kiss down to her breasts. I caressed down to her nipple and bit at it harshly. I soothed the sting with little kisses. She was already slippery for me, but I ducked my head between her legs once again awestruck by the beauty of her ferocious flower. Diane kept her pubic curls even when the shaving fad began. To me, her trimmed little bush made her look womanly, her sex hidden and forbidden.
My tongue dipped inside, tasting her essence in long leisurely licks. My tongue fluttered over her like the youngest of butterflies on a new spring leaf, sending her into a frenzy. I found her glistening pearl and allowed the butterfly to alight there before enclosing it with my lips. My cheeks hollowed as I increased the suction. I worried her knot of nerves until her world exploded.
The little gutteral noises she emitted in the throes of passion were the most arousing thing I had ever heard. The scent of our love was on her. It awakened something feral in me. I lost my rational mind then, reduced to the more primitive instincts to possess and to conquer. I grasped her thighs hard enough to leave hand marks and spread them as far apart as they would go.
“Oh baby! Come to Mama. Gimme whatchu got!” She hissed like a forgotten kettle.
I once again sheathed my cock and positioned the head at her entrance burying myself in one stroke. She was so wet it was like driving through a huge deep puddle at full speed; I slid in quickly enough, but eventually the delicious friction slowed me down and made me reconsider who was in control.
I thrust in a steady rhythm while drawing circles on her clit. Her hips began to wind reflexively in response to the spirals on her love button. The sensation almost tore my concentration sending jagged shards of pleasure into my plan to make her beg for it. My jaw tightened and my gaze darkened dangerously: I was determined to resist her lovespell. I heaved into her several more times before grasping both her legs and throwing them over my shoulders granting me access to deeper waters.
She cooed while she worked her inner muscles in ripples. Diane's secret was that she was a karezza. In my younger days, I was astonished to discover she could often make me come just by slipping me into her and rhythmically caressing my young cock; she was as insatiable then as now, never missing an opportunity to milk out my innocence no matter who was around or the risk of getting caught. She was an adrenaline junkie and thrilled in those encounters right under Berry's nose in the studio or with my brothers or father in the adjacent rooms of her house.
My skin prickled with the electrical current running between us as I fought down the rising tide of pleasure in my prick. I pounded into her body with an animal need; she met me thrust for thrust, despite her hands being bound to the headboard. Again and again I launched into her molten core, losing myself each time. Diane wriggled beneath me, her breasts swelled, and her nipples harden even further. Her skin was burning as hot as my need to merge my body with hers until she could no longer deny me the love I had earned.
I quickened my pace, driving into her with all my anxieties, all my fears, all my tears. My thoughts skittered like pebbles on a lake. My orgasm began deep in a hollow space between my my heart and the bile of my liver. I came apart, unraveling the cord that had been tightly wound around my self-control. I poured my seed into her womb as if this were the umbilical cord that could bind us forever as man and wife. I came with a low rumble that built to a growl then a full throaty scream like a ferocious animal; I was the panther caught in her ring of fire with no way out, no escape from her heat.
My breathing serrated, I reached up and untied her wrists, freeing her to ride her own wave of pleasure. Her breathing was jagged, her eyes squeezed tight. Diane immediately embraced me whispering silvery promises of forevermore.
“This is what I want, Michael. I want this...with...you.” Her eyes were moist and doe-like, her expression lovelorn and earnest. “Michael, let's give it another go. I missed you.
“I want you.” Her fingers tangled in my wet curls holding me close.
“I need you.” Her hands caressed up and down my sweaty back cupping my buttocks. They flexed involuntarily, driving my softening cock into her clit again with a moan.
“Together we can be a power couple. Just think of it! We'll be invited on all the shows. We'll have every magazine vying to do a spread on us just like they used to. We could even do a duet together.”
I was momentarily vulnerable to her siren's song until I found an anchor in the rough seas and reeled myself in. I wanted her to see me as an equal, a worthy suitor who would love and protect her, cherish her, and grow old together. I wanted a family. I wanted a relationship.
She wanted a merger.
With crushing finality, I was forced to admit what I had known along: Diane saw me as a means to an end. I was the vehicle to, once again, hitch her star to the top of the Rockefeller Christmas Tree. She wanted to bask in the glow of my stardom just so long as it did not outshine her own.
I had already begun to hunt down my clothes that earlier had been thrown askew in the haze of passion. “Is that what you want Diane?” I asked ruefully.
“Yes, Michael, more than anything,” she rolled over onto her stomach, toying with a lock of her hair.
I fastened the buttons of my shirt not caring that I missed a few buttons and the left hem hung several inches lower than the right; I shoved my feet into my loafers sans socks. I raked both my hands through my unruly hair and stopped at the foot of the bed staring at her hotly for a few moments.
She lay there with the sheet carelessly slung across her hips, leaning back on the pillows like Cleopatra in the desert. Her smeared eye makeup, glowing skin, and just-fucked hair were nearly irresistible. If there was one thing I knew about Diane it was that she was used to getting what she wanted. At any cost. The hearts and dreams of others be damned.
I leaned forward onto my stiffened arms until my face was inches from hers. Gazing into her eyes was like sailing the Sargasso Sea. I captured her bottom lip between my teeth and nibbled before snaking my tongue into her mouth for a serpentine dance of passion. I tweaked one of her nipples, tugging at the elongated organ. She convulsed under my touch, moaning with renewed heat. I flicked it again, drinking from her hunger then withdrew, biting on her plump lip until it slipped away bruised...like my heart.
I wanted so much to be hers. I straightened up, “I don't think that's such a good idea, you and me.” I zipped my fly, “You see, my career is very important to me and I just don't think this will work. I know exactly what I want. We want different things my dear.” My hopes for a future with her—at least the future I wanted, the one that didn't leave me broken and crying each time someone better came along—had ebbed out of me with the last of my hot seed. I finally located my jacket amongst the tangle of clothes and sheets on the floor.
I blink-winked at her and left Diane gaping, sprawling, naked, and thoroughly screwed on the enormous master bed. My wish on that falling star had come true: I was finally free.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I did not bother tying my tie or replacing my socks before I went out. Anyone seeing me would know why I was here—they were here for the same thing, presumably. I did, however, allow myself a little smile on the way out the door. I intended to have my driver pull around to the alleyway to make the cleanest getaway from my dirty little fuck I possibly could. About 10 feet down the hallway a doorway opened, revealing Jim.
Where the hell was he all this time?
He addressed me with a slight bow, “Mr. Jackson, please follow me. Madame X wishes to have a word before you depart.” What the hell. I've done every other freaky wild thing tonight; may as well see what the hell she wants now. I hope the video was good enough.
I followed Jim down to opposite end of the hallway and down half a flight of stairs. He produced another key which opened the brass lock on a heavy hardwood door. He held open the door for me but did not follow. The room I entered was a small, dark lounge-like room with several low dark velvet chaise longues. Madame reclined on one in the center of the room; the Asian bodyguard stood behind her, his feet shoulder width apart and his arms crossed behind him. The dark colors of his clothing coupled with his immovable demeanor allowed him to blend in with the room somewhat. His expression was impassive; Madame's was a mixture of elation and...admiration?
“Mr. Jackson, how nice to see you again.”
I nodded, my face betraying nothing of the turmoil I felt inside.
“Please, help yourself to a drink.” She gestured to a wet bar along the far wall.
I could use another drink to try to put the night in focus, or out of focus as it were. I had just bidden farewell to the love of my life, and that had torn apart the fabric of my reality.
“Sit.” She gave a wave to the chaise next to her.
I sat splaying my legs apart and took the opportunity to examine her further. She had let her hair down and had her legs partially propped up by the lounge, but her outfit was still as well-put-together as ever. She balanced one of the snake shoes on her pointed foot, swinging the leg up and down to a rhythm only she could hear. I took a sip from my drink; I savored it like a fine wine while contemplating my next move now that I had shut the door on the object of my desire. Madame allowed me to brood in silence for some time. My good breeding long since fled, I gave no thought to breaking my self-absorption with light conversation.
How was the fuck?
Very nice, thank you. I especially enjoyed the part where she ripped out my heart and rubbed it against her pussy to get herself off.
Madame X smirked as if she had heard my inner dialogue, then she broke the silence. “Mr. Jackson, we have admitted thousands of members to the club over the years. Each of those members has undergone thorough screening and a recorded initiation evening. Never before have I had the...pleasure...of witnessing an initiation quite like yours. It was, shall we say, as unique as the man who performed it. I dare say that was your finest show to date.”
My pupils dilated when I registered what she said. I had been looking at Madame, but now I really looked at her. Her breasts nearly burst forth out of her bodice like overfilled helium balloons, their skin dark yet translucent. They heaved like she was laboring for breath. Her décolletage was flushed and her eyes glowed in the dim light of the room.
“Mr. Jackson, I think I will quite enjoy your future...tour dates here.” She leaned forward then, her breasts threatening to spill from their confines “I have to say—and I don't say this often—I am considering the VIP Package myself.”
I arched an eyebrow and stilled the ascent of my crystal tumbler, my cock jerking to life again in my pants. Shit! I would love to have a go at this sexy woman. I bet she could teach me a thing or two about fucking. The crystal eye of the snake on her shoe had me transfixed as it bounced rhythmically along her delicious foot, promising to divulge all the knowledge of the world if I would only take a bite.
I drained my glass and got up to sit on her chaise longue. She did not move. I threw the glass to the side, spilling the ice cubes on one of the velvet cushions, but I no longer gave a damn about things like that. I leaned forward, grasped her long locks and pulled down on them. Her chin tilted up towards mine as I hungrily brushed my lips along hers. Her eyes were liquid pools of fire and smoke, her breath coming in tiny ragged pants. I crushed my lips to hers snaking my tongue in between her teeth to taste her mouth. I kissed her savagely pushing up on one knee till I loomed over my conquest. She fumbled behind her grasping at anything to give her enough support to withstand my onslaught. The buttons of my shirt caught on her bodice repeatedly as I smashed my chest against her breasts our mouths twisting this way and that.
Just as suddenly as I advanced, I withdrew and sat back.
Her bodyguard, stopped in mid-stride towards our chaise was just as surprised by my retreat as he was the initial attack. Madame was clutching at her neck heaving for breath, one of her chocolate globes having escaped the confines of her dress. She had a wild look in her eyes.
Without a further word, I stood and showed myself out of the room. I texted my driver and chuckled deeply striding down the hallway towards the doors that initially brought me to this den of heaven and hell. They were unlocked this time, just as I knew they would be. Jim was nowhere in sight. I felt relieved when I finally dove into the welcoming safety of my sedan. I sank back into the cushions, allowing my head to fall back, and exhaled, the city melting past my windows in the inky darkness. It had been a hell of a night.
Where the hell was he all this time?
He addressed me with a slight bow, “Mr. Jackson, please follow me. Madame X wishes to have a word before you depart.” What the hell. I've done every other freaky wild thing tonight; may as well see what the hell she wants now. I hope the video was good enough.
I followed Jim down to opposite end of the hallway and down half a flight of stairs. He produced another key which opened the brass lock on a heavy hardwood door. He held open the door for me but did not follow. The room I entered was a small, dark lounge-like room with several low dark velvet chaise longues. Madame reclined on one in the center of the room; the Asian bodyguard stood behind her, his feet shoulder width apart and his arms crossed behind him. The dark colors of his clothing coupled with his immovable demeanor allowed him to blend in with the room somewhat. His expression was impassive; Madame's was a mixture of elation and...admiration?
“Mr. Jackson, how nice to see you again.”
I nodded, my face betraying nothing of the turmoil I felt inside.
“Please, help yourself to a drink.” She gestured to a wet bar along the far wall.
I could use another drink to try to put the night in focus, or out of focus as it were. I had just bidden farewell to the love of my life, and that had torn apart the fabric of my reality.
“Sit.” She gave a wave to the chaise next to her.
I sat splaying my legs apart and took the opportunity to examine her further. She had let her hair down and had her legs partially propped up by the lounge, but her outfit was still as well-put-together as ever. She balanced one of the snake shoes on her pointed foot, swinging the leg up and down to a rhythm only she could hear. I took a sip from my drink; I savored it like a fine wine while contemplating my next move now that I had shut the door on the object of my desire. Madame allowed me to brood in silence for some time. My good breeding long since fled, I gave no thought to breaking my self-absorption with light conversation.
How was the fuck?
Very nice, thank you. I especially enjoyed the part where she ripped out my heart and rubbed it against her pussy to get herself off.
Madame X smirked as if she had heard my inner dialogue, then she broke the silence. “Mr. Jackson, we have admitted thousands of members to the club over the years. Each of those members has undergone thorough screening and a recorded initiation evening. Never before have I had the...pleasure...of witnessing an initiation quite like yours. It was, shall we say, as unique as the man who performed it. I dare say that was your finest show to date.”
My pupils dilated when I registered what she said. I had been looking at Madame, but now I really looked at her. Her breasts nearly burst forth out of her bodice like overfilled helium balloons, their skin dark yet translucent. They heaved like she was laboring for breath. Her décolletage was flushed and her eyes glowed in the dim light of the room.
“Mr. Jackson, I think I will quite enjoy your future...tour dates here.” She leaned forward then, her breasts threatening to spill from their confines “I have to say—and I don't say this often—I am considering the VIP Package myself.”
I arched an eyebrow and stilled the ascent of my crystal tumbler, my cock jerking to life again in my pants. Shit! I would love to have a go at this sexy woman. I bet she could teach me a thing or two about fucking. The crystal eye of the snake on her shoe had me transfixed as it bounced rhythmically along her delicious foot, promising to divulge all the knowledge of the world if I would only take a bite.
I drained my glass and got up to sit on her chaise longue. She did not move. I threw the glass to the side, spilling the ice cubes on one of the velvet cushions, but I no longer gave a damn about things like that. I leaned forward, grasped her long locks and pulled down on them. Her chin tilted up towards mine as I hungrily brushed my lips along hers. Her eyes were liquid pools of fire and smoke, her breath coming in tiny ragged pants. I crushed my lips to hers snaking my tongue in between her teeth to taste her mouth. I kissed her savagely pushing up on one knee till I loomed over my conquest. She fumbled behind her grasping at anything to give her enough support to withstand my onslaught. The buttons of my shirt caught on her bodice repeatedly as I smashed my chest against her breasts our mouths twisting this way and that.
Just as suddenly as I advanced, I withdrew and sat back.
Her bodyguard, stopped in mid-stride towards our chaise was just as surprised by my retreat as he was the initial attack. Madame was clutching at her neck heaving for breath, one of her chocolate globes having escaped the confines of her dress. She had a wild look in her eyes.
Without a further word, I stood and showed myself out of the room. I texted my driver and chuckled deeply striding down the hallway towards the doors that initially brought me to this den of heaven and hell. They were unlocked this time, just as I knew they would be. Jim was nowhere in sight. I felt relieved when I finally dove into the welcoming safety of my sedan. I sank back into the cushions, allowing my head to fall back, and exhaled, the city melting past my windows in the inky darkness. It had been a hell of a night.