The Burlesque Lounge

[DemureDryad]

A hundred drinks. A thousand. I've roamed these halls and watched these girls too much, for too long. Not long enough. Outside it's all rain and my jacket tells the tale. My suit has beads of summer water across the lapels and shoulders and a passing girl brushes them off with a flirty flick of manicured fingers. She's pretty. They're all pretty. They're all so pretty that I'm becoming numb to it. Lace stockings. Corsets. My eyes brush over their softly-curved bodies like they were furniture as I cut my path towards the bar.

My stool is unoccupied. It's mine now. I own it.

And I own my tab. Settling with a spread of hundreds from the clip in my back pocket. They don't ask me where I get my money and I wouldn't tell them. It's crisp, though, and draws the eyes of those nearby. It's enough for the girls. It's enough for my tab. A Bombay on ice slides its way into my hand. I feel the glass in my rough fingers. I feel the cold of its potency. I feel the weight of its promise as I lift it and the perspiration soak my heavy palm.

They weren't whores in the traditional sense. They were whores in the same sense that I was a whore. That you're a whore. That everyone is a whore. We all have a price. It might not be in cash but it's there. The best that we can do is to set our principles in a place where that price might not come into play because, and I promise you this, when it does we'll all find out the hard way what it feels like to be bought.

Jamie watched him walk in as a break in her tasks allowed her a moment for respite. He was all dressed up, looking as if he had his life put together. Locked down tight. All set. Somehow he even managed to make the water clinging to his suit look dignified. Her heart fell as he made his way straight to the bar. She had socialized with the patrons all night, plastering a fake smile on her face and strutting about in these slinky, towering heels... Feeling their eyes devour her frame, imagining her naked with her legs wrapped around their waist.

She was tired. Her feet hurt. And the way the other girls swarmed, at the moment, struck her as the height of their hunger and his pretension.

She nodded wordlessly and completed his drink order, sliding it swiftly down the bar and turning from him. He chatted with the other girls. Only the new girl wouldn't know that he was a regular, evidently. What am I doing here...

That plastic smile decorated her face like the most complete of masks, and she let another bar patron get a good, long look at her tits. His words slurred after he pounded one last shot of whiskey, leaving a generous tip. "'Night darlin.' Lets see that sweet ass feeding me drinks next time, okay."

Jamie put on her best coquette face, putting the tip in the jar. "Sure thing honey."

It was too easy. Maybe thats why she couldn't stand the place. Hunger games. Thats all it was. Jamie was not one of 'the girls.' She was just a bartender. Her role in the games was to dangle her body in front of the patrons, to watch them snatch at it futilely. Their role? Their role was to reach out. Perhaps, not even that. They wanted to entertain the fantasy that she would fuck them. It was a playful, mutual lie.

But she didn't even feel like lying to that one... When she tried to think of why, she couldn't say. Maybe it was the far off, philosophical glint in his eyes. He had been drinking all night, not moving from his spot even as the place slowly emptied. Jamie's shift was almost up, and despite her inexplicable distaste for the handsome, impeccably dressed gentleman, her curiosity was piqued by the very look that had caused her dislike.

"Hey there."

He looked over at her.

"You look like you have alot on your mind. What are you thinking about?" Her head tilted, copper curls spilling into the generous valley of cleavage produced by her corset. It was a pretty thing, flirting with the boundaries of class, but missing the mark entirely. Like her game with the patrons. Not like his suit.

She pulled up a stool, resting her elbows on the countertop, and her palms against her cheeks, as she sat. "Tell me what sparked that wistful look."

 

[Vail_Indigo]

She checked her ID one more time...it really did say she was 21 and the doorman hadn't given it a second look.
She knew her blazing red hair might have helped.
Even over the music she could hear the awkward staccato of her elegant strappy heels...elegant, but a little higher than she was used to wearing, a feeble attempt to seem more mature. But combined with the frayed denim mini, it did highlight the length of her legs.
Probably looked stupid with the pantyhose.
She took a seat at one of the tables and ordered a martini.
The cigarette helped her nerves.
Some

 

[Vail_Indigo]

She felt, as much as heard, the music change. The woman seemed to simply exist on stage, as is she'd always been there. This was no skinny little stripper in some cheap costume meant to be tossed aside.
This was a woman of stature and curves and lips and hair.
A woman who had spent hours preparing, dressing, primping and preening.
She moved like the power of the ocean.
She moved like a wonderful slap to the face.
She moved like she owned the room and everyone in it.
That was simply her walking to the center of the stage.

Darla was...transfixed

 

[Light Ice]

A hundred drinks. A thousand. It wasn't unlike me to measure time like she measured shots, properly, and at my own pace while the night crowd swelled and thinned in the wake of its passing. There would be no mourning. It was a relief to see them go. I'd had enough of philistines jostling at my elbows as they brushed past and starting their stilted, slurred greetings. A man didn't come to this kind of place to make a friend or be clever. He came to watch the girls. I didn't have time for their insecurities.

Cheap Cologne. The air stunk of it. The worst of the crowd applied it liberally throughout the evening, convinced that if they could no longer smell it than the rest of the crowd could not either. Each brush of the front door brought the promise of a breeze and the pitfall of a promise left broken. These feelings meant very little to me. I'm used to wading through the consequences of a broken promise.

At first the girl's words were lost in the quiet and the pounding of my headache. I'd let the Bombay creep up on me. That was the danger to me, now. It was point of fact that a man, or woman, could not live with less than two vices. I was quiet certain of it. Ambition had always been foremost on my list. I'd fallen into it early, young, and could not be counted to resist it.

Women were my other. I'd set that one down for awhile.

But it'd never been my intention to fill that void with Bombay. A drink, maybe several, helped to pass the time but a habit was an expensive and damning proposition in my line of work. A drink to take the edge off was capable of robbing a man his precious instincts. Vital, hard-wired switches that could be flipped when necessary. A few more than that could turn him into an idiot.

And so she spoke and I braced my temples between two long fingers, looking into my wrist. I expected a bleached blonde head, button nose, slut-special. She spoke and I looked up at her, seeking her face, and saw it framed in red ringlets and poised over a lace-bound bust that briefly stole my eyes from their intended destination.

Fuck.

Wistful look. Had I had a wistful look? I doubted it.

But just maybe.

"You're new?" I asked. Unable to help myself. I'd not seen her before. I'd have noticed. She'd a sharper, classic look to her. She stole my interest. I'd remembered a girl that stole my interest. Outside the bar, beyond into the stage rooms nearby, music could still be heard pulsing away. It did not distract me.

"My name is Chris." I said. My drink was empty. I ignored it.

 

[DemureDryad]

A hundred drinks. A thousand. It wasn't unlike me to measure time like she measured shots, properly, and at my own pace while the night crowd swelled and thinned in the wake of its passing. There would be no mourning. It was a relief to see them go. I'd had enough of philistines jostling at my elbows as they brushed past and starting their stilted, slurred greetings. A man didn't come to this kind of place to make a friend or be clever. He came to watch the girls. I didn't have time for their insecurities.

Cheap Cologne. The air stunk of it. The worst of the crowd applied it liberally throughout the evening, convinced that if they could no longer smell it than the rest of the crowd could not either. Each brush of the front door brought the promise of a breeze and the pitfall of a promise left broken. These feelings meant very little to me. I'm used to wading through the consequences of a broken promise.

At first the girl's words were lost in the quiet and the pounding of my headache. I'd let the Bombay creep up on me. That was the danger to me, now. It was point of fact that a man, or woman, could not live with less than two vices. I was quiet certain of it. Ambition had always been foremost on my list. I'd fallen into it early, young, and could not be counted to resist it.

Women were my other. I'd set that one down for awhile.

But it'd never been my intention to fill that void with Bombay. A drink, maybe several, helped to pass the time but a habit was an expensive and damning proposition in my line of work. A drink to take the edge off was capable of robbing a man his precious instincts. Vital, hard-wired switches that could be flipped when necessary. A few more than that could turn him into an idiot.

And so she spoke and I braced my temples between two long fingers, looking into my wrist. I expected a bleached blonde head, button nose, slut-special. She spoke and I looked up at her, seeking her face, and saw it framed in red ringlets and poised over a lace-bound bust that briefly stole my eyes from their intended destination.

Fuck.

Wistful look. Had I had a wistful look? I doubted it.

But just maybe.

"You're new?" I asked. Unable to help myself. I'd not seen her before. I'd have noticed. She'd a sharper, classic look to her. She stole my interest. I'd remembered a girl that stole my interest. Outside the bar, beyond into the stage rooms nearby, music could still be heard pulsing away. It did not distract me.

"My name is Chris." I said. My drink was empty. I ignored it.

"You're new? My name is Chris."

She did not miss the way his eyes flickered on her chest. The flutter of flattery rippled through her mind, even though, only a moment before, she had been lamenting the menfolks mental pawing. Every girl liked to be admired. And the fact that he had not been raucously courting every woman on the floor made it mean a little more. The way he had avoided her, before being roped into conversation by ethereal forces.

"Yes, it's my first night." Her dark eyes were curious. These few little gestures of his seeming to soften her baseless judgement of the man. "I'm Jamie. You sound like you have an interesting conversation brewing in that head of yours. I've got nothing to do..."

She let his mind finish the sentence, a gentle smile curving full lips. The smile held just the slightest dash of flirtation, as if she was not yet ready to commit its full charm. Now she played a different game. That timeless, cliche exchange between downtrodden drinker and the bartender. The other game, the game of sensual cat and mouse, well...

Jamie felt a pang of temptation.

 

[Light Ice]

Her first night.

There were a thousand questions that came to mind. Curiosity; it had snared us both with hooked claws amidst the dim-light of the lounge. I found myself watching her now. Watching her watch me, really, and fighting to keep my eyes from crawling over the soft line of her shoulders and the promising heave of her breasts within the corset. It was her first night, she'd said.

The hard truth of it was that everyone has a price. Even me. It isn't always money that buys your time. The right spark in the right moment, the sudden break in routine, was often much more intoxicating. My drink remains neglected as I gather the picture of her, that smile, the interest in her eyes. It plays games with what my logic has asserted to me. She is a working girl.

"What's it like, Jamie, starting fresh in a place like this? What's it feel like to be wearing that infront of all these men?"

An honest question. Ungentle. I have never had much skill for politesse. She will hear later from the other girls, like Mandy, that I am a notoriously prickly conversationalist. It isn't intentional. My question, and the reality of its blunt subject, is enough to distract me just long enough that my restraint slips. She'd have to be near blind not to see the cut of my eyes across her softly-shaped form, taking in bare skin and soft lace. My stare is masculine. I am unashamed of it.

Even if I would take it back just now.

I picture her like a doe. Wide-eyed. Quick to spook.

 

[DemureDryad]

"What's it like, Jamie, starting fresh in a place like this? What's it feel like to be wearing that infront of all these men?"

Her eyes widened briefly at his question... It was poignant to the point of impropriety. It would have startled most women, perhaps scared them away. But jamie liked the way he skipped hours of conversation. Some men would verbally dance a delicate ballet around a topic, trying to be suave, trying to be some James Bond innuendo assembly line. But not this one. His eyes were unafraid of her reaction as he looked her up and down, desire evident in their icy depths. He knew she was watching him do it. He didn't care. There was no shy aversion as she noticed his attention.

It turned her on.

"I... Well I'm not very used to it..."

Jamie was not an easily spooked girl, but the vehement purpose of his question had taken her off guard nonetheless. She composed herself quickly, putting her elbows together, her hands leaving her cheeks. Her breasts pushed against the soft lace, putting an enticing picture in front of Chris, to distract him while she gave him her next string of words. Her smile graced her features again, this one full of mischief. A delicate eyebrow arched.

"Sometimes, I hate it. There was one time, though, that I relished it... I liked the way his eyes felt."

 

[Light Ice]

Things were less subtle now. I saw it in the gloss of her lips, the heave of her breasts against a suddenly deep breath. Sparks. There was something to the energies of people. It existed in the space between us, flickering, passing brief and invisible arcs that lay their results in sensation. My prick hardened, not so much at the way she poised herself but the intentions of the posing. The feel of it stretching down my corded thigh erotic, provoking images of her finely-maintained nails dragging across it through the thin fabric.

How long had it been?

Too long.

Curiosity was half as potent as desire. They were not always one in the same. This one time, she lead. It was a rare moment for me to wish that I could summon some snappy comeback. A wisecrack. A witticism.

Instead, I found a question. There was a hunger in it. I darkened my voice in an effort to veil it and found that the success was only partial. This time, though, my eyes found more dangerous territory. Her own. Darker than mine. Softer. Swirling, tumultuous, uncertain and certain. A woman's heart is a rats nest of secrets. Desires, fears, and more complicated threads that had been wound over the course of a lifetime into shapes I'd often found indecipherable.

"A thousand eyes on you, each night you're here," I began. "What made his different?"

A worthy question. I'd stand behind it. My drink was now a quarter-inch layer of water where ice had been. She was close. Not close enough for me to make out the smell of her skin, her hair. I imagined these things. Vanilla base. Something subtly sweet at the top, a fruit perhaps. I imagine her hair passing between my fingers, between our mouths in some dark place. I am aware that she knows what she is doing to me.

That changes nothing.

 

[DemureDryad]

When his eyes met hers, as blue and serious a pair as she had yet seen, she knew that he understood every nuance of the words she had chosen. There was power in being understood. It felt lovely sometimes. But other times, a speaker could hide behind double meanings. When they were laid bare, understood... It left you naked.

Jamie felt naked beneath his gaze. Vulnerable. Exposed.

And she loved it.

"A thousand eyes on you, each night you're here... What made his different?"

Before the myriad of thoughts and possibilities could cross her mind, clouding her judgement and making her options tentative, the words had already left her.

"Honesty. He is unabashed."

Standing, she walked around the bar, her heels tapping rhythmically on the floor, causing her hips to sway. The thin lace covering her bottom hid little. With his eyes on her, she felt like a goddess. And like an inferior. It was an exciting contrast. The feelings clashed and built excitement in her imagination. Leaning over him, a feminine hand rested on his shoulder. Another double meaning, meant to appear idle, but meaning so much more. "The bar is closing, Chris..."

Another game. Should she give him her number and watch him drive away? But... so much was left unsaid... Undone. A flash of sensual fantasy whisked through her thoughts. Of him pinning her against the cracked drywall of her apartment nearby... kissing down that broad chest...

She shied from the thought of how long it had been, since she had felt the insistent, passionate touch of a man... Cold nights, all alone, pleasing herself and wishing for more.

 

[Light Ice]

I look down to that hand and see how small it is on my shoulder. Delicate fingers, rounded nails that would leave perfect half-moon marks and ragged scratches in the throw of circumstance. Even in this small invitation I can tell that she would be nothing in my hands. Long and lean, without resistance. Pliant. It is an erotic thought as my own hand lifts to take bold purchase on the small of her back, resting on lace, feeling her shape under my palm. Warmth. She's closer now.

"Let's go." I say without knowing where, without caring where.

Because my breath is ragged and her hips turn once, a slow sway, hugged by the thin ebon straps of her garters - the thinner lace of her bottoms. I imagine how they would feel against my fingers. My eyes stray from her for a moment, seeking a ground against my own impulses. There is nothing for me. This place speaks of sin. Every corner is dark. Every table posed in promise. My prick pulses hotly, urgently, and I realize that I am looking at her again. Her eyes. The way her hair falls to frame them. And I can't help but wonder, if only briefly, whether or not she's going to spring a trap on me.

I am certain that I do not care.

 

[DemureDryad]

I look down to that hand and see how small it is on my shoulder. Delicate fingers, rounded nails that would leave perfect half-moon marks and ragged scratches in the throw of circumstance. Even in this small invitation I can tell that she would be nothing in my hands. Long and lean, without resistance. Pliant. It is an erotic thought as my own hand lifts to take bold purchase on the small of her back, resting on lace, feeling her shape under my palm. Warmth. She's closer now.

"Let's go." I say without knowing where, without caring where.

Because my breath is ragged and her hips turn once, a slow sway, hugged by the thin ebon straps of her garters - the thinner lace of her bottoms. I imagine how they would feel against my fingers. My eyes stray from her for a moment, seeking a ground against my own impulses. There is nothing for me. This place speaks of sin. Every corner is dark. Every table posed in promise. My prick pulses hotly, urgently, and I realize that I am looking at her again. Her eyes. The way her hair falls to frame them. And I can't help but wonder, if only briefly, whether or not she's going to spring a trap on me.

I am certain that I do not care.

"Lets go."

The words seem to seal the decision she had not yet made. He was staying with her tonight. Language was often not limited to mere words.

She saw the girls leaving, some of them sleeping in the set of rooms for just that purpose. A torrid coupling between strangers.

Jamie bit her lip, his strong hand resting against the concave line of her lower back. Electric touches, even through the scandalous satin and lace, brushing the strained ribbon that made the bodice mold to her frame. Slender fingers ran through his hair as she tilted her head. Her eyes bespoke of the first step in a dangerous journey. The fingers trailed along his neck, passed the rough stubble along his jaw.

His brutal questions, honest in all the ways that mattered, floated back into her awareness. She could learn from his example. He stood, and Jamie took a step toward him, looking up as her hands pressed to his chest. She tore a page out of his book, letting her teeth drag against his chin, like the barest hint of a bite. She surprised herself with the action, feeling her stomach flutter with nerves. But her eyes were steady with promise, misty with desire.

Her voice was a low sensuous whisper, but it held conviction. "...I want you."

She took his hand, and led him to one of the rooms.

 

[Light Ice]

Swishing hips.

I had not come for this. She moved and I followed, feeling the shadow of her fingers along the breadth of my chest and the way her nails had plucked at the oxford beneath. Outside it is dark. The room looks darker still. I can see it looming like a promise. My dick rages down the leg of my pants, aching. Every swish of her hips cuts like a blade through the air, revealing the full round of a cheek and the desperate hug of the panties clinging to it.

She is all sex now. Demure, uncertain, until the shift had ended and her choices had been laid out before her. I know this bargain. It looms in this kind of darkness, in these lonely places. The heat of it sharp and undeniable. I find my rough fingers cinching down on her own, stilling her, stopping the rhythmic pop of her heels on the floor just long enough to twist her around.

For a moment she is a whirl of copper silk, full lips, dark eyes. I remember those teeth on my chin and my cock aches. Curiosity. Want. My other hand lifts to reclaim the small of her back, ungently guiding her into me now. I pull her up onto her toes in those dramatic heels. I pull her up until her corset-clad body is trapped against the hard stretch of my own and the contrasts that define us collide amidst the dim, sultry corridor of the hallway.

There is nothing gentle in this first kiss. Her words echo and I am hooked by them. The trap sprung. It doesn't matter. I bend down and steal her mouth with mine, crush us close until we are a tangle of tongues and lips and I can feel the shape of her teeth beneath the pout of her mouth. I kiss her until her taste intoxicates me and I have her pressed to the wall, left her swallowed up in the sudden rush of my strength and the strength of what she's sparked in me.

I had not come for this.

I would not leave until I had it.

 

[DemureDryad]

Surprise washed over her as he tightened his grip on her fingers, and a squeak left her as he gave her no time to react, his lips kissing her hard.

Just like she wanted.

Jamie melted in his arms, crushing her to his body as his demanding kiss left her heart pounding. She felt the wall at her back trapping her. No escape. At his mercy. "Mmm..." The little moan was muffled only slightly against his mouth. Manicured, crimson nails dragged along his back, even as a toned thigh wrapped around his leg in that timeless cinematic gesture of lust.

The kiss broke, leaving her breathless and flushed. Hooded eyes never left his as she pushed the jacket over his shoulders. Teeth nipped at his ear, that same amorous whisper escaping her again.

"Right here."

 

[Light Ice]

I feel it fall from me, piling on the hardwood flooring. A few girls mill not far from us. We have their attention. I do not care. My hand slips from the small of her back, tracks the corset, the shape of her beneath it. There is nothing but heat and softness, feminine softness, until the teasing pass of fabric ends and the silk of her ass glides under my touch. My grip tightens there. Sinking in. Holding her to me. Grinding, feeling her little body arch up to meet the pressure of my prick through my pants.

"Right here." She says. The words husky. A plea, maybe. A demand, maybe.

It doesn't matter. We want the same thing. I kiss her again, harder now. Her lower lip falls between my teeth and they pinch down on it, tugging, expressing what my words would certainly fail to grasp. In the hall we are a flurry of rough touches, desperate affections. My tie is ignored. My hand leaves her own, lifts, finds her throat and closes on it. Cinches down. Makes her go still as her breath catches under the pressure of my rough fingers and I guide her chin upward, lifting it, craning her head back until she is looking at the dark-painted ceiling and resting her head against the wall.

I let her have air after my teeth find her throat. That soft, silky column, paid with bites. Little, hard presses of my teeth to feminine flesh before each hurt is soothed with a warm, wet pass of my tongue. She tastes like flowers. Exotic. Different. I feast on her as my hand abandons her throat and slips down, into her corset's front, to the dainty zipper that runs from the crest of her cleavage down to her navel. It parts with the protesting buzz of rasping metal teeth. I jerk it in a rough, sure motion straight downward. Baring her to me. My eyes hungry. Falling from her own to drink her in.

I am so ferociously hard.

 

[DemureDryad]

His hand. She could feel every little callous, every joint, as he squeezed her neck. Her breath stopped, and she relished his command as he forced her to look at the ceiling, back arched, body pressed tightly to his. Her pussy grew wet, darkening the nigh transparent black lace of her panties.

When his hand left her, she sucked in a deep, stuttering breath, intermittent whimpers and gasps leaving her as his teeth bit into the sensitive flesh. Sparks of pain softened by warm, wet relief. He ripped down the zipper of the revealing corset, letting it fall to the floor to join his jacket. Milky scoops of flesh tipped by stiff, aching pink buds. Jamie could feel his length throbbing against her belly.

Desperately her fingers claw at his shirt, finally ripping it open, a few buttons popping free. It hung open. Labored, heaving breaths move in and out of her lungs as her hand trails down the well muscled torso. Hard muscle. Soft skin. Coarse hair.

She unbuttoned his pants, her hand slipping inside and curling daintily around his girth. The overwhelming maleness of him had her heated and wanton. She could feel him pulse in her grip as she squeezed gently. She felt sexy. Wanting. Desperate for his touch.

She didn't even notice their spectators.

 

[Light Ice]

She found me, finally, with the elastic of my boxer-briefs embracing her slender wrist and her delicate fingers gripping the heat of my flesh. The ache pulsed hotly. Grew. The need for satisfaction sudden, maddening. I felt teenage again. I felt beyond my usual self, outside of this somehow, trapped in the hot breath between us as her dark eyes found mine and she gave me a sudden, wanton tug. Now. It seemed to say. Stop fucking around.

My eyes fell. Again, shameless, and this time eager to rake across the curves of her body as the corset fell entirely away. Her breasts were high, proud, and ripe with youth. I tasted them, dragged my stubbled cheeks across their softness. I felt her heart thudding beneath them, wild and wanton and my prick jerked hard in her grasp, rampant and alive with the intensity of this. The tight buds of her nipples defied my lips, enticed my teeth to pinch them soundly. I left the hurt as it was, left them darker from the hardness of my affection and aching in the air.

"Jamie." I said. Or maybe I didn't say it at all. Maybe it was just a ragged, husky breath. A low growl in my throat without form or shape that should have been her name but couldn't quite become it.

My hand knocked hers away, caught her wrist, and drove the back of her delicate hand to the wall. Pinned her, trapped her again, as my hips rolled forward. My other hand slipped, dropped to the soaked core of her panties, tugged them aside to reveal the pink petals of her sex. There would be hours after this, I realized, or gentler games. Explorations. The kind of passionate exchanges that lovers were supposed to inspire. But not now.

Now, I needed her. Like my next breath, sucked in against her throat as I buried my face there.

The hallway seemed to stretch, elongate, turn elastic. Around us, not close or far, the spectators faded from the picture into blurry, unrecognizable shapes. My thrust plowed the thick, pre-cum slicked crown of my massive prick past her petals and into her, invading the wet grasping walls of her pussy and impaling her to the hilt in a short and sudden instant. Hard, unyielding, with my chest a hot weight against her own and the wall a more cool one behind her. Lifting her up onto one heel-clad foot, the other coiled helplessly about my rangy hip. Deep. My prick driving further, bottoming out in the hot depths of her sex, embraced suddenly by the delicious friction of the moment.

I nearly came.

Nearly.

Greed wouldn't allow it.

 

[DemureDryad]

Jamie mewled as he bit her pert nipples, so sensitive and begging for such things. He did not sooth his wound. It only made her want him more. The guttural, instinctual sound that left him could have been her name, or a declaration of need. Her glistening sex clenched in response. Empty. Now... Now, please... I can't wait... Her body was afire with need. Jamie could not recall a time when she had desired something so completely as she desired this man to ravage her now. Her answer was weak, desperate. "Chris..."

He moved in a flash, pinning her hand above her head and shoving the lacy thong to the side. Dripping, puffy folds, quivering with hunger. She felt him prodding at her entrance, her whimper turning quickly into a long, blissful, fervent moan. The thick head bumped into her cervix, her face twisted in agonized pleasure, back arched as the ripples of delight shot through her slender body.

His hand curled around a stocking clad thigh, roughly pulling her into their hot, torrid coupling. Toes curled in strappy black heels as she grinded her hips, her very motion speaking to her salacious hunger. He withdrew, a part of her lamenting his absence, before plunging oh so deeply into her again. Another pained gasp. Tight, wet pussy, milking him desperately, never wishing to let it leave.

Again. And again. And again. "Nnnn!" Jamie felt her belly tighten, a coil preparing to be released... A dam about to be broken. She felt so full, so taken... Another passionate moan escaped her lips, unsure that she had ever made such a sound before. "Ungh... S-so close..."

 

[Light Ice]

I pound her. Relentless. Unable to establish the rhythm my desire demands and unable to abandon the one we've found. We are trapped together in this dark hallway, the sounds of our fucking trapped with us in the narrow corridor of painted walls and closed doors. She is impossibly tight. Small. Delicate. Feminine. I feel the crush of her pussy around my prick, saw through it, roll my hips to plunge slick inches deep while she calls and whimpers beside my ear.

Everything is erotic. Attractive. The scent of her, of us, and all of her sounds. The way my name trembles off her full lips. I look up nto her face, up now as she arches against the wall and climbs my body with sinuous, liquid ease, and find pleasure twisting her soft features into erotically aristocratic angles. I see a haze forming in the darkness of her eyes, dancing with starbursts of color. Her breath comes in little puffs against my face, sweet. Sultry.

But this is not enough. Our haste has denied us what we need. I pull from her, let her little heels scuff upon the hardwood floor for purchase before my hand snatches up into the copper of her mane and fists it in a ball between my large fingers. She makes sounds, I swear I hear the word "please" a dozen times, as I twist her around until the gorgeous round of her cheeks faces me and my strong hand guides her cheek to the wall by the hair. I bend her dramatically, force her ass high and her head low against the wall.

The soaked, ebon fabric of her panties cling alongside the puffy petals of her pussy. Her exposed sex looks well-fucked, eager, flexing hungrily for the length I've denied it and lies framed between soft, creamy thighs that stretch down into stocking-clad legs long enough to break a man. My free hand spreads across the bare stretch of her back, feeling the warmth of her skin and the glide of my callouses against her softness. She is feline beneath me. Arched dramatically. Ready.

The first thrust is savage. I cannot help myself. I claim what I'd abandoned so roughly that her gorgeous little body is pushed up onto her toes and she nearly falls forward. My cock surges deep, pounds its way mercilessly into her body, fills her with the hot, hard, throbbing length of my prick and stretches her around my girth. I feel her body clamp down on me, feel her ass slam against my rugged hips with the smack of flesh on flesh. There is a wet sucking sound as her sex begins to hungrily accept the cock that I am feeding it. Inch by inch. A building tempo. Finding a cadence, angle, and depth that feeds us both the delicious friction we need. I hit places that make her seize up around me. I look for those that provoke filthy words and sounds from her. I steady her by the hair because I need the grounding, need the stability, to survive this fuck.

Lost in her, lost in the picture of her bent like a whore before me, shameless for what I'm taking from her. Lost, in the feel, and the way I can see her tits sway beneath her body.

I am close.

I needed her like this.

 

[DemureDryad]

The flush that had once only covered her cheeks has spread, creeping past the the gentle slope of her breasts, heaving with the effort of his ardent fucking. Every inch of naked flesh glistened with a sheen of sweat. Pleasure built, faster and faster. The snug, sopping tunnel of her sex palpitated more quickly, that feeling in her tightened further. Unimaginable sexual energy built ever higher within her. So close... So close to being washed away in the torrential tidal wave of sexual euphoria. Jamie wondered if she could survive.

And then he left her, knees wobbling, her needy sex empty and wanting. "No, Please..." It was somewhere between a whine and a husky request. "Please don't stop fucking me..."

He ignored her, but she didn't care. She had only a moment to gaze up at his striking features, to look down at his thick, turgid pole, shimmering with her own desire. Helpless whimpers escaped her as his firm hand grasped a fistful of fiery locks, bending her at the waste, presented to him like a prize to be claimed. Heels scraped on the floor, toned thighs spreading for him. The swollen, pouty little pussy glistening with honey from its thorough fucking. It pleaded for more. Jamie had no emotional vacancy to make room for embarrassment, caught in public, putting on such a lewd display. Her mind held only need. She desired only for him to claim her body once more. The hand traversing her back is delightfully sensual. "Fuck me..."

She bites her lip, a high pitched moan eeking through as he roughly plunged into her heated slit once more. Her eyes fluttered as he resumed his scandalous pace. She clawed at the wall, her mouth ajar, breaths rushing in and out. He hit every little spot in her clenching walls just right, every nook and cranny. Her cries echoed in the near empty lounge.

The barrier snapped. Her scalding sex squeezed hard around his manhood, bucking hips thrusting back against him. A scream was ripped from her involuntarily, as if an otherworldly being had reached into her and wrenched it from her lungs. It felt like it lasted forever. It felt as if she would be caught in this sexual paradise for all eternity. Her sweet juices dripped down the magnificent length of his cock.

Ecstasy.

 

[Light Ice]

Climax.

I felt her. Trembling. Coiling. A spring wound far too tight, inching closer. I sought to chase her there, past that plateau where pleasure could level off. I sought to pound at her, relentless, to force her higher. Higher. Until finally the peak came and she dropped off it, helpless, fulfilled. Alive. But she raced me there, unbidden, claiming pleasures from me that taunted my own to some ridiculously intense caricature of what I had known. This was a height I had not anticipated.

My own muscles clenched. Bristled. I could see my stomach through the spread of my oxford, tie swinging, rippled muscle channeling sweat between hardened ridges. How had she done this to me? I felt nothing but her pussy, clenching, milking at me. Cumming. Hard. She cried out, clawed at the wall, and I envied it for the rake of those little nails.

She came. I thrust harder. Refused to relent. Fucked her through it. Beat her little ass against my hips as my prick stretched her mercilessly, impaled her, filled her up and forced her on her curling toes.

Beautiful. Red-hair in my fist, gorgeous woman visible through flickers of crimson, tendrils of the mane that escaped my grasp and brushed cheeks I wanted to kiss.

I filled her. One last thrust. Aware now that restraint was gone. Snapped. Cut like a lace, suddenly beyond salvation. I came. It started in my gut, in my belly, and shot like fire to my balls as they tightened. My last thrust planted me to the hilt, crushed us close, had my hand abandon her hair to slam into the wall above her head. A vain effort to steady myself.

Release. Stupid word. I exploded inside her. My cock simply jerked to life on its own, jumping inside her vice-tight cunt, flooding her with jet after hot jet of molten heat. I have always cum hard. I could have painted her sleek spine with the spread of my seed. But this was something else. I felt it everywhere, as though my entire body was buckling in on itself, and my thick cock splashed her core with a tireless torrent of my cum. Flooding her. Rapidly leaving her so full there was no place for it but out, between her pouted, well-fucked lips and down across her hardened clit. To the floor. Her inner thigh. Smearing a thick, creamy white across the top of a stocking and dribbling down.

"Fuck." I growled. Unable to recognize my own voice.

And kissed her back. And rolled my hips to root myself deeper again. Still hard. Still wanton.

Unwilling to let her leave me.

 

[DemureDryad]

(Switching to first person because it looks fun and I keep messing up my tense.)

He was relentless as I shuddered and quaked in pleasure. Each of his long, hard thrusts shook me. And he never stopped, making the ripples of earthshaking pleasure last longer, and remain wonderfully, deliciously, intense.

God, it felt so good.

I moaned when his hand left my hair, releasing his iron grip, leaning over my heaving body as he filled me with his seed. I could feel it inside, slowly filling my pussy until it leaked through the obscenely strained lips of my cunt. Tremors still rumbled through me. My knees wobbled weakly as he stood over me, weak from the barbarous fucking he had just given a very grateful young woman. It had surpassed my expectations. It was incredible. Mmm, such a man... He showed no signs of softening, still rock hard, buried to the hilt in my pussy. That spark of hunger we had both experienced before was alive and well.

The masculine tone of his voice was only more apparent after our frantic, urgent sex. "Fuck..." The voice caused goosebumps to rise on my back, as it had before. Those goosebumps only prickled more as I felt his lips... Those lips, that had worked me into such a frenzy not so long ago. They were eager then. Something else now.

I stood slowly, still pressed to the wall. The cool chill of the painted plaster could do nothing to further stiffen my almost painfully erect nipples. I reached behind me, hands curling in his hair and pulling him into a pleasant, satisfied kiss. But he knew it. And I knew it.

We were not done. So much of the night remained.

I turned, feeling his still hard cock slip from my pussy. My eyes glinted with mischief, and something like discovery. My whisper was a little hoarse from the screams he had forced from me. "Stay with me."

I put my hands on his chest, pushing him towards the room. The door was open, a bed of red silk looking open. Seductive. Inviting. He didn't resist. When his calves hit the edge of the bed, I pushed him back, watching him fall before crawling overtop of him. I was still hungry for him. I still needed him inside me. The feeling of being a sexual tigress felt so delectable, so devious...

I kissed him deeply, biting his lip as he had bit mine before. The idea that this would happen to me when I took this job had never occurred to me. I felt no desire to question the nights events.

The soft growl I elicited against his lips came unexpected even to me.

 

[Light Ice]

Hours later. Untold. There is no clock here, I realize, when I cut my stare across the room with the half-groggy remnants of sleep still present. I slept satisfied. Slept hard. She's a soft shape beneath the sheets beside me, sleek and feminine under cool silks. My hand searches beneath them, irritated briefly by their almost liquid presence, before the tips of my fingers find her bare belly and slide upwards over the swell of her breast. No waking her. Not just yet.

She looks peaceful in the dark. A contrast, sudden and certain, from the torrent that lead us here.

I climb from bed, abandon its warmth, and move to the dresser. My phone lays atop it, neglected, and I pay my respects to what's brought me here. A few emails. A missed call. The emails are handled immediately - it's just good business. The call is ignored. For now. A few shows are going on outside. I can hear them. A few shifting bodies in the hall. Whispered, sultry conversations. I take no small amount of pride in the thought that we have a place in the gossip.

The mini-bar is well-stocked. Not well enough, mind, in that I do not have my Bombay. There is only Tang, which I do not prefer, so I settle for a bottle of water in the door. She moves and I look back to her, watching her legs lazily scissor under those crimson waters. Her hair is a softer, more attractive shade, and fans out across the pillow.

The water is good. I drink it greedily.

I sit at the bed's edge and push some of her hair back, letting me look at her face.

This one will be trouble, I realize.

I do not know why it does not strike me to leave.

 

[DemureDryad]

Darkness.

I didn't dream. Well, maybe I did and I didn't remember. If I did, then maybe what they say about processing the days events is true. The reasons were simple and uncomplicated. Just lonely people, seeking refuge in sexual oblivion. Simple as they might have been, they dominated my mind upon waking. Maybe I had not dreamed enough.

Maybe that evening was a dream.

But no, I thought. My sheets are not this heavenly satin. My body did not lack an ache from a long, heated night of hard, passionate sex. My eyes opened slowly as my hand reached out for where he had fallen asleep. They found only more disheveled red satin. I remembered that there had been no pillow talk, after. Both of us pleasantly spent, basking in the lethargic afterglow of our excited, animalistic coitus, we had fallen from consciousness almost immediately after our heads hit the pillow. It couldn't have been very long since then. We had been at each other for hours, it seemed.

It was the greatest sex I could recall. A slow smile curved my lips upward at the memory.

I stretched, extending my arms and legs, arching like a cat. It felt like a little slice of heaven. My foggy mind only then heard the shower running. Slowly I sat up, eyes sweeping the room, noticing his phone on the dresser. Throwing off the sheets, my bare feet padded over, entering into his contacts:

555-8275 Jamie <3 <3 <3

Another satisfied, lazy smile. I didn't want to make this more than it was. I just wanted him to know his magnificent efforts were appreciated, and he could call me anytime. My eyes closed, tilting my head back and relishing every moment of our encounter for a few seconds.

Still naked, I opened the door to the bathroom. It was an expansive place, with a bathtub and sensual decor. The shower was large and spacious. Everything in this little establishment, it seems, was designed for sex.

I peeked into the shower, briefly noting this strange increase in my boldness. It must have been him. I fully intended to join him in the shower.

Cleanliness is a virtue, after all.

 

[Light Ice]

I envy the bathroom.

Water slides across my shoulders, beats down my back. I can feel the explosion of tiny droplets into the air, breath in the mist. Everything smells fresh. Clean. As much as I miss the scent of her on my skin - I'm glad for it. There is something about a shower that has always attracted me. I have slept beneath the beating current. I've wasted hours on all manner of days within a tiled escape like this one. I've made up excuses to take them.

The glass door is misted and so I see her only as a dark shape, a vision surreal, moving outside. She is silent in her movements. Cat-like. I imagine her stalking me. Prowling. It is not difficult to do. She'd gone from demure, soft, to something fierce in the span of our time together. Transformative. Liquid. The water would suit her. I do not know which vision of her she will present to me.

I am eager for any and all of them.

My prick betrays me. It begins to harden. It flushes. The thick column stretching out, reaching, as the crown turns a darker, more potent color. It takes effort to keep from stroking myself, to steal a few encouraging tugs along my hard flesh. Instead, I brace both hands beside the shower head and thrust my face into the spray. Waiting for her.

 

[DemureDryad]

The humidity hit me like a sauna. I drank in his naked frame as he stood with his back to me, letting the water beat against the top of his head. The way his back muscles moved beneath his skin was mesmerizing. Nice ass too. I knew that he knew I was there as I took a few more steps toward him, bringing me close.

I felt playful, mischievous. Somehow I doubted my poor body could take another session of what had transpired the night before.

Saying nothing, I kissed the side of his shoulder. He wasn't much of a talker anyway, and it seemed he could sense my intentions. I smiled impishly up at him, taking the bar of soap and running it over his chest. The little rivulets washed it away swiftly. My eyes followed the suds, flowing around a half-hard cock.

A purr left me. But I wanted to play with him a little more before it came to that. Wordlessly I placed the soap in his hands, turning and offering my back to him. My hand rose to pull the slick, dripping cardinal tresses out of his way, before looking over my shoulder at him, a coquettish glint in my dark gaze.