Girl After Dark

by Charlotte Eve

  I moan, I can’t help it.

  And as he begins to suck and lick at me, I try as much as I’m able to focus once more on his cock, stroking it, jacking it in both hands as start to gently ride his face, working myself back harder and harder against his willing mouth, as his tongue coaxes flashes of pleasure from my trembling body, his own soft moans rather muffled.

  “Good girl,” Kiki smiles, still playing with my breasts from behind, toying with my tender nipples.

  I feel her mouth move to my neck, pinching my skin between her sharp little teeth, biting down for a moment almost hard enough to break it, and I let out another involuntary moan — this time half in pleasure and half in surprise.

  She slips out from behind me, then kneels down and takes Neal’s cock from my hands, masturbating it at a much slower, more sensual pace as she parts her lips and then takes it into her mouth, massaging his smooth balls and stroking his thick shaft as she sucks him eagerly and greedily.

  I feel him groan beneath me for a moment, before he starts lapping at my clit with a fresh urgency, causing me to shiver and groan myself.

  His hands are pulling my hips backwards, urging me to ride his face even harder and finally I give in to the impulse, grinding myself against him, feeling his tongue probe ever deeper inside me, the electric waves of pleasure building up and flashing out around my body now.

  Kiki returns to her knees and tugs at the belt of her kimono, letting it fall open, revealing her lithe body beneath. All she’s wearing is a skimpy little pair of black lace panties, and her breasts are small and pert — her dark little nipples just as hard and aroused as my own.

  She tugs her panties to one side, then she too throws her leg over Neal, guiding him easily inside her.

  And now we’re both facing each other, Kiki riding his cock while I ride his face.

  She leans in towards me and we kiss — a long, slow, sensual kiss, her tongue pushing into my mouth, my hands moving to her small breasts, cupping them in my palms, feeling the hard buds of her nipples grazing against my fingers, as Neal’s tongue works me into a state of ecstasy.

  I moan as I come, kissing Kiki feverishly, my mind splintering in flashes of white-hot pleasure.

  I can tell that Kiki isn’t too far away either. She’s shivering as she rides Neal, her body trembling as the pleasure flashes through her.

  She pulls away from our kiss, throwing her head back, her eyes closed as she cries out, her hips bucking, Neal’s cock buried deep inside her as she comes.

  And from beneath me, I hear Neal groan too, his hands cupping my buttocks and his tongue pushing deep inside me as he reaches his climax.

  *

  Kiki is the first to break the heady silence, once we’ve all come back to our senses. She’s tugged her robe back around her slim frame by now, while Neal and I are both lying back on the bed, still fully naked, our bodies flushed — and I think to myself with surprise how easy and natural this all feels, even though here I am sprawling naked with another woman’s husband.

  “I’m glad our friend put us in touch with you,” she says with a smile. “You were everything I hoped you might be.”

  “Thanks,” I reply, feeling glad I didn’t disappoint.

  Then I notice the two of them exchanging a look — as if they’re both remembering some private conversation — and then after a moment, Neal nods, like he’s agreeing to let Kiki say whatever it is she wants to say.

  “You know, another friend of ours throws these parties,” she begins, her mouth curling into a smile. I think you’d really enjoy yourself there. It’s not to everyone’s tastes, but you? You’d be perfect. It’s a place for likeminded people like us … like you … to get together and enjoy ourselves.”

  “Like an orgy?” I ask, watching the smile grow on her face.

  “You could say that,” she replies enigmatically.

  And with that she walks over to her dresser, pulls open a drawer, and removes a little black ticket.

  “Keep this safe,” she tells me. “These tickets are extremely rare.”

  *

  So what do you think, dear readers? I’d never imagined myself going this far, to a full on orgy … Shall I do it?

  Oh and one more thing: if you my night sounded hot and you’re going to try and look up Kiki and Neal the art dealers for a good time yourselves, well, I’m afraid I must break it to you that I’ve changed their names and a few of the details to protect their identities and I’m not going to tell you which ones …

  Leave Your Comments Below

  Ivy_xxx: Yes, yes, sure, yes, you have to! You go girl.

  Juliet_Greene: Oh my god, I’ve heard of those parties - if you don’t want that ticket, I’ll make you an offer on it! Those things are like golddust!!!

  Prince_C: You should go. Who knows? Maybe I’ll see you there myself ;)

  I thought I was a good shopper. I mean, I was practically a professional shopper, but Jonathan? Jonathan is like some kind of wizard.

  We meet at Toby’s Estate Coffee in Williamsburg at 9am — an hour before the shops even open. He says he wants to ‘talk strategy’.

  Half of today’s mission, apparently, will be dedicated to finding the perfect white t-shirt. Apparently the hundred he already owns aren’t quite right. And the other half? Jonathan says it’s time I reintroduced a little colour into my wardrobe.

  “You don’t have to make a choice between Manic Pixie Dream Girl and super-chic Health Goth, you know,” he says.

  And I know he’s right.

  I don’t feel like I want to wear daisy print dresses anymore, all that stuff just seemed so goody-goody, but all this monochrome can get a little boring.

  So that morning, after coffee and cinnamon sugar doughnuts, we hit the boutiques, and as we shop it’s not long before the talk turns to matters other than clothes:

  “There’s something different about you,” Jonathan observes in the third boutique we visit, taking a step back to look me up and down. “And it’s not just your hair,” he adds with a puzzled smile.

  “I don’t know,” I offer. “Just relaxing into New York life, I guess?”

  “No, that’s not it,” he replies with certainty. “There’s something you’re not telling me. Are you sure you’re not seeing anyone? You’ve got this … glow about you, and it’s the glow of a girl who’s getting laid on a regular basis.”

  “Jonathan!” I gasp, unable to help but laugh, my eyes darting around the boutique to see if anyone else is listening in.

  “What?” he says, oblivious. “It’s true isn’t it?”

  “Okay,” I whisper back quickly, to stop him embarrassing me any farther. “Maybe I am having a little casual fun?”

  “I knew it!” he proclaims loudly, his voice ringing out around the whole damn store. “I want to hear all about the cock you’re getting! I know it’s only lunchtime, but I’m gonna buy us cocktails and make you spill the beans!”

  And so I quickly agree, if only to get him to shut up, and get him out of the store fast. The sales girl has heard everything he just said, and I think I might die of embarrassment.

  §

  We move to Annie’s, a hipster whiskey joint that Jonathan says serves great ribs, and as soon as we arrive, I immediately lead us to a booth in the very quietest part of the restaurant, because I’ve got a feeling I won’t want anyone to overhear the conversation we’re about to have …

  “So,” he begins, the moment we slide into our seats. “Tell me all about it.”

  “Right,” I say, “I did delete Tinder, I wasn’t lying about that. But I’ve kind of got this informal policy right now where I just say ‘yes’ to things … And it turns out that if you’re a single girl in this city, you get rather a lot of offers ...”

  “Oh, I am so jealous,” he laughs. “I bet there are hundreds of handsome hunks just throwing themselves at you, right?”

  “It’s not quite like that,” I smile back. “But there is this one guy …”

  But th
en I find myself freezing up.

  Why did I bring up him?

  Am I really about to talk about Carson?

  I’m not exactly doing a very good job of leaving him in the past, am I?

  “Go on,” Jonathan urges. “He’s the one making you glow, isn’t he? So? Who is he?”

  “Just a guy,” I explain with a sigh. “I just wanted to have some fun, no strings attached. Know what I mean?”

  “Of course I do, Honey,” he says.

  “Well, we did have fun. A lot of fun. It was incredible, actually. But, as you well know, I’ve just come out of a long relationship, and I’m not ready for anything more. So I deleted Tinder, so that he’d have no way of contacting me. I know nothing about him other than his first name. Problem solved, right? I mean, in a city as big as New York, what are the chances of running into him again?”

  “Let me guess,” Jonathan interrupts with a knowing smile. “You ran into him?”

  “Exactly,” I reply, unable to stop myself from smiling at the memory. “And I was with Dad, too. I mean, it couldn’t have been any more awkward. He begged me to see him again. I told him it wasn’t gonna work out, but there was this spark … this connection. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

  I sigh, blowing a strand of hair from my face in frustration.

  “But it’s just too soon, Jonathan,” I continue. “I just can’t let myself get into anything serious again, just yet. What if I get hurt? What if I mess it all up? How am I supposed to trust anyone again after what Will did? Oh it’s all such a mess. What do I do?”

  “Oh, Melissa,” Jonathan replies with a sad, knowing smile. “You know everything in life can’t be perfect, right?”

  “Excuse me?” I say. “You’re talking to the girl whose boyfriend leaked her sex tape, causing her to flee the country!”

  “I know,” he says gently. “But you’re trying to control things that are … well, just beyond your control. Love doesn’t just knock on your door at exactly the right time, you know. Sometimes it just finds you. And when it does? Well, you just have to take a chance on it. If I met someone, and there were sparks? I’d give it everything I’d got! And you’d better do the same, girl.”

  I take a long sip of my whiskey cocktail, trying to ignore the cold sweep of panic as I wonder: is Jonathan’s right? Did I make a huge mistake letting Carson go like for a second time? Because if he’s right, how am I ever going to find him again? Have I really and truly blown it?

  What if destiny isn’t going to bring us back together again after all?

  I excuse myself and head to the bathrooms.

  I have to stop myself from running there.

  My hands are shaking as I lock the cubicle door.

  I sit down and try to take a few deep breaths to calm myself, before rummaging in my back and snatching out my mobile. It might well be the latest model of iPhone, but it is taking forever and ever as I click ‘reinstall’ on the Tinder app.

  ‘Come on, hurry up,’ I whisper as I watch the little circle scroll round and round.

  Then, finally, I’m back in, and I’m swiping, manically, past what seems like every single guy in New York city …

  I don’t even stop to look at the names.

  I’m just looking for those eyes.

  But they’re not there.

  I keep scrolling and scrolling, and as I do I realise that tears are pricking at the corners of my vision.

  This is futile.

  I’m never going to find him again.

  What the hell have you done?

  And finally I give into my tears, weeping, alone, in the bathroom stall.

  I struggle to find my key to the apartment in my purse. After Jonathan hauled me sobbing from the bathroom, he insisted we carry on with some retail therapy. And it turns out he was a dangerous shopping partner — encouraged by his reckless spending, I’m totally laden down with bags and I feel like I’m about to drop everything when … thank God … the door opens and Daddy lets me in.

  “Hi, Honey,” he says. “I thought I heard you … Woah. What have you been getting up to? At this rate, we’re gonna need to start looking for a bigger apartment to hold all your new things.”

  “Oh, come on, Dad,” I sigh. “I arrived with the tiniest suitcase. And a girl’s gotta wear something, right? Anyway, Jonathan showed me some really amazing stores. I’ve got some great bargains. I just couldn’t say no.”

  “That’s my girl,” he says with a smile, taking a few of the bags from my hands. “Now come in and have some coffee …”

  I follow him into the kitchen and I’m taken aback. But this time it’s not the mess that’s surprised me. It’s the most enormous bouquet of flowers, sitting there on the table.

  It’s a beautifully elaborate arrangement of roses, tulips, lilies and even my favourite, honeysuckle. It’s totally breathtaking. I find myself enveloped by the heady perfumed scent as I step closer to the flowers.

  It must be him, I think, my hopes swelling.

  It has to be.

  After all: the honeysuckle. He’s telling me he knows my name and he knows where to find me! Fate has come to the rescue after all. I just knew it would!

  “Oh, yeah!” Dad says with a knowing tone to his voice. “Those flowers arrived this morning just after you left. Looks like you’ve wasted no time in getting yourself an admirer!”

  I blush.

  “I’ve no idea who they can be from, Daddy,” I say.

  “Well, there’s a card,” he replies. “I’ll leave you to it. Coffee’s in the pot.”

  And with that he walks out of the kitchen with a knowing smile on his face.

  As soon as he’s left, I pick up the card and open it with shaky fingers.

  A bouquet of beautiful English flowers for a beautiful English flower.

  Prince C

  As I read the note, my heart sinks. It’s not Carson after all. Prince_C is one of my most prolific commentators. Girl After Dark’s biggest fan to date.

  I think back to a few of the things he’s written below my posts:

  Your writing is exquisite.

  It’s a privilege and a thrill to watch you blossom.

  I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.

  But how did he find me?

  I sigh. He’s obviously some massive computer nerd who’s tracked my IP address and found out where I live ... Gross.

  I was determined to be anonymous, and this random guy who reads my blog now knows where I live? Great. He’s just sent flowers, so he seems pretty harmless. But what if that changes?

  I’ve seen that dreadful Mischa Barton Lifetime movie Cyberstalker. But that was so unrealistic!

  Still, I wonder whether I should say something to Dad?

  I crumple the card frustratedly in my hand.

  No, I won’t mention anything just yet. He would just become over-protective. He’d never believe that I was in control of the situation. And I really am. Well, except for one thing:

  Carson.

  When it comes to him, I’m totally out of control and it’s all my fault.

  I feel like a silly little girl for believing the flowers were from him. Of course fairy tales don’t come true. My Prince Charming is just a creep.

  §

  As I sit in my bedroom waiting for my dark purple nail varnish to dry, I’m forced to do nothing. My hands are flat on the dressing table and in between them there is a small black rectangle of card. It’s shaped like an old cinema ticket, and reads Admit One in elegant embossed silver lettering.

  It seems like I can do nothing except stare at it and wonder what I’m going to do next.

  This is the ticket to the party, given to me by that art dealer couple I’d met, Akiko and Nathan (or ‘Kiki’ and ‘Neal’ for readers of my blog). And this is no ordinary party. Akiko said it was for ‘likeminded people’ and there was no denying what she meant.

  And now, tonight is the night. It’s the last Friday of the month.

 
So, do I go?

  I mean, I’m dressed for it — done my makeup, my nails, and put on my sexiest little black dress. This is certainly no outfit for a night in on my own with Netflix.

  But, there’s also a part of me that’s scared and nervous. A part of me that wonders if I’m getting in too deep, too far outside my comfort zone.

  I take a deep breath and try to think about this rationally.

  After all, they said this was ‘exclusive’. It won’t be like going to some sleazy nightclub and getting hit on by gross, sweaty guys.

  And then there’s Nathan and Akiko, of course. I enjoyed my time with them and I’m certainly curious to see what else they’ve got on offer.

  But I guess the reason I’ve still got reservations is … well …Carson.

  I shake my head and sigh.

  There’s no use getting hung up on him now, I tell myself. After all, he’s gone now, for good.

  There’s nothing for it, I think. Girl After Dark is going to have to do what she came here for: no-strings-attached fun, starting tonight.

  And with that final thought, I pick up my bag, pull on my coat, and head out of the door.

  §

  “Ticket please!” says the girl on the door.

  She’s wearing a mask, but beneath it I see her emerald green eyes, sparkling with mischievous glee.

  And it’s only as I’m handing her my ticket that I realise she’s wearing nothing at all beneath her long black cloak.

  Crikey! Talk about being thrown in at the deep end ...

  “First time?” she asks me curiously.

  I nod, trying to keep my gaze fixed on her face, but from the corner of my eye I can see her pert left breast completely on display, her nipple pointing up at me.

  “Changing rooms are just at the end of the corridor,” she explains, as casually as if she’s talking about some everyday gym or spa. “You can put your clothes in a locker, and remember to put on a mask. Have fun!”