Extreme Passions
Page 8
Picking up a coaster for a souvenir, I noted the extended activities the club provided. The wall next to me had a sign pointing to those areas. In for a penny, in for a pound.
*
An attendant changed my hundred dollars into fivers and left me to my choice of booths. He said there was no one else here tonight, though what that meant I didn’t know.
Inside the narrow booth, it was not unpleasant with the air-conditioning and a strong lavender wick. The door closed behind me, throwing me into dark privacy unaided by the only light—a muted sliver around a rectangle in the far wall. There was very little room to maneuver in the standing space.
Suddenly, music hummed through the speakers and the sliver of light brightened. A fluro slot directed me to put in five dollars for three minutes of viewing time. I wasn’t sure if I should be doing this but it was certainly easy enough.
Once my money was sucked in, the panel in front of me slid up to disclose a room on the other side of the glass shrouded in red drapes and furnished only by a round platform. There was already a woman on it. She posed with her back to me but I would know those glutes anywhere. They had led me into this club and they’d danced for me onstage. She still had her g-string on, a minuscule silver thong floating at the curve of her hips that only served to outline the perfect oval of her buttocks and the low dip of her spine.
Without a sound, the platform started revolving slowly, ingeniously offering a direct view to every booth around the room. I was suddenly nervous that she might see me behind the glass, a suspicion confirmed when she stopped in front of my window.
I didn’t know what to do. She had seen my face on the street; she could recognize me in here. We stared at each other, shadowed and lit, neither hidden nor fully shown yet. I could leave but my handful of notes was a livelihood for these girls. That I knew. I couldn’t cram all of it into the slot but I couldn’t pass them through either.
Then she smiled—the first change in her expression I had seen tonight—and I knew I couldn’t leave. Her hand drifted up to cup her breasts, kneading them and rolling the tips with her fingers. She lowered her head and licked her nipple, all the while holding my gaze with sensual impudence. I unbuttoned my shirt, drew the shirttails from my pants, unsnapped my bra, and let my modesty fall.
Her head cocked to one side, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. Then she knelt before me and leaned back on her heels, lengthening the view of her slim torso and opening her lower ringentself. Her fingers still gripped her nipples and she used them to jiggle her breasts. I crossed my arms and pressed mine, again and again, repetitively squeezing, feeling the globes lift and my nipples tighten. When I tugged on them like she did hers, cold heat streaked to my clit, causing me to gasp from the returning throb now more insistent than before. The sparkle in her eyes told me that she knew exactly how I felt—trapped, and too willing to stop.
Our mimicry was afoot; what she did to her body I would follow on mine. I was the client, but she called the shots. We held each other’s gazes as we touched ourselves the best way only we could know. Her eyes glowed brighter with real passion, her hand and mine moving in our cunts, bringing forth our pleasure for the other.
Let me touch myself for you.
We were both whimpering through gritted teeth, our fingers flying faster over our sexes. I watched her flatly whip circles on her clit and my tongue curled out as if for a taste. I had both hands down my pants—my belt and fly long undone—the left holding my pussy open for my right to stroke my swollen length. I was so wet my fingers slipped. I would have given anything for a chair, but I had to stand right in front of the small window or lose sight of my partner in heat.
She was close. From the lift of her pelvis into her hand and the unfocused intensity of her gaze, I knew she was barely holding on. I willed her to come for me, to come for herself, to come for all the nights when I would only have her image to drive me over the cusp. And she did, trembling, skin sheening with glitter and perspiration, breathing so hard I could hear her through the glass as her hand plowed through her shaved furrow, fingers deep inside and her wetness spilling down her thighs.
Oh, fuck. I could feel myself coming. My clit was coyly playing hide-and-seek. I lifted it up and smeared more come across the tip, lightly then rapidly. The rapid strumming was just the touch I needed. My head rolled back as I came, jerking like a cannon. My clit spasmed and pulsed in my palm, huge and sensitive; so good, so fucking good.
*
She was gone by the time the climax eased from my jellified frame. I must have stayed in there for ten minutes, catching my breath, then dressing slowly with shaking hands. My legs were having trouble keeping me upright on uncooperative knees. I was still breathing hard when I stepped out of the booth with a wad of cash in my hand. In the excitement of being a voyeur/exhibitionist, I hadn’t noticed that the timed panel stayed open throughout our exchange, far longer and worth more than my opening note.
Confusion clouded my thoughts, adding to the lethargy of satisfaction settling into my muscles. I was quite gooey in mind and body, totally different from the person who’d entered the club in pursuit of a woman two hours ago. The cash in hand was a reminder of my ignorance in these places. What was the etiquette for pleasure shared? Would she get into trouble if I brought it up? The attendant didn’t even bat an eyelid at my dishevelled state. He must be used to patrons stumbling from the booths, worn out.
I exited the club through fire doors into a wind-tunnel alley. My hair was blown into my eyes and my shirt flapped loudly, distracting me from her waiting presence. Sparks from her cigarette hitting the ground drew my attention toward her shadowed form leaning on the brickwork.
She was back in her jeans and leather jacket, dark hair slightly sparkling under the lamplight, and reviewing me too close beneath insouciant eyes. I must have looked a sight in my half-buttoned shirt and wild hair, and totally exposed to the effect she had on me.
She smirked ever so slightly, a tilt at the corner of her tempting lips. “Enjoy the show?”
Confusion gave way to attraction. I would have no qualms about being with this woman without any barriers between us. My reply came out thickly. “Yes. Did you?”
She took her time answering, gauging my worth in real flesh terms. “Looks can be deceiving.”
“What can I do to convince you?” I wanted her to know how it felt to be on my side of the glass.
“Dance for me.”
Unfastening a button on my shirt, I said, “Only if I lead.”
Bois Will Be Boys
Crin Claxton
The minute I saw her I knew she was trouble. She showed up at the bar one very quiet night. When the door opened, every eye in the room was on her as she stood just inside, scanning each woman’s face like she was looking for someone. Cool…haughty…femme…I thought.
“Trouble,” I said to my mate Jacki.
Jacki laughed, still looking at the beautiful vision in the doorway, trying to get the measure of her. Jacki and me go back from time, buddies, bouncing off each other’s butch energy without complications. We’re not competitors. If a woman comes along we both fancy, one of us steps back. We never hit on each other’s girlfriends. It’s just not something you do, right?
Anyway, Jacki was staring at this gorgeous woman and she was looking round the room when she finally noticed Jacki and me. She looked at us both, from one to the other. I couldn’t help smiling to myself. She was still all the way across the room from us, this ain’t her bar, and she was acting like she owned the place with us just there to decorate it.
She locked eyes with me; I felt a breeze blowing over my body and a little shiver all the way along my spine. I started to shrug it off and she turned her eyes on Jacki; when I looked at Jacki it was like 10,000 volts of electricity were going through her, and that’s also when I knew I’d be the one stepping back. The woman knew it too: her full attention was on Jacki now and slowly, stretching each moment, she sauntered over to our table.
“Hi, I thought you might like to buy me a drink.” Her voice was medium to low, touch of velvet: soft, liquid, and very, very sure of itself. She was looking Jacki up and down like Jacki was the floor show. I could see Jacki start sweating it, and I was suddenly relieved that it wasn’t me under the glare of her attention. A little flustered, Jacki tried to come back cool: “Sure, baby, what kind of drink can I get ya?”
“Please don’t call me baby,” the woman said softly, coldly, like brushing a piece of dust off her arm.
“S-sorry, I didn’t mean…I…” Jacki started stammering.
I realized she needed help. This kind of thing didn’t happen to us.
“Hi, my name’s Rick, this is my good friend Jacki, and your name is…?” I tried to sound casual, respectful, charming, but not interested. She was looking at me now. I took a deep breath while she weighed me up. Then she smiled at me, at both of us.
“Melissa.”
I heard the sigh of relief escaping from Jacki’s mouth and shot her a warning glance, but it was way too late.
“Well, Melissa, what would you like to drink?” Jacki’s voice had lost all its swagger; she was talking to Melissa like she talked to me—except with more respect.
“Thank you, Jacki, I’d like a white rum and Coke, good rum—if they have it.” Melissa bestowed a smile on Jacki and one on me in passing.
“Why don’t I get the drinks, mate? Leave you two to get to know each other.” I decided gallant was the best exit on offer. It also left me with more dignity than standing there like a spare part while they stared into each other’s eyes.
I asked the bar owner, Tomi, to give me her best white rum; explained Jacki was trying to impress a beautiful woman. Tomi nodded. “Yeah, I saw you two standing to attention like a couple of raw recruits.”
“Okay, okay.” I tried to brush it off. Tomi just smiled and poured me a little taste of four different white rums. I took a sip of each rum, my back to Jacki and Melissa, wondering if Melissa had noticed I was choosing a rum for her. I picked the one that tasted best to me: dry enough to hit the skin of my mouth, smooth enough to kiss away the sensation immediately. Tomi added a splash of Coke, handed me Jacki’s Beck’s, and I walked the drinks to their table.
The sexual energy reached me before I put the drinks in front of them. I was relieved Jacki looked more relaxed, but I wasn’t going to hang around. She knew what she was doing…well, as much as any of us ever do. This is the fun part, starting it all up. And a good friend knows when to step out. I stepped all the way out the bar.
I didn’t see or hear from Jacki for three days. Then she called me, told me to meet her at the gym. We both like to keep buff.
I arrived first. As I put my towel over the bars of the treadmill, I spotted a hot, feminine, athletic type pumping up a storm on the cycling machine. By the time Jacki showed up, I’d run ten minutes longer than I should have and my legs were shaking.
I gave Jacki a wave and strolled over to a shiny, new multigym bench, positioning myself for the chin-up bar. With an eye on the hot femme jock, I confidently lifted off. Who could know an exercise would be so hard? I barely managed three chin-ups. Jacki doubled up laughing. Hot femme jock moved to a bench way over the other side of the gym. I dropped to the floor with a sigh.
“So how did you and Melissa work out?” Time for Jacki to fill me in, I decided.
“Oh, you remembered her name!”
’Course I remember her name, I thought, wiping the sweat off my forehead.
“Well, she came back to my place.”
“What?” I was surprised. “You took her to your house?” Jacki had this thing about taking women home on a first date. She always got them to take her to their place, like she needed to keep something private about herself or something.
“Well, yeah. She said she wanted to see what my house was like. Said she wanted to find out my secrets.” Jacki smiled long and lean. “I thought that was cute!”
Damn! I thought. I’d never seen Jacki like this. “So how is it between you two?”
“Well, we’ve been in my house for three days…” Jacki impossibly managed to stretch her smile. I smiled with her and decided there and then there was no point worrying about Jacki; the buzz from her was too contagious.
Jacki disappeared off the face of the earth for two weeks. Then she texted me about a dinner date. She was getting a crowd together, wanted them to meet Melissa.
I was in the restaurant and chatting with Amy when Jacki and Melissa walked in. I stood up to greet them, trying not to stare at Melissa in a little black dress. Amy raised her eyebrows at me as I sat back down. She doesn’t miss much. We’re longtime friends—that warm and precious thing: a butch-femme friendship. I let Amy draw me into conversation, trusting her to focus my concentration. On to my very good friendship with my mate Jacki and away from Melissa’s breasts in that black dress.
The evening was a bit weird. Melissa was charming. I sensed everyone liked her. She was interesting. When she talked to you, it was like you were the only one that mattered. Yet she was attentive to Jacki, complimenting her and flirting with her. I felt the swell of pride that was coming from Jacki, and when I felt it my heart was full of joy for her. But the next minute I’d be noticing some new thing about Melissa. Like the way her long, dark hair hung in a few ringlets at the side, or how she kissed the glass when she sipped her wine. Jacki was chatting about some new lesbian bar and I was estimating the length of Melissa’s eyelashes when I felt Amy’s hand on my shoulder.
“You’re in trouble, babe,” she said softly, her eyes full of concern. She looked straight past my image, into the real me.
“Is it really obvious?” I was worried.
“Only to me, Rick. But you need to get it together. You and Jacki are too important.”
“Yeah.” I sighed, knowing I had to let go of this crazy pull toward my best mate’s girlfriend.
So I went out with Jacki and Melissa to bars and clubs, the cinema, and even a lesbian play with sex scenes and everything. I was handling the “Melissa thing.” Weeks passed and I thought I began to notice Melissa’s attention wavering, just a little. Nothing obvious, a glance here and there as some good-looking dyke strolled by. But hell, that’s no big crime. Some women get your attention, just for a second, even when you’re crazy in love, right? One night at the club I looked over at Melissa and caught her staring a butch up and down across the room. She must have felt me looking because she turned to me, smiled, and winked. Then she turned to Jacki, ran her fingers down the side of her face, and kissed her up from chin to cheekbone. I’m sure she knew I was still watching.
*
I was sitting at Bar Italia the following Sunday, outside in the late spring sun. Soho was chilled out but lively on account of the fresh sunny day. People strolling about, some still up from clubbing, others fresh early risers. I looked up over the top of my paper in time to catch the swagger of a hot femme walking down Compton Street. As she got nearer I recognised the swagger as unmistakably Melissa.
“Well, hello, Rick.” She stopped in front of my table, smiling down at me. Dazzled, I removed my sunglasses. Half standing, I asked her if she wanted to sit down.
“Very bling,” Melissa commented, taking the seat opposite me. I guessed she meant my Police glasses. “So, Rick, how nice, you want to buy me a coffee.”
“Sure, I’ll buy you a coffee,” I heard myself saying.
While I was getting an espresso for the lady I gave myself a stern talking-to. Ask her about Jacki, I told myself. And don’t stare at her legs.
“So what you doing in the Village?” I asked her when I was back with her coffee.
“Buying pasta. There’s a wonderful Italian deli at the end of Compton St
reet. I’m cooking for Jacki.” Melissa took a sip of espresso, kissing the tiny cup. “I was just on my way to Jacki’s when I thought, who’s that handsome butch sitting all alone in the sun? Then I realized it was you.” She smiled over at me like a princess bestowing a gift on one of her courtiers. I knew I was being played.
“That’s nice. Thank you for having coffee with me.” I repaid her compliment. Well, the sun was warm, the company beautiful, and I had a good grip on my feelings. It’s true I also wanted to have a good grip on Melissa’s hips, but I was a cool, controlled sort of butch, wasn’t I?
“So what are you doing in Soho all alone?” she asked me.
“Oh, I often come here on a Sunday morning. I like to drink coffee, read the papers. Makes me feel I have time, you know. Peace.”
Melissa nodded, really looking at me for a moment. I felt a strong, pure energy from her, from somewhere deep inside her. So there was something real about this femme after all. “Yeah, I come here a lot,” I went on. “Jacki used to come sometimes.”
“Oh yes…Jacki…” Melissa stared out toward Compton Street. I waited for her to continue. She didn’t.
“Well, that was very nice. Thank you.” Melissa finished her espresso, replaced the cup, stood, and with a soft kiss on my cheek was gone.
“Say hi to Jacki,” I called after her.
She looked back once, locked eyes with me, and without even smiling walked away.
*
After that I started looking for signs that Melissa wanted me. Maybe it was that moment of being real she’d let slip. Whatever. A big part of me didn’t want to fancy her at all, and certainly didn’t want her to fancy me. I didn’t think she did, actually. I thought she flirted with me out of habit, or to pass the time or something. Mostly, I didn’t think, couldn’t think. I worked very hard at suppressing my feelings. I was, after all, still trying to be Jacki’s best mate. I felt an idiot. Being into someone who wasn’t available was so uncool. And it was exhausting. I started turning down invitations out with them, or cutting them short. Not being with them was a relief.