by Alexis Angel
“Maybe I’ll put on a show for you as well,” he grins at me, his voice hoarse and filled with anticipation. It’s your lucky day, Lester, I think to myself, you’re no woodsman, but you’ll do. I start dancing around the pole, moving at the beat of the music, and then I pull my blouse off and throw it on top of him. My eyes never leaving his, I push down the zipper on my skirt and then sway my hips from side to side, allowing the fabric to fall down to my feet.
“Like what you see, Commissioner?” I ask him in a seductive tone. I know he goes crazy whenever I call him Commissioner.
“I love it, Destiny,” he says, his eyes leaving mine and devouring the way my lace bra and small thong cover my tits and pussy. I could tease him so much more, drive him to the edge, but I don’t really care to. He’s already hard, and I have an itch to scratch, so why bother? It’s not like he really deserves all this attention. “I love seeing you at any time; you’re so fucking sexy.”
“Then,” I purr, walking up to him in my heels and climbing on top of his body, straddling him, “why don’t you show me just how much you love it?” He gets so hard that I even feel his cock poking at me through his pants, so I reach for it, grabbing it over the fabric.
I unbuckle his belt then, and he does the rest, unzipping his pants and pushing them down with his boxers to his ankles. I grab his cock right away, but then stop before I can do anything else.
“Condom,” I simply tell him, and he bends over and fishes one out from his pants. Yeah, he already knows how I roll, and if he wants a piece of me, he has to play by my rules. Unwrapping the condom, I push it down his cock, and use my free hand to push my thong to the side. Finally, I ease myself down. I close my eyes as I feel his tip against my wetness, but it slides inside me easily; although he has a respectable eighth inches, believe me when I say I’ve had bigger.
I rock my hips against him as fast as I can and, using one hand, I slide it under my thong and start rubbing my clit. I have a feeling that Lester isn’t going to last that long, so I need to make good use of my time here. My eyes are still shut as I concentrate myself, and thank God it doesn’t take me long. All I do is think about Eddie Cleveland.
Okay, don’t laugh. Eddie is hot. His woodsman is even hotter.
Anyways, that’s who’s making me cum soon. That’s right. I feel my heart beating faster and, with a slight moan, I come. And just in time too because Lester is groaning as if I’m stabbing him, his face straining with pleasure.
I feel his cock spasm. And then the condom gets very warm inside of me.
“Fuck, that was intense,” he breathes out and I roll to the side, sitting next to him.
“Yeah, absolutely,” I lie, feeling no remorse about it. Intense? C’mon, the only real reason I needed him was because I wanted something more alive than a vibrator, otherwise I wouldn’t be here with him.
He takes the condom out, places it inside the wrapper, and then pushes his pants up. He takes one cigarette out of the pocket in his shirt, but I just pluck it out from his hands and crush it under my heel.
“No smoking in here darlin', you know the rules,” I say with a pout.
“Do you have to be so uptight all the time?” he protests, but gives up on looking for the lighter in his pockets.
“That’s why you love me so much,” I tell him, picking up my clothes from the floor.
“Don’t push your luck, Destiny,” he says, and then falls silent. He smacks his lips together, an annoying tick of his whenever he’s deep in thought, and the looks me in the eyes. This can’t be good.
“Out with it, Lester,” I say. “What’s on your mind? I’ve already paid you your cut for the month, so don’t come asking for money because there’s none for you.”
I’m really hoping he isn’t looking to raise his tax. I’m actually making a lot of money with the club, but on the other hand I make sure to share the profits with my dancers. I know how tough it is to thrive in this world, and I want my girls to be taken care of.
“No, it’s not that,” Lester says, looking at me with interest. “Have you ever heard about the Python Nightclub?”
“Python? Isn’t that the club for women only in Queens?” I ask, thinking to myself. I’ve heard of it before. “The one making all the headlines?” I ask to clarify.
I don’t know much about that club, but the hype about it is incredible. You’d think that they’re handing out cocks made of gold in there.
“That’s the one,” Lester says nodding. “I need you to go there.”
“Me?” I ask. “Why would I go there?”
Lester is silent as I look at him. “I have enough on my plate as it is, I really can’t waste my time fooling around, Lester,” I start, but I can tell that he isn’t even listening to me.
“There’s something shady going on in that place, Destiny, and I need you to be my ears and eyes in that place,” he tells me. He looks like he believes what he’s saying. “I can’t send a cop because it would attract too much attention right now.”
I’m still not convinced. Lester can see that.
So he continues with a sigh. “There’s a woman… A dangerous one. She’s a street hooker known for robbing her clients. She's even murdered a few. I think she’s running a sex trafficking ring, and I need to get to her, and I need to do it fast… But the owner of Python isn’t letting anyone in without a warrant, so I need you to do this for me.”
Me? Investigating a sex trafficking ring? You gotta be fucking kidding me. I’m not Sherlock Holmes, for God’s sake.
“No, you’re crazy if you expect me to--”
“This isn’t up for discussion. I want you there, or the Dirty Destiny might have a surprise inspection from the NYPD Vice.”
The bastard. If he wasn’t the commissioner I’d just punch him right now. “Go there, and try to either get a job or find some way to get inside and be a fixture at the bar,” Lester says with finality.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he finishes, and I stand there in silence, holding my blouse and skirt to my chest as he bolts out of the door and leaves me by myself in the room.
Fuck it, what can I do?
Time to pay Python a visit.
64
Austin
"Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!" A chant erupts from the fucking crowd.
You gotta love fucking 8 pm.
Seriously. That’s all that’s going on here. 8 fucking pm and these ladies are already like ravenous beasts looking for a meal.
I mean, sure, the ladies love a man with a long hose, and tonight, Maverick, one of our dudes, is on the stage with a Fireman costume on.
Yeah, hose? You catch that, doll?
I’m talking about his fucking cock.
He knows where his money comes from. He’s on stage stripping it all off and the women are screaming, and I fucking mean screaming with the energy of a goddamn jet engine. Might be like banshees, but banshees with dollar bills, doll. Fuck yeah.
Maverick is flexing his abs now, his muscular arms raised above his head. He flashes them a smile that's fucking whiter than a brand new pair of tighty whiteys.
You like that don’t you?
You wish you were here with these women now too, huh?
Don’t fucking lie to me. After you read that Out and About piece I know a part of you imagined what it would be like.
Take your closest friends and go check it out. Don’t tell the husband though.
No honestly, don’t. He’d be fucking insecure as fuck when a 6 foot 3 inch guy starts waving a long thick foot-long cock in your face.
Maverick points to a woman sitting in the front row. "Come up here," he says.
"Me?" the woman squeaks, questioning Maverick. She's looking around, wondering if he may be pointing to another woman.
I sit back.
I fucking love this part.
Maverick nods his head. "Yes, you. Come up here and join me, woman."
The crowd is screaming and clapping and urging her to get her as
s on that stage.
Once there, Maverick sits her in a chair and thrusts his hips in her direction. He grabs a can of whip cream that he's been keeping on stage—it's one of his final moves—and he squirts some on her neck and collarbone. Then he leans in and slowly licks it off. Her face is growing flushed and it's clear that she's enjoying every minute of his performance.
That dude's an industry veteran—a fucking legend.
Don’t get me wrong. Even if these guys are built, it can be intimidating, stripping in front of a hundred frenzied women yelling, "Show us your Python!" But Mav’s a pro, and when he lowers his fucking g-string, they go fucking crazy.
That's what Python's does best. It's what we're fucking known for, pleasing the ladies. And tonight, I'd say we're doing our job well.
Almost too well.
A group of women are sitting around a table, and I notice that they've brought props. They're sipping their drinks from plastic straws in the shape and color of purple cocks, and they're wearing light-up tiaras with flashing cock LEDs.
Fuck, I love it.
I laugh out loud.
Don’t get me wrong, doll. I'm glad they're having fun. Everyone could use a little more fun and escape in their lives, right?
Especially nowadays.
In fact, once you're done reading about this place, fucking come on over. There'll be a complimentary guest pass waiting for you at the door. I guarantee you'll have the fucking time of your life.
There's always a good mix of broads here—some young, some old, some tall and some short. There’s some hotties. And then there are some plainer ones—according to society. I mean, I like all women. I think they’re all fucking sexy. Why do you think I made this club, anyways?
Anyways, fuck that. What I’m trying to say though, is that no matter what skin color or how much money these broads got, there’s one thing that makes them all the fucking same.
They're all looking for a good time.
I'm hanging in the back, leaning one shoulder against a wall, and surveying the crowds of women at each table and booth. I'm taking a mental head count. It's a full house, which means we're doing great business tonight.
Then one woman in particular catches my eye. As soon as I see her, that headcount I was just keeping gets erased as if my brain's a fucking Etch-a-Sketch and someone just gave it a quick and vigorous shake.
She's new. I haven’t seen her in here before.
And she's hot, that's for fucking sure.
Fuck. Quick and vigorous shake is what you need when you look at that fucking broad.
I’m serious. I’m not just being crass to be crass.
I mean, look at those fucking gorgeous tits. I just want to push them together and stick my cock in between them. Fuck.
That ass. Tight fucking ass. Makes any man want to slap it. Squeeze it. Spank it.
My cock is fucking twitching with its own fucking heartbeat just looking at her.
She’s got a slender body and a fucking tight waist. Golden fucking tresses coiffed beautifully.
If I don’t go over and talk to her now, my brain is going to explode.
But something else catches my eye—I can tell she's fucking confident. Like she’s casing the joint. Like she fucking owns this place already.
I’m going to fuck her.
I’ll try tonight. But I actually want to enjoy this.
Look at her. Fucking money. I fucking love that attitude she’s giving.
I mean, I’ll beat it down when I beat up that pussy, but I fucking love it.
She's talking to the bartender, Ben, a young college kid I recently hired. She's leaning over and they're deep in conversation. It's a fucking shame I can't hear what they're saying, but her mouth is open in a wide smile and her plump lips are the color of red wine.
She's wearing long, gold, hoop earrings that catch the lighting of the club and it bounces off her neck in quick sparkles. There's an intense look in her eye that says she's driven, and smart. I fucking love a woman with ambition.
I need to know who this woman is.
Right fucking now.
I need to put a name to a fucking face.
I leave my spot in the back of the club and walk toward the bar, and to the mystery woman. I pull up a barstool and sit up right next to her.
"Let me guess, Sex on the Beach?"
"Excuse me?" she asks, turning in my direction.
"Your drink," I say, pointing to the rose-tinted cocktail in her glass. "It's fucking surprising, that's all."
"Oh yeah?” she asks, raising her eyebrow but playing along. “And why's that?"
Good. I definitely have her attention.
"Because it's so fucking typical," I say with a smirk as I look at her, "and you're anything but."
"You wanna know what's really typical?" she asks me, a smirk on her lips. "Is flirting with women at a bar."
"I'm just making an observation," I say, smiling and shrugging my shoulders. If I'm honest, I'm fucking enjoying this game. "Ordering a Sex on the Beach is a stereotypical girly thing to do, that's all."
She smiles and thinks for a moment before responding.
"And how would you know anything about women?” she asks me, turning to me. I can see her eyes fucking twinkle.
“Seems to me like you don't hire enough in this place," she says. "It's all men. Like someone likes the sausage."
"That's kind of the point," I laugh. “A fucking sausage fest is what the females want.”
“What goes well with sausage?” she asks me, a coy smile.
“Mayonnaise and buns,” I reply back and she gives me a nasty grin that seriously leaves my knees fucking weak.
Fuck, I’ve never been like this before with a girl.
But I’m still cool. I still got my swagger. Not done with this rodeo just yet. "So how did you know I run this place?" I ask.
"I have my ways," she says coyly. She notices the confused look on my face and continues, "I'm kidding. Your picture and title are hanging on the wall behind the bar. It doesn't take a genius to put the two together."
Not sure what her angle is, but I’ll go along for now.
"Well played," I smile. "What's your name?"
"I'm Destiny," she says, extending her hand to mine. It's warm and slender and I notice her fingernails match the color of her lipstick. Her petite hand makes mine look massive, which brings a smile to my lips … and makes my fucking cock twitch.
"So Destiny … you looking for a job?" I ask.
"What, here? In this place?"
"You just called me out for not hiring enough women … and if I'm honest, this place could use a woman like you. Come join our team as a manager."
That’s right.
You fucking heard me. Sure, it’s a snap decision. But I never get this far without not trusting my gut and making snap decisions.
Besides, I'm in rare form tonight. Fuck. Here I am offering a manager position to a woman I've never met in my life. I don't even know if she's qualified. But something tells me she's fucking worth it.
"I don't know … I'd be awfully outnumbered," she hedges playfully.
"Which is exactly why you should accept," I say, making my point further.
"I'll consider your offer," she says, grabbing her leather jacket from the back of her stool and slipping it on. "Maybe I'll see you around."
"Wait,” I say, not letting her leave without a commitment. I know better. Besides, I know she’s feeling this. She wants to ride. “Let's do brunch tomorrow. 10 am. I'm making this easy for you. All you have to do is say yes, doll face."
She's now standing and slings her purse over one shoulder.
She looks at me for a moment without saying anything, and for the first time in my life, I think a fucking woman might actually say no.
But instead she smiles and the first thing out of her lips is, "You've got yourself a date then, Python."
That’s all she says before she turns and without looking back walks out.
&nb
sp; I can’t move.
I’m staring at that ass sway back and forth. Back and forth.
Fucking juicy ass. Makes me want to grab it. Squeeze it.
Python, eh?
She has no idea.
65
Destiny
There’s a slight breeze in the air but the way the morning sun falls on my skin makes it worth it. I lay back against my seat, taking in the New York atmosphere as people around me engage in idle conversation. To my left, a couple is talking quietly, sipping lattes and nibbling at bagels while exchanging quiet looks of shy complicity.
I always liked the 230 Fifth bar because of this. There’s an inviting atmosphere, and it almost seems like you’re sitting inside a magic bubble while the true grit of New York stays outside. Not to mention the view—the bar sits on the 29th floor, right on the rooftop, and it stands right in front of the Empire State Building. That's why I chose this bar as the place for my ‘date’ with Austin…no, sorry, I meant to say Mr. Python himself. I could've settled for neutral ground, but why do something like that when I can have the home advantage?
If I’m being honest with you, I never thought that my visit to Python would end up with me going out on a date with the owner. And, of course, I never thought that the owner would be someone like Austin…
I half-expected a man in his fifties with the look of an accountant, maybe some man boobs on his chest and some dollar signs flashing in his eyes, but that’s not what I found.
Oh, no, I found something else entirely.
Austin looks good, and that’s just the most simple way of putting it. Even with his clothes on, he outshined the male dancers that were putting on a show on the stage. And they were pretty hot. I mean, you saw them, right?
Why am I even asking. Of course you saw them. Or at least saw what they were doing. You’re probably more interested in those male dancers than lil’ ol’ me.
Why don’t you Google the word ‘python’ and ‘Queens Long Island City’ and see if a place like that really exists?
What was I even talking about?