Python: A Secret Baby Bad Boy Romance

by Alexis Angel

  Sitting in a nondescript section of Long Island City in Queens, among warehouses and industrial areas that are just in the process of being gentrified, is New York City's hottest club.

  Welcome to Python.

  But, while some of the clubs across the East River might be exclusive, Python takes it to a whole new level.

  If you're a man, only one word. Fuhgeddaboudit.

  That's right.

  Python's owner, Austin Price doesn't allow in any men through the front door as guests. The club caters strictly to a female clientele. But where they don't take men as guests, they employ mostly men as entertainers.

  And it's no wonder why it's women only.

  Because if these women let their boyfriends and husbands see what goes on in this club, there's no way they'd ever be allowed to go back in again.

  First off, Out and About wasn't even allowed to send a male photographer.

  We had to send a woman.

  And after the first night, she had to go back again.

  In fact, she's been back to Python every night since.

  "There's something there for everyone," a club-goer commented. "If you want to sit back and watch the men lick each other's muscles, you're absolutely welcome to do that."

  But that's not all. Not by a long shot.

  "If you want to have them lick you, it's totally possible. Want to run your tongue across their abs? They let you do that too," another female partier admitted.

  But that's not the real shocker.

  "Got enough money? Get a private show. Or a private room, complete with it's own bed. You want to know what goes on there? Maybe you should pay the fucking dolla bills to find out, eh?" Austin Price, the owner suggested to us when we pressed him.

  And pressing is just the beginning.

  From the very entrance, the club is filled with stimulation that delights the senses, whether your senses favor looking, listening, smelling, touching, or even tasting.

  "It's like a bar where the men go gather and look at women wearing Daisy Dukes with big knockers," one 68-year-old woman describes it. "Only in this place, it's the women staring at the beefcakes with the big dicks."

  Critics have raved over the party atmosphere that Python has brought to Court Square, as bars and eateries have opened up around it to serve the diverse female clientele that frequent the place.

  "The neighborhood has been transformed entirely," City Councilman Rod Serling said when asked about the establishment. "It's economically revitalized the area for sure."

  All this is nothing new to Austin Price, the one time porn star turned entrepreneur.

  "All we're here to do at the end of the day," he says to us with a winning smile, "is to please women. Is there anything so wrong with that?"

  We don't think so. And we're pretty sure neither will you.

  Python Nightclub

  Located at 21-30 Varick Street

  Court Square, New York 11104

  Hours: 12:00 pm to 5:00 am

  Days: 7 Days A Week

  Cover: Yes

  Cost: $$$

  Stars: Five

  3

  Destiny

  Some books are so fucking hot that you should wear gloves while handling them. No, I’m not talking about Alexis Angel. I mean, everyone reads her, but she can only do so much. But there’s also smut that’s published by guys—the ones that leave you boiling from the inside out—your pussy becoming a literal faucet. Sure, they’re a mess when it comes to the laundry bill, but what's a girl gonna do? I mean, can you say drippy, babe? Because that’s what I am right fucking now.

  Growing up, my teachers always told me that I should read more, and I actually took their advice to heart. I guess they’d prefer me to read the classics, but hey, in my heart Eddie Cleveland is a modern classic, okay?

  What? I mean, who else could make me this wet for a woodsman? A freakin’ woodsman. Sometimes I wish I could be saved by one as well.

  Sadly, there are no woodsmen around New York City, especially not Manhattan. Especially if we take into account that we’re inside a strip club. My strip club—in case you didn’t realize it with the flashing red letters outside, the ones that read Dirty Destiny.

  And yeah, I’m Destiny. Actually, my name is Destiny Renee, but everyone just calms me Destiny around here. And what’s with the ‘Dirty’ part? Well… I mean, this is a strip club, so the name seemed fitting, I guess. I swear babe, I’m not rolling my eyes. I’m actually really glad you’re here and I absolutely love it that you wanted to spend some time with me. I can be a bit abrasive and aloof at times, let me just let you know. So please don’t mind me. And honestly, I’ll try to be a bit more patient. Anyways, where were we? Oh right. Dirty, why the dirty, right? Well, the club name seemed to fit. And I like to think I’m a dirty, dirty girl.

  Hey, don’t judge; this is the 21st century, okay? Women can finally live outside of a kitchen and be their own selves.

  That’s right. I said it. I’m not your normal woman who excels in the three Cs. You know, cooking, cleaning, and cock sucking.

  I’m good at cock sucking. Very fucking good.

  But cooking and cleaning? I have a private chef and a maid to do that.

  I place the kindle down on my desk and stand up, stretching. I flip back so that I can’t see the cover—it’s getting me wet just by looking at it—and I turn on my heels so that I’m facing the curved wall-to-ceiling windows behind me. They’re a one-way mirror actually, and since my office is right above the main stage, I can take a good look at what’s happening in my club whenever I want without ever leaving my little cave here.

  Not that I don’t leave my office; I like to mingle with the customers (specially the hot ones), and sometimes I even show up on stage. I don’t do it often now, but sometimes the customers get so loud, chanting my name, that I have no other choice but go up there and shake my ass for them.

  I kinda like it. Right, if you’re going to judge and call me a slut, then you know what? I have two words for you.

  Fuck off.

  Yeah, I’m a slut. And a damn good one too.

  I look down at the stage where two dancers are dancing over what seems like a carpet of one dollar bills, and the place is packed as usual. Which fits me just right, since I’m in the mood for some fun tonight. I mean, it’s Eddie Cleveland and his fucking woodsman’s fault; that guy has gotten me so wet right now that I need to fuck something. Narrowing my eyes into slits, I try to find someone who looks like fun. But it doesn’t seem that I’m in luck tonight. The main floor is packed, sure, but these are all guys in their forties and fifties, most of them probably drunk out of their minds. Right, keep spending, fellas. All those women are laughing at you ugly assholes.

  Someone sitting close to the stage grabs my interest. He’s… an acquaintance, if I can call him that.

  What?

  Okay fine.

  Fuck it. Let me just be straight with you from now on. That guy down there I’m looking at is a grade A asshole. A bastard.

  His name is Lester Vicks, and he’s the Commissioner of Police for the NYPD.

  Yeah. The top man in law enforcement. He's quite a powerful guy, and he’s a regular. And by regular I mean that he comes here almost every night, drops hundreds, sometimes thousands of dollars.

  Now, don’t take this the wrong way and start thinking that I’m full of myself, but I know the real reason he comes here all the time: it’s because of me.

  The first time he came was on opening day, and I was up on the stage twirling on a pole when he waltzed in the floor, that look of self-importance on his face. But I remember the way his eyes lit up when he saw me dancing, sliding down the pole as the crowd threw dollar bills at me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man become that stunned ever since.

  “Destiny, it’s an honor to meet you in person,” he told me that night when I stepped down off the stage. I was polite enough to have a one-on-one conversation with him since he stuffed more than a dozen one hundred
dollar bills in my thong and between my tits. I’m nice like that, ya know?

  By the look he had on his face, I knew immediately that he recognized me from…

  Right. We’re being honest.

  Well, he recognized me from his laptop screen, most likely.

  You see, when I chose the name Dirty Destiny for my club, it wasn’t just because it was a fitting name for a strip club. Dirty Destiny was my, uhm, nom de plume when I did porn. Yeah, that’s right, I was a porn star, and a good one at that.

  Don’t you remember the “Daddy Don’t Tease Me” series? That was me.

  What about “Shaving Private Ryan?” Yep.

  You ever watch those taboo movies? “Banging My Hottie Stepmom?”

  Yeah, I did a lot of porn.

  I mean, where do you think I got the money to open up a club of my own? In Manhattan? Right in the heart of Midtown on Broadway and 52 Street.

  I loved doing porn. No need to feel bad.

  I mean, being a porn star wasn’t exactly a childhood dream of mine. But once I graduated UCLA and took my chances as a model, I was hooked. I went from regular modelling to topless photoshoots (they paid so much better), and I loved living the high life. I travelled all around the world making lots of money, and once Arsen Hawke entered my life I knew what I had to do. That’s right, that Arsen Hawke, the king of porn himself.

  He offered me the chance to go and work for him, and I couldn’t say no. It wasn’t just about the money (even though he almost drowned me in it), but more about finding out who I was.

  And I like sex.

  I like it a lot. So it was only logical for me to become a porn star.

  That didn’t last long, although I worked in the industry long enough to earn a legion of rabid fans. I always had a good laugh when I saw men doing online polls, trying to figure out if I was the best porn star of this generation, or perhaps even the greatest of all time. But in the end, it just wasn’t for me. It’s a high-stress job, and most girls burnout pretty easily. Not to mention that some just take the money and funnel it into drugs. I didn’t want to end up like that, so I took my money and left, and all this with Arsen’s blessing. I was actually surprised that he didn’t mind me leaving, since I was probably one of his biggest earners, but that’s Arsen, a shrewd businessman, but more than that, an amazing human being.

  Anyways, so that’s how I ended up here on Broadway, running my own club. I’m living the dream, you better believe it. Sure, not everything is perfect, and the one thing between me and that elusive perfection is none other than Lester. He spends a lot of money here, sure, but I don’t care for it, and that’s probably because most of the money he spends here is money I’ve given him myself. Yeah, that’s right, Lester is one of those guys, the ones that wield their power and position to step on the people they should be protecting. I don’t take it personally, though. Part of working in this business is dealing with shady characters like him; it comes with the territory.

  There’s one thing in his favor, though: he’s actually quite easy on the eyes. He’s in his early forties, but he has been blessed with good genes. I mean, if you have a crooked cop who’s extorting you, it helps if he’s hot, right? Tall and broad shouldered, he keeps fit enough to be mistaken for a thirty year old. Which is pretty amazing, if you consider that he’s the police commissioner. Still, it doesn’t really surprise me that he managed to climb the ranks that fast; he’s as shrewd and calculating as anyone can be, and proof of that is the fact that he doesn’t mind lining up his pockets with my protection money. But I pay him nonetheless… He made it pretty clear the day we had our first one-on-one conversation. “You’ll pay, or I’ll close you down,” he told me, making it pretty clear that he was just one phone call away of shutting me down. So, yeah, that was that.

  But I tolerate him. And today, I think I can do a bit more than tolerate him. I have an itch to scratch and, since I’m paying so much money, I might as well make him work for it.

  I step out from my office and walk to the edge of the balcony overlooking the stage. The spotlights are on the dancers, so no one sees me there, looking down at the crowd, no one but Lester, of course. It almost seems that he wasn’t looking at the dancers but at the door to my office. He’s obsessed with me, and he has told me as much. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said to me once, and another time he actually told me that I didn’t understand how much he "cared about me."

  But he’s never overstepped and, since I keep paying him his cut out of my profits, he behaves like a dog on a leash. Tonight I’ll reward him for that.

  He’s looking straight at me, so I give him an easy smile and point with my head to a side room I have at the bottom of the stairs. He gets up from his seat and ambles there, nursing a glass of vodka in his hand, and I meet him halfway.

  “What do you think about a private dance, Lester? Sounds good to you?” I purr at him, placing one hand on his chest.

  “I’ve been waiting all night for that, Destiny,” he says, and I can’t help but notice that he’s already hard, the shape of his cock straining against pants. Grabbing him by the hand, I lead him inside the room, pushing the door open with my hips. Once inside I push him back onto the sofas that line the walls, and I press a few buttons on the wall. The lights in the room become dimmer, and sensual music starts, the sounds from outside muffled by the thick soundproof walls.

  “I’m going to put on a show for you,” I tell him as I grab the pole in the middle of the room and balance myself on it. Lester’s eyes are crawling all over my body, and I can almost feel him peeling my short skirt and blouse off with his mind.

  “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.