His Adam’s apple twitched. “No, I don’t believe I have.”
I slowly stroked the whole length of the cucumber with two fingers, up and down. “Neither have I.”
Frank rested his elbows on the counter behind him and leaned back, bending his knee up slightly. Was he backing away from my advances or trying to make me hotter? Now his vinyl-covered thigh stuck out like an invitation to my clit.
I took another step to close the gap between us, hiked up my skirt and pressed my bare, wet pussy into his cold, plastic-sheathed quad. Then I placed the cucumber between my breasts. “I believe you owe me one for the accident with that egg the other day.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise. Finally he said, “I believe you’re right.” He reached his hand around to my ass and squeezed it, pressing my clit farther into his leg.
I tilted my head back in ecstasy and moaned, grinding into his thigh and rubbing my leg against his bulge. His other hand found my ripe breast and held it as gently yet firmly as he had the tomatoes. “Oh Gayle,” he whimpered. “I bet you are delicious.”
The cucumber seemed to throb in my hand. I pressed it between his pecs. With its tiny nub of a stem as hard as my nipples, I drew a line up the side of his neck, across his cheek and to his lips. “Lick it,” I commanded. He flicked his tongue gingerly around its stem, then licked more voraciously across its wide, round bottom. His fingers seemed to move in unison across my breast—a flick of the nipple, then a wide sweep over its curves. With my free hand I combed his curly brown hair. Our thighs, his tongue, our groins and hands all moved to the rhythm of our moans until my pussy was aching for something hard and slick.
I stepped back from his thigh and rested a foot on the knee-high shelf under the table. I drew the cucumber down his neck, along his vinyl-covered chest and belly, finally reaching the length of his bulge straining under the apron. I pressed it against his cock, teasing. He pressed back.
Frank looked up at the doorway, then, apparently convinced we were safe, began pulling his apron aside. With the cucumber I slapped his hand away and declared, “That’s staying put.”
Then in one quick move, I dove the cucumber into the tent of my skirt. The moment its tip touched my drenched pussy, it yawned wide and welcomed it inside. The green, slick skin slid in and stretched me so wide I gasped.
Hastily, Frank ducked under my propped-up leg and came around back, leaving a wide-open space for me to thrust the cucumber in and out. I felt his throbbing cock, still safe inside his pants and apron, press between my buttocks. He grabbed my waist with both hands and pulled me against him. We quickly found a rhythm, his cock pressing into my ass just as the cucumber slid so deep inside me I imagined the two kissing at the small of my back.
After just a few kisses, the wave of an orgasm began at that point and swept down my ass, around my groin and into my belly. The moment it hit my throat and I began to yell, Frank clamped his hand over my mouth. A moment later, he had to stifle his own moan. Our grinding slowed to a small, sweet rhythm until I reluctantly pulled out the cucumber and placed it on the counter.
Frank laid his body across the length of my back, wrapped his arms around me and sighed. Then he reached into a box and withdrew a tomato. “Does this one satisfy your needs?”
I turned around to face him. “Absolutely. I’d like a dozen more just like it.”
“And perhaps some cucumbers for a salad?”
I laughed. “And tomorrow I’ll need something to eat with the leftover marinara sauce.”
His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I believe I’ll be shelving a shipment of sausage in the meat freezer.”
THE ROOM OF GUARANTEES
Jessica Lennox
My first thought as I arrived at the door was I can’t believe I’m doing this. On the other hand, I could believe it. I’d wanted this forever. My failed attempts at getting my partner to do anything kinky with me (including accompanying me to this club) had been particularly frustrating, and now that I was single again, I was ready to explore! I’d made several tentative visits already, but this time I was determined to have the full experience.
Upon entering the club, I showed the hottie security guard/doorperson my identification and handed over a twenty. Hottie looked down at my ID, smiled and then handed it back to me. I took it from her and tossed it into the depths of my handbag as I made my way toward the lounge. As my eyes adjusted to the dimmed lighting, I looked for a pathway to the bar, and secretly prayed for an available stool to sit on. I spotted one at the far end, and then felt like I was in one of those bad dreams where you feel like you’re moving, but not getting any closer to whatever it is you’re trying to reach. I felt as if I’d been walking through the lounge forever, with every pair of eyes on me, but then thankfully the nightmare ended, and I let out a sigh of relief as I reached my destination.
I sat down on the bar stool and took a few deliberate slow breaths before finally allowing myself to look around. From the outside, the club doesn’t look any different than a dozen others in the neighborhood, neglected and sad, but inside, this club is like no other. This particular club caters to women and their appetites, whatever they may be. Drinking, dancing, voyeurism, exhibitionism, porn, cruising, bondage—you name it, you can find it here. Women everywhere, their attire ranging from various stages of nudity to fully dressed, from the finest leather chaps and boots, to the shortest chain-mail dresses and miniskirts—it’s quite a sight.
I wanted to look around some more but decided a drink was definitely in order. I signaled with my hand for a bartender and ordered a vodka cranberry. As I waited for it, I turned around on my stool and scanned the room. It was a turn-on just to watch everyone—so many women, fine leather hugging their bodies, toys and other assorted devices hanging from belt loops. I was squirming in my seat by the time the bartender returned with my drink, took my money and made change all in one move. I took a long, slow sip as my eyes traveled toward the entryway. I think I stopped breathing for a moment as my eyes zeroed in on the hottest butch I’d seen yet. Dressed in motorcycle wear, with an attitude that radiated across the room, my newest obsession acted like she owned the place. Hell, for all I knew, maybe she did.
I watched every step of her journey as she navigated the maze of furniture and people and said hello to a dozen or more of them, kissing several girls on the cheek as she made her way through the crowd. As she walked past, she surprised me by stopping short and sliding right up to the bar between me and the woman sitting next to me. I didn’t turn. I didn’t blink. I don’t know if I even took a breath. I glanced sideways at her without moving as she looked toward the end of the bar where both bartenders were pouring drinks. She shrugged to herself, and then turned and looked right at me. I swallowed so hard I was convinced she heard me. I looked at her then, and she smiled. I felt a twinge between my thighs. Apparently my body wasn’t as nervous as my brain.
“You here alone?” she asked, looking me up and down.
“Yes,” I said, rather abruptly, from nerves, but it sounded like I had an attitude.
She leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Does your tone mean you don’t like me and I should leave you alone? Or does it mean you’re just nervous, and I should continue? I think you want me to continue, but I’ll give you the benefit of answering.”
I wasn’t sure if I liked her cocky attitude. Oh, who was I kidding? I loved her cocky attitude, but I didn’t know if I wanted her to know that. I took a breath, and then slowly turned toward her. “I was slightly nervous, but I’m feeling more at ease by the minute,” I said, my voice shaking, betraying the false confidence I was trying so hard to convey.
She raised her eyebrow and said, “Are you now? Well, I’ll take that as a sign to continue then.” She leaned in so that her mouth was practically touching my earlobe, and for a moment she didn’t say or do anything. My stomach jumped in anticipation, and finally she asked, “So, are you here alone? Meeting someone? Or are you planning to visit the Room tonight?�
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Ah yes, the Room of Guarantees, or as the regulars call it, the Room. It’s a cluster of rooms actually, all private, paid for by the hour—well, forty-five minutes, to be exact. I think the name was meant to be a joke, originally, but its reputation had lived up to its name; so far it hadn’t yielded a single unsatisfied customer. For as little as a hundred bucks, you could engage in a variety of “therapeutic” acts with a paid professional.
As I tried to formulate a response to her question, I could feel the heat rising in my face. “Well, to be completely honest, I didn’t have any plans set in concrete. But I did bring cash, just in case,” I said, feeling nervous and determined all at the same time.
The raised eyebrow was back; apparently my answer amused her. “Well,” she said, then glanced at her watch. “Oh, hey, I gotta go!”
“Wha—?” I started to ask, hearing that screeching halt sound in my head as my brain tried to process what was happening.
“It’s not you. In fact, I’d like to spend more time with you…”
“Elise,” I offered.
“…Elise. But my shift is about to start, and I have to get ready,” she explained with a devilish grin.
“Oh!” I said with a start. “You…you work in the Room?” My voice squeaked on that last part.
“Yep,” she said, flashing me a cocky smile. “Maybe you’ll set those plans in concrete and come see me tonight, huh? I’d like to see you, and that isn’t a professional come-on; I really mean it. You can ask for me at the desk; they call me Mick.”
I didn’t move or speak for what seemed like an eternity, and then finally gave myself a mental shove and said, “Okay, I’ll give it some thought.”
“You do that,” Mick said, winking at me before she turned to walk away.
I watched her negotiate her way through the crowd, then through the black curtains that separated the Room from the rest of the club. As I downed the remainder of my drink, I considered paying her a visit (no pun intended). There had definitely been chemistry between us, and I believed it when she said it wasn’t a professional come-on, and that she wanted to see me—or maybe I just wanted to believe her. I definitely wanted to see her, but now my options were limited to paying to see her, or waiting after hours in hopes of catching her before she left, or coming here again in the hopes of bumping into her. I didn’t like the odds, so I went with my best bet: a paid visit.
I had never been to the Room before, but I had been intrigued by it since I had learned of its existence. I had peered through the curtains once, during one of my previous visits to the club, so this time, when I parted the curtains and stepped through them, I knew what to expect. After taking a deep breath, I stepped up to the check-in desk and nervously took a form from the stack on display. I didn’t have any particular fantasy in mind, I only knew there was definite chemistry between Mick and myself, and I wanted her. I filled out the form, check-marking what seemed like a million boxes for things I did and didn’t want or like, and my experience level, which of course was “novice” for the most part. Sure, I’d been spanked a few times, and I’d read a ton of books on BDSM, but for all intents and purposes, I was a novice. There was so much I wanted to explore eventually, but tonight, I really just wanted to be controlled.
With my completed form in hand, I stepped up and asked the clerk for the next available slot with Mick. I handed the paper to her and she fed it into a scanner, and then made a few taps on her keyboard while she read the information on the screen. After a few clicks of her mouse she said, “Pretty much whenever you want except for eleven to midnight; that spot’s blocked out.”
I looked at my watch: nine-fifty. “Can I have ten o’clock?”
“Sure, sweetie. That’ll be one hundred dollars for ten o’clock to ten-forty-five,” she said as she started clicking and tapping again. A few seconds later she said, “Okay, Elise,” referring to the form for my name. “Any room preference?”
“No,” I replied, butterflies taking flight in my stomach, “no room preference.”
“Great, then you’re all set,” she said with a smile. “Here’s your receipt and your door tag. Please place the tag on the outside of the door; the receipt is yours to keep. You’ll be in the Mod Room. You can go on back now, the room is ready, and your session will start in about ten minutes.”
“Thank you,” I said, my hand shaking as I took the receipt and the door tag, which simply had OCCUPIED painted on it in pink neon. I walked toward the archway that led to the rooms, showing my door tag to the bouncer, who looked at it and then motioned for me to proceed down the hallway. As I walked, I looked at each door with its artfully painted room name, and finally arrived at the end of the hall. The last room on the left sported a placard with THE MOD ROOM in black and white letters.
I opened the door slowly, peeked inside and then placed the door tag on the outside knob. As I stepped inside, I couldn’t help but notice the décor. Everything was done in black-and-white, retro ’60s style. The bedspread was actually making me dizzy with its swirls and mismatched pillows. It was distracting enough that at first I didn’t notice the eyebolts in the headboard, and in the wall above and on either side of it. I turned to survey the rest of the room and admired the floor to ceiling mirror with a ballerina bar. That could be interesting. Other than that, the room was relatively standard with one upholstered chair, and a small, black-and-white-checkered bathroom.
I glanced at the clock and realized my session was going to start in about three minutes. Since I hadn’t listed any particular fantasy, I realized that I had no idea how this was going to go. But frankly, I didn’t care that much; I just wanted to explore something new and enjoy myself. Not to mention, Mick was hot! Not only did I not want to waste a single minute once she got here, I wanted her to want me. Although I hadn’t planned my night completely, I knew I wanted something to happen, and I had dressed for the occasion. I stripped out of my short skirt and sheer blouse with the plunging neckline, and left only my lingerie and heels on. I walked toward the mirror and gave my reflection the once-over as I straightened the laces of my corset. I had to admit, I looked damn good—sexy, even. I straightened my stockings and was fiddling with my hair when Mick entered the room.
“Yes, you’re hot,” she said, her voice startling me. I turned to greet her but she quickly said, “No, don’t turn around. Stay just like that, facing the mirror. Put your hands on the bar and close your eyes.”
I complied without reservation. It was easy to trust her, I don’t know why. I guess part of it was knowing that she was a professional, employed by the club—not some random stranger who might disappear off the face of the planet after murdering me. Also, the club had a spotless reputation; I’d never heard of anything bad happening here. But most of all, I wanted to trust her. I wanted to give in to her and lose myself in the moment.
With my eyes closed, my other senses became heightened. I could hear her footsteps as she approached the spot where I stood. I could feel how close she was standing even before she touched me. She ran her fingers down my arms, causing goose bumps to appear everywhere on my body. “Keep your eyes closed and concentrate on how my hands feel on your skin,” she whispered. I swallowed hard, gripping the bar in front of me and squeezing my eyes shut even tighter. “You look so beautiful like this,” she said as she swept my hair away from my neck, causing me to shiver. When she started sucking on my neck, I moaned and let go of the bar to reach behind me.
“No, don’t let go of the bar,” she said, in a commanding voice. “If I have to tell you again, I’ll cuff you to it, understand?”
I nodded, placing my hands back on the bar and keeping my eyes closed.
“That’s a good girl, stay just like that,” she said, continuing to lick and kiss her way down my neck and between my shoulder blades. I felt one of her boots slide between my feet and gently nudge them apart. I was so aroused I could feel my juices soaking the crotch of my panties already. Her hands were in my hair, pulling my head back,
keeping my neck exposed. She gave a quick tug on my hair, and I moaned out loud.
“You like that. Good. There’s more where that came from,” she said, pulling my hair sharply to the side as she bit my shoulder. The pain of it was shocking at first, but quickly over-shadowed by sexual arousal. She kept nipping at my neck as her hands reached in and scooped my breasts out of my corset. I felt my nipples instantly harden, and heat flushed my face. Suddenly everything stopped. I wanted to open my eyes, but I felt compelled to obey her directive to keep them shut. I knew that Mick was still standing behind me because I could hear her breathing, but she wasn’t touching me, or saying anything. Even though I couldn’t be sure, I sensed she was staring at my breasts in the mirror. Whether that was from my heightened senses, or my mind going into hyperdrive from the silence and lack of physical contact, I felt more and more self-conscious as the seconds ticked away.
Just when I didn’t think I could stand it anymore, I felt Mick’s fingertips slowly circle around each nipple, carefully avoiding any direct contact with them. It felt wonderful for the first minute or so, but all I wanted was for her to touch them, pinch them, anything. I felt like I was going to scream if she didn’t stop teasing me soon, and I whimpered in frustration. Slowly, slowly, all around, her fingertips kept traveling, and then finally she clamped both nipples between her fingers and squeezed.
“Oh, thank you,” I moaned. Those words surprised me. I didn’t realize how grateful I felt until those words escaped my mouth.
“Open your eyes,” she commanded.
I slowly opened my eyes and looked at both of us in the mirror. The look on my face was pure ecstasy, and I was glad to see that the look on hers was pure lust.
“I want you to watch as I play with you,” she said. I watched in the mirror as she pulled the fabric of my panties aside with one hand and began gently stroking my swollen sex with the other. I continued to hold on to the ballet bar, but slumped against her as I watched her play with me. I was mesmerized by her fingers, the tips wet with my juices. I was starting to feel almost hypnotized when suddenly she surprised me by plunging two fingers deep inside me. I gasped at the suddenness of it, but it felt so good, I began pushing against her, clamping down on her fingers.
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