by Frost, E J
“Emily,” I say to her as we descend the stairs, much more easily than we came up them. “I hope you’re not bothered by the thing with Rachel and Sante.”
She hugs my arm again. “No, sir. Thank you for telling me about it in advance. I think I might have been upset if it had taken me by surprise, but I was prepared for it and you told me there wasn’t anything between you anymore. I could see it in your face, too. You were disappointed in her. I felt bad for her, actually.”
“I trained her,” I explain. “And I trained her better than that. We don’t throw our drama around in front of other people.”
She squeezes my arm like a python. “I’m not a fan of public displays, either, sir. They’re icky. But I really do feel sorry for her. She’s made a bad choice, and I think she’s realized it.”
I chuckle, disentangle my arm and put it around her as we reach the ground floor. “How do you know that, little girl?”
She beams up at me. “Because no one is as awesome as Daddy.”
That should sound ridiculous. Instead, her words sink into my brain like I’ve been waiting to hear them my whole life. My heart pounds and my balls draw up tight. I stop her, draw her close to the wall so we’re not obstructing the hallway and give her a deep, thorough kiss, my hands up under her skirt, gripping that hot, soft ass, while her arms lace around my neck.
When I let her up for air, she’s gone from beaming to dreamy-eyed and quivering. I can smell the faintest hint of gingerbread over the lemon polish of the parquet floor. I love how responsive she is.
“Daddy has not always been awesome,” I admit. “But Daddy is going to do everything he can to be awesome for his little girl.”
She gives me a beatific smile. “That’s all any daddy can do.”
I tap her on the tip of her nose and lead her down into the nightclub.
* * *
The nightclub is decidedly not awesome. It’s too warm, too loud and too crowded. Emily shrinks against me, clutching my hand, before we’re even through the bar into the main floor. I guide her along toward the VIP booths, where I’m sure Rick will have set out his stall.
The VIP booths, two dozen raised booths off the main dance and performance space which don’t hold much more than a semi-circular couch and a low table, aren’t really for VIPs. They’re for guests who want to feel important, and for our house subs to make a little extra money. It’s five hundred to reserve a VIP booth; only the house subs serve in the VIP booths and the minimum tip is a hundred. Throwing a grand at five rounds of drinks is not my idea of a good night.
But I’m right in guessing that it is Rick’s. He’s in the fourth VIP booth to the left of the dance floor. The heavy red curtains are open, so Rick, Daisy and Manny can watch the dance floor, and everyone on the dance floor can see the tit-job Rick is getting from a girl in pink and orange day-glow spandex, who is on her knees under the table. The spandex is currently around her waist as she pumps what must be G-cups up and down Rick’s cock.
“Emily!” Daisy calls over the music and pats the couch by her side. Manny obligingly slides out. I help Emily up the tall step into the booth and she climbs onto the couch next to Daisy. Once she’s seated, I settle next to her and put my arm around her shoulders. Manny retakes his seat on my far side.
He puts his mouth to my ear and says, loudly enough to be heard over the Eighties hip-hop the DJ’s playing, “We might have a problem.”
“What’s up?”
“The girl tit-fucking Rick is on the moon. Wait until you see her eyes. She looks like a fucking bush baby.”
I can’t see the girl because of the table, which I’m fine with, since watching Rick’s purple-headed warrior appear and disappear between those massive tits is not a turn-on for me. I’ll take Manny’s word for it.
Drugs are strictly prohibited in the club. Too much potential for mess, much less bad publicity. But people sneak them in anyway.
“What’s she on?”
“Blow, at a guess. She and Rick were doing tequila shots, too.”
Great. Just great. And I can’t really blame Rick, because it’s not his fault he draws drugged-up wannabes like honey draws flies.
“Did she use here?” I ask Manny.
Manny shakes his head. “She was fucked up when she showed up and pulled her top down.”
“Okay, thanks for the heads up. Let Rick get his rocks off, then we’ll make it an early night.”
“They might be hard to persuade. There’s a cage show at midnight Rick’s been talking up.” Manny nods towards the dance floor. Three cages hang over the mass of dancers already, but they’re empty at present.
I check my watch. Midnight is much too far away. I want to be home, and hopefully deep in Emily, by then.
As though responding to my thought, Emily shifts closer to me. When I glance over, I see that Daisy’s put one white-clawed hand on Emily’s thigh.
I reach across Emily and brush Daisy’s hand away. “Paws off.”
Daisy goes up on one knee. She sticks her face in mine and says, so close I can feel the warmth of her breath on my lips and smell the cinnamon gum she’s chewing, “C’mon, Big Daddy, share your toy. I promise we’ll have fun.”
“Back up and back off,” I tell her, snapping my teeth just short of the tip of her nose. “I don’t share and no one touches Emily but me.”
“Spoil-sport.” She cracks her gum at me, but sits back on the couch. I watch her for a minute to make sure she doesn’t touch Emily again. Give her points, she keeps her hands to herself, and Emily happily goes back to their conversation.
On the other side of the table, Ms. Orange and Pink is giving it her all: squeezing her breasts together with her hands, bobbing up and down furiously while she makes squeaky moans. Daisy rolls her eyes at each one. Without wanting to denigrate Ms. Orange and Pink’s efforts, Rick is looking only mildly interested. Although his cock is hard, his face isn’t flushed and he’s watching the dance floor instead of the show Ms. Orange and Pink is putting on for him.
Finally, he gets bored with the tit-job. He grabs her tufty updo and shoves her face down on his cock. When she squeals and protests, Rick slaps her face with his cock, hard enough to make a noise I can hear over the end of an old Bangles song, before shoving her head down again.
“No fucking finesse,” I hear Daisy say to Emily, who giggles.
Unfortunately, I agree with Daisy. Although there’s nothing wrong with a good cock-slapping, Rick’s doing it purely for his own gratification, not because he has any intention of topping Ms. Orange and Pink. Hitting a girl for anything other than her ultimate pleasure turns my stomach.
“Want to dance, baby doll?” I ask, to escape the ugly.
Emily looks up at me eagerly and nods. I tap Manny, who slides out. As Emily rises, I slide her blazer off her shoulders, unclip her tie, tuck it into the pocket and hand the blazer to Manny. My jacket and waistcoat follow. Much too hot for the dance floor. I roll my sleeves up as I lead Emily out into the press of bodies.
The Peter Shilling remix of “Major Tom” comes on, which is definitely something I can dance to. When I get to a small clear space, I spin Emily around and draw her to me, so her back and ass are pressed against my front. I pull her in tight with one arm across her, while I pluck the buttons of her shirt with the other, until it hangs open and everyone can see her captured nipples. Gorgeous. She’s in good company. Half of the dancers are in some stage of undress.
She grinds back against me and I give her a playful slap on the hip. “Let’s see that naughty little girl,” I growl in her ear. “No rules on the dance-floor. Let it all out, sweetheart.”
She curves her arms back and loops her hands around my neck. Holding on to me for balance, she grinds down my thighs and then back up to the beat. I press my hand to her belly, feeling the roll of her little muscles beneath my palm, and move with her. When I peer at her face, her eyes are nearly closed, just a rim of white showing between the lids. Her lips are parted and I can see the
tip of her tongue between them, clamped between her little white teeth. Sexy baby.
We grind all through the song, with Emily working her ass on my erection in a way that makes me sweat harder than the heat or exertion. I want to fuck her right here, slam my hand between her legs, haul her up on my cock and bang her all over the dance floor. The way she’s moving, she might be up for that. We wouldn’t be the only ones, either.
The song switches over to Dead or Alive’s “You Spin Me Round.” Emily squeals, which I take to mean she likes the song. As long as she keeps working that little round ass on my cock, I’ve got no objection to more dancing. Keeping with the music, I put both hands on her belly, squeezing her tits between my forearms, which elicits more squeals, and grind her around in circles until she’s giggling wildly and I’m dizzy.
We dance on through Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock’s “It Takes Two,” and a Madonna song I don’t recognize but has a beat that pounds with the same insistence as my cock. When Santana’s “Smooth” comes on, which is a song I love to fuck to, I’m beyond seriously considering taking Emily on the dance floor. I’m ready; she’s ready; I start to palm her skirt out of my way.
A flurry of movement in Rick’s booth snatches my attention away from Emily and my demanding erection.
Manny shoots to his feet.
Shit.
Emily’s arms drop away from my neck. “Sir!” she shouts over the music.
“I see it, baby,” I say into her ear. “Lead the way.”
So much for a hot and dirty fuck on the dance floor.
Emily scampers toward the booth, dodging between dancers, leading me by the wrist. When we clear the dance floor, I see what’s brought Manny to his feet.
Ms. Orange and Pink has vomited all over Rick. Looks like she had spaghetti for dinner.
Rick’s on his feet, too, screaming at the girl crumpled at his feet. He’s covered: once-white shirt, now limp dick, soaked pants. It looks like he’s been a victim of a red paint attack by one of those anti-fur activists.
Plus noodles.
“Eww.” Emily stops dragging me forward. “Spaghetti.”
I draw her back a step. “Baby doll, can you do me a favor and go to the bar? Get the attention of Thomas, he’s the bald bartender with the earplugs. Tell him we need clean-up in booth four. Thanks, baby.”
Emily nods and moves away from the spaghetti-scene towards the bar. She buttons up her shirt as she goes, which I didn’t tell her she could do, but is reasonable given the circumstances. I still might discipline her for it later.
For now, I trudge forward to deal with the mess.
Lucy, one of our house subs and a total darling on top of being a blonde bombshell, arrives before I have to get too up-close and personal with the mess. Lucy brings a blanket for Ms. Spaghetti, which I wrap around her shoulders. On her return, Emily offers to take Ms. Spaghetti to the ladies’ room, which galvanizes Daisy to do something other than laugh at Rick. The two women help a sobbing Ms. Spaghetti off to the bathroom while one of the cleaning staff begins mopping up the mess and Lucy offers Rick a pair of sweatpants.
He strips in angry jerks, tearing off his white shirt and tossing it into the cleaner’s waste bucket. He lets Lucy wipe him down with a handful of baby wipes and looks like he’s about to order her to do more when she cleans off his dick.
I shake my head at him. Maybe it’s Emily telling me about her disgust at the vomit-porn she watched, but I’m not having Rick make Lucy suck him off after some other girl’s puked all over him. Rick’s face darkens but he stays silent as he yanks on the sweatpants.
I move over to Manny and pat him on the shoulder. “I think that’s it for the night, don’t you?”
He nods. “I’ll get the car. Meet you outside.”
“If Ms. Spaghetti needs a ride home, I’m going to offer her one. Was Rick choking her?”
Manny nods again. “See you outside.”
I collect Emily’s bag and blazer and my jacket and waistcoat and fold them over my arm since I’m still much too warm to put anything back on.
My phone buzzes against my arm; I fumble it out of my jacket.
It’s a text from Maude. Do you need evac?
That makes me chuckle, despite the grimness of the mess in front of me. It’s under control, I text her back. Lucy deserves a bonus. 500 on my account.
My phone pings as the cleaner finishes. Done, but it should be that big-headed prick paying.
I’ll expense it to him, don’t worry.
Enjoy the rest of your night, reprobate.
You, too, battle-axe.
Emily and Daisy return with a red-eyed but much fresher-smelling Ms. Spaghetti. I ask the girl if she needs a ride but she shakes her head.
“I came in on the train with friends. They’re at the bar, I think. I kind of lost track of them.”
Bridge and tunnel. Figures. “You sure you’re okay to get home?”
She nods tearfully, glancing at Rick, who doesn’t say a word.
“Okay, if you need anything, ask Lucy here.”
The well-trained sub bounces up beside me at the mention of her name. “Absolutely, honey, anything you need. You want to lie down for a minute? I can show you to a room.”
With a last glance at Rick, Ms. Spaghetti nods and lets Lucy lead her away.
I put my arm around Emily and draw her in so I don’t have to yell over the music. “You ready to call it a night?”
She nods and goes up on her toes so she can speak into my ear. “Daisy wants us to go back to Rick’s place for drinks.”
Three horny tops and my baby doll? We wouldn’t be having drinks; we’d be having Emily. She’s a good girl for giving me the head’s up. I might forgive her for buttoning up her shirt for that. I nuzzle her temple. “You want to go?”
She gives me an almost imperceptible head-shake.
Right answer. I give her a squeeze and lift my head from her sweet-smelling hair.
“Manny’s waiting outside with the car,” I say to Rick and Daisy. “Let’s go.”
A muscle in Rick’s jaw jumps. “Daisy wants to see the midnight show.”
Tough. He’s exhausted his welcome at my club, and my patience. “Another time. I think we’ve all had enough fun for one night, right?”
I direct my words more at Daisy than Rick. She takes the unsubtle hint, links elbows with Emily and sets off toward the exit. I move with them to keep my hold on Emily, leaving Rick no choice but to trail along behind us, throwing his jacket over his bare chest.
As we pass the bar, I lift a hand to Thomas to thank him for his assistance. He waves back and winks at Emily. She’s charmed him, too. I rub my hand up and down her back, feeling her softness through her damp shirt. Despite the mess, I’m not sorry we’re cutting the evening short. Fucking on the dance floor seemed like a good idea at the time, but it would have been brief and probably not very satisfying for Emily. I’m ready to find out how many orgasms I can bang out of her, and for that I’d like privacy and a bed.
Maude’s off the desk, possibly preparing for her session with Rachel. I give her replacement the password while he signs out my guests. As we exit to the street, Emily snuggles up to my side. “Your club’s awesome, sir. Did I make a good impression?”
Is she still worried about this being an extended audition? I stroke her back. “You did, baby doll. Very, very good.”
She beams up at me. “I hope you’ll bring me again, sir.”
“Any time you want,” I say sincerely. I’ll bring her back in a heartbeat; much faster than I’ll be inviting Rick back.
* * *
In the car, we resume our former seating, with Daisy, Emily and me on one side and Rick on the other. The reason has changed, though: none of us want to get too close to Rick. Despite Lucy’s efforts, he still has a definite odor clinging to him.
Once we get underway, Rick shakes off his ill-humor and reverts to type. He’s a funny bastard when he wants to be, and is in his element as he tells us a dirty
story involving a French cafe, a nun and a fifteen-inch cucumber that has us all laughing.
But his mood descends again when I decline Daisy’s drinks offer.
“C’mon, man. Don’t kill the night twice.”
I shake my head firmly. I’m not putting Emily in any position where she might be on Rick or Daisy’s menu. Rick looks like he’s going to argue, then throws up his hands and unbuckles his seat belt. I clamp my tongue between my teeth to avoid saying something I’ll regret when it comes time to send him my bill. Which may include dry cleaning, because the scent of regurgitated spaghetti lingers even after he climbs out of the car.
Daisy unstraps herself with a snap of the belt, and leans across Emily to wink at me. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Big Daddy.” Then she kisses Emily on each cheek before she climbs out after Rick.
Emily waves after her.
“It’s ‘knickers in a twist’,” I growl after her. “Pushy Yank.”
Emily giggles. I tap on the glass partition and Manny pulls the car away from the curb.
I gather Emily against me, as much as our respective seatbelts will allow. “Sorry about all that, baby doll.”
“It’s not a problem, sir. I was having a good time dancing.” She gives me one of her shy, sly smiles. “But I’m looking forward to going back to your place even more.”
“You definitely didn’t want to stop for drinks with Rick and Daisy?”
Emily’s smile twists ruefully. “Daisy’s nice, but she really wanted you to share me. That might have made things awkward.”
I nuzzle her temple. “Very. Have you ever been with a woman?”
“No. I was topped by a couple of women when I was with Matthew. Guest Meanie Night, he used to call it. But no sex.”
I chuckle at the name and she grins up at me.
“Did you like being topped by women?”
Emily nods. “I expected them to be gentler, but they weren’t at all. One of them gave me the harshest flogging I’ve ever had. I thought a man would be harsher, because he’d have stronger arms and could hit harder, but she was plenty strong enough, and she wasn’t afraid to hit me in places that really hurt.”