Star of Christmas

by Jayne Rylon

  “Exactly why they’ll love you, honey.” Tommy seemed to grow more excited by the second. “People come here to watch. To sit in the shadows and pretend they’re peeking in on someone’s private life. The best acts are the ones that aren’t a show at all. They’re a gift. The performers share their genuine experiences with the rest of the crowd, who’d kill to be so lucky.”

  I nod as the secret to his success is revealed. “Still…”

  “You’ll love working with Jeremy. He’s new here, but he held positions as a Dom for ten years in London’s best clubs. He’s skilled. Been driving Chloe wild for weeks as they trained.”

  Instead of reassuring me, the news solidifies my objections.

  “I don’t do electro-play with clients I’ve just met. I can’t say I feel different about one of your studs, no matter how adept. I appreciate your time. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m the right woman for the job. I’ll spread the word. I’m sure one of the other ladies will jump at the chance. Thank you.”

  I aim my gratitude at Rick, who nods, accepting my decision gracefully.

  “Wait!”

  I jerk my head toward Tommy, his emphatic plea sharp enough to alarm me.

  “What if I find another dude? One you trust? Pick whoever you like. You’re made for this, Star.”

  “I’m sorry, Tommy.”

  “Look, I didn’t build the best show in the district without an eye for talent. Just this once. Trust me. You wouldn’t have stepped through your window tonight if the idea didn’t interest you. Are you going to walk away from the fantasy that easy?”

  “Tommy.” Rick enfolds my elbow in a steady hold, supporting me as I rise to leave. “That’s enough. Let me walk her back then we’ll figure something out.”

  “You!” Tommy jumps to his feet, his thumbs and forefingers aimed at Rick like twin pistols.

  “What?” Rick stops short, my arm still in his firm yet gentle grasp. “What about me?”

  “The two of you have fucked a million times.”

  “Not quite a million.”

  I arch an eyebrow. The corner of my mouth kicks up at Rick’s hesitation. As if people in the district don’t talk.

  “If you don’t trust me or Jeremy, trust him. Trust Rick.” Tommy scratches his jaw. “He’s been in all the practice sessions. Watched the training. Yeah, yeah, this’ll work.”

  No wonder Rick has visited me frequently in the past couple of weeks, his lust overwhelming and more insistent than usual.

  “What will work?” Rick swings his gaze from me to his boss. I would laugh at the disbelief etched in his strong brow but I fear I might offend him.

  Tommy beams when I nod from behind Rick’s shoulder.

  “Merry Christmas, kid. This one’s on me. Hell, I’ll even pay you double what I paid Jeremy. Suit up. You’re going onstage with Star.”

  “I’m a fucking bodyguard. Not a performer!”

  “You’re a horny bastard, and I love you for it.” Tommy slaps Rick on the shoulder as he rounds his desk, ushering us both along the hall toward the dressing rooms. “Star’s a hooker. I’m desperate. We’re all being flexible.”

  Rick faces me with his mouth hanging open. “You’d let me do this?”

  “I won’t let you.”

  The sparkle in his blue eyes dims.

  “I’ll ask you.” Familiar arousal dampens my thighs for the first time since I entered Triple X. I can’t restrain myself from laying my palms on Rick’s chest as I look up and ask, “Would you share this with me? I’d like to give it a try.”

  “Jesus.” He adjusts his polo shirt, which hugs his toned upper body. The discreet shift can’t obscure his solid erection. “I guess. It’s weird though, I never pictured myself up there. Talk about stage fright.”

  “A definite job hazard.” Tommy winks before chuckling. “I can’t have a limp dick for the big event tomorrow night. How about an audition? An undressed rehearsal in ten minutes. Take Giovanna and Anthony’s slot tonight. If you two can pull it off—if the crowd approves—you’re hired.”

  “You want us to do the whole act? Right now?” Rick’s innocence somehow comforts me, reassuring me I’ve made the right decision.

  “Nah. Save the good shit.” Tommy’s smile spreads. “Go on, have a good time—a straight fuck. However you like. Tomorrow afternoon I’ll have Jeremy work with you on the advanced stuff.”

  “My rate is thirty percent of the admission take both nights.” I prop my hand on my hip, refusing to budge.

  “Show me you’re worth it and I’ll include the bar profits.”

  We shake on the deal. Tommy strolls to the theater entrance, whistling Let it Snow.

  “You realize I’d do this for free, right?” Rick speaks directly to me now.

  “I would have too.” I reach up to kiss his cheek with a loud smack. “But it looks like you’ll be treating your family and friends to fantastic Christmas presents.”

  “I know, right?” He squeezes me in a giant hug. Mmm. “Jeremy has the highest rate of all the dudes in the show.”

  “And I’m cutting you in on my share.” As in porn, women command prices tenfold higher than the men who perform in live sex shows.

  “What?” He gawks at me as if I’m crazy. “No. No way. You’re out the money you would have raked in tonight and tomorrow. Hell, I practically had to make an appointment to see you before.”

  I’d apologized to the huddle of men leaning against the canal railing when I left them hanging, referring them to Mari—whose window faces mine. Their disappointment guaranteed future sales.

  “Through my window, I’m the boss.” I shuffle him toward the dressing room. “This is your world. I’m visiting. Here, we’re equals.”

  “Does that mean you’ll finally tell me your name?” he whispers in my ear as he holds open the door to the darkened space brimming with leather furniture and lush velvet curtains.

  I shake my head in instinctive denial as Tommy’s assistants drag us to opposite corners of the prep area. Their urgent instructions lead me to believe there’s not much time until we have to go on. Better that way, I think. No time to balk—for me or Rick.

  They strip off our clothes, breaking my line of sight. I hear a familiar grunt soon after. The fluffer must be performing her duties, priming Rick’s cock with her hand or mouth. Now it’s my turn to battle the twinge of jealousy surprising the hell out of me.

  Well, I’d hoped for something new. Something different.

  “The last two acts were warm-ups, giving the early crowd some time to down a couple of drinks and unwind. They’re primed. Horny. Waiting for a big finish. That means you two fuck until Rick comes. Tommy’s trying to close the set. The guests should leave, satisfied they got their money’s worth, and make room for the second wave of customers piling up outside.” The friendly attendant coaches me as she fixes my makeup. “There’s lube stashed in the pillowcase all the way on the bottom of the pile.”

  “Not necessary.” We laugh as I fidget, restless, attempting to ease the ache building between my thighs at the thought of so many eyes witnessing me bring Rick fulfillment.

  “No kidding.” She sighs as she finishes applying a thick layer of lip gloss to my blossoming smile. “I’ve tried for almost a year to tempt him into fucking me. No dice. Rick is the only guy who works for Tommy who doesn’t sample the merchandise. Figures, the hottest one of the bunch has to have morals. I told Delilah I’m fluffing tomorrow night. No way is she lucky enough to touch him twice. That bitch.”

  I’m thankful for the twilight of the backstage area, which obscures my smirk. If she knew how many times her crush had sought me out in the middle of the night, I’m sure she wouldn’t have done such a kick-ass job on my styling.

  “It’s time.” A man I swear I’ve serviced once or twice before appears at my side. Another bouncer, I assume. He leads me around cables, props and stagehands—who manage the lights and soundtrack—to the far side of the platform where a circular bed waits. He gestures
for me to climb on, so I comply. “I’d tell you to break a leg but it seems like poor taste. You’re going to destroy them out there.”

  “Thanks.” I hear the retreat of his footsteps. “Where’s Rick?”

  “He’ll be out soon. He needs another minute. Tommy doesn’t like to lose momentum. Kick the act off solo. If our boy’s watching from the sideline, he’ll be ready in a flash. I know I would be.”

  Up to the challenge, I debate how best to tempt Rick to join me in the limelight. I recall our sessions, the uninhibited passion we’ve shared. I’m determined to goad him into hurrying.

  “Do what comes natural, Star.”

  I position myself on the bed with my legs curled beneath me, my hands propped backward on the fuzzy sheet to thrust my breasts forward. I refuse to hide or shy away. The bed lurches a little then slides, rolling out toward the center of the stage, driven by a small motor I hear working underneath.

  Fun.

  A low murmur sweeps through the crowd as I am revealed inch by inch to their hungry stares. The intense spotlight singes my skin. It melts away my chill. I tip my head back and shake out my hair, basking in the glow and the heat on my bare chest. The motion shimmies my breasts, topped with hardened nipples.

  Cheers and whistles float above the low music, which sets the tone for my debut with heavy, bass reverberations. I lower my lids, peeking through the haze toward the vague figures lurking in mock obscurity. The thrill of their existence—distant yet undeniable—propels one of my hands to glide from the luxurious bedding to my moisturized calf.

  I stroke the smooth skin, attempting to mute the outrageous desire materializing in every pore of my being at the thought of becoming their erotic centerpiece. I only succeed in torturing myself. My fingers meander across the landscape of my figure, enjoying the familiar dips and curves along the path, past my hip and across my quivering belly.

  “Lower!” someone shouts.

  The crowd shushes the impatient attendee, though I am glad to oblige. I nibble my bottom lip as my fingers flutter over my nude mound to stroke the damp slit below.

  Power races through my veins. I sense every stare locked on my most minute motions and I can’t stop myself from testing the boundaries. I fall onto the mountain of pillows, my arms flung wide as I savor the decadent plushness. Careful to keep my knees pressed tight together, I prop my feet flat on the mattress. My legs bend in front of me, slightly below chest height.

  I tease the gathering of voyeurs by parting my thighs until a tiny sliver of my pussy is visible. When the air becomes still and quiet enough I imagine I can hear men rustling below their waistbands to cup their cocks. I snap my legs closed once more. Anticipation sizzles through the auditorium, punctuated by a smattering of grudging laughter, frustrated groans and longing sighs.

  Absolute influence is addictive.

  I lick my lips then insert my index finger into my mouth, dampening the tip with my saliva and traces of shiny pink gloss. I swirl the mixture around one nipple while peeking down at my chest to ensure the rosy tip glistens as I intend. Pretty.

  It’s effortless to surrender to instinct, though performing violates the code of conduct I’m accustomed to. Usually I take requests, enact fantasies, embody my clients’ wishes and transform them into reality while divining my own enjoyment from satisfying a patron.

  I move on to the other nipple, treating it to the same attentions.

  When I want.

  For as long as I want.

  As hard as I want. Or not.

  Here, now, I’m free to do as I please, secure in the knowledge my viewers feed off my ecstasy. Their rapture will follow mine tonight.

  I kick my feet, raising them high, flashing my ass and the compressed folds of my pussy. The freedom of my display rushes to my brain. Delirious with indulgence, I giggle like a naughty child.

  Lost in my own delight, the unbreakable hold of strong fingers, which easily surround my ankles, catches me off guard. Rick! My heart races as my legs are yanked in opposite directions, my feet pinned near my shoulders, spread wide before the fascinated crowd.

  Good thing I practice yoga.

  A round of applause—and my earnest moans—encourages Rick to continue. From my perch on the round bed, I cant my head backward to study his form. His erect cock proclaims his lack of performance anxiety. I reach up, my hands locking behind his thick thighs, then tug.

  He doesn’t resist.

  Rick climbs onto the bed, kneeling with one leg on either side of my head. His furred shins trap my arms to the mattress, heightening my surrender. I wouldn’t have imagined relinquishing control would thrill me. It does.

  My muscles liquefy in his hold, waiting for him to signal where he intends to lead us next. He sinks lower. I part my lips to admit his swollen hard-on when it brushes my lips, not all that surprised by his selection.

  I mean, he is a man.

  What shocks me is the earthy tang of his shaft and the salty fluid coating the tip like rich icing. I’ve never touched him without a layer of latex between us—certainly have never tasted him.

  When I freeze, he caresses the inside of my knees. His pets escalate to kneading on my thighs. Still, he doesn’t thrust farther into my willing mouth. Ever the gentleman, he provides time and space for me to object.

  To hell with that. I lunge upward, sucking him so deep my lips bump his sac. Holding him in my throat, I wiggle my tongue along the topside of his shaft until I can lip his balls. His flavor bursts along my taste buds, more refreshing than an after-dinner mint.

  Rick growls.

  He strokes the rippling muscles of my throat before he gathers one of my legs close to his chest, supporting the back of my knee in the crook of his elbow. With a stern tap on my inner thigh, he communicates his orders. I’m to hold the other in a similar fashion, spreading myself for our guests.

  The angle parts the lips of my pussy, leaving my nectarous center exposed.

  Vulnerable.

  Ragged grunts and groans explode from the crowd on random occasion. They remind me of making popcorn. The first premature eruptions occur few and far between, warning of the impending epidemic of ecstasy.

  I can’t wait.

  “I’ve never seen so many guys lose it before the fucking begins.” Rick whispers his encouragement for my ears alone. “You’re gorgeous. One of a kind, Star.”

  He walks the fingertips of his free hand across my tensed abdomen. My hips flex, using the leg in his grasp for leverage. He avoids touching my steaming core.

  Two can play this game.

  I allow my lips to uncurl from my teeth, exposing his veined shaft to the sharp edges of my incisors. His cock makes mini-thrusts into my mouth as he chuckles. “No biting, bad girl.”

  He delivers a series of light slaps to my pussy, detonating an explosion. A shockwave of pleasure zips up my spine. I moan around Rick’s substantial girth. In the darkness, another patron comes, bringing their night to an early end.

  “I’ll give you what you need. Let me torture them first. I want them to see what I’m about to have. I’m the luckiest bastard in this room, Star.” He runs his index and middle fingers through the furrow of my sex, one on each side of my pussy. I try to hump his hand. Straining to grind my clit on the apex of his digits, I can’t quite place him where I like.

  “Soon, love,” he whispers as he splays his hand, opening me wider. The spotlight illuminates every detail of my anatomy for the crowd of onlookers. Rick rims the mouth of my pussy with the tip of one broad finger, driving me insane.

  By degrees, he tests the softness of my engorged tissue—sinking in until my cunt swallows his knuckles—then withdraws completely, slower than I would have believed possible. The steady penetration awakens nerve-endings along my channel I swear I’ve never activated before.

  His thumb strums light and quick over my clit, making my eyes roll in my skull. I shudder in his hold.

  This time when I hear someone’s shout of completion, it startles me. Th
e crowd is disappearing from my awareness as Rick consumes my field of vision. He’s becoming my universe. It’s a place where the pursuit of pleasure is my single objective.

  I fight back, lavishing his cock and balls with generous attention until he trembles in my grasp. My smile spreads across his wrinkled flesh when he admits defeat.

  “One more second and I’ll shoot.” Rick pants. “To hell with Tommy and his show.”

  I release his shaft, unwilling to forsake the chance to have him stretching me, pounding me. He’s a master of raw, untamed fucking. Exactly what I crave tonight.

  With a groan, he settles onto his haunches. He abandons my leg to raise my shoulders, avoiding sitting on me, which I appreciate. No sooner am I propped in front of him, he shifts again. This time, he reclines on the mountain of pillows, drawing me into his lap, my back pressed to his chest.

  We’re beyond flirting now. Beyond control or tact. He levers me into place with one arm while he aims his cock at my dripping pussy. He leans forward to whisper into my hair, “There are condoms in the pillowcase if you’d like me to wear one.”

  I squirm in his restraining hold until his bare tip prods my entrance. I can’t smother the cry escaping my lungs when I settle onto his shaft, his cock drilling deep.

  Sexuality whips around the room. Mine. Rick’s. It oozes from the faceless men and women in the audience.

  Ours.

  Rick puts me on display. He supports my hips, raising and lowering me on his full erection while he slips his knees beneath mine and spreads us both. White noise generated by audience members shedding clothing fills the auditorium. My moans and whimpers layer on top.

  I undulate my pelvis to stroke Rick as fully as possible. In this position, he has far more authority to set our pace. He presents me to the crowd, allowing the ambiguous people to worship my form and the desire we magnify in each other.

  A light sheen of perspiration coats my skin from the fever he lights inside me. I have to have more. Something harder, faster and deeper than this showcase fuck.