I asked the concierge for directions to the restaurant and met Renee, my editor, right on time. If Renee had dressed any hotter she'd have been breathing fire. She wore a shimmering, black, stretch mini-dress that clung to her like paint. The top construction was a bustier complete with lacing in the middle of her back. Straps went over her shoulders and braced her breasts above the top of the bodice. In comparison I felt as conservative as the Queen Mum.
The restaurant was a tiny place, with only eight tables. The service was impeccable and the food was delectable. We had finished our opening course and our first glasses of wine and were onto soup when, at the entrance, there appeared a woman of magnificent beauty. Long-limbed, with straight, satiny, black hair blunt-cut just above her shoulders and bangs straight across at her eyebrows, she was so striking I couldn't avert my gaze. Her oversized, almond-shaped eyes were framed by cheekbones that seemed to wrap under and around the outside of each of them. She wore an impeccably tailored business skirt-suit hemmed just above the knee. Materializing behind her was the man who had held the door for his date. It was Ben.
No wonder he wasn't nervous around me - he dated fashion models! My heart was still plummeting when he said "Hi Jenna, what a nice surprise to see you again. I'd like you to meet Shayna." Then to Shayna, "This is Jenna, the girl I told you about, the one I ran with this morning." A smile forced itself onto Shayna's mouth accompanied by a head nod.
"And this is Renee, my editor at the magazine," I said while screaming to myself Oh my god, he told her about me? Why would he do that?
"Nice to see you again, Shayna, and nice to meet you Ben," Renee said.
"You know each other?" Ben asked.
"Yes, we've met," Renee replied.
After a short pause in which nothing more was said, Ben broke the silence. "I'm sure you have plenty to talk about... and I see our table is waiting."
"Nice to meet you Jenna, and of course Renee," Shayna said in a surprisingly pleasant eastern European lilt and accent. As they moved to their table ten feet away, Renee with a hand covering the side of her face and an eyebrow raised made me think she could read my thoughts.
"Never mind why he told her about you, why you didn't tell me about him?" she whispered and smiled.
I answered with an I-don't-know face and a shrug.
Our dinner conversation was mostly Renee filling me in on the idiosyncrasies of my job at the magazine and the things she would be expecting of me in my comportment inside and outside of the office. She also told me that life would no doubt be fun for me here in Prague, and to make the very best of it. Along with all that came the stern warning that I "may never, never miss a deadline." If we talked of more than that I didn't get it all, because my attention was repeatedly diverted to Ben and Shayna. I almost constantly searched for signs of intimacy between them or anything that might offer an insight into their relationship. Nothing did.
Following dinner and after saying good night to Ben and Shayna, Renee and I left for our next stop, the Karlovy Lazne Dance Club. When the cab dropped us off, I recognized the building Ben pointed out to me on our morning run – the discotheque with four floors. It was Friday night and there was a long line to get in. There was no line in a short rope aisle with a small blue plastic sign that was engraved with a stylized rose.
The bouncers at the door smiled at us, said "Hello, Renee" together, and then "Hello" to me.
"Hans and Joseph, meet Jenna, the new girl at the magazine," Renee introduced me.
"Nice to meet you Jenna," Hans said in a heavy accent of clipped English. His muscles rippled under his tight black t-shirt. I almost laughed out loud thinking of that old TV skit of Hans and Franz.
Joseph chimed in with a similar accent, "Whenever you come Jenna, whether with the Queen Bee here or not, just come by the sign of the rose."
"Thanks," I said, as we entered through the door Hans held open for us, "Nice meeting you both."
Inside, the place was thronging with 20, 30 and 40 year olds dancing to techno-beat dance music being spun by a DJ high up on the back left wall. There were screens on the upper parts of the walls on two sides of the cavernous room. Separated by a high glass half-wall just to our right as we walked in was an elevated section, providing access to what had to be the longest bar I'd ever seen. It continued along the entire right side wall to the back wall. There were also people, mostly girls, dancing just on the bar side of the glass wall. Looking up, you couldn't help but see their thongs under their short skirts.
Renee pulled me through a number of dancers close to the centre of the floor and started dancing with me. The way dancers moved here was a bit different than in New York, but not much, and it didn't take me long to give myself up to the music. It didn't take long for guys to be dancing around us either, like bees circling in on flowers. Renee was an unabashed flirt.
As Renee danced with a guy, she would play up to him, and at some point turn her back to him and turn her head and invitingly glance at him over her shoulder. She'd bend her knees into a little stoop and arch her back a couple of times sexily, offering her tight little butt. If the guy didn't have his crotch up against her by the second stoop, she would turn around and continue dancing with a girlish insouciance.
If the guy moved in, joining her rhythm of bumping and grinding, she would push her butt into him and even reach back with a hand on the side of his thigh. His hands would roam up and down her body. They would dance dirty like that for a little while before she would turn around again. Almost involuntarily, each time she moved away, I would glance down to see if she had gotten a 'rise' out of the boy, and each time it was plain that she indeed had. Renee would sometimes then move in on them and wrap herself into them, with one leg tight between theirs.Being a natural flirt myself, I barely missed a beat before following Renee's lead. Drinks were passed to us, but Renee waved them off and shook her head at me. As time went on I got emboldened in my dancing, and I didn't need to glance down at my own partners to tell if I was getting a 'rise' out of them.
It was giddily intoxicating to feel their hardening members rubbing up against my ass. A couple of guys grabbed my hips pretty tight and pulled me in close. I twisted free almost immediately, kept dancing, smiled real big and sexy and tick-tocked my index finger in front of their faces. One of those boys, actually a rather small, wiry compact guy, pressed what felt like a tree limb against me.
After a couple more songs, Renee grabbed me and we headed toward the water closet. Along the way she warned against ever drinking anything handed to me. "You could end up a slave hooker in Bangkok."
We stopped at one of the bars and Renee bought us each something refreshing, potent and familiar: Red Bull and vodka. Then we wound through the crowd to a stairway and we ascended to the next level.
This level was driven by hip-hop, and driven hard. The basic arrangement of the place was similar to the first level, but the look and feel of the decor was so completely dissimilar as to be a different place. Red Bull and vodkas finished, Renee and I were in the thick of it all over again. The bees came buzzing. By the second song I was sandwiched between two good-looking guys, one an almost albino white blonde and the other chocolate brown. Both were gorgeous. The tall white guy had sculpted facial features that reflected the well-chiselled torso evident beneath his tight shirt. He had short spiky hair. The black guy was stockier, shorter and thicker, with a smooth-shaved head. I cold feel both of their cocks semi-hard against me, one in front against my hip and belly, and the other, the brown one, behind me. I turned up the sex ooze a little. All thoughts of Ben having been dashed on the shores of Shayna, I decided to set these boys on fire. By the time the DJ blended the song into the next, I could feel their full shanks against me. Their hands were all over me. I felt so naughty, sexier than ever before in my life. I was wet, so wet I was soaking the patch of my thong. Running on the verge of losing all control, I was ready to take either one of them back to my room right then. I knew they wanted me, their desire was already sea
ring my skin. I had never been with anyone like either of these guys. The idea of the man of marble was exciting because he was so solid and raw looking, but then this was the best looking black man I had ever seen. I had never been with a black guy. When he reached one arm across my abdomen, his hand pushed high up under my breast while his other pushed up my micro skirt and cupped my bare ass, and said, "You're coming with me, gorgeous," the decision was made. I thought he would carry me away.
I leaned into him and closed my eyes. Suddenly a strong grip on my arm startled me. Other hands withdrew and I shakily centred my own feet under me. "Hello chaps," Renee said, as she was pushing me out from between them.
"Hello Renee," they chimed together in singsong voices of different accents.
"I see you've met Jenna," she said sweetly.
"Hello Jenna," they said together again.
"You are one hot dancer, Jenna," the black guy complimented me.
"Jenna's one of my girls at work, and if you chaps ever do anything besides dance with Jenna, I warn you, you will be using strap-ons for the rest of your lives." This was said in an affectedly sweet tone of voice that was so chilling as to carry the weight of a significant threat.
Renee kept pushing me beyond them and we were on our way to the next level. "Those two are criminal predators," she said. "They are gay, hardcore sadists and very mean. They take a girl home and use her as a plaything. The brutality gets them all hopped up. After that it's demonized sex with each other. It's a night you would never forget no matter how hard you tried."
Minutes later we were on the next higher floor. This too was like a whole different club, featuring 70's disco revival music. There were lots of disco balls and lit floor panels. We finished another round of Red Bull and vodkas under a large screen onto which images from Saturday Night Fever and other disco icons were projected, and then wended our way into the dancing crowd to the familiar beat of "Staying Alive."
A bit less carefree after the encounter with the gay sadists, I was making an effort to keep the "sex ooze" under control. The dance crowd on this floor was a broader mix of ages and a bit less wild and sexually aggressive than the hip-hop floor. People were dancing with no one in particular, just kind of cross dancing with one partner for a few moments before turning and dancing with someone else. A couple of guys sidled up, turning from me to Renee or Renee to me, but when they didn't get the kind of responses they were looking for, they moved on.
One guy eventually focused in on me for a few songs and even took hold of my hands as we danced. Toward the end of Donna Summer's "Hot Stuff," he twirled me and as I went around I caught a glimpse of Ben standing almost right behind me. When I turned around to look again he was smiling with that big grin at me while dancing with Shayna.
The next thing I knew Shayna and Ben were dancing within our group. Shayna was no longer in her business suit but had changed into a classy black party dress.
I was in envy of her sophisticated beauty.
Ben was no John Travolta, but he wasn't one of those goofy dancers either. Judging from my early morning first impression, this was something of a surprise and relief. Shayna danced rather stiffly, as if she were afraid something might break. She still looked good, but not as sexy as I expected. That was before Renee came up behind her and put her arms around her and said something into her ear that got Shayna to smile, bend her legs a little more and move more with the music.
When Summer's "Last Dance" came on, it was a real change of pace at first, and because I was standing next to Ben he took me into his arms to dance the first slow part of the song, holding me close. At once I knew he was a good dancer. Every part of him telegraphed our next move with a sureness that made me giddy. His shoulders, his hips, his thighs, his hand that held mine and especially his other hand pressing into the small of my back all provided a chorus of tiny signals that made following his lead automatic. I had never felt so much like one with a dance partner before.
When the song broke into the faster tempo, he squeezed his hand firmly into the small of my back to let me know he was keeping me close. We moved quicker, in a way that I couldn't have imagined. My feet were moving between his and his between mine. There was not even a hint of a trip-up in spite of the quickness of our steps. The music, the rotating reflected disco-ball lights, my jet lag, the vodka and Ben's sure touch all combined to make my head swirl. I felt magically caressed wherever his body touched mine. The caress was gentle and sensual as we glided through a series of complicated movements flawlessly.
He was in complete command of me. I would lean into the turns when his movements told me they were coming. I would roll my hips in unison with his. I would arch my back away from him when I sensed he wanted me to and return into him fully at exactly the right time. I let myself go for him and with him, and I finally experienced dancing on air. The only words spoken were "I love how you move," whispered just once into my ear. I was floating deliriously in the arms of this handsome Viking.
When "Last Dance" gave way to "Bad Girls," Ben released his grip and took me by the hands for a little jitterbug style dancing before spinning me free to dance as I had when I first saw him. I glanced over at Renee who, still dancing with Shayna, smiled back at me with an approving nod. Shayna smiled at me too.
My world was spinning off axis with confusion. Why would Ben's date be smiling at me? Or even Renee for that matter? The sensuality of the dance with Ben was so overwhelming that only as it dissipated did I realized there was very little sexuality involved. As new and exciting as the sensations of dancing with Ben were for me, and even with his liking "the way I move," I could not tell if I was exciting him. Even pressed up against him I could feel no hardening of his cock.
Watching Ben dance with Renee and Shayna, I realized he wasn't "on the make."
He and Shayna were obviously happy with each other and comfortable together. If he has only been in Prague a week, how could they be so close already?
I finally gave up on my growing infatuation with Ben and turned my dancing to some of the other guys that had worked their way into my vicinity. Before long I was dancing once again with the reckless sexual abandon I had earlier in the night. Almost, anyway; I was unable to clear Ben completely from my mind. Even after a few dances with a cute Austrian boy about my age, who wound his arms around me and put his hands on my hips, my sides and high on my stomach up under my breasts, I would wonder about Ben. Even after I could feel the firm cock of the Austrian pressing against me when we got close, I kept glancing over at Ben. Each time I did, I found him looking at me.
Most of the time Ben would meet my glance with a smile so big it would disarm any ability to be coy and caused me to look back and smile in spite of myself. It was goofy. What was it about this guy that was so beguiling? I asked myself.
I became determined to not go home alone and lost track of Ben, Shayna and Renee as I turned up the heat on the Austrian boy for the next couple of songs. He was ready and needy. I was just thinking about how I might teach him a few things, when Renee put a hand on my shoulder to hold me still. "I'm leaving," she said into my ear. "Shayna has a car, only a little two-seater, and offered to drive me. Ben agreed to see you back to the hotel. OK?"
I looked in the direction of Renee's head tip that accompanied this directive to see Ben and Shayna standing off to the side of the dance floor. Ben gestured a timid wave: something reminiscent of what Clark-fucking-Kent might do.
I looked at the Austrian boy who had also stopped dancing and taken hold of my hand possessively. I looked over at Ben, and back to the Austrian. "Enigmatic Ben or a sure thing?" I asked myself but the answer was already in my head.
Using his grip to pull myself into the Austrian, I kissed him full open on the lips as I took one stroke up and one stroke down the front of his pants over his firm bulge. "Good night, sweet prince. Thanks for the dance. I'll look for you next time." I walked off with Renee without looking back and continued right on past Ben and Shayna without stopping. I fel
t bad for the Austrian boy.
Shayna's car was brought to the club by the valet. It was tiny! It was called a SMART car. It was like a bubble on wheels. Double cheek kisses passed all around before she and Renee got in and drove off.
"Cab or walk?" Ben asked. "There's a moon."
"It's three in the morning!" I said. "And I've been dancing in these shoes for hours." Ben looked down as I wagged the front of my left high-heeled shoe.
Ben pressed something into the doorman's hand and said "The Kempinski, please." The doorman whistled for a cab.
It was a short cab ride to the hotel. Ben was quiet and gentlemanly. "You must be dying from the travelling and first day excitement," was all that he said.
"Uh huh," was the only thing he got out of me as I laid my head against the seatback and closed my eyes.
In front of the Kempinski, Ben helped me out of the cab and with his arm around my waist walked me through the small lobby into the lift. My head was on his shoulder.
In front of the doors to our rooms, I was digging for the key in my clutch purse. Ben stood in front of me without moving. Before finding my key I became aware of his focus on me, stopped my search and looked up at him. He placed a hand gently on each side of my face and held me still. Looking straight into my eyes he said, "How wonderful that our paths kept crossing today, Jenna. You are a magnificent girl. You will do well in Prague." He then kissed me on my mouth, furtively, gently.
Careful not to reveal my growing hunger for him, I returned his kiss just as cautiously.
"Think I'll skip my morning run," he said with that goofy grin of his, "perhaps I will see you at breakfast?"
"I'll knock when I go downstairs," I said and comically sampled my grandfather's knock on my door as a kid, "Shave and a haircut...two bits." Bump, bump ba-bum bump...Bump-BUMP!
Mega Huge Collection of Rougher Daddies Page 35