We walk in, hand in hand. It’s our second time here, and our rules have changed since the last time. The first experience was simply watching, and playing with each other. This time, we get to explore, on our own. Coming back home at the end of the night together, ready to discuss our experiences as we get settled into bed.
The rules are simple, be safe, which is easy in a club like this. I dressed him tonight, and he dressed me. A tight red dress, dipping down far past my cleavage. And my black stilettos, with a skinny heel. Not fun to walk in, but tonight they shouldn’t be on long.
As we enter, the host offers us some champagne and checks our bags and coats. This sex club, probably like all clubs, is strictly no phones. We walk through the heavy velvet curtain and enter the lounge area. There’s a smell of smoked rosemary, no doubt part of the special cocktail for tonight’s party. We find a spot on the couch, the leather is cold on my thighs, and I can feel my nipples getting hard.
One of the servers comes by. A lace mask is tied to her face, one that matches her one-piece perfectly. The lace is a transparent barrier between my eyes and her skin. She asks us for our next drink order and walks away, without any rush. I look at my partner’s pants and see them getting tighter around his crotch.
We watch as couples and singles come by, some going straight to the room they want to be in, some going to the public play beds, some sitting and flirting with those who catch their eye. My partner gets lost in a woman’s gaze, who taps the olive out of her martini and pulls it into her mouth, slowly. I assure him that he should go join her, and he kisses me goodbye. I take one last sip of my whisky sour, the last bit of ice slips down my throat. I am ready.
I walk down the hall to find the light bondage bed. Around it are sheer curtains, enough to be private, but allow anyone else to watch our movements from afar. Inside the curtains, I am alone. My dress slides off and falls to the floor, I step out of it while also sliding off my shoes. Now, only a bralette and black thong cover my body. I sit on the bed and wait. A man shows up.
“Can I come play?”
His voice is smooth, and it feels like he’s whispering. I can’t see his face through the curtains, but his hand is up and leaves a shadow. I go to touch it.
“I would love that.” We then share our boundaries and desires. He asks me to get fully naked and press my hard nipples against the curtain so he can feel. I abide. He brushes the back of his fingers against my breasts.
He hands me a mask through the slit in the curtains and tells me to put it on and get on the bed. I take it from him, I want to linger on his hands, pull him in, but I don’t. Instead, I lay flat on the bed, already feeling myself getting wet.
“Good girl.” His words run through my body. I can’t see him, but I can feel his breath along my neck. The silk mask is almost weightless against my face. I wonder if it’s still tied and in place. He isn’t going to touch me yet; this, we already discussed. He wants me to deserve it, to earn it. I don’t know who he is, but I trust him with every fiber inside of me.
We all use fake names here, aliases. Tonight, mine is Honey. I want him to get his hands sticky with me, to lick them up and have the sweetness lingering on his lips. Tonight, his is August.
“Why August?”
“I want to be your hot summer night, I want you to stay awake past your bedtime, I want you to dream of me before I come and dream of me after you leave.”
Everything is poetry to him. And he’s been here before. We all have. But there’s something about him that relieves me of reality. A light tickle runs down my body, covering every inch of me, slowly. I shift as he moves along the bed, following the direction of the tickle. He smells of vanilla, it’s sweet, and it lingers.
“Can I tie your legs?”
I nod, the words are having trouble getting out, but a nod is all he needs. It’s the first time I feel him touch me as he pulls my legs apart and wraps the silk around my ankles. He is delicate but firm, fuck I want him so bad.
There’s music playing in the background, a similar deep house beat that played the first time we came here. I don’t know what room he ended up in, and he barely stays in my mind long enough to wonder. But there will be plenty to discuss later at home. Or will this be a show-and-tell kind of night? I think yes.
My train of thought is interrupted by the bed shifting, I can feel the heat of his body above me, hovering as he kneels between my open legs. He’s getting closer to me, I lick my lips, inviting him to kiss me at any time. I realize that my arms are still free, and I lift them up to try to feel him. He pulls them in and allows me to comb them through his hair and down his neck. I want to grab him, to pull him close, but not yet. One hand explores his lips and gets wet as he licks and sucks on it. Fuck. I want to feel more, but my arms are guided down to the bed again. That’s all I get, for now.
“Show me you need me.”
How? How do I show him that everything inside of me is pulling me towards him? That the gravity of this mask feels heavy now, and all I want is for him to add to the weight by lying on top of me?
He grabs my hand again and guides it down to where my legs spread. I know how to show him. I play with the wetness, rolling it inside of me, spreading myself further apart. Suddenly, it's more than just me there. I lift myself up to sit up, and I grab him. Finally, feeling his lips against mine, his tongue along my neck, his fingers inside of me as he moves down my body, wrapping his arms around my legs.
“You deserve this.”
