The Freyja Club

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter rounds out the FREYJA CLUB narrative at an even dozen. When I started this project, I had no idea that it would mushroom the way it has. In addition to this series, it spawned a companion group of stories I call OTHER VOICES which develop some of the main characters in greater detail and use them to illustrate aspects of the club that would be difficult to do from a single perspective. I'm indebted to those readers who have rated these efforts highly, but also to those who raised legitimate criticisms. To the trolls, well you can stick it up your ass.

I have no idea where this is leading, but I would welcome your suggestions. With your interest, the FREYJA CLUB grows in depth and complexity in every new chapter, but the list of unanswered questions about this unique entity remains long and mysterious.

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As usual, my mental alarm clock went off just before seven in the morning. For over twenty-five years, my day had usually started with a brisk five-mile run, and my body was just reminding me of the routine. However, this morning, it should have been aware of the warm soft skin pressing against me. Jennifer stirred but didn't awaken when I slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom for early morning relief.

While I admit to a certain compulsiveness about my morning run, I'm not that stupid.

There was a beautiful naked woman in my bed, who I saw far less often than I would like, and she was sleeping with the covers thrown back and her perfect breasts sagging delightfully across her chest.

Jennifer did notice when I slipped back and nestled against her warm body. Sleepily, she murmured, "Back already." I reached out and embraced her while admitting that I hadn't gone. "Hmmm," she said, her eyes still closed, "Moses parted the Red Sea and I kept you from your morning run. Two goddamn miracles if you ask me." And then she slipped back to sleep. I chuckled and thought to myself, It's always nice to start the day with a laugh.

Jennifer and I had had a steamy four-year affair that had ended when our respective travel schedules began to work against us, but she had magically re-entered my life when she sponsored me for membership in the Freyja Club. Though she lived in Connecticut with her husband Steve, a Wall Street lawyer, she had come to Washington to resolve a tariff dispute, and now we were together again, if just for two days.

The previous evening had been eventful. It was Jennifer's first visit to the Washington Freyja Club and she had been talked into participating in the nightly blowjob competition with my friends Nancy and Wendy. She had taken three loads in her mouth during the event and later that night she rode me to a mind-blowing orgasm in her hotel room, from which I was still recovering.

"Mmmm, you feel nice," Jen murmured as she awoke a second time, and as her hand stroked through the hair on my chest, she sleepely asked, "Did we make love last night?"

"We did," I affirmed. Jen snuggled closer, and said, "Good," and promptly fell back asleep. I kissed the top of her head and did the same.

At the unheard hour (for me) of ten a.m. we finally awoke and got up. We both needed a shower and, of course, we took it together. It wasn't the first time by a long shot, and I was reminded of all the times in the past when we had used the excuse of a shower to just continue our sexual exploration of each other's bodies. When we emerged thirty minutes later, I can assure you that Jennifer's tits and pussy and my cock were, by far, our cleanest parts. While Jen dried her hair, I got dressed and found yesterday's copy of USAToday and finished the crossword before Jen was done.

When she walked back into the bedroom, I couldn't help but marvel at her wonderfully female body, and while I had literally seen her naked hundreds of times, she excited my imagination more than any woman I'd ever met. Jen fished in her suitcase and pulled out a pair of silk panties, and held them up for a moment. I gathered that she was considering the question of whether she should slip them on or go 'commando.' She glanced over her shoulder to see if I harbored an opinion, but I just shrugged my shoulders, and she smiled and pulled them up her smooth legs.

Jen's flight back to La Guardia wasn't scheduled until tomorrow morning, and she had planned that we would have all of Saturday together. Neither of us had spoken about what we'd do, so I walked her to a small restaurant a couple of blocks away, and over coffee, we talked about how to spend this precious time which, 'weatherwise,' was turning out to be a gorgeous day.

While Jennifer had been to Washington a few times, it had always been for business. She hadn't seen any of the sights for which the city is famous, so I ran down my list of favorites. Jen said she had always wanted to see Mt. Vernon. I hadn't been there in years, so that's where we decided to go.

Perched on a grassy hill overlooking a wide bend in the Potomac River, the 11,000 sq. ft. white mansion makes an imposing picture. We got there about lunchtime and took the guided tour of the building and grounds which had been beautifully maintained, and in some cases, restored.

Since Mt. Vernon had been a working plantation during Washington's time, we were told about many of the people who lived there including some of Washington's slaves. We walked the grounds and took a carriage ride. Near the end of the visit, we found two chairs and sat on the porch of the mansion and looked at the river. I had enjoyed the day with Jen and I think we both saw sides of each other that we rarely had the opportunity to witness. Jen discovered that I was a 'history nut' and I found out about her interest in architecture and decor. We held hands and occasionally stopped and kissed. It was nice just to be together.

The grounds closed at five, so we wound our way back to Georgetown via the River Road. On the way, Jen seemed to want to reminisce. "Do you remember how we met?" she asked.

Of course, I remembered. It was on a United flight from Dallas to Los Angeles. Jen was seated by the window in first class when I slipped into the aisle seat next to her. We immediately found lots of things to talk about and spent the entire flight engaged in conversation. It seemed to me, and confirmed by Jen, later that evening, that there was an immediate connection or spark between the two of us. When we discovered that we were staying in hotels less than a quarter of a mile apart, Jen invited me to dinner and later invited me to bed. Jen laughed, and told me two things about that first meeting that I hadn't known.

The first was that she had only recently gotten the job of VP and head buyer for a major clothing retailer and had just finished conducting some extensive training for her staff in the art of extracting information from people without them being aware of the extent of their disclosures. She had been taught by her husband, Steve, who used the techniques in his law practice.

Jen explained that she was proud of her facility, and it was the major reason she'd been hired, but she had been surprised when she realized that the very same technique that she'd spent the last whole week training her people to use, was being employed on her, on that flight to Los Angeles, by me!

The second new piece of information was that she already had a 'date' for that evening, but that she broke it to have dinner with me. I never knew that, so I asked, "Ever sorry about that?" Jen leaned over and kissed me on the side of my face. "Never."

Rather than drive directly back to the Freyja Club, I told Jen that I wanted to take her to dinner someplace else, and I chose the Old Ebbitt Grille on 15th Street. The restaurant was right out of the 1890's with rich paneling and cut glass everywhere. Jen was aware of my interest in the Victorian Period, so she wasn't surprised by my choice.

We were seated in a relatively private alcove and we ordered drinks; a vodka tonic for me and a 'sex on the beach' for her. Jen looked around and said, "This place is gorgeous." I said that, by reputation, more 'deals' have been consummated here than by anywhere else in the city. Jen squeezed my hand and looked at me in the adoring way that every man would wish. Her gaze was only broken by the arrival of our drinks.

Over dinner, Jen occasionally would look up and mention that she just saw someone she'd seen on TV. I laughed at her comments, because as far as I was concerned, anyone she saw on TV from this city was most likely an 'idiot.' Fortunately, little of our conversation centered on my low esteem for Washington and most of its political inhabitants. Rather, the discussion took a new and puzzling tack.

The first occurred when Jen asked if I had any business trips planned, and if so, where and when? These were exactly the questions we often asked each other during our four-year affair, as we would try to synch our respective trips in such a way that they coincided. Our affair had ended out of frustration when, for a time, we couldn't seem to make anything work. Was Jen now considering a reset on that issue, and if so, how did I feel about that?

I was more than enjoying my time in her company, and more of Jennifer was certainly preferable to less, but I was feeling the same about Karen. They were two very different personalities. Jen was outwardly sexier and more adventurous, but both were absolute cum-sluts in the bedroom. If Jen and I restarted our affair, along with my trips to the Freyja Club, I feared that I would be biting off way more than I could chew.

Her second revelation was that Steve had told her to invite me up for a weekend. Though I had met Steve on three separate occasions, and had an extended dinner with him and Jen on two, I wasn't sure how I'd handle an entire weekend. He and I were the same age but he was an inch taller and maybe twenty pounds heavier than my six feet and 185 pounds. We had seemed to hit it off okay, but I think it's understandable that I would be wary of too close a relationship with the husband of the woman that I was fucking.

Despite my misgivings, I mentioned that I would be attending an International Business Symposium in London in the Spring, and Jen made a note of the dates. I had considered inviting Karen, but we'd see. On the other matter, I said that I needed to check my calendar and that I'd get back to her. Jen smiled, and I thought she was pleased with my responses.

Understandably, it wasn't long before we were talking about the club. Jen commented about the differences and similarities she'd noticed. Firstly, the New York Club was grander, with more of the Victorian feel, and unlike any other club that she or I had visited, the female staff weren't completely naked. In New York, they wore lacy thigh high dark gray stockings, with black and red garter belts and red shoes. I admitted that I liked that better. I opined that I thought the garters and stockings created a frame around a woman's pussy that I thought was more erotic than just bare skin. Jen reminded me of our trip to Burlington, Vermont, when she'd modeled a half dozen garters and corsets for exactly that reason. I did remember, and when I felt my penis awaken and firm, I knew that it remembered too.

I mentioned that I had been curious about the club from a business perspective, and I shared with her my calculations about how many people they employed, how I thought they financed their operations, and importantly, my theory on how they had been able to maintain anonymity in an increasingly transparent world. Jen seemed fascinated, and admitted that she had thought about some of those things, but had never tried to sort it all out. Then she smiled and said, "But, that's the kind of thing you do for a living, isn't it? Figuring out what makes companies tick?" I nodded. Indeed it was.

Then she asked a question that I had myself. "The Washington club is in an eight story building. I know the club itself takes three of those floors and the hotel is on the top one. What are the other four floors? I didn't see any signage for other firms." I admitted that I didn't know. I thought the Freyja Club owned the entire building, but it would have been out of character for them to jeopardize their precious secrecy for a few extra dollars of rent. As Jen had noted, the club was on floors one, two and three and I knew the kitchen, the tap room, food pantries and refrigerators plus the utilities were in the basement. So Jen was right, and I mentally added floors four, five, six, and seven to my now, very long, mystery list.

We had entered the Old Ebbitt Grille around six and we didn't leave until almost nine. I left a huge tip for the waitress to compensate her for hogging her table and we returned to the club. As I parked the car, we faced a dilemma. Go back to our room, or go to the club? I was okay with either, but Jen ended up making the decision. She wanted to go back to the club and find more people who knew me. When I asked if she didn't have enough 'blackmail' material on me already, she just punched me in the shoulder.

We did go to the room briefly, and Jen did something with her hair, freshened her makeup and lipstick and changed her clothes. Innocently, I asked her why it was necessary to change into clothes that she would be taking off again five minutes later? Jen just regarded me as the Neanderthal that I am, and shook her head at such a stupid question.

We walked back through the parking garage to the club entrance, and a few minutes later a beautifully naked, Mrs. Jennifer Logan was holding my arm walking through the Freyja Club. Initially, I didn't see anyone I knew, but then I heard my name called from one of the sofas near the bar, and when I looked, I was surprised to see Susan. It had been months since we had a memorable night together, and I hadn't seen her since. I walked Jen over and introduced her to Susan, and she, in turn, introduced us to Alma.

I knew that the two women lived together and had a lesbian relationship that went back many years, and I remembered telling Jen about my liaison with Susan and her need to 'scratch an itch,' so I thought no further elaboration on that was necessary, particularly in front of Alma.

I had never met Alma before and only knew her by reputation. She was considered the wilder and more adventurous of the pair and frequented the club more often than Susan. After Jen and I sat down on the facing sofa, I learned that the reason for that was because Susan had been traveling pretty extensively since she and I had been together.

Susan owned one of the largest commercial real estate brokerages in the area, but with the recent growth of the Federal government, she'd discovered that there was a demand for office, warehouse and residential space in the city from foreign investors. She'd just come back from an extensive Asian trip where she was cultivating some of those foreign clients.

We spent some time talking about Susan's new business venture, but while our interest was real, I noticed that Alma was regarding Jen with more than just curiosity. Alma was about average in height and weight and she had a nice rack that hung from her chest with pretty pink nipples that extended in hard nubs. With her short blonde hair that she wore like a pixie, she reminded me of Meg Ryan, a rising Hollywood actress.

Corey came over and took our drink order and then the conversation turned to Jen. The ladies were anxious to hear about the New York club, and when they heard about the staff dressed in stockings, they agreed that it was more erotic. I could see the seed being planted, that I expected in a few months would sprout and become an issue for Ned, the club's Executive Director.

At one point, Susan excused herself to go to the bathroom and as ladies often do, Jen offered to accompany her, which left me alone with Alma. "So you're the guy that Susan picked out." Alma said.

Since it had been a topic of conversation around the club, I assumed that our 'get together' had gotten back to Alma, and I saw no reason to be coy with her. "I am, but I think that's what this club is for." Alma laughed and agreed, "It is." then she added, "Some of my friends here regard you pretty highly, why do you think that is?"

"I have no idea, but I hope it's because they regard me as respectful and non-judgemental, but perhaps it's just my witty sense of humor."

"You're different," Alma offered, but before I had a chance to ask her what she meant, Jen and Susan rejoined us. Susan and Alma were headed to the 'pussy eating' event and Jen and I were invited to tag along, but this time we declined. Alma looked at Jennifer, with real disappointment in her eyes and said, "Maybe later then."

"Alma wants your face between her legs," I said looking at Jen. "Hummm, You think that's news," she laughed, "Susan just told me that she wants your dick in her box again. Apparently you made a good impression last time."

"You taught me everything I know," I offered. Jen just rolled her eyes at that, then burst out laughing.

I had no desire to postpone things further, the sheer eroticism of being not only in club with over a dozen very naked women within twenty feet of me, and the most dazzling standing within arms reach was too much, my libedo was pegged in the red. I pulled Jen close and kissed her savagely on her mouth. If that didn't send the message, the sweep of her hand across the front of my pants certainly did. She moaned a soft "Oh... oh my."

I had originally planned to just take Jen back to the hotel room, but the tension in my groin, and the thought that she'd have to dress to get there, spurred me to consider another option. I took Jen's arm and headed to the Board. By just the way I was purposefully walking in her direction with Jen in tow, was all the information that Paula needed. The key to suite seventeen was in her hand before I could even open my mouth. When Jen noticed Paula's correct assessment, she mouthed a "thank you" and blew her a kiss. Since Paula was already smiling her attempt to smile even more was futile.

Jen wasted no time either. As soon as I opened the door to the suite, she pulled down the covers on the bed, and dialed up the music. Still clothed, I leaned over to wrap my arms around her, pulling my head down to hers. Our lips met in a wet, open-mouthed kiss. All of my passion released itself in that embrace, her body molding itself into mine, the softness of her arms folding itself around my neck and the ripples of her muscles promising unspeakable delights.

As always, I was enraptured by the incredibly erotic visage that Jennifer presented when she was ready to share herself with me. She wasn't waiting to be aroused, she already was. Foreplay? No. She was ready for sex, and she wanted it with me. From the first time I took Jen to bed, I had never been with a woman who wanted me like that.

Jen was impatient. She pulled my pants down my legs, and smiled as my cock sprang to attention. I felt the delicious touch of her fingers on one thigh as she reached down to touch her lips to my other thigh, mouth beginning a slow crawl up towards my groin.

I leaned back as I felt her lips touch the underside of my balls. For the moment, this was all Jen's show, and I allowed myself to luxuriate in her touch.

I stared at her mouth as she took my cock in hand and swallowed me whole, sucking me deeply into her throat. She tickled my balls, slurping and licking my rock-hard prick. The sensations were overwhelming -- I didn't know whether I could hold out much longer. But we had made love so often that my state of arousal was no mystery and just when I thought it was going to be too late, Jen quickly backed off, sat up and licked her lips with a grin that told me that she knew exactly what she was doing. Early in our affair, Jen introduced me to her penchant for inducing rapid cock straining erections which she called IBJ's, short for 'instant blowjobs,' and she'd just used that very technique again.