"Hey, babe. I really have to use the bathroom, and you're not helping right now."
I stopped what I was doing and stood up. Before I had a chance to say anything she stepped out of the room into the large open room of the sex club. She hurried down the hallway, and ducked around a corner. Above her I saw little signs lit up. One had a silhouette of a girl squatting, wearing high heels. The other sign was of a guy standing with his hands on his hips Superman style. I followed her down the hall, but slower. Shae was out of sight before I had left the large open room. She was right about one thing - no one took a second notice of me. Mostly because few of the other guys in the club were wearing shirts. Many of the women weren't either, for that matter.
Loud, up-beat dance music played over the sound system. Men and women were on the dance floor, mingling, grinding, flirting, making out, and performing other sexual acts on each other. No one looked up at me as I made my way around the dance floor and followed Shae to the bathrooms. I stepped into the small room and closed the door. The music pulsed through the walls. The men's room was well stocked with condoms, disposable baby wipes, and plenty of paper supplies. I peed, cleaned up, washed my hands, face, cock and balls, and even my anus. Several people tried to open the door, but luckily I had remembered to lock it. There's nothing like getting interrupted while trying to clean up. When I was finished and stepped out of the bathroom there were several guys standing there waiting. They didn't notice me at first, as they were too busy making out with each other. The one facing me opened his eyes and saw me as I went by.
"Oh, hell no, Papa Bear, you are not just gonna walk away from me, are you?"
I stopped and turned around. Both guys were looking me up and down, sizing me up. "Thanks for that, but I'm not a Papa Bear. Or a Daddy. Or gay, for that matter."
"That don't mean we can't suck you off," the other said. Both were younger than me by at least a decade. They were both smoothly shaven, from their faces to their chests, and probably further. They wore leather pants, which were un-buttoned, but hanging on by their hips. Just then Shae came out of her bathroom, along with another woman.
"This one's spoken for guys. Go find your own Bear."
We walked down the hallway, my hand on the small of her back. A tired looking, and otherwise very pretty waitress was wandering past. I reached into my sporran and took out a five dollar bill and set it on her tray. She stopped and looked at me, then realized she didn't know why I was putting money on her tray.
"Am I getting you something?"
"That'd be great!" I said, stepping closer. I gave her mine and Shae's drink order. "There's more where that came from. I know you're tired. Just hang in there a little longer, and it'll be the end of your shift, and you can go home and put your feet up, or whatever you do, and count your money." I leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Think you can handle it?"
She turned and smiled at me. "Honey, I worked Caeser's Palace, during New Year's Eve. This ain't nothin'." She strutted off towards the bar. I turned to Shae and shrugged.
"I guess she's got us. You wanna chill out while Alexis has her session?"
She nodded and opened the curtain. Her skirt hit the floor immediately. But not my shirt. She kept it on as she crawled into the middle of the king size bed. She sat back against the padded leather backrest. Shae opened the shirt a bit, tied up the bottom of it, and then reached in and adjusted her breasts. By the time she was done she looked very hot. I wanted to crawl up the bed to her, kissing my way as I went, until my body lay on hers and our mouths met. I opened the curtain and looked out. The waitress I had given the $5 to was nowhere to be seen. I shrugged, turned towards Shae, dropped my kilt, and looked her up and down.
Even without her white leather mini-skirt and over-bust corset, she was a sight to see! She wore a black latex fishnet body-suit; pink, crotchless panties (that were still soaked from earlier, and smelled delicious!); black nylon thigh-high hose; black, patent leather peep toe high heels; and she managed to make the black, long-sleeve, button down shirt I had worn into the club look like it belonged. She looked sexy as fuck! To me, she was the type of woman who deserved to be worshiped. She was sweet, attentive, horny all the time, giving, open minded, and fun. I knew I wasn't supposed to catch any feelings for her. We had agreed at the beginning that this was purely NSA. We were monogamous (except for her pimping me out to her friends, I guess), but had an agreement: if either one of us wanted to date someone else, then we would simply call off our relationship; until then, we were together. This was mostly because I didn't want to move to Dallas. I hate Dallas. Plus, I had just started a professorship at a major university, and wasn't prepared to give that up to be with someone. So, we agreed not to let ourselves develop feelings for each other.
But I was definitely failing at that assignment. I understood the parameters, the qualifiers, and the logic behind it. Yet, here I was looking at this woman, realizing how many boxes she ticked, and found myself forgetting the parameters. I wasn't ready to use the Love yet, but I definitely loved her (big "L" vs. little "l" L/love), and could see myself developing deeper feelings than that. Here this woman was, stretched out on a king size bed in sexy lingerie, in a dungeon at a sex club where she brought me to see an alternative burlesque show, that she combined into a BDSM scene with her and one of her closest friends, who is now being tied up and suspended in the curtained off dungeon where I had just fucked both women's faces as if they were my personal sex toys, while they were tied up, and forced to orgasm repeatedly from the vibrator I had taped to their twats. This was after having amazing sex with her and another friend, while tripping on acid. She smoked weed but not cigarettes. She drank, and liked being buzzed but not drunk. And she loved mixing all of that with sex. Not to mention that she liked all the same music, liked to read (not what I read, but I'm an English professor, so that's to be expected), liked good food, and the beach was her happy place. The whiter the sand, and the clearer the water, the better. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick, tick, tick tickticktick.
I was in real trouble!
Just as I was about to crawl onto the bed the waitress showed up. She knocked on the empty door frame and "ahem"med about three times I guess before I realized she was standing there. I turned to her, blinking.
"Here's your drinks: a martini, and a bourbon on the rocks." Her eyes found Shae and traveled slowly from her shiny peep-toe heels, up her curvy, soft legs encased in nylons (now with some tears in them), to her pink crotchless panties, up to her glorious breasts, and then her golden blonde hair laying over her shoulders, and her big blue eyes. The waitress caught herself looking, and then looked at me, blushing. "I can see why you were staring." She handed me the drinks carefully - the martini was filled to the rim. I handed it to Shae, who leaned forward, framing her titties with her arms and squeezing them together while making eye contact with the waitress and winking at her.
Shae reached out, languidly, took the martini from me, and pursing her lips for a kiss, she leaned in and sipped at the clear liquid. She sipped at it several times, all while puckering her lips as if to show off how plump they were. When the liquid had gone down enough, she sat back, carefully, showcasing all of her curves as she did.
Now that I got a good look at her, the waitress was very pretty. She was almost my height, which is tall for a woman. Her face was smooth and made up with heavy black eyeliner, and a dark, smoky eye shadow; she had chestnut brown hair that was pulled up in a high ponytail, with big curls of it cascading over her shoulders. Her hair matched her eyes, which were bright in the lowlight of the club. Her lips were very inviting, and covered in black lipstick. Her perfect tits were encased in a half-cup black leather bra. Her nipples were covered with black pasties, but they didn't cover her areola completely - which were dark, and stood out against her pale skin. She wore leather, hip-hugging boy shorts, and fishnet hose that ended in black Doc Martens.
