Marlenes Night Out

It was with a heavy heart—alas, with guilty enthrallment, too—Marlene had accepted her friend's Jennie's invitation for a Saturday night out in the city. It'd been nearly seven years since she last went out—namely, since she entered her second trimester with Ricky.

"Jon'll be fine!" Jennie tried to cheer her up, as they drove through the heavily trafficked streets, heading to a recently opened fancy nightclub.

"I know," Marlene sighed, her eyes glued to the window observing in fascination, and inner sadness, all the young couples and groups of friends walking on the streets, talking and guffawing—seeing in them the youthful life she never had.

"You should try to relax a bit, honey," Jennie said. "I mean," she giggled, "people'll think I've kidnapped you, or something!"

"Fine, fine," she shook her head, with a smile. "It's just...I've

never

left Ricky alone for a whole night."

"It was nigh time, if you ask me," Jennie reprimanded her, "you did. I mean...Jon has had his outings, right? He's had the chance to go out for a couple of beers, stay out late, all that.

"Why shouldn't

you

?"

"You're right," Marlene groaned. "It' just...I don't know; you'll get it, when

you

become a mother, too."

"Maybe I will," Jennie shrugged. "However, motherhood's

not

in my plans!"

"Neither was it in mine," Marlene reminded her with a sly smirk, "and yet, here I am, a mother to a six-year old!"

"Kinda your fault, though...I mean, we do live in the 21

st

century, baby girl, there are means to ensure you don't get pregnant without you wanting it...just saying!"

"Yeah, yeah," Marlene dismissed her with a sigh. "Are we getting there?"

"Almost there," Jennie reassured her. "If you see a parking spot, let me know."

It took them nearly twenty minutes to park; and it was a ten-minute walk away from the nightclub.

"Don't walk that fast!" Marlene protested, limping on her sky-high heels.

"Forgot how to walk on them, huh?" Jennie chuckled and put her arm around her friend's waist.

"Why did we have to dress like this, again?" Marlene asked, as she caught a glimpse of their reflection on the large window of a closed butcher shop—both in their short, tight dresses, their heavy makeup, their fixed hair, their high heels; looking, admittedly, hot, yet it all felt quite inappropriate to Marlene.

"The nightclub has a policy of offering free drinks, and special treatment, to all hot, attractive women. I guess, they realize the more hot women there are in the club, the more the guys will be willing to spend."

"Fair enough," Marlene rolled her eyes. "I'm glad to see the four years you spent on women studies didn't go to waste."

"I'm still fighting for equality," Jennie shrugged, her red lips twitching widely. "That doesn't mean I'm going magically to change the way the world works."

"I just hope it's a nice club," Marlene said.

"From what I've been told, it's pretty damn great."

A group of four young men walked past them and a fire was lit inside Marlene's body, when she felt all their gazes falling upon her; she turned back and caught them all staring, quite openly, at them, their glances visibly falling on their barely covered buttocks.

"Not very discreet, huh?" Jennie giggled, as she offered a faint smile at the men continuing on their way.

"Not really, no," Marlene agreed with a chuckle; it did feel good being the recipient of such lustful stares and in general being in an environment that did not revolve around a child—though, guilt once more overwhelmed her as soon as she felt grateful for being away from home and playgrounds, namely the only two places she had frequented for the past seven years.

The line in front of the club's entrance was long enough to block half the street and every time a car had to come through a commotion was caused, as the partygoers had to scatter to let it through, then arguments would immediately break off, as people tried to take advantage of the situation and skip (part of) the line.

"We'll never get in!" Marlene said, as she stared in awe at the sea of humanity.

"Don't worry," Jennie patted her on her naked shoulder. "I told you, we'll get special treatment."

Jennie walked confidently to the door and smiled at the nearly two-meter black man wearing black clothes and sunglasses (despite it being past midnight); the man, his stern expression seemingly frozen on his face, let them through, to the wild protests of several young guys, who probably had stood in line for a long time.

"See?" Jennie pressed her finger on her temple. "I told you."

"There were women in the line, too," Marlene pursued.

"Yeah, well," Jennie shrugged, "either they're accompanied by the boyfriends,

or

, they're not dressed

appropriately

to skip the line. Or, they just don't know they can skip the line."

They walked through the short, carpeted hallway and a smiling long-haired man opened the thick, soundproofed door—instantly, the loud music blasted through the club's lobby and Marlene felt as if she had gone deaf.

The club was already crowded, with people crammed together in the impressively large floor—Marlene grabbed Jennie's hand firmly, suddenly horrified she'd get lost in the raucous crowd.

"Don't worry!" Jennie screamed—yet to Marlene, her voice was as inaudible as a late night whisper. "We won't get lost! Just have some fun!"

Marlene followed Jennie sheepishly to the large, round bar in the middle, where the three bartenders—two scantily clad women and a very fit man—were running around, taking and filling orders.

Jennie ordered two gin and tonics, skipping yet another line, as the male bartender blatantly ignored three guys doing everything in their power to place an order.

"So easy," Jennie smiled and handed Marlene her drink. "All you've got to do is show some tits and you're game!"

"Thanks," Marlene shouted, hardly having heard Jennie.

The first sip was, indeed, rejuvenating. It wasn't so much the taste of the drink per se—the gin was of the cheapest brand and even the tonic had a funny taste—that did the trick, but, instead, the simple fact she was out and among people that didn't constantly talk about their children.

It didn't take long for them to be approached by a group of five well-dressed guys, all of them in their mid-forties, who, after some pleasant introductions and meaningless chitchat, invited them up to the VIP section—a restricted area on the club's first floor, overlooking the dancefloor, and where the music was much mellower, thus allowing for conversations that didn't require straining one's vocal chords.

"So, it's your first time here, huh?" One of the men—a handsome blonde man with a stubble, whose muscles were easily discernible underneath his light-grey, tight-fitting shirt—said to Marlene, sitting next to her in the corner booth.

"Yes, it's..." She mumbled, still marveling at the lavish room with the expensive furniture and tons of exclusive bottles scattered about in the tables.

"How do you like it, then?" He insisted, momentarily letting his hand drop on her knee.

"It's really nice," she cleared her throat and crossed her legs tighter.

"I actually designed it," the man said, with a smile reeking of pride.

"Really?" Marlene raised her eyebrow, glancing, for the first time, straight into the man's shiny blue eyes.

"Yup," he nodded. "My friend over there," he pointed at the tall, black-haired man in a black tux sitting in the other corner of the room, surrounded by five women that didn't look older than twenty years old and seemed to have jumped out of old

Playboy

editions, "is the owner; when he decided to open a nightclub, he obviously called me.

"I'm an architect, by the way," he explained, while leaning closer to Marlene, "with a certain passion for interior design—though, only for the

right

places," he winked at her and his smile widened, exposing his almost

too

-white teeth.

"You certainly did a good job," Marlene offered him a reluctant smile—then, she sought for Jennie with her gaze and saw her talking to three of the men that had initially approached them downstairs and sipping on a glass of thirty-year old scotch.

"By the way," the man said, after having followed Marlene's glance, "would you like something else to drink? I mean," he pointed at the glass she was still holding too tight, "the things they serve downstairs are barely drinkable.

"We've got

Nolet's Silver Gin

; and, we also have

Sharish Blue Magic

, if you're interested in a more...

fun

drink."

"What do you mean

fun

?" She raised her eyebrow.

"It turns pink, when you add tonic," he shrugged. "That's all."

"I can't say I've heard these brands, I..."

"They're quite exclusive, and expensive," he said. "

Nolet's

especially is a recently launched brand—probably the most expensive gin in the world. Want to taste it? Instead of the cheap one they handed you downstairs?"

"Sure," she said and accepted the glass he gave her—her first sip was quite hesitant, yet, the smooth, peachy flavor tore down her initial inhibition.

"Good, huh?" He chuckled and she simply nodded in agreement.

"Hey there," Jennie sat next to Marlene and offered her hand to the man.

"I'm Hector," he introduced himself, then pointed at Jennie's glass.

"It's actually

Very Old Fitzgerald

," she said, with a chuckle. "A bottle," she whispered to Marlene, "costs almost five grand."

"It's really good, isn't it?" Hector said and lifted his glass. "I've grown quite fond of it myself."

"What are you guys doing for a living?" Jennie pursued, still following the three men she was talking to before with the corner of her eye.

"Oh, we...hum, to be honest," Hector cleared his throat and momentarily lowered his gaze, "it's my friend James over there, who's got the money. He's the son of a very well-known ship owner and so...he never liked ships, or the sea, so...he's investing his share of the family fortune in nightclubs, bars, and...good drinks!"

"Now,

that

's what you call a good life!" Jennie remarked and clinked her glass on Hector's.

"Yeah, I guess," he had a small sip, then turned his attention back to Marlene, who had grown quite silent and contemplative. "And, at any rate," he continued, "he's a really good friend, helping us out. I'm working for him, but...it doesn't feel like he's my boss, you know?

"Though, I'm sure, if I majorly screw up, he'll...well, there's a different kind of pressure, when your best friend is also your boss and, effectively the man that pays your bills."

"So, you're

all

working for him?" Jennie asked.

"Give or take," Hector nodded. "Fred over there," he pointed at one of the men Jennie was talking to, "doesn't. He runs his own business;

however

, he's importing alcoholic drinks, so...well, he works

with

James."

"Seems like you all supplement each other, work-wise," Marlene noted; she instantly regretted the sarcastic tone that involuntarily had escaped her.

"Yeah, I guess we do," Hector chuckled dryly. "Maybe, that's why we became friends in the first place; we've known each other since, practically, forever, but, even as small children we felt we had that connection that would help us all immensely down the road."

"Do you really believe that?" Marlene asked him.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Maybe, it's all a nice coincidence. The fact of the matter is, though, we're all lucky to have each other. It certainly helped us have a good life."

"What are you guys talking about?" Fred joined in, sitting too close to Jennie and immediately putting his hand on her exposed thigh—a move which shocked Marlene almost as much as the fact Jennie leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I was just telling them our story, man," Hector shrugged.

"Don't believe everything he says," Fred warned them jokingly. "He tends to exaggerate!"

"Thanks for ruining my credibility, man!" Hector guffawed.

"No problem," Fred laughed. "Anyway, Jennie," he continued, "why don't you come back to the guys? We left a conversation in the middle, remember?"

"Yes, of course," Jennie said, all too enthusiastically. "I just came here to check up on my friend, that's all. It's been a long time since she

properly

went out and..."

"She's in good hands," Fred reassured her and cupped her ass firmly, when they both got up. "Right, Hector?"

"Of course, man!" Hector raised his glass and the brief smirk that illumined his face frightened Marlene. "You do seem tense," he remarked, when he dropped his intense gaze back to her.

"It's just...I'm not used to this kind of...you know," she mumbled, unable to control the slight tremor of her voice.

"Don't worry," he said reassuringly, gently running his finger across her shoulder—thus causing her to shudder. "We're not aliens, or anything; we're just as human as you and your friend.

"We just happen to have a rich friend and, thus, enjoy a few extra luxuries."

"That's the point," she cleared her throat and her gaze moved to the bottle of bourbon that cost more than what Jon made in four months—as soon as Jon appeared in her mind, she swigged her drink, seeking for comfort in the smooth taste of yet another drink they'd never afford.

The mood in the room suddenly changed, as two of the women surrounding the club's owner danced seductively on a table, slowly peeling their, already few, clothes off.

Marlene simply stared aghast at the sight, unwilling to accept she was witnessing a live, and quite private and exclusive, strip-show; she threw a helpless glimpse toward Jennie, hoping for some comfort and a solution.

What she got, however, was the sight of her best friend since junior high on her knees, stroking two erect pricks, while sporting the brightest of smiles. And for a moment Marlene could do nothing but observe the easiness with which her friend swallowed down the two meaty pricks.

"You're obviously a virgin to this kind of social gatherings," Hector's chuckle brought Marlene out of her momentary trance.

"How on Earth did it..." she tried to say, but, the lump in her throat kept most of her words trapped in the back of her throat.

"It just did," Hector's smile widened and he snapped his fingers. "That's how it always goes, when you mix good booze, rich, well-dressed guys, and horny young women."

Marlene didn't respond; instead, she tried to keep her eyes away from his engorging crotch, as he quite emphatically rubbed himself over his tented pants.

"Don't like what you see?" He asked her and unbuckled his belt.

"I'm married," she said, as sternly as she could.

"So?" He shrugged and unbuttoned his pants, slipping his hand inside.

"I don't...do this kind of..." Her voice withered, when he pulled his hard, throbbing cock out; she automatically compared it to Jon's and it was with remorse she pointed out to herself the

great

difference there was.

"This little drop of drool, though," he grinned, when he ran his thumb softly across her lips, "says otherwise; at least, it shows you're at least

interested

..." he winked, nodding toward his cock, which he was stroking slowly. "Besides, half the people in this room are married; I don't see

them

being bothered with this tiny fact."

"Are you..." She didn't have to finish the question—it was with pride he lifted his right hand, showcasing his golden ring. "Then, why are you..."

"Simple," he interrupted her. "For the excitement."

"For the cheap thrill," she reprimanded him.

"Cheap thrills are the

best

!" He guffawed—no one paid any attention whatsoever to him.

"Well, I'm not...into this kind of thing; I love my husband and I'm not..."

"Come on," he grabbed her arm, quite forcefully, and thrust it on his prick. "Just touch it,

feel

it. It won't

bite

."

She wrapped her hand around his shaft, unable completely to close her fist around it. She licked her lips hurriedly, then wiped them with her forearm. She was, indeed, drooling softly and could not possibly explain it to herself—didn't

want

to explain it.

"There you go," he sat back on the booth and sighed heavily. "Just a bit faster, if you please." He ran his fingers through her hair, gently caressing her neck.

Marlene, mesmerized by the atmosphere—Jennie was already bent over between the two men, getting reamed on both ends, while the five model-esque women were pleasuring the club's owner and three of his friends—stroked Hector faster.

Without a warning, her head was pushed downward and she found herself buried in his crotch. Her nose was immediately attacked by the scent of his prick, as her half-open lips

almost

touched the base of his dong.

This time, however, he didn't have to tell her what to do next; overwhelmed by the suddenness of it all, she stuck her tongue out and got the first taste of his cock; gradually, and with his hand gently pulling her hair, she ran her tongue along his tall-standing prick, reaching up to the purple head, and swirling her tongue around the sensitive mushroom tip, inwardly smiling at the way his body jerked.

She wrapped her lips around the head tightly, stroking the shaft with both hands, as she repositioned herself on the booth on all fours, her ass high up in the air and exposed for all to see, as her short dress was lifted all the way up to her waist.

"So much for your reluctance," Hector mocked her and pushed her head down on him, suddenly forcing her down on his dong—Marlene gagged as soon as his prick hit the back of her mouth and writhed.

His strong grip did not let a lot of room for movements and thus Marlene tried her best to suppress her reflexes—desperately tried to calm down, while he relentlessly pushed her head down, her throat quickly getting filled by his girth.

Marlene squirmed and her eyes popped wide open, when a pair of rough, warm hands tenderly caressed her ass, spreading the cheeks; she moaned on Hector's cock, when a faceless tongue connected with her her slit.

"What a magnificent cock, huh?" Jennie asked her, as she crawled next to her and planted a long, wet kiss on Marlene's cheek.

Marlene simply stared breathlessly at her best friend staring dead into her eyes with a glowing glance, while stark naked and on her knees.

"Well," Fred said and picked Jennie's ass up, forcing her to bend over so he could rub his throbbing prick on Jennie's dripping cunt, "I think it's about time we give these two women here what they need.

"What do you think, Trevor?"

"Definitely, sir."

Marlene turned about and caught a glimpse of the black doorman that let them in the club standing behind her, his massive dong threateningly pointing at her. She gulped down and could not stop staring at the monster between his legs—the monster that was about to penetrate her.

"Don't neglect Hector, Marlene," Jennie said and with soft, yet firm, moves forced Marlene to look into her eyes—their lips brushed against each other and a bizarre, never before felt fire was immediately lit in Marlene's heart, and loins.

It was a most euphoric taste that swarmed her mouth, as her lips and tongue connected with both Hector's dripping cock and Jennie's salivating mouth; their first kiss was exchanged with Hector's pulsing dong warming their cheeks and the way Jennie's tongue danced the tango with hers caused her whole body to tremble violently.

She gasped, when Trevor, rather unceremoniously, thrust himself in her pussy, his girth—competing on equal ground with that of a beer can—brutally stretching her pussy lips wide apart.

"Relax," Jennie instructed Marlene soothingly, brushing her hair back and planting quick, soft kisses all over her face. "Let it happen, let it..."