by Amy Brent
“You introduced Isaac to Amy,” he said, lingering for a moment before letting go of my hand. “I just wanted to thank you on his behalf. I’ve never seen him happier.”
“That’s great to hear,” I said, pulling my hand back slowly. I put my hands behind my back and held them there because I suddenly didn’t know what else to do with them. I was smiling like a village idiot. My brain tried to send words to my mouth. My lips tried to speak the words. I stumbled over them. “Amy is um… well… I mean... she’s very happy, too.”
“Isaac is a lucky guy,” he said, bringing the bottle to his lips again and eyeing me as he drank. He licked his lips and arched his eyebrows. “How about you? Who is the lucky guy in your life?”
“Um, no lucky guy at the moment,” I said, trying to sound casual rather than tragic. “I’m pretty busy. I don’t really have time to date or see anyone... I mean…”
Shit, Serena, way to go.
Thanks for talking to me, you handsome billionaire, but I don’t have time for you. Sorry. Fuck off. Leave me alone.
“Isaac told me you were in school,” he said with a respectful nod. The neon lights from behind the bar danced in his eyes. “Masters in Physics, was it? Very impressive.”
“Yes, Masters in Physics with a Minor in Microbiology,” I said proudly. I picked up the rag again and started wiping the bar with it, even though the bar was already clean. “I want to do cancer research.”
“That’s awesome,” he said, lifting his arms so I could swipe the bar in front of him. “You must be incredibly smart.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Was he patronizing me or genuinely interested in what I had going on. My suspicious mind said it was the first. The warm feeling between my legs hoped it was the latter.
Before I could respond, he picked up the beer and waved it around. “Is that why you’re working here at Club D?”
“It is,” I said, sighing without meaning to. I noticed his bottle was empty, so I reached for it and he handed it across the bar. I put the bottle in a rack under the bar and got him another Corona from the cooler. I twisted off the cap and wiped the condensation from the bottle with the rag, then set it on the bar.
I said, “Grad school is expensive. This job has been a lifesaver.”
“That’s awesome,” he said, his head bobbing. “So, back to your love life…”
I arched one eyebrow and cocked my head to stare at him. “Mr. Chambers…”
“Denny,” he said.
“Denny, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m really kind of busy.” I tapped a finger to my wrist even though I was not wearing a watch. “We open soon. I need to get my station ready.”
“I understand,” he said, holding up his hands. “I was just wondering if you’d like to have breakfast with me in the morning. Or maybe lunch later in the day.”
“Breakfast?” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “My shift begins at ten and I don’t get off until six in the morning. I’m not sure I’ll feel like having breakfast. I usually sleep all day on Saturday.”
“Right, right,” he said, still smiling. “How about a late lunch or an early dinner? I can have the kitchen set something up for us anytime in the dining room, or even in my suite.”
I braced my palms on the bar and took a deep breath. “Denny, what is it you want?”
He blinked at me. “I’m sorry?”
“What is it you want?” I gestured at the room behind him, where several dozen girls in various stages of undress were getting ready to open the club. “If you’re just looking to get laid, there are lots of girls who would love to spend time with you.”
His smiled faded a little, but the sparkle in his eyes held firm. “And you wouldn’t like to spend time with me?”
I felt my cheeks flush. “No. I’m not looking to get laid. I ‘m here to work, period. So please, find someone else to play with and just let me do my job.”
He held up his hands like I had a gun pointed at him. “Whoa, that’s not what I meant…”
“I have to work now, Mr. Chambers,” I said, glaring at him as I picked up a round tray and held it in front of me like a shield. “I’m not interested in going upstairs with you.”
“Hang on, that’s really not what I was asking.”
I cocked my head at him and narrowed my eyes. “Really? Then what were you asking me to do?”
“I was just asking you to have breakfast. Or lunch. You do eat, don’t you?”
I smiled even though I tried not to. “Yes. I eat.”
His smile came back in force. “Then why not eat with me?”
I quickly searched for a reason not to have breakfast with him. I came up blank. “Fine. But not breakfast. A late lunch. I’ll be much better company after I’ve had time to sleep.”
“A late lunch it is,” he said, beaming now. “Just have me paged when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting.”
“I assume you’ll be upstairs until then,” I said as Carina, the star attraction, strolled by with a flute of champagne in one hand. She was completely nude and perfect, flawless in every way. She was the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen and could do things with her body that were legendary at Club D. And was quite possibly a millionaire from her “talents”. She cooed his name and trailed a long fingernail across Denny’s back as she passed. It made him look uncomfortable as hell.
“Actually,” he said, pushing himself off the stool. “I won’t be going upstairs tonight. I’ll be in my suite alone. Waiting for you. Just have Mr. Lemon call me when you’re ready to eat.”
He picked up the bottle and gave me one last smile, then turned and left the room, leaving me wondering what the hell had just happened… and why was I now the one thinking that maybe we’d just skip lunch altogether and move right into dessert.
* * *
As always, the moment the doors opened at ten, the horny, rich guys came flooding in like a tidal wave of green. I recognized some of them because they were not only rich, but famous. If the public knew that a certain family sitcom star spent every weekend going from room to room, fucking every girl in the place, his career would have probably been doomed. Same was true for the six-term congressman who liked to take it in the ass with a black strap-on.
There were a few new faces in the room, but most of them I knew after having served them drinks and food for two years. Most members were nice guys, old and new money, well-behaved, appreciative, and tipped very well. It wasn’t unusual for me to make a couple of grand on an average weekend.
Every now and then a new member with an inflated sense of self-worth would slip through the cracks, the kind of douchebag who thought his money gave him the right to be a dick to the women. Those guys rarely came back a second time because Club D had a very strict code of conduct and a one strike rule. Their membership would be revoked without refund or leniency and they would be banished forever. And no member wanted to suffer that horrible fate. It would be like a little kid getting kicked off the playground and never being allowed back in.
It was around 2 AM when I was finally able to take a break. My feet were killing me and my back was aching from toting around heavy trays of drinks all night. I slipped off my stilettos, grabbed myself a wine cooler, and went out into the courtyard for some fresh air. I was usually alone this time of night, but I found Denny’s partner, Sammy Branniff, sitting on the hood of a limo smoking a joint all by himself.
“Hey, Serena, how are you?” he said, hitching his chin at me. I had talked with Sammy before and we were cordial, at least as cordial as an employee could be with her employer. Sammy was as big as a bear and the girls upstairs claimed he was just as cuddly. And supposedly he had a cock the size of a boa constrictor. The stories about “Sammy the Sausage” both fascinated and scared the shit out of me. I couldn’t imagine having such a thing coming at my crotch.
He held out the joint and smiled through the smoke. “Want a hit?”
“No thanks, it would put me right to sleep,” I said, holding out m
y free hand. “But I would like a seat. My feet are killing me.”
“Here, grab on.” He held out a hand the size of a catcher’s mitt and easily hoisted me onto the hood next to him. He gave me a minute to get settled, then nodded toward the manor house. “Busy night, huh.”
“It’s always busy,” I said with a tired sigh. “You guys must make a mint off this place.”
“Several mints,” he said, nodding, exhaling smoke rings toward the dark sky. “But every cent of the profit goes to charity. We even pay our way just like members.”
“I’d heard that,” I said, watching him from the corner of my eye. “Very generous of you.”
He pushed his big shoulders up and down. It looked like he was wearing football pads under his shirt. “Ah, least we can do. Hey, have you talked to Denny tonight?”
I frowned with the bottle at my lips. “I talked to him earlier. Why?”
Sammy smiled like a little kid who had just found his mom’s stash of Oreos. “Wanna know a secret?”
“Sure.”
“Denny likes you.” He said the words, then arched his eyebrows to give me a pot-fueled smile. “He likes you a lot.”
I huffed and pushed my elbow into his arm. It was like elbowing rock. “Give me a break. What are we, in the third grade? Did he give you a note to pass on to me?”
“I’m serious,” he said, the smile fading. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but he’s a little sweet on you.”
“How can that be?” I asked, disbelieving. “Before tonight he’s barely spoken ten words to me.”
“But he spoke to you tonight?”
“Well… yes, but…”
“Did he tell you that he dreams of you,” Sammy asked, his eyes wide and a little red.
My lips moved without forming words for a moment, then I shook my head at him. “What? Give me a break. Is he paying you to tell me this?”
Sammy leaned over and lowered his voice. “Do I look like I need money?”
“No…”
“Look, he would probably be pissed if I said anything, but Isaac and Amy’s relationship has Denny thinking about things… things like finding a good woman and settling down.” He held the joint between his thumb and index finger and gestured at the manor house in front of us. “This has been fun and I don’t think any of us have any regrets, but there comes a time when boys must grow into men and leave their toys behind.”
I smiled at his attempt to sound wise. “So, Club D was just your toybox? Or your playground?”
“Yeah, something like that,” he said, rolling his eyes. “The point is, rather than bed hopping with gorgeous women, Denny is upstairs alone in his suite watching ESPN and I’m out here alone smoking a joint. What do you think that means?”
“That the new has worn off?”
“Such a cynical girl,” he said.
I took a sip of the wine cooler and licked my lips as I studied his face. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He was serious. I said, “Okay then, tell me what it means.”
“It means that if you are the woman I think you are, and he is the man I know he is, you two would make one hell of a couple.” He leaned over again and lowered his voice to a deep whisper. “And he really does dream of you.”
I held my breath. “What… what does he dream?”
He nodded to a window on the third floor where the private suites were located. “He’s up there alone. Why don’t you go up and ask him?”
“I… I have to get back on the floor…”
“No, you don’t,” he said, sliding off the hood and holding out his hand as if he were asking me to dance. He led me toward the door. “I’ll get someone to cover the rest of your shift.”
“I don’t know…”
He put a big hand on my shoulder and gently pushed me toward the door. “Go on, Serena,” he said, smiling. “Take a chance on a great guy. What do you have to lose?”
Chapter 7: Serena
My Papa had a saying that I always thought sounded awful until I found myself standing outside of the door to Denny’s suite with my knuckles resting on the cool wood, psyching myself up to knock.
Papa liked to say, “You can judge a man by the size of his character and the size of his balls.” Meaning, that a man—or woman, in this case, me— of strong character with the balls big enough to do whatever was necessary was the best kind of person there was.
Stand up for what’s right, he told me and my brothers.
Never back down.
Go after what you want.
Nobody’s gonna give you anything.
You have to have the balls to go after it yourself.
“Big balls… big balls…”
I kept repeating the words as I held my breath and pulled back my hand to rap on the door. I knew Denny was inside, hopefully alone. I could hear the sounds of a football game on the big screen TV, but no voices. God, I hoped he didn’t have another girl inside. Big balls or not, that would be embarrassing as fuck for us both.
My hand froze in midair as the little voice in my head started chattering in my ear. Oddly enough, that little voice sounded an awful lot like my Granny Rosita, who helped raise me before she passed away last year at the cranky old age of ninety-two.
“Serena, child, what in God’s name are you doing? Are you seriously going to knock on this man’s door and offer yourself to him like a common whore off the street? You barely know this man and you’re going to part your thighs for him? How can you even be thinking of letting him have his way with you? You are your mama all over again! Ay, Serena, what has happened to you? When did you become such a slut?”
“When I grew up, grandma,” I said as I took a deep breath and knocked twice on the door. As the sound from the TV inside the suite suddenly went silent, I remembered that I had never liked Granny Rosita very much. She was an opinionated old crank that thought every man should have his cock lobbed off and every girl should be locked in a convent until she was twenty-one. I guess it never occurred to her that if none of the men had cocks, there was no need for the girls to become nuns.
I heard footsteps from the other side of the door.
I pulled back my shoulders so my tits would stick out nicely and lifted my chin to give him a good look at my neck and cleavage. I could feel the moisture oozing from between my legs. I could smell my juices wafting up through the air. I was glad that I had taken my panties off already and had them dangling from my crooked fingers at my side. When Denny opened the door, I held the panties out to him and smiled.
“Rumor has it that you collect girl’s panties,” I said, giving him a coy look as I licked my lips. “I thought you might like these.”
Chapter 8: Denny
When I opened the door and saw Serena standing there in the sexy French maid outfit with her black, lace panties dangling from one finger and a sly smile on her face, I felt like I had died and gone to Pussy Heaven.
What’s the best thing about being me… Duh.
I had been sitting in my suite alone for hours with the TV on but not really watching it. I’d spent the time brooding and thinking about what I wanted out of life, what my future held, and how Serena Diaz might fit into it all.
Crazy, I know, but the more I thought about the road ahead the greater the feeling grew that Serena would be an important part of that journey. It wasn’t just a sexual attraction I felt for her. There was more; so much more intellectually and emotionally. I loved everything about the girl. Brains, beauty, passion, determination, independence, drive, and a desire to make the world a better place.
Of course, my cock chimed in multiple times to remind my brain that Serena also had a smoking hot body that men would willing die for. Serena Diaz was the total package; and while I wasn’t sure that she was the girl I’d grow old with, I knew she was a girl who would make the journey very interesting.
I tried to swallow the lump that hung in my throat and held out my hand. Serena dropped the panties into my palm, still warm from being on her body, then too
k my hand in hers and pushed my fingers closed. I squeezed the panties and felt a little tingle go up my arm.
I looked into her eyes and gave her a nervous smile.
“Serena, I…”
“Shhh…” She put a finger to my lips. I resisted the urge to wrap my lips around it and suck it into my mouth. She said, “There’s no need to say anything. Just take me inside and make love to me.”
* * *
I took Serena’s hand and led her into the bedroom, which was dark except for the lamps on the nightstand that were switched on low. The 70-inch flat panel hanging on the wall was tuned to ESPN with the sound turned down. Serena picked up the remote control and aimed it at the TV to power it off.
“You will not be watching ESPN while I’m here,” she said playfully as she tugged my t-shirt over my head and tossed it to the floor. She sat on the edge of the bed in front of me and started tugging loose my belt and unbuttoning my jeans. I stepped out of my shoes and kicked them away. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of my jeans and boxers and slid them down my legs. My cock, hard since the moment she pushed the panties into my hand, sprung up like a tree branch dancing in the wind. It felt like a lead pipe protruding from the dark curls above it. The head was swollen, purple and shiny like a ripe plum.
