Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend

by S. N. Garza

  There was no way Scarlet would let me tie her up. No way. Blind-fold? Doubtful. Anal? Highly unlikely. Not that I did that all the time, but eh. It’s an option. If one did it right, it’s fucking amazing. However, she just wanted to be friends. I’ll go along with that for now. Didn’t mean I didn’t want her underneath me. I did. More than I wanted to admit. She liked challenging me. Which wasn’t supposed to turn me on, but it did.

  In a way, I felt relieved she didn’t ask me inside. The whole time her grandmother was outside, she just stared at me. She had only shifted her eyes to Scarlet when she was being addressed. So I did my best to keep my eyes on Scarlet.

  Not that that was hard to do. Her dark blonde hair was silky and wavy, and rested at the middle of her back. What I wouldn’t give to wrap my fingers in those tresses. The back view was delectable. The jeans she was wearing were painted on and made for my hands. She was a short, stacked, sexy Pixie. Her breasts were firm, perky and at least a big C, maybe a D. Bigger than any girl I’ve ever touched and I freely admit, that intrigued me.

  When I got close to her, both she and I knew her body responded to me. I’d bet my truck her beautiful, rounded tits felt heavy and seeing her nipples harden to tight, little points. Damn. If we were anywhere else I’d have latched my mouth right on them. Sucking, and teasing them. Making them so fucking sensitive and eager for more.

  Even when wearing her Chili’s uniform, (not that I’ve seen her in anything else), she was gorgeous.

  It made me rethink about all the women I’ve had previous to her. All tall, built because they worked out a lot to keep their body in shape, and their curves were slight. Not that they didn’t have any, but I was tall, about six foot five, I liked, or thought I liked, women who were at least about five foot ten, or taller. I liked women who wore heels, dressed all out for a date.

  And here I was, my first date, (Fuckin’A right, I’m calling it a date, and not because I paid either, so get those man-hating thoughts out of ya head people.) Like I was saying, my first date with Scarlet, and she was in a pair of worn jeans, a rhinestone belt buckle and a black shirt. She sported no or minimal amount make-up and a ponytail. I swore the next time I saw her with her hair up I was pulling that hair-tie out of her hair.

  I drove away from their small, cozy house, and thought about what I was going to do to see her again. The fact I was even contemplating seeing her again was unorthodox for me. Maybe I should go to The Club and find a willing sub for the night. I shouldn’t be thinking about getting with a girl with absolutely no experience with a man.

  I admit, a lot of times, I used women for sex and sex only. I didn’t give any kind of emotional connection to them. I took them out, we did our thing, and I left. Even when I kept a girl for a certain amount of time, my day time consisted of working at Saints and the other few businesses I accounted for.

  Danny had no idea what I did with my free time, even though she thought she did. I never brought women by for her to see and she even asked me if I was gay. I rolled my eyes at that one. I was just a private guy. I didn’t flaunt the chicks I went out with, unless it was some function or other.

  I was wealthy enough that I didn’t want for anything and I could actually not work anymore if I didn’t want to. My rate was high, but I made my clients happy and rich so what did it matter? I don’t think Scarlet would care about the money though. Seeing the house she lived in, it seemed she didn’t have a lot of luxuries. She did look happy though, with her life.

  Could I just be this girl’s friend? I’ve never had a friend. Well, a real good friend. I kept to myself a lot. The fact that she was female? I mean, what guy had just a friendship with a girl unless they were gay? Did I really want to pursue Scarlet? Become friends with her.

  That was the question. Did I really want to spend my time with a girl who was adamant on not sleeping with me compared to the willing girls at The Club?

  Maybe that’s how I ended up driving the forty-five minute drive to Downtown Houston, and parked, idling at The Club. Fuck it. I wasn’t done mulling this over and since I was here, I could use a drink.

  Probably two.

  I turned off the engine and made my way towards the entrance. I paid a substantial amount of money a year to be a member here. The Club had a gaming room, dance and bar area and the rest were rooms members paid to use for their own purposes. There was a finger print entry at the security desk as soon as you walked in. The owner, Dorian Blake, personally interviewed each member before they were allowed to be members. I did Blake’s books, so he knew everything about me.

  I went in, and went straight to the dancing room after checking in. I’ve felt fucking horny all damn evening. My dick was still semi-hard from hearing Scarlet sing. Her voice was sultry and deep and sexy. Even singing ‘Crazy Bitch’, her voice tempted, teased and tantalized the senses. I didn’t want to be friends, not really. I wanted her, like I’ve never wanted anyone before.

  That confused me. Shocked me really. I can normally be devoid of any emotion if I wanted. Grew up that way. Danny and Mike, if they weren’t bitchin’, they were fuckin’, and if they weren’t doing either, they were ignoring each other like they should be. I wasn’t the only kid to grow up in a dysfunctional family, but my family took the mother fuckin’ cake sometimes. Especially since most people, or parents, knew what kind of man my father was. My mother worshipped him, and hated him at the same damn time. If they didn’t have the money I’m sure she might not have stayed. But then hell, who knew what went on in their parents’ heads.

  I was never disciplined and I can say I was pretty damn thankful. I’ve seen my father get in fights and he was a bad-ass mother fucker.

  Told me all about growing up as the youngest son of a motorcycle club and that’s how the strip club first came to him. So to say they weren’t legit, was an understatement. What I can say? Growing up, Mike was fucking pussy whipped. Anything mom told him, he did. She was a prize he wanted so damn bad. The MC thought it was their way to get more green, but mother had signed a prenup. She was a rich little princess from an upstanding political family and when she saw Mike, she was hooked. Bad boy motorcyclist. She thought he was her means to an escape and he was, in some ways. Her family disowned her the minute they found out she was preggo with a strip club owner slash motorcycle club ganger.

  When I was old enough to understand what the fuck was going on, I despised him. I didn’t want shit to do with that life. We had more money than a person could want, and none of it was hard earned.

  One thing about me? I liked rules. I made a promise to myself at a young age that I wouldn’t end up like my father and get sucked into MC life. Danny didn’t care one way or another. Mike was gone, he gave the club to Danny and she turned Saints into something that could mean something. I wanted to make it legit and keep it that way.

  Mike’s MC didn’t have the HPD in their pockets, and couldn’t get them there. They lived too far out of the city that it didn’t matter. That’s what I thought at least. I couldn’t be a hundred percent positive.

  The Patriarch of the Ruler’s MC was my grandfather and I didn’t have a fucking thing to do with him, or his other sons. Mike was dead and wasn’t going anywhere. I made sure they stayed out of Saint’s and Danny understood that. They were bad news.

  “How can I be of service, Mr. Dixon?”

  I had been sitting in one of the dark corners of The Club, thinking about way too damn much. I looked up at the tall, blonde waitress, I skimmed over her heels, up her toned legs, her skirt which looked like it stopped just underneath her ass and up to her fake tits, (ugh). Sorry ladies, men knew when women had fake ones. It was like instinct. Her shirt was the standard vest they were required to wear. Bottoms? They could really wear whatever they wanted, as long as it was appealing to the people who came here. Blake had strict rules here. But with the girls serving, and servicing the members, he let them be comfortable. Except on the top level. Those girls mainly had Doms and a lot of men liked that ‘you can loo
k, but not touch’ mantra, so a lot of women were nearly naked to full on birthday suit.

  Most of the serving girls on the bottom were just like this one. Scandalously clothed, just waiting to be picked up by a man. Sugar Babies.

  “Get me a Crown on the rocks.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Dixon.” Then, as the girl was walking away, she coasted her hand up my leg, skimmed over my dick and up to my shoulder before walking away. Gave me a sign she was interested in whatever I wanted. The ‘do whatever the fuck you want to do to me’ touch.

  Before, I’d probably take her up on that offer. She was one of the girl’s I’ve never taken into my room here. I didn’t take many in there. A lot of the girls here, did a lot of servicing right here in the lounge.

  You could walk in this room, and to the left and up a few short steps was the dance floor where a lot of girls danced, trying to get one of the Dom’s here to notice them. Also the bar top which took the back wall and half of the side wall.

  In the lounge area where there were low couches and tables scattered around with low chairs to accommodate them. You could see different acts happening. Blow jobs, or a girl getting it from the man she belonged to. There was a basement level where the harsher acts took place. Blake invited me once down there and I could see the appeal, but nah. Not really my thing. I liked keeping my depravities in private. Top level is where the rooms many men rented out. Unless they were Dommes. But those were few and far between.

  Scarlet would freak, if she ever saw this place or the inside of it. She would probably tell me to get lost and never talk to her again.

  “Here you go, Mr. Dixon. Anything else you require of me?”

  Her fake-ass hooters brushed my arm as she bent to place my drink at the table and caressed her hand, yet again, up my leg. Her hand went to my dick and stayed there. She started massaging my length through the material and went to cup my balls.

  Fuck. Me. Not even one ounce of lust or attraction hit me. The semi-erection I had packing when I came in here was gone. With no trace to being seen.

  Not. Good. Something inside me told me I shouldn’t, but did I listen? Nope. I needed proof that I wasn’t going insane with lust for one small Pixie that I couldn’t get it up.

  “Harder.” The woman walked around and knelt down between my open legs and proceeded to undo my belt, button and zipper.

  She reached her hand in and my cock didn’t even budge. Like it was fucking asleep. I didn’t show any emotion to the girl and she didn’t say anything about my soft dick as she was tried to wake him up and get him to notice her hot body and easy pussy.

  Then, thank you God, my phone’s text messaging started belting out Papa Roach and I grabbed it from my pocket with an ‘excuse me’ to the trying-to-get-hooked-up girl was still trying to make me hard, and swiped open my phone to my messages.

  713-468-9696: Hey Dax. I hope you made it home okay. S.

  Scarlet. Sweet, beautiful, feisty Scarlet. And just like that, my dick started hardening at the thought of her.

  The chick between my legs leapt with excitement and started blowing me. I closed my eyes tight. I thought of Scarlet with her hair pooled over my thighs as I showed her how to take my dick to the back of her throat and play with my balls with her fingers, and her mouth. Her lips would be swollen and soft from sucking me deep and swirling her tongue around the head and licking the slit to the sensitive underside. Fuck. She would be amazing. The things I could show her would give her and me so much fucking pleasure she wouldn’t know where she started or ended. Scarlet would love how I could make her body come alive and be helpless to my every touch.

  I started shifting my hips just a bit harder, hitting the back of her throat and she held onto my thighs and took it. Loved every single second of my hard dick in her mouth. She let me set the pace and I fucked her mouth with every pump of my dick.

  “Oh yeah, so fucking good, Scarlet. Take my release. It’s all fucking for you.” My dick felt relief as it spilled its release in Scarlet’s mouth.

  That’s when I heard a moan, one that wasn’t Scarlet’s. My eyes flew opened and I looked down. Mother-fuckin-hell. That wasn’t Scarlet taking my dick like a tiger. It was the tall, blonde woman.

  Her eyes flashed up to look into mine, where she licked one last time up my rapidly fading member and she stood up slowly. She licked her lips like a cat that just ate the cream. Well, she did. No pun fucking intended.

  “Anything else, Mr. Dixon?” Her voice was soft in that way most females spoke to the men they tried hooking their claws into as if sucking me off would make me more pliant. What did this bitch think? I was brainless? Her smile was calculating. I knew that she knew that she wasn’t the one who made my dick come to life. “I don’t mind being called Scarlet. Is that a girlfriend? Wife? Mistress? I don’t mind taking care of anything you need. Your dick tasted so good. I bet you feel a hell of a lot better.”

  She caressed my arm and got in my personal space.

  “Absolutely…anything you require.”

  “Get the fuck out of my face nut breath.”

  I stood up and put myself back in my pants. I was a few inches taller and I got up in her space, ready to throttle her.

  The woman closed her mouth and tried to move back, but I snaked my fingers around her wrist and pried her fingers off my arm.

  “Get your filthy hands off me. Touch me again and I’ll have Dorian make sure you never have a job again.”

  That made her face pale and she looked frightened enough she knew I wasn’t fucking joking. She nodded quickly and all I said was, “Get the fuck away from me and never approach me again.”

  She scampered off like the skank she was. A lot of girls who came to work here, wanted sugar daddies. I was no fucking sugar daddy. Not for no body. Just because I was well off, didn’t mean I was a millionaire.

  Right now though, the only thing I could think to do was get the fuck out of here. I hurried my way out of the dancing area and saw Dorian approaching, calling out my name.

  “Dixon?”

  I held my hand up and said, “Not now. Phone me later.” I hurried out the door and practically ran to the truck. I got in, turned my truck on and drove away.

  What the fuck did I just do?

  8

  Scarlet

  “Who was that dashing young man out there, baby-girl?”

  That’s how is started. Oh man. I hated that she started off with that, and then ‘dashing’? I guess he was, or is, but did she really have to say that?

  “That was Dax. I met him last week when he came into Chili’s for a drink.”

  “He’s a drinker?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Not a heavy one at least. I mean look at him; there’s no way he can drink like a lush and look like that. That’s just not possible, or right if it is. But I don’t think he does. He’s demanding though. He wouldn’t let me pay for my food tonight.”

  “That’s good. You shouldn’t have to pay for your food when out on a date.”

  “It wasn’t a date. I mean, come on. Look at him and look at me. One. I’m not his type. We established that. Two. Guys like him only go for women who don’t think too much. Tall, toned women. Nothing wrong with those type of women, but look at me. I’m short, and voluptuous.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your body, Scarlet. It’s beautiful. Trust me, by the way he was looking at you, you were totally his type, honey.”

  “I know there isn’t anything wrong with my body. I’m happy with it. Well, Nana, when I told him I was a virgin-

  “You’re a virgin?”

  We were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking hot chocolate, or well Nana was drinking hot chocolate before she sputtered some before asking that. I was drinking my hot chocolate mix with cold milk. Yeah, I was super strange-get over it. I hate hot drinks. I drank milk a lot. And I love the chocolate powder mixed with cold milk. Anyway, Nana’s eyes bulged at the thought of me still being a virgin. What the crap?

 
“Uh. Yeah. Why wouldn’t I still be one? You see me bringing guys here to meet you?”

  “Well, when you put it like that, no. But surely you’ve dated and maybe-

  “Nana. Stop right there. I am a virgin because I want that leg poppin’-totally melt my body-and light me up like the Fourth of July-zing. Like you said you had with Grandpa Alan. I want someone to look at me and only me like the way Grandpa looked at you.”

  “Uh. Honey, I think maybe-

  I put my hand up to stop her. “No. Dax and I? We’re just friends. I’m leaving it at that. Now, I’m tired. It’s been a long day and I’m ready for sleep. I have those try-outs tomorrow, remember?”

  “Oh, yes! I know you’ll do great! You’ve always danced beautifully and they’ll be lucky to have you working there.”

  I got up, kissed Nana on the cheek and made my way to the bedroom. The one, little, white lie I told her, well omitted really, I didn’t tell her it was at a Cabaret. I’m pretty sure she would flip her lid at me dancing at a club like Saints and Sinners.

  I was going for it though. Their dancing looked really fun. It’s not like there were poles and they stripped. Although, there was another section to the lounge that we didn’t go looking in. For now, I just wanted to try it out. I could dance and dance well. I was getting myself psyched up and I couldn’t wait.

  I went into my room and crashed down on my bed. It’s been an hour and Dax hadn’t texted me to let him know he was home. Did he live further than Pasadena? He might. It wasn’t just locals who came in to eat and drink, but I figured he lived in the area.

  Give him a little more time, I thought. He might be at home getting ready for bed before texting me. That’s okay. I plugged my iPhone in and put my headphones in, I let Halestorm sing to me while I waited. After an entire album went by and no word, I thought about just texting him.