Club Fantasy

by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

  Rock pulled up a wide, padded rest for her head and attached her forehead to it with more elastic. She was in no discomfort, but she was totally immobile, naked and spread wide for anyone’s pleasure.

  “One of the things I want you to learn tonight,” he said to her, loud enough for everyone to hear, “is how it feels to be more aroused than you’ve ever been, yet be unable to do anything about it—to be dependent on someone else to bring you to climax. I want you totally dependent on us for your satisfaction.” Rock turned to the two men. “We’re here to satisfy all your fantasies and Wayne, Paul, and I have discussed a few. Rock sounded like a professor giving a lecture to a room full of freshmen. No, Jenna thought, rather like a carnival barker. “I’ve used them to plan this evening. All things are possible here at Club Fantasy so if you desire an additional pleasure, let me know.”

  He took something from a small drawer, then returned his attention to the audience. As he walked toward Jenna, she saw that he held a small vial with a cork stopper. “I picked up this oil on a trip to Asia.” He withdrew the stopper and, with his finger over the mouth of the bottle, inverted it. “It’s an interesting substance.” He rubbed his oily finger over Jenna’s lips. “Tell me what you feel.”

  “It’s getting slightly warm,” she said, reflexively licking her lips.

  “It does get warm,” he said, “and more. It’s a mixture of herbs, ground up bark from a tree that only grows—” He laughed. “Well it only grows somewhere. This vial cost me a small fortune but I think you’ll see that it’s worth it. Hillary? Are you feeling a bit aroused?”

  “Yes,” she said, but she wasn’t sure she was more aroused than she had been merely because of the situation.

  “Good. It’s supposed to be an aphrodisiac but, of course, who ever knows since so much of arousal is mental. Maybe Hillary is getting hot knowing what the oil is supposed to do. I’ve never done a double-blind, scientific study.” He shrugged. “Well, who really cares as long as it works?”

  He moistened his finger again and rubbed it over Jenna’s left nipple. Whether it was mental or physical, she quickly felt the heat as it flowed from her breast to her vagina. It felt like liquid wax coursing through her veins, heating, exciting.

  Rock walked over to the woman who sat at Paul’s feet, and raised an eyebrow. “Sure, I’d love to try it,” she said, and Rock spread a bit of the oil on her nipples, which tightened almost immediately. As she watched, Jenna felt the warmth spread, seeming to flow directly to her pussy. She felt her tissues swell still more and her juices trickle down into the crack between her ass cheeks.

  “Has Diana ever made it with a woman?” Rock asked.

  “Have you?” Paul asked.

  “Oh, sure,” she said. “If it’s sexy, I’ve done it.”

  “Diana and I have only been going together for a few weeks but I can tell you that she’s a very open-minded kind of woman,” Paul said proudly, reaching down and palming one breast.

  “This sounds like my kind of party,” Wayne said. “As I told you, Rock, watching two women is one of my favorite fantasies.” He adjusted his jeans to make his cock more comfortable.

  “Mine too,” Paul said.

  “I had a few other things in mind for tonight but since Diana is here, why not fulfill a few fantasies.”

  Rock flicked a glance at Jenna and she knew he was wondering whether she’d drop the marble. She didn’t. She’d go with it. Tonight all things were possible.

  Jenna found herself getting hotter and hotter. Was it the oil or the atmosphere? “The oil is perfectly safe,” Rock said, “but it’s even more of an aphrodisiac when taken internally.” He reached down and took Diana’s hand, guiding her to a standing position, then over to where Jenna lay, totally unable to move. “Suck!” he said. Although his tone was gentle, there was something powerful in his words. Diana leaned over and took Jenna’s nipple in her mouth.

  This was a woman, Jenna thought, closing her eyes. She expected to feel something unusual but, to her surprise, it didn’t feel unlike the men who’d done it to her. Maybe she should be repelled at the idea but she found she wasn’t. It just was. As the dark-haired woman suckled, Rock spread oil on Jenna’s other nipple and she found her arousal growing. God, she was hungry. She desperately wanted to rub her clit to relieve the need, but she didn’t have the use of her hands. She could only feel and grind her hips.

  “I’m going to spread just a little of this on your cunt, Hillary. Can you imagine how it will feel?”

  She doubted that she could get any hungrier, but she quickly found that she was wrong. The heat inside her was a flame now, threatening to consume her as he spread a bit of the oil on her sopping flesh, then stood back and smiled. “Tell me, Hillary.”

  “I want, need, I don’t know. I can’t think of anything except my pussy. Please, fill it for me.”

  “Not just yet.” He guided Diana to a spot between the legs of the frame, pushed her to her knees, and the woman quickly went to work on Jenna’s cunt. Her tongue was wonderful, softer somehow, seeming to know exactly where Jenna needed it. She licked the length of her slit, then pushed the tip of her tongue into her. Diana actually fucked her with her tongue.

  “Look up, Hillary,” Rock said and she opened her eyes. The mirrored ceiling reflected the brown hair of the woman whose mouth was working so hard between her legs. She could also see the rapt attention the two other men paid to the scene being played out for their delight. As Jenna watched, Diana reached up and pulled at her nipples, her mouth not stopping its ministrations.

  For what seemed like forever, Diana kept sucking and soon her fingers joined, filling Jenna’s passage and rubbing her clit. She wanted to hold back, prolong the intensely erotic moments, but she couldn’t. Screaming, she came, colors soaring, spearing, flashing in all directions. Orange and electric blue swirled through her brain. Over and over she felt the spasms clench deep in her belly. With Diana’s mouth on her, she felt like she could keep climaxing indefinitely.

  Rock pulled the woman from her and tipped the frame so that Jenna’s head was level with Diana’s crotch. “She’s in just as much need as you are, Hillary,” Rock said. “Help her.”

  Jenna buried her mouth in Diana’s crotch and licked. Since she’d never done anything like this before, she just thought about what she liked and did the same. From the woman’s moaning she realized that she must be doing something right.

  “Shit,” one of the men said, “that’s quite a sight.” She couldn’t see the mirrored ceiling, but she heard rustling, and then a mouth was on each breast as her tongue found Diana’s erotic places.

  “The oil is wonderful on the cock,” Rock said. “It increases the size and hardness of the erection. I’ve tried it myself several times.”

  From the sounds, she imagined everyone stripping, then Rock painting the oil on the two men’s eager cocks. “Since you can’t fuck Hillary’s pussy without a condom, how about this way.” Jenna felt a cock in each hand and, as she sucked on Diana’s clit, she used her fingers to spread the oil, and then called on all her skill to give the two men the best hand jobs she could.

  The room reeked of sex. Grunts, growls, and moans filled her ears as she allowed the intense pleasure to overwhelm her. Eventually, everyone left her alone. As she watched in the ceiling, Diana got on her hands and knees, lowing herself onto Paul’s rigid shaft while Wayne fucked her from behind.

  “I told them that I wanted the pleasure of bringing you your ultimate orgasm. Jenna,” Rock whispered. Calling her by her right name increased the intimacy as he removed his clothing, adjusted the frame so that her pussy was at the right height for his staff, then, with a condom in place, rammed his cock home, holding her thighs tightly as he thrust deeply.

  When he was lodged fully within her, Rock lay full length on top of her as he thrust, stretching his arms over hers, his face filling her vision. As he began slow strokes, she came one last time. Her orgasm seemed bigger than anything she’d ever experienced,
but whether it was the erotic aura or the oil, she neither knew nor cared. Rock came soon after.

  When he was done, Rock used a warm, wet cloth to wash the oil, juices, and sweat from her drenched body.

  “That oil is quite something,” she said to Rock later, after everyone else was gone.

  “I’m glad it worked out this way,” he said. “I had something different in mind but since Diana came along ...”

  “It was wonderful. I wasn’t sure why I was so hot but I guess I didn’t care. It was a powerful experience. I only hope I can give some of that to my clients.”

  “I’m sure you can, and do. Sex is really a lot of fun, isn’t it?” Rock said, grinning.

  “It certainly is.”

  Later she thought about her relationship with Rock. She ought to be confused. She had very special feelings for Glen but couldn’t have a relationship with him because of what she was, and she cared for Rock but it was all friendship and lust. How she knew the differences she wasn’t sure, but she knew.

  Chapter 15

  Marcy saw it all, felt it all that night. Faces, men with huge erections, hands on bare breasts and penises. A woman with her mouth doing unspeakable things—things that felt exciting, arousing, but were so wrong. She was struggling, trying to get up but she couldn’t. Her wrists and ankles were bound. She tried to scream but no sound escaped. She was being violated and there was nothing she could do about it. Through it all, the same face she’d seen before filled her mind. Bald, dark, with a diamond in his ear.

  She sat bolt upright, panting, sweat pouring from her body. She was both terrified and aroused. It was a dream, she told herself, it was a dream. But it felt very real, so real that she couldn’t slow her heartbeat or breathing. So real. She looked at the clock. It was almost 3:00 A.M. She needed to call Jenna. Maybe she was in trouble. Maybe this was that twin thing they had always kidded about but couldn’t deny, either. She had to call her sister. She reached for the phone, but then let her hand drop. This was silly. Jenna was home, asleep. It was just a nightmare.

  She rubbed her thigh where the woman’s hands had touched her, then looked down, almost surprised to see the same white, flabby flesh. She threaded her fingers through her hair, then lay back down, knowing she wouldn’t get back to sleep.

  At seven in the morning, she dressed and made herself a pot of coffee. When she couldn’t wait any longer, she pressed the quick-dial button to call Jenna. “We’re sorry, the subscriber you’ve called does not answer. Please try your call again later.”

  Damn. She’s turned the phone off or she’s in a dead spot. Maybe she’d let the batteries drain as she often did. It’s nothing to worry about. Marcy paced the floor of the kitchen, staring out at the snow falling on the yard, then tried Jenna again. She couldn’t shake the dream and the belief that Jenna was in some kind of trouble. “We’re sorry—” She pressed ‘end.’ By eight-thirty, she was dressed for work, but then she reconsidered and called in sick. She was getting more frantic by the moment, all the time telling herself she was being silly. Silly or not, she couldn’t shake the fears or the dream.

  By nine, she had tried Jenna’s number a dozen times with the same results. “Okay,” she told herself. “I’m obsessing. This is ridiculous. Jenna’s fine.” With those thoughts in mind, she changed into warmer clothes, climbed into her car, and headed for Manhattan.

  Six hours and several dozen, useless, phone attempts later, she parked in a garage on East Fifty-second Street and walked through an inch of slush to the brownstone. The man who opened the door was huge, tall and muscular, with a completely shaved head, striking blue eyes and an eerily familiar diamond stud in his left ear. He was dressed all in black, but then she somehow knew he would be. Although she had never met him, she knew him. She’d seen him often in her dreams. “May I help you?” he asked.

  “I’m looking for Jenna. Jenna Bryant.” When he seemed about to close the door in her face, she added, “Please. I’m Marcy. Marcy Bryant.”

  The smile on his face changed him from a menacing figure to a ... Well, now he was a smiling menace. “Yes, of course.

  Now I see it,” he said. “You’re her twin sister.” He held out his hand. “I’m Rock. I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Ushering her inside, he took her coat and hung it in the closet.

  The house looked the same as it had when she’d visited over Labor Day weekend, but who was this giant? “Is she here?”

  “I’m sorry, she won’t be in for at least an hour. Is there something I can do?”

  “Where is she?”

  Looking suddenly wary, Rock said, “Maybe I ought to let her explain that.”

  “Explain what? I don’t understand.” He seemed so at home in Jenna and Chloe’s house. “Are you visiting?” she asked.

  He seemed puzzled. “I live here.”

  Now Marcy was completely confused. “I thought my sister lived here.”

  The doorbell rang and Rock moved to answer it. He admitted a tall, good-looking man with carefully blow-dried, totally white hair. The man looked her over. Marcy was wearing her standard outfit, an oversized, black sweatshirt with a black turtleneck shirt beneath, and matching sweat pants. “I guess I’m a little early,” the man said. “You’re not dressed.”

  “Me?”

  “No, Mr. Phillips,” Rock said gently, “she’s not your partner this evening. Melissa is waiting for you upstairs in the living room.”

  “Oh.” Mr. Phillips looked Marcy over again. “I’m sorry. I like women with meat on their bones,” he said. “If you’re free next time I come, miss, I’d love to have you.”

  Marcy was so puzzled that she kept silent as Rock showed Mr. Phillips up the stairs. When Rock returned, he said, “I’m sorry for the interruption. If you’d like to wait in the living room, I’m sure Jenna will be here within an hour. She’s got someone at six.”

  “Got someone?”

  “I think I’ve said more than enough,” Rock said, his cheeks coloring slightly. “Maybe you should wait for her.”

  While she waited, a lovely looking woman arrived, kissed Rock on both cheeks, and disappeared up the stairs, followed only a few minutes later by a rumpled man in a leather coat and jeans. “She’s in the motel room,” he told the man.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what must be going on. Her dream. The men and women coming and going. This was a whorehouse, and Jenna must be part of it. Another couple arrived, and Rock guided them to something called a Western room. Marcy seethed. Her sister was a whore. There couldn’t be any other answer. But it couldn’t be. She knew her sister and she wouldn’t do a thing like that. There must be something she was overlooking. This can’t be what it seems. Maybe it’s something Chloe’s doing and Jenna had to move out because of it. Yeah, that must be it. But why didn’t Jenna tell her about it? And what about the man called Rock who’d disappeared up the stairs?

  She stood, paced, then sat back down. She fiddled with her purse, then went to the tiny bathroom in the hall. She didn’t dare go anywhere else in the building. Who knew what was going on? Finally, about three quarters of an hour after she arrived, Marcy heard a key in the front door. Wondering where she should be when Jenna walked in, she stood, then sat, then stood again and walked toward the door. If she hadn’t been so upset she would have been amused at the shocked expression on Jenna’s face as she walked in.

  “Marcy,” Jenna said, dropping her pocketbook on the floor and splaying her hand over her chest. “You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing here?”

  Marcy rushed forward and hugged her sister, then held her at arms length and stared at her from head to foot. She wasn’t hurt, although she’d been assaulted the previous evening. Or had she? “I scared you? I was terrified. You’re all right.”

  “Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I thought you’d been hurt, then I tried to call over and over and I couldn’t reach you.”

  “Shit
. I’m sorry. I must have left my phone here, turned off.”

  Marcy stalked into the living room, then back to the entrance way. “I drove all day, terrified that something had happened to you.” She couldn’t decide what made her angrier, the fact that Jenna was okay or that she’d been so frightened by her dream.

  “What’s gotten into you, Sis?” Jenna said, looking mystified. “We’ve been out of touch before and it’s never freaked you out like this. If you’d just given it time, you’d have reached me. You know I misplace my phone now and then. And if you had left a message, I’d have called you back.”

  Through gritted teeth she hissed, “What had me freaked out, as you put it, is that I had one of those twin things we have occasionally, in the middle of the night last night. There was a woman with you, then you were being assaulted by a man who looked exactly like that bodybuilder type who says he lives here.” By the time she reached the end of the sentence she was almost shrieking.

  Jenna leaned back against the front door and Marcy watched her body deflate. “You met Rock?” she said softly.

  After a deep breath, Marcy answered, her voice deceptively soft, “I met Rock. I also met a man named Phillips who said that if I was free the next time he came, he’d like to—how did he put it—have me. What the hell is going on?”

  Jenna recovered her equilibrium enough to usher Marcy into the kitchen. In silence, Marcy sat down while Jenna put coffee on to brew. “If you’re trying to figure out how to answer that question,” Marcy said, as Jenna settled opposite her, “let me say that the truth would be refreshing.” There was an acid tone to her voice that matched the taste of bile rising in her throat.

  Jenna hung her head, then, as if she’d made up her mind about something, straightened up. “Marcy, I’ve wanted to tell you all about this for a long time but I was afraid of your reaction. I can see that keeping secrets was worse. We call this place Club Fantasy and I haven’t lived her for a few months.”