There were no roses in January, but they’d come again, soon enough. She’d be waiting for them. In the meantime, it was enough to close her eyes, feel the mud under her toes, and remember Daniel. The way he laughed, bright and full. The way he would return to a comment from a conversation hours past. The way he had touched her sometimes, so lightly, as if she were a bird. The scent of him, dark and rich, like coffee in a garden, after rain.
The VIP Room
Nicholas Kaufmann
Flickering oil lamps lined the perimeter of the lake, suspended from wrought-iron stands and casting a radiant glow on the dark water. A welcome breeze eased the warm summer night’s air, and the glassy stillness was pierced only by the gurgling wakes of plastic paddle boats.
“This was a great idea,” Anna said as they paddled their small boat toward the center of the lake. “It’s so romantic here.”
“God bless the Quick City Parks Department,” Mark replied. “We should have saved this for our anniversary.”
“They only keep the boat pond open this late on weekends.”
“Still,” he said, “it’s only two weeks away, and this will be hard to top.”
Anna took his hand in hers and kissed it right above the wedding ring. “I know you’ll come up with a great surprise. You always do.”
“No pressure,” Mark said, laughing.
Anna looked at him for a moment, then pointed over to one of the small, wooded islands that dotted the shimmering lake. “Let’s go over there.”
Behind the low trees of the island, they stopped the paddle boat and floated in place. Before Mark could say anything, Anna leaned across the low plastic hump that separated their seats in the boat and kissed him. His lips were warm and soft, and she felt herself melting against him when he put his hands on her face, the tips of his fingers pressing against her dark blonde hair.
It felt like their lips were meeting for the first time, their tongues touching like long-separated lovers, and she felt a delicious tingle flutter through her.
She finally pulled away from him, leaned back against the low bulwark behind her and reached for the top button of her white blouse. She undid it, then the next and the next, all the way down to her black cotton pants. Anna gently pulled the front of the blouse open.
The day had been stiflingly hot and, in order to keep cool, she’d decided not to wear a bra under her top. All through dinner, Anna found herself getting more and more turned on, knowing she was completely nude under the weave of her blouse, and delighting in the feel of the silky smooth material against the tips of her nipples. She spent so much time fantasizing about surprising Mark at the lake, and about what she wanted to do to him, that she had to restrain herself from sticking her foot up his pant leg at the table.
Mark grinned and twisted to see if any of the other boats were around. He could see some on the other side of the island, through the dark cluster of trees and shrubs, but they were far away.
“Do you think they’ll see us?” he whispered.
“Let them,” Anna said, stretching and lifting her arms above her head. “Let them look.” She let her hands fall to her chest, slowly working their way down to cup her small, pointed breasts. She could feel the skin of her nipples bunching together, becoming erect. She kept her eyes on Mark the whole time.
Anna let her hands continue their journey downward, sliding along her ribcage and grazing over the flat plain of her belly. Then she leaned forward and kissed him again.
“Let’s make them jealous,” Mark said.
Anna pushed him backward, and reached down into his lap. She took the tag of his zipper between her thumb and forefinger and pulled it down. The stark white of his cotton briefs bulged out of the fly. Putting her hands on Mark’s leg, she leaned down and ran her tongue over the jutting cloth of his underwear. The bulge began to grow, and she heard Mark utter that strange noise he always made, something between a gasp and a sigh. She could smell the meaty scent of his arousal as the tender flesh expanded and stiffened under her tongue.
Mark ran his fingers through her hair, and another tingle thrilled through her. She reached through the crowded fly of his pants, pulled his briefs down, and tasted his warm, salty skin against the insides of her cheeks and on her tongue.
From her position, she couldn’t look up at his face, or look into his eyes the way she liked to when she was going down on him. In her mind, she pictured his expression: eyes closed, neck tilted back, mouth hanging open.
In Mark’s mind, with his eyes closed, it wasn’t Anna using her mouth on him. It was Arianna, the boss’s secretary at work. She had light brown hair, dark eyes and a body to die for. Mark imagined them in the copy room at the back of the office.
Arianna was on her knees, her full, round tits bared through her open blouse, her back against the Xerox machine. Mark stood in front of her, his hands deep in her thick, long hair, his pants around his ankles, thrusting his cock into her mouth so hard that her head was tapping against the copier.
He began thrusting harder in the boat, too, his fingers tightening their grip in Anna’s hair, bucking his hips up off the plastic seat and driving deeper into her mouth. The climax pulled him apart inside, then snapped him back together. Mark, grunting, felt Anna try to pull away. Still gripping her hair, he held Anna’s head down in his lap.
The way he wanted to with Arianna.
There were only two people Mark considered himself close to at work: Geoff and Tony. Every day at two-thirty they would take a coffee break together in the small conference room near their desks. The ritual never varied: Geoff drank from the grey mug, and Tony from the marbled black one. Mark couldn’t stand using the same mug every day. Today it was blue.
“It’s getting bad,” Geoff said. “The way you look at her whenever she walks by.”
Mark swallowed and put his empty mug on the table. “Is it that obvious?”
Geoff and Tony both laughed.
“Everyone’s got the hots for Arianna,” Tony said.
“But you’re a married man,” Geoff added.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Mark said. “I think about sex constantly, and with all these other women. It’s like I need it all the time.”
“You’re a man,” Tony said. “We do need sex all the time.”
Mark shook his head. “It’s not just that. It’s like I’m wired differently from everyone else. All my life I had a problem with monogamy. I cheated on whoever I was with, because I couldn’t stand the idea of all those women out there that I couldn’t have. I don’t want to cheat on Anna. She’s great; she’s the best I’ve ever been with.”
“Yeah?” Tony’s eyebrow arched up.
“She’s always game. She’s up for anything, but she can barely keep up with me.”
“She’s your wife now,” Geoff said, frowning. “Cheating on your wife is a whole new ballgame.”
Mark took a deep breath. “I’m keeping it in my fantasies.”
“Good,” Geoff said. “There’s a price on your relationship with Anna, you know. You ever cheat on her, you better make sure the price is worth it. It better be something worth losing her for. Because you will lose her.”
Later, Tony asked Mark to come to his desk for a moment, there was something he wanted to show him. Tony sat in his chair and started flipping through his Rolodex.
“Geoff is full of shit,” Tony said. “Not everything is so black and white.”
“Geoff’s affair cost him his marriage,” Mark replied. “What he said makes sense.”
Tony shrugged. “Maybe. Ah, here it is!” He pulled a bright yellow business card out of the Rolodex and handed it to Mark:
WORLD’S LONGEST CONTINUING
ADULT CELEBRATION
The Aphrodite Club. Est. 1866. Safe. Private. Discreet.
Couples only. Must be over 21. Call for more information.
“What the hell is this?” Mark asked.
“You gotta check it out,” Tony said, leaning back in h
is chair and grinning. “It’s basically a high-class orgy. It’s amazing.”
“I don’t know,” Mark said, looking at the card again.
Tony leaned forward. “Listen, you’re a red-blooded American man. You have certain needs that the rules of monogamy won’t let you meet. So, this is the best of both worlds. You go there with your wife, you stay with your wife, but you’re surrounded by all these other beautiful, naked women that you can look at. It’s like a real-life porn movie. And believe me, Anna won’t be upset about all the other women. She’ll be turned on. You both will.”
“You’ve been there?” Mark asked.
“I told you, it’s amazing. Listen, you said your fifth anniversary’s coming up, and you’ve been looking for something special to do with her, right? Well, here you go.”
Mark looked at the card again.
“Keep it,” Tony said.
Mark sat at his desk, absently tapping the card in his fingers. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like a good idea for Anna’s anniversary surprise. Provided, of course, he could talk Anna into doing something like this.
But would it really take that much effort? One of the things that originally attracted him to Anna, and kept him attracted to her after all these years, was her sense of sexual adventure. The escapade at the boat pond was proof of that, and it wasn’t the only time.
It was only their second date, with both of them drunk at a local bar, when she went down on him in the women’s bathroom, her mouth wet and cold from all the beer. Angry patrons banged on the door, trying to get in, demanding to know what was taking so long, and neither Mark nor Anna cared. She let him come in her mouth, and then she spat it into the sink. Their second date, for God’s sake! How could he not have fallen in love with her?
Just then, Arianna walked past his desk, flashing him a bright smile. She wore a tight black outfit, clearly defining that gorgeous body underneath. It was too tight for her to be wearing a bra, and Mark was sure he could see her erect nipples poking against the tight black top.
He smiled back, and when she was gone he let his breath out slowly. He didn’t want to cheat on Anna. He didn’t want to hurt her, or lose her. But the fantasy of Arianna’s head tapping against the Xerox machine was turning him on again.
Maybe the Aphrodite Club would be just the thing he needed to simultaneously appease and exorcise the feelings that fought inside him. Maybe the thought of Arianna sucking him off in the copy room would pale in comparison to what he and Anna would see and do at the club.
He picked up the telephone, and pressed nine for an outside line.
Mark worked from home the next day. Anna was away at her office, and Mark was checking his work e-mail when the doorman buzzed from downstairs to say a messenger was coming up.
Mark opened the door, expecting to see some kid with dreadlocks and a bicycle helmet standing in the hallway, holding a battered manila envelope. Instead, Mark found himself almost unable to speak, his jaw frozen open for an eternal moment.
She stood in the outside hallway with the luminous poise of some ancient Greek statue of a goddess, carved with care and grace from a single slab of marble. Long dark hair framed a face of finely etched features and piercing dark eyes, then continued cascading down to touch the spaghetti straps of the tight red dress that hugged the generous curves of her slender body.
She held out a brown leather folder sealed with a gold magnetic snap.
“Thanks,” Mark said, finally finding his voice. Her finger grazed his hand as he took the folder from her, and it was like electricity running through his body, sizzling through every limb until it ultimately surged into his loins and stayed there.
She smiled and turned wordlessly to walk away. Mark’s eyes traveled down the creamy skin exposed by her open-back dress, down to the provocative swell of her ass.
“Wait,” Mark called after her. He couldn’t let her go, not yet. He just needed one more look. “Do I have to sign for this?”
She turned back to him, her exquisite lips parting to draw breath. “No, Mr Wagner,” she said in a silky voice. “That won’t be necessary.”
Back at his desk, Mark ignored the waiting e-mails on his computer screen, and opened the folder. The leather was soft in his hands, and the gold snap came apart with a satisfying click. Inside was a thin, perfectly bound booklet with crisp white covers, announcing:
WELCOME TO THE WORLD’S LONGEST
CONTINUING ADULT CELEBRATION
WELCOME TO THE APHRODITE CLUB
The booklet offered a brief history of the club, with large black text and plenty of pictures of the club’s interior and the various important people who visited throughout its history; impressive names like Henry Miller, Anaïs Nin, Hugh Hefner, Marilyn Chambers.
The Aphrodite Club has been continuously open for business and attended by maximum capacity crowds since its inception in 1866.
Founded by a small group of anonymous Greek investors interested in exploring the sensual side of adult life in a safe and responsible environment, and without interference from society’s stifling rules, the Aphrodite Club instantly became Quick City’s best-kept secret.
Today, the club continues in that same spirit.
The Aphrodite Club is designed for couples – or more – only. All are welcome in our luxurious and sanitary surroundings. The rules of society do not apply here, but rest assured, the Aphrodite Club maintains the strictest policies of safety and privacy.
Call soon to make your reservations!
Mark looked in the folder again. There was nothing else, no certificates of age verification, no questionnaires, not even directions on how to get to the club.
He checked his watch. Anna would be coming home in about twenty minutes. Mark took a deep breath, then called the Aphrodite Club.
The woman on the phone said they didn’t have any reservations available for the next two months. Mark’s heart practically sank out of his body. He’d gotten so excited by the prospect of taking Anna to the club on their anniversary that he hadn’t even considered they might be fully booked that night.
And there was something else feeding his disappointment, something unexpected: the woman who delivered the package. She didn’t look like an ordinary messenger; no, she was involved in the club somehow. He wanted to see her again, and the thought of laying eyes on her once more in the erotically charged environs of the club was almost more than he could handle.
“I was really hoping we could get in,” Mark explained, trying to remain calm. “It’s our fifth wedding anniversary, and –”
“Please hold,” the woman interrupted.
A moment later, another woman’s voice came on, a familiar silky voice that said, “No problem, Mr Wagner. We’ll see you then.”
Mark’s heart skipped a beat.
“It’s you,” he breathed into the phone before he could think better of it. “You came by my apartment.”
How did she get back there so fast? he wondered.
“Will you be there?” he continued. “At the club, that night?”
“I’m always here, Mr Wagner.”
“Mark, call me Mark.” He couldn’t believe what he was saying, but he didn’t want to stop himself, either. This was all too exciting to be checked.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Mark.”
“Me, too.” In the reflection of his computer monitor, Mark could see the stupid grin on his face. “What’s your name?”
“I’m called Priestess.”
“Priestess,” Mark said. “I like that.” His mind flooded with fantasies of ancient cults of women-priests in sheer flowing robes, naked women tied to stone altars and struggling against their bonds, frenzied lesbian orgies in honour of their goddess . . .
“Admission is paid at the door,” Priestess continued. “Three hundred dollars, cash. A copy of the directions to the club will be faxed to you right away.”
“Let me give you my fax number,” Mark said.
&nb
sp; “That won’t be necessary, Mark. Have a pleasant evening.”
A moment after Mark hung up the phone, the fax machine started ringing.
That night, with Anna sweating and grinding on top of him in bed, Mark closed his eyes and pictured Priestess.
He lunged deeper into Anna, and in his mind his fingers were unhooking the red spaghetti straps of Priestess’s dress, and letting the material peel slowly away from her naked body.
Then it was Priestess on top of him, not Anna, moaning as he pushed into her, kissing her slender neck and her beautiful, round, pink-tipped breasts.
“Oh, Mark, yes!” Priestess cried, arching her back and shuddering in orgasm. “Yes!”
And then it was Arianna, taking him in her mouth and sucking so hard her head tapped against the Xerox machine behind her.
“I love the way you taste,” Arianna said.
“No!” Priestess was on top of him again, riding him hard. “Me! There’s only me!”
He grunted, exploding inside her.
Screeching tyres . . . shattering glass . . . rending metal . . . the smell of gasoline . . .
Mark gasped and opened his eyes, disoriented. His whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat.
Anna was staring down at him.
“Mark, are you OK?”
“You didn’t hear?” Geoff asked the next morning at work.
“Hear what?” Mark asked.
“Arianna,” Geoff said. “She was driving home last night, and there was an accident. She’s dead.”
Mark stood frozen, his eyes staring off at nothing, his heart pounding.
The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 3 Page 11
