Mid Life Love: At Last

by Whitney Gracia Williams

  “You’re right...What about her hair? I’m not really feeling this color.”

  I cleared my throat. “No. I like my red hair.”

  Kim raised her hand and gave me a look. “We know beauty, Claire. We’ve worked with the best, dated the best, and we’ve fucked the best. We know exactly what we’re doing.”

  “The red can stay, but it needs more volume—way more volume.” Bobbie Jo looked at me like I was an impossible project. “I’m thinking auburn highlights and a blowout.”

  “And a deep mask facial...”

  “And a mud bath...”

  “And a major exfoliating process... ”

  The two of them kept listing treatment after treatment, talking about me as if I wasn’t sitting right in front of them.

  A waiter appeared out of nowhere and held out a tray of champagne glasses. I took two and sipped them as fast as I could.

  “Claire?” Bobbie Jo tapped her chin. “We’re trying to figure out what color we should paint your lips...Tell me something, after you get done giving Jonathan head do you spit or swallow?”

  I spluttered my champagne into the air. “Excuse me?”

  “She swallows.” Kim laughed and helped me stand up. “Good for you, Claire! Spitters are quitters!”

  Jesus...

  Bobbie Jo tossed her head back and laughed. “Sinful red for you it is!”

  They led me over to the shampoo bowl and for the next hour, I lay back and let them do at least ten different protein treatments. When they were done, they took turns brushing soft, autumn colored highlights into my hair, promising me that Jonathan “would fuck [me] on the spot” once he saw the ‘new and improved’ me.

  I’d given up on protesting any of their suggestions; I’d accepted their “We know what we’re doing” and “You’re dealing with the best” mantras. Even when they insisted that I let them place some type of sea-food inspired gunk on my face, I didn’t bother telling them that I hated seafood. I just held my breath and got it over with.

  “Okay, now relax...” Kim pulled a steaming hot blow dryer through my hair. “This is the most important part. This is where we make you look fuckable.”

  As she teased, combed, and curled my hair, Bobbie Jo hummed and applied makeup to my face, demanding that I purse my lips every few seconds.

  I suddenly felt my phone vibrating and pulled it out of my pocket.

  I was hoping it was Jonathan, but it was a number I didn’t recognize. A text. “Heard you’re on vacation in Costa Rica—must be nice...We need to speak as soon as you get back. I’m not taking no for an answer so be ready to TALK—Ryan.”

  “Is it Jonathan?” Kim sighed.

  “Um, no.” I deleted the message. “It’s not Jonathan. Just someone with the wrong number.” I shut my eyes and sat still as they continued to work, trying not to think about Ryan and whatever the hell he wanted to talk about.

  How did he get my new number?

  “Okay, we’re all done.” Kim sounded happy. “Now it’s time to help you into the right dress.” She put the blindfold over my eyes again and led me into another room.

  For what felt like another hour, she and Bobbie Jo literally dressed and undressed me until they finally agreed on what I should wear.

  “Turn around, sexy.” Bobbie Jo took off my blindfold and spun me around. “What do you think?”

  Wow...

  I didn’t recognize myself.

  My hair was now a much deeper and shinier red—with hints of dark blond and hazel brown, and it was styled into an up-do of loose and wavy curls—a style I was considering for the wedding.

  My eyes veered down towards the thin white dress they’d picked and I felt naked, exposed—like there was no point in me wearing a dress at all.

  Bobbie Jo raised her eyebrow. “Something wrong with the dress?”

  “No, it’s just...It’s a bit...”

  “A bit what?”

  I shook my head at the hemline that barely grazed my thigh, at the crisscrossed fabric in the front that exposed the skin underneath my breasts. “Slutty.”

  “It is not slutty!” Kim scoffed. “This is HOT! All the men are going to be looking at you tonight!”

  “I’m getting married.”

  “But you don’t have to look married.” Bobbie Jo rolled her eyes. “This is a night you’re going to look back on and cherish years from now, and we’re going to make damn sure that you never forget it...”

  Chapter 11

  Claire

  I leaned on Kim’s shoulder as we left the third club of the night. My feet were completely numb from dancing so much, and my throat was aching from the amount of alcohol they’d forced me to drink.

  We hadn’t been on “the list” for any of the clubs we’d been to, but Bobbie Jo and Kim had turned on their charm—i.e. rubbed their breasts against the bouncers and flirted with the security guards, so that we could skip everyone and get in for free.

  “Is this the last club, Helen?” I slurred, noticing that we were stopping in front of an all-black building where there was no line. “I’m...I’m not sure if I can...If I can take any more tonight...”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes this is the last club. Well, it’s not really a club. It’s...” She put her hands on my shoulders to steady me. “This is what I’ve been putting together ever since you told me you were engaged. I honestly hate to lose any friend to the married life, but since you want to go that route, I kept that sentiment in mind while I was planning every moment of this...”

  Why is she acting like this is the greatest shit she’s ever accomplished?

  “This is how I want your single life to come to an end.” She pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. “So, please do me a favor and try to let yourself go for the rest of the night. No judging, no worries, nothing. Can you please promise me that?”

  I nodded.

  “Say it like you mean it, Claire.”

  “I promise.”

  “Great!” She opened the door and ushered us all inside.

  We walked through two dimly lit hallways, where I could hear the thumping bass of music coming from another room.

  The air was getting thicker and thicker with each step I took and I was starting to sweat.

  As we rounded a corner, a buff body guard stood up and crossed his arms—blocking the silver door that was behind him.

  “Name,” he said flatly.

  “Claire Statham.” The three of them said in unison.

  He looked all of us over, as if he were questioning why we were there, and then he opened the door. “Have a nice night ladies.”

  I felt myself being pushed inside the room, and once my eyes realized what the hell they were seeing, my jaw hit the floor.

  Jonathan is going to kill me...

  The room was massive. I couldn’t make out where the “walls” were because there was red smoke seeping from the floors and the ceilings. However, I could clearly see half naked men everywhere. And by ‘half naked,’ I meant that they were only wearing tight white briefs and a smile. And since they were sweating, I could see everything.

  There was a huge black stage on the far end of the room where a few male and female dancers were writhing against one another as if they were having sex. There were even people standing right below the stage, tossing dollar bills and panties at them.

  The bar that was on my right was made of all glass and it extended all the way across the room to a wall I couldn’t see. The words “Cum Shots” were flashing in neon red letters behind it, and a long line of bartenders was frantically mixing drinks.

  I was about to ask where the hell we were, but a man who was built like a Greek god stepped in front of me and handed each of us a small velvet bag.

  “Welcome to Club Sin, ladies.” He smiled and Bobbie Jo reached out and cupped his dick.

  “He’s not stuffing.” She winked at me.

  “No one here is.” He smiled even wider. “Follow me to your table. You have a reserved space in VIP.”<
br />
  I shook my head and turned away to leave, but they pushed me forward and made me follow him across the room and up a flight of steps. Our table was directly above the dance floor and right in front of the stage.

  The Greek god took a pen out of—somewhere, and waited for us to take our seats.

  “It should feel a little cooler up here than downstairs,” he said. “But if you get too hot, there’s a cooling station behind that door.” He pointed to a sign below that read ‘Cool after You Cum.’ “What type of drinks can I start you ladies off with tonight?”

  “I’ll have a water.” I said. “In a bottle...”

  “Ignore her.” Kim covered my mouth. “We’ll all have cum shots to start.”

  “And a round of Sex on the Beach.” Helen looked him up and down. “With two bottles of your best vodka and a pitcher of orange juice to share.”

  He wrote it all down and turned to walk away, but not before Bobbie Jo slapped his ass, laughing. “I am so bringing someone back to the suite tonight.”

  I shook my head and opened the velvet bag he’d given us at the door: Condoms, Blow-pops that read “For your blowing pleasure,” a mini vibrator, handcuffs, a blindfold, and lube. Lots and lots of lube.

  What the fuck?!

  I dropped the bag under the table and squinted at the scene that was playing below me on the dance floor. One of the half-naked men was giving a woman one hell of a lap dance and it looked like she was enjoying it a little too much. She was grabbing onto his back and panting, crying out like he was actually—

  OH.MY. GOD!

  I stood up. “I can’t be here, Helen! What the fuck is this place?”

  “Club Sin. Did you not hear the man say that when we got here? Just relax, Claire. Every person in this place knows you’re about to be Mrs. Statham and that you’re off limits. Your lap-dance will be a lot tamer.”

  “I don’t want a lap-dance.”

  She rolled her eyes as our drinks were placed on the table.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” A deep voice came over the speakers—drowning out the high frenzied techno music. “The dance floor will shut down in two hours for our scheduled ‘All Eyes’ performance. Please take advantage of it before we close off that section.”

  “Okay wait!” Kim slid all four cum shots towards me. “I think you need to toss back all of these for yourself. We need you good and drunk way before the show starts.”

  “What type of show is it?”

  “It’s a scene show. They show off different sex positions and I really need some new ones to add to my sex bucket list.”

  “Your fuck-et list.” Bobbie Jo corrected. “Toss back the drinks so we can dance, Claire. Now.”

  I sighed and tossed back the first one to loud cheers, wincing at how bitter it was.

  “Two! Three! Four!” They clapped and thrust another drink into my hand as soon as I finished the last cum shot.

  I took a few sips and before I knew it, I was being pulled onto the dance floor.

  The room was spinning and everything was blurring together—so much so that I wasn’t sure if what my eyes were showing me was true: A half-naked police officer was rubbing against me, swaying my hips to the beat as I struggled to keep my balance. Helen was grinding against two men at the same time, and Bobbie Jo and Kim were sandwiching another Greek god, rubbing him all over.

  Out the corner of my eye I saw people lining up at a different type of bar. There were no alcohol bottles or glasses hanging behind its wall: There were chains, ropes, whips, and lots of metal things I didn’t recognize.

  I watched a couple buy a long silver chain, and raised my eyebrow as they were led out of the room and through the smoke by a bouncer—to somewhere I was sure I didn’t want to know about.

  Dizzy and confused, I slowly freed myself from the stranger’s sweaty embrace and headed back to our section in VIP. I looked at my phone and realized I had a text. Jonathan: “Your new makeover is so fucking sexy. Can’t wait to see it in person. Call me as soon as you get back to your room.”

  I was too dazed and disoriented to even think about talking to him tonight. I didn’t want to slip up and tell him anything about this club. Ever.

  “Are you alright, Claire?” Kim put her hand on my forehead. “I saw you dancing with that cop. I’m proud of you! You’re learning!” She sat down and handed me a bottle of water.

  “Helen wasn’t lying to me, right? This really is the last club?”

  “Yeah...It may be just you and I walking back though.” She pointed to the corner where Bobbie Jo currently had her hand down a fireman’s briefs and Helen was grinding against a different set of men.

  I shook my head and took slow sips of water, savoring every cold drop. Just as I was finally cooling down, a butt-naked sheriff took the bottle out of my hand and positioned himself over my lap.

  “Oh my god—no...NO....NO...” I slurred. “Why is your dick out?! I don’t...I don’t want—Could you at least put your briefs on?!”

  “Don’t worry.” He smiled. “Your friends told me to be extra gentle.”

  “What?!” I shut my eyes as he “danced” against me. He was grunting and using my shoulders to brace himself, saying, “I bet your fiancée doesn’t give it to you like this.”

  When I finally opened my eyes again, he was gone and everyone was back in the VIP booth. The lights in the club were dimming, and the words “scene show” were flashing in white lights across the stage.

  “I think I’ve had enough for one night.” I stood up. “This has been really fun, but I think I should head back.”

  Helen pulled me back down. “Sit still, Claire. We have four more hours left and we’re using every last second! Besides, the DJ just announced that the dance troupe is going to twerk before the show even starts.”

  “Twerk? Do I even want to know what that means?”

  Bobbie Jo stood up and bent over slightly, placing her ass in my face. Then she braced the floor with her hands and proceeded to bounce her ass up and down, moving closer and closer to me.

  “Smack itttt...” She danced a few more seconds before laughing and standing upright. “Now, imagine men doing that with hard dicks and tight briefs and ahhhh...Heaven...”

  “Sounds thrilling.” I rolled my eyes and poured myself a large glass of vodka. No orange juice.

  I tossed it back and clenched my jaw as the burning sensations rolled down my throat. As I was pouring myself another one, a group of men took the stage in black briefs—briefs that perfectly highlighted their huge dicks, and they began to dance to a loud techno beat.

  They were in sync with one another, bending over just like Bobbie Jo had done. But instead of shaking their asses, they were shaking their dicks—making them touch the floor with every lowered move.

  They rubbed their hands all over their sweaty and chiseled chests, winking at the various women in the crowd. And then one by one they began to “twerk” solo, and slowly removed their briefs.

  “Oh. My. God...” We all said in unison.

  I was sure my mouth was hanging wide open at the sheer perfection of their bodies—at the delectable sweat, at the hugeness, at the—

  I shook those thoughts away and tapped Helen’s shoulder. “Do we really need to stay for the sex show?”

  “Of course we do, we’re—Oh, god!” She looked at her watch. “You haven’t gotten your massage yet. You need to get it before the parlor closes. That was included in the package.” She waved over to the bar.

  “A massage? Seriously, Helen? Are you not aware what the phrase ‘I’m-getting-married’ means? It means that I can’t act like you. And who the hell picked this club?”

  “Do you hear something, Bobbie Jo?” She ignored me. “How about you, Kim? I could’ve sworn we all discussed someone letting herself go before we stepped through that door tonight.”

  Bobbie Jo shook her head. “Nope, I don’t hear anything. But do you see that man at the edge of the stage?” She licked her lips. “God, I would love t
o lick his nipple piercing...and his chest...and his...everything.”

  Kim and Helen shot her blank stares.

  “Anyway...” I sighed. “Jonathan wouldn’t like me being touched by another man—especially not a half-naked one—professional massage or not...”

  “Claire...” Helen rolled her eyes. “I would never, ever suggest anything that would make your crazy, jealous, and overbearing fiancée upset with you. All you’ve done tonight is dance, drink to excess, and experience the lamest lap-dance in the world.”

  “He was naked.”

  “He barely touched you. And you know something else?”

  “Good evening, ladies.” A perfectly sun tanned god stepped into our booth. “Who’s getting the massage tonight?”

  I couldn’t find any words to say. He was utter perfection—even more attractive than the men we’d seen on stage.

  Helen eye fucked him for a few seconds before looking at me again. “As perfect as this man is...I specifically made it clear that A) Your masseuse must be gay. And B) It must be a steam massage, so once again, he’ll barely touch you. Trust me, he doesn’t want you. At All...And it’s a damn shame.”

  I blinked and looked up at Mr. Perfection again.

  “I have a boyfriend.” He shrugged and reached for my hand. “I won’t hurt you. Besides, it’s only fifteen minutes.”

  I tossed back another shot and reluctantly took his hand.

  He introduced himself to me as Sean and led me down two dark hallways, into a room that scared the living shit out of me: There were whips and chains hanging from the ceiling, slow burning red candles that nearly covered the entire floor, and countless metal contraptions that jutted out from the walls.

  I looked around for the massage table and spotted it in the corner.

  “This is the best room available for a massage?” I asked.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No, just...People actually come here to do this stuff?” I tugged on a pair of handcuffs that hung from the wall. “This is a sex club?”

  “You’re just now figuring that out?” He led me over to the table. “But to answer your question, yes. My ex used to get a real kick out of this. He loved it.”