by Ben Boswell
I was discouraged, but she was surprisingly charged up. In her mind, she seemed to think the day had been a success. We'd canvassed and crossed off our list two dozen establishments. She argued that meant we were that much closer to our goal.
Again, her attitude gave me a weird gnawing sensation. She didn't seem to be the same cautious, deliberative woman I'd known all these years. Our whole plan was a crazy gamble, but instead of shrinking from it, Kris seemed to almost be enjoying it. She reminded me suddenly of one of those people who refuse to leave the slot machine because having lost almost all their money, they now believe they are due.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Yeah. Today was interesting. Wow, lots of crazy people out there."
"Yeah?"
"Well, you saw them too. People covered head to toe in tats. Guys who seem to live in the gym. Everyone with crazy stories."
"I guess you were a big hit." All I'd gotten was a few sales pitches.
"You could say that." She laughed. She handed me a stack of papers: passes to various gyms, a free six month membership to another, coupons for tattoos, some of them just handwritten notes. Dozens of phone numbers, several with flirty notes attached.
I wondered, was she really optimistic? Or just getting off on the attention? And did it really matter either way? It occurred to me that if we struck out tonight, it might be worth it for her to check out my list as well.
Back at the motel, we changed into evening clothes, me in my new jeans and shirt. She was in a clingy dress, black, with a lace panel that exposed her cleavage. She didn't look slutty, just sexy. Appropriate for a nightclub, maybe a little overdressed for a bar, though. But the idea of having her making rounds on her own dressed like that freaked me out a little. If she was pulling a lot of attention in her workout clothes, in this outfit she'd be fighting them off with a stick, except as far as I could tell, she hadn't packed a stick.
_____
We'd toyed with the idea of Kris making a round of the strip clubs, but decided the smarter division of labor was for me to get those while she visited the dance clubs. We split the list of other bars.
By now she had a pretty good sense of what Damon looked like, so most of our communications were just informing each other of where we'd been.
I dropped by Satin Dolls again, sidled up to the bar. The same bartender was working again and recognized me. He poured me a beer.
"Hey man," he said. "Didn't think I'd see you again."
I tensed up.
"Why's that?"
"Thought you mighta moved in with Amber or something."
"She just gave me a dance."
"And then the two of you left within minutes of each other."
"I don't want to get her in trouble."
He laughed. "I don't own the place. I don't give a shit who the girls fuck."
I shrugged.
"Was she as good as I said?"
"Yeah, she was," I replied with a nod. Until she tasered me. "Why'd you ask if we moved in together?"
"Oh, she came in the next morning. Cleaned out her locker. Told some of the other girls she was going down to Vegas to dance for a few weeks. Taking time off from dancing usually means they've found a sugar daddy."
"Yeah?"
He laughed. "You don't really think they're working their way through school, do you? Most of 'em are just looking to get their meat hooks into a rich dude, even if it's just for a few months."
It was my turn to laugh. "That rules me out. How about you, why are you working here?"
He shrugged. "Tips are pretty good. Club full of slutty, naked girls. Most of them are cool with hooking up."
"Makes sense. My stepbrother, Damon, worked in a strip club for a while, at least when he wasn't lifting, but it was the sort of thing we all whispered about. Not really Thanksgiving Dinner conversation, ya know?"
I was hoping for even a glimmer of recognition, but got nothing. "Yeah, well, I don't know that I still want to be working here when I'm forty. But for now it's a good time."
A dancer, a petite blonde, came over and sat down next to me. Her hand on my forearm, she said, "Hey, baby, can I join you?"
She was really young, but had dirty girl written all over her. I gave her a big smile. Part of maintaining my cover meant getting at least a dance.
_____
In between clubs I checked my email. I had one from Sal. I opened it, found a short note:
Hey numb nuts, I hope you haven't forgotten about me. I sure as shit haven't forgotten about you and your two whores. Here's a little something to keep the memory alive.
It was a video. I knew what it would be before I opened it. Kris had warned me. But even still, I knew I'd need to look. I clicked on the icon.
It was a close up of Kris, naked, on her knees blowing Sal. Her mouth was stretched desperately around his girth. He was thrusting his cock past her full, red lips. Her fist looked tiny wrapped around his shaft, pumping up and down.
He zoomed in until I could see every ridge, every vein on his cock, could see her spit on his shaft, the bumps on her tongue as she licked him.
He withdrew his cock from her mouth.
"Open up, whore," he commanded.
She obeyed without question, sitting back on her heels, her mouth open wide, her tongue flattened over her lower lip, awaiting his come. He stroked himself firmly.
"Don't swallow yet."
She gave him a small submissive nod, and then he shot a thick rope of jism over her tongue.
"Oh yeah," he grunted. He spurted several more times, adding to the semen pooling on her tongue.
"Fuck, that's hot," he commented as his camera focused on the come in her mouth.
He zoomed back out, filming her pretty face, her naked body.
"Now swallow."
She closed her mouth and gulped it down, only a small narrowing of her eyes signaling her displeasure.
"Show me," he ordered.
She opened her mouth to demonstrate she'd obeyed him.
"You're a perfect little whore, you know that?'
She looked at him blankly, imperturbable. The video ended on that image.
Not for the first time, I thought how much I would like to bludgeon Sal to death with a heavy, blunt object.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I ended up hitting six strip clubs. I kept my eyes open. I tried the stepbrother opener a few times. But I didn't even get a nibble. Even still, I was in a good mood. Having had half a dozen pretty women rubbing themselves on me had that result. Even though I was paying for it, it still served as positive reinforcement. It occurred to me that I was feeling the same thing as had Kris this afternoon.
I had a list of bars to visit as well. I checked my watch. It was only a little after 11:00 pm. Plenty of time to knock them out before last call.
I was sitting at the first bar, nursing a beer, when a text came in from Kris.
-Him?
I gave the accompanying picture a quick glance, getting ready to explain why it wasn't. Except that I couldn't be sure.
-Where are you?
She sent me the address. It was just a few blocks away.
I texted back.
-I'll be right there. Meet me out front.
I paid my tab and walked over.
"I think that might be him," I said.
She lit up. "See, told you we'd find him."
"Okay, so how should we do this?"
"I'll go up the bar and get a drink," she began. "You put on your glasses and keep an eye on things."
"Okay."
She pulled out her phone and called me. I picked up. She muted me. "Okay, you can listen in. Give me a couple of minutes, then come in."
I nodded.
I dug my ear buds out of my pocket so I could listen without broadcasting to the rest of the bar. I walked in. The place was a more upscale than I would have expected, not as dark or loud as some other Iron City places. It had a long, polished wooden bar, with a gleaming brass railing. The bo
ttles behind the bar shone, lined up on lit risers.
The crowd was eclectic, a mix of well-dressed couples, slutty party girls taking a break from dancing next door, and some younger frat-boy types in jeans and baseball caps. Obviously the bar's location made it a crossroads of the different clubs and nightspots in the neighborhood.
I took a spot at the wall railing, away from the bar, but with a perfect line of sight on Kris. She'd settled in on a barstool, her legs crossed, and her foot bouncing jauntily. The bartender approached. He was dressed in black pants and white shirt, rolled up to his elbows. His shirt looked like it was ready to split. It looked like Damon, and my judgment was confirmed when he introduced himself.
"Welcome to Bar Blue. My name's Damon, can I get you a drink?"
She gave him a big smile.
"I'm Tina," she replied. She held out her hand and they shook. "Can I get an Appletini?"
"Appletini for the pretty lady. Done," he replied flirtatiously.
He mixed it right in front of her.
"So is this your first time here? I don't think I've seen you before."
She giggled. "No, I've been here before. And I definitely noticed you."
I groaned. She was coming on awfully strong.
He seemed to eat it up, though.
"Why didn't you come over and say hi?"
He leaned on the bar, closing the distance between them.
"Oh, you were hanging out with some skinny brunette. She seemed like the jealous type."
He put her drink down in front of her and backed up a little. She didn't read his body language.
"You still an item with her? I don't want to get stabbed for talking to you."
He straightened up and regarded Kris skeptically. He slapped the bar with his open palm.
"Oh the house. But I need to get back to work. Enjoy your evening."
I sent Kris a text.
-Too strong.
-I know. Fuck. What now?
-Give it some time.
-Okay.
We'd found our guy. That was the good news. The bad news was that we didn't have a good plan for what to do now. We needed to get him talking about Jessi. But we didn't know whether he was still with her, or whether she had told him that she was hiding out. The biggest risk was that he'd get too suspicious, clam up on us, and at worst maybe even warn her that people were asking questions about her.
Kris' plan, such as it was, seemed to be to just hang around and see what happened. The downside from my perspective was that the minute Damon walked away, the sharks began to circle.
She was undeniably an attractive target. The blond hair, the cleavage, the sexy black pumps, dangling off her toes... it was all chum in the water.
Some of the come-ons were direct.
"Hi, I'm Bob, can I buy you a drink."
Others were lame.
"Do we know each other?"
Every time she came close to finishing her drink, there seemed to be a competition to send over a refreshment. She'd get her refill, give a little smile, and the next victim would come over to take a shot.
In each case, after a brief flirtation, Kris would send the new suitor away, making sure to cast Damon a quick glance as she did. The message was unmistakable. They aren't whom I am interested in.
He played it cool. Delivering her drinks without comment, but I could see him stealing a peek at her more and more often. She was definitely spiking his interest.
It was almost 1:00 before he came back over.
"So, what does your hubby think about you spending hours in bar, getting hit on?"
She laughed. She waved her ring finger at him. "Oh these? I just wear them so I can have an excuse when I don't want attention."
"Well, but now that I know that, you can't use that excuse on me."
"Who says I want to?" She batted her eyelashes at him.
"You don't know anything about me."
"And you don't know anything about me," she replied with a laugh. "And yet, here we are, sharing a moment."
"Is that what this is?"
She shrugged.
A couple sat down at the bar. Kris nodded in their direction. "Looks like you have some business."
I had to admit, she'd played that very well. Sucked him in and then dismissed him. He'd definitely be back. But then what? How was she going to get him to talk about Jessi?
She shot me a quick glance. She was obviously pleased with herself.
I texted.
-what now?
-I don't know. I don't want to spook him.
The guy was a bruiser. 250 pounds of muscle. And we were afraid of scaring him.
-you should get his number
-yeah, but I don't want to let him out of my sight. He feels like our last shot at Jess.
She looked back toward me. I gave her a quick nod.
Last call was coming fast. Soon we'd be kicked out and he'd be closing up.
I texted back.
-invite him to an after-hours club? There’s one down the street.
-okay. I'll try.
At 1:30 they announced last call. At 2:00 they shooed me out of the bar, though they let her stay as he cleaned up.
I couldn't just stand out there on the sidewalk, so I walked down toward The Early Worm, the after-hours club a block away. I paid my twenty-five dollar membership and ordered a beer at the bar. The place was decorated like a 1920s speakeasy, with rough-hewn tables, and jazz on the stereo.
As I settled in, it occurred to me that I hadn't heard anything on my ear buds for the past several minutes. I wondered if I could get reception down here. I pulled out my phone and realized it had shut off. Fucking iPhones and their crappy battery life, I cursed.
I called over the bartender and asked if he had a charger. He rolled his eyes, but grabbed a charger from beside the cash register. He plugged it in under the bar and handed me the cable.
I plugged in my phone. I tried to turn it on, but it took an infuriatingly long time to come to life. It was probably just a few seconds, but I realized it had been almost fifteen minutes now since I'd heard from Kris. Finally the silver Apple logo appeared and then my phone came on. I waited as it searched for the network. Connection. Whatever.
My phone buzzed five times in quick succession. Five texts.
-So what do you think?
-Oh fuck, we lost our connection. He invited me to his place.
-Daniel? What now?
-Decided to invite him back to our place.
-Daniel, where are you?
The last text was time stamped eight minutes earlier.
I tried to call her, but her phone went right to voicemail. I groaned. She was probably out of juice as well by now.
I didn't have the car keys. I didn't even know if she'd left the car behind or whether she’d driven then back to the motel. I called a cab. They said it would arrive within fifteen minutes. Fuck fuck fuck. But there was nothing else to do but wait. I downed my beer, paid, and went out front to wait.
The cab company was better than promised. They showed up in twelve minutes. But I was now a good twenty minutes behind Kris. I was tempted to offer money for him to burn lights, but realized that getting pulled over would be the worst-case scenario.
It was 2:27am when we pulled up to the motel.
I was frantic, but still forced myself to be quiet as I entered the room. I needn't have bothered.
_____
The living room/kitchenette was dark, but there was a light coming out of the bedroom. I don't know if Kris had consciously planned that, but it meant I could creep right up and look into the bedroom from the darkened living room.
I didn't need to look in, though, to know what was going on. His grunts, her moans, the sound of the bed squeaking told the whole story. Still, I couldn't resist peering in.
She was riding him, sitting upright, her hands massaging his chest, his mauling her big breasts.
"Oh fuck, I love your muscles," she moaned. She bounced up and down, i
mpaling herself roughly on his big cock.
She was rubbing him all over, feeling his hard chest, the swells of his powerful arms. He was built like a power lifter, rather than a body builder. He wasn't a cover model, just a big, beefy, strong guy. He was enjoying her body as well, playing with her tits, squeezing her ass.
He grabbed her by the waist, held her still, and then pounded her roughly from beneath. She squealed, over and over, her head thrown back, her long, blond hair dangling down her back.
He released her and she immediately went back to fucking him, leaning forward until her breasts dangled in his face, twerking on his fat cock. He took her areola into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucked her engorged nipple roughly.
Suddenly, he sat upright and swung his legs off the bed. He lifted her up effortlessly as he stood. Standing, with his tree trunk legs firmly planted on the ground, he bounced her up and down on his cock, masturbating into her pussy, using her like a sex toy. And to my shock, she loved it.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God," she gasped wheezily.
She threw back her head as her body convulsed in his arms. He took advantage to suck on her throat.
She was still in a daze as he walked her into the wall and pounded into her violently. His fat dick churned into her pussy explosively, the wet, squishing sounds a testament to her excitement. It looked like he was trying to fuck her straight through the wall. She rested her head on his shoulder, her face red, her hair increasingly matted to her forehead with sweat. Not surprisingly, the people next door hammered back from their side, yelling at my wife and Damon to shut up.
Kris laughed. He kissed her wetly. In a weird way that felt like even more of a betrayal than the sex.
"Damn, you're hot," he sighed.
She giggled. They kissed again. I was struck by how effortless he held her off the ground. It was obvious that she was also very turned on by his physique, his strength.
He spun her around and walked her over to the bed, body-slamming her onto her back as he settled between her legs. She pulled her thighs to her chest, her toes pointing in the air, opening herself completely to him.
