Longing: Club Inferno

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  Anya was picturing it. Only it was her and him.

  “I’d bend her in half with her legs on my shoulders. Then, I would fuck her slow until she was about to come.”

  Anya was transfixed; the outside faded as his rough words felt like caresses on her body.

  “Then I’d gently place my hand on her throat, pressing on her carotid artery.” He raised his finger and ever so slowly, giving her the chance to stop him, touched her there with the barest of pressure.

  “Good,” Master Dante barked, and Anya jumped a foot. She was shaky and wanted to laugh to release the nervous energy, but she was afraid to break the mood. Fixing her eyes on Master Dante, she tried to get some sense into her scrambled brains.

  “Lack of oxygen is going to heighten your orgasm. But as I said, you aren’t trained enough to cut off someone else’s supply. Ladies first. Put one hand on the side of the swimming pool and go under the water. Men, do your best to make your partner come. I don’t want anyone drowning, so, men, keep your heads above the water. Underwater sex is another class. Ladies, try to hold off as long as you can before coming back up for air.”

  Anya felt Clint’s eyes on her as she slowly turned back to him. “Have you ever been choked?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “What do I get?” he said with a smile.

  “What do you want?” she countered.

  “Nuh-uh, the first one who names a price loses.”

  “What the heck is that supposed to mean?” Anya asked, glancing over to see how the men were doing. There were shrieks of laughter as the ladies came up for air. One couple was in a frenzy. She was wrapped around him while he pounded into her. Anya was beyond wet. The only thing stopping her from climbing on Clint was Master Dante’s burning gaze. He wanted to see that. She was too shy for that, but more important, she wanted to call the shots, not let some third party do it.

  “Want to get into the water?” Clint leaned in and whispered in her ear. She shivered from the heat of his body and the movement of air against her face.

  “Clint,” she said, not sure if she was begging for more or asking for him to take the next step.

  “Do you want to hear my story? That’s the price. We go in the water and play some breathing games.”

  For one wild, brief moment Anya considered saying yes. But she thought about all those eyes on her naked body. She couldn’t bang a stranger with ten other strangers watching. She shook her head reluctantly.

  “It’s not my thing. The public display. I’m sorry.”

  Clint smiled. “So make a counteroffer.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You’re not going in the pool, but to hear my story you will…” He let his voice trail off seductively.

  “Buy you lunch?” she countered.

  “See, I started the bidding at an outrageous price. Now you’ve got me down to lunch. If you had offered me lunch first, I could have negotiated up to a kiss.”

  “You can have a kiss.”

  He leaned in, to be stopped by her palm on his chest. Damn, he felt good. “Story first,” she said.

  “Not very trusting.”

  “I used to work in Vegas. Always get the cash up front.”

  He tried to stare her down with those amazing eyes of his. Master Dante had charisma in spades, but Clint was all animal attraction. Clint made her think of long, sweaty sex up against a wall.

  “What did you do in Vegas?” he drawled.

  “Colleen and I worked together, but that’s my story.” Anya slid her hand across his powerful chest. “And you’re going to have to bargain for it. I believe you were going to tell me how it felt when you were being choked. You want that kiss or not?”

  “Switch,” Master Dante barked.

  Anya jumped again and directed a glare at Master Dante that would probably have gotten her punished if she was one of his submissives.

  “Where are you going to kiss me?” Clint asked.

  “On the lips. Or are you bargaining for something more?”

  He laughed. “I meant here or back in my room.”

  “Oh.” Anya pressed a hand to her cheek as a big blush washed over her.

  “Of course, you can put your lips anywhere you’d like on my body.”

  “Well, this is easier than I thought it would be,” she said, glancing over at the men in the pool. Most of them opted to hook their legs over the edge of the pool and let gravity keep their heads below water. This was the first mass blow job she had ever witnessed. And that wasn’t the sexiest thing in the room.

  “What is?” the sexiest thing in the room asked, bringing her attention back to him.

  “I was going to ask you out today.” Anya couldn’t believe after all the flirting and sex talk, this is what she was feeling embarrassed about.

  “Out where?” Clint flipped open the sarong and placed his hand on her naked thigh.

  Anya inhaled a fast breath, nearly shrieking with surprise. God, she was in a bathing suit. Her thighs were on display for the entire world to notice they were touching. He didn’t seem to care. He seemed to like it.

  “I was going to start with dinner at Shira’s. It’s a Middle Eastern place upstairs.”

  “Are you going to belly-dance for me?”

  “Not even if you offered me your baklava,” she said, and, feeling bold, placed her hand on his shoulder. His skin was warm and her fingers tingled. His hand wasn’t exploring, so she would do him the same favor of not groping him in public. “Are you going to say yes?”

  He nodded. “Do I get my kiss after dinner?”

  “If you’re a good boy and eat all your vegetables.”

  “I’m never a good boy, but I think I can manage the veggies.”

  “All right.” Master Dante clapped. “Our time is up. Stop what you are doing or there will be consequences.”

  “Does tonight work for you?” he asked.

  “Uh-huh.” Anya nodded.

  He stood in one graceful movement. She had a moment to see he was as affected by their conversation as she was. And then he tied his towel around his waist.

  “Seven o’clock?”

  She swallowed. “Yeah.”

  “Can’t wait.” He gave her a slow, smoldering look and left the pool room.

  It took Anya a good ten minutes to realize she was staring into space, while naked people got dressed around her.

  Chapter Three

  Clint had a hard-on that didn’t want to go down. It was a little embarrassing. He was a Dom, for Chrissakes. He should have more control over himself.

  “You’re early,” Max said when he stepped into the dojo. Max was rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. Ever since he’d hooked up with Colleen’s sister, Mallory, Max’s dungeon days were spent with his fiancée more than with Club Inferno’s paying customers.

  “I need to get my head together before the class starts.” Both of them.

  “Everything okay with the family?” Max asked as he headed to the storage closet.

  Clint rolled his eyes. “As far as I know.” His mother and father were carnies. They traveled with a circus all over the world. “Last time I talked to them, they were in Budapest.” His mother was a fortune-teller and his father worked wherever the circus needed him. Clint was a bit of a disappointment to them. As an only child, he had been expected to follow along in the family business. He had wanted to dance on Broadway. That dream died quickly, but New York City was the best place to learn other skills. Nowadays, he was saving up cash to open a tequila tasting bar.

  “Help me with the mats?” Max asked.

  Clint dragged four of the heavy floor mats and let them slam to the ground. He would not think of tossing Anya down on top of one and stripping her out of that sleek black one-piece. Too late. He groaned.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I got a date tonight,” Clint said, running his fingers through his hair self-consciously.

  “No shit?”
Max said. “With that redhead Chenille?”

  He racked his brain. Who? Oh, yeah. Chenille. They had a nice couple of times, but she had chosen Master Steve over him. Normally, that wouldn’t have bothered him. Plenty of fish in the sea, after all. But he had overheard her talking to a friend about him. “Clint’s nice enough to look at. But when he’s talking I just want to go, ‘Shhhh, no one cares what you think, pretty boy.’ ”

  Whatever, she’s Steve’s problem now.

  “No, but she is a model.” Clint smiled at the memory of his first glimpse of Anya. It was in an ad for lingerie. He thought she was gorgeous then. It was because of her that he had a thing for black lace.

  “Careful you don’t play too hard. Does she know about Club Inferno?”

  “Actually, you know her. It’s Anya.”

  Max winced. “Man, are you sure about that? Anya’s a real nice girl.”

  “What? I can’t date nice girls?” Clint didn’t really date as much as he had sex with a lot of women, but still. Most of them were nice.

  “You tend to go with women who know the score a bit more.”

  “Anya works here. She and Colleen used to work in Las Vegas together. She knows how the world works.” Besides, she was different. He could see himself spending time with her outside of the dungeon. When was the last time he’d had a dinner date? Clint shook his head. He couldn’t remember.

  “Mallory will kill me if she gets hurt,” Max said.

  “Why would she kill you?” Mallory was an emergency room doctor and the only time he’d ever seen her get violent was when she’d coldcocked her sister’s ex. He had first seen Anya in person when Mallory was taking his self-defense class. When Anya showed up after class, Clint almost cracked a rib running into the training dummy. She was sassy and sexy and had him so tongue-tied all he could do was stare. Again, as one of Couture’s Doms, it didn’t make him look good. He had tried to get her into the dungeon, but she never showed up. Clint even looked for her on staff development nights. On one of the rare nights she did show up, he had a dungeon scene to put on—with five women who wanted to stuff dollar bills down his G-string and then have their way with a stripper.

  Clint grinned at the memory. He hadn’t been the only stripper. He had trained their partners, and they put on a show for the women, all right. In the end, he got the money and the husbands and boyfriends got the women. It went into his tequila bar fund. Colleen knew he was interested in starting his own place, so she let him work his way up to bartender in her Irish-style bar. He made some good tips there too, and was learning a lot from the manager as well.

  “I don’t know, really.” Max shrugged. “She should kill you, not me. But it’s a couples thing. It’s my responsibility if my friend dicks over her friend.”

  “I’m not going to dick her over. Now, can we drop this? I need a few moments of Zen before class starts.” Or quiet, whatever comes first.

  “Have at it.”

  Clint needed more than a few minutes to clear his mind of Anya. He couldn’t believe his luck. He had been waiting for an opportunity to get to know her ever since she came to Couture. Talking to her while she was reading seemed too intrusive and any other time they had a chance at conversation, one of them would get called away. He actually thought he’d have her at the orgy, but she didn’t come over to him when he beckoned. She’d left the ballroom like a scared virgin. It should have proven to him they weren’t meant for each other. Instead it made him want her more.

  Then, when Dante touched her this morning…Clint shook his head. He was going to have to tell the other Doms hands off. Mine. At least until she told him to take a long walk off a short pier. But he was hoping that after dinner, they’d continue what they started in the pool room.

  Dante had asked a favor on another night that Clint had spotted Anya in the corner during a staff development event. He had a submissive who wanted to be denied orgasm. It was Clint’s thing. So he agreed, dancing for the submissive. Dante had tied her to a chair while Clint ground against her. She had been moaning and straining at the bindings. Clint had been hard as a rock. Dante offered her to him, provided he wouldn’t let her come. It was tempting, so Clint took him up on it. But he didn’t come either, so it was an exercise in control for both of them. Her name was Kelly, and she became a little obsessed with him. After a few weeks of tormenting and teasing her sexually, Clint finally allowed her to get off. She lost interest in him shortly after.

  “I can do this solo today if you need some more time,” Max said as the first of the students trickled in. They had a nice combination of men and women, which was surprising for this self-defense class.

  “No, I’ve got it together,” Clint said.

  Class was a welcome distraction, and he let Max toss him around while they demonstrated self-defense moves and blocks. He helped the fashion students with some of the moves, and if he was too distracted to move out of the way of a few of their gropes, well, they got some cheap kicks for free today.

  When they cleared out, Clint told Max he’d set the room up for the next class. Locking the door, Clint let the blinds down and went over to the projector in the back of the room. The mirrors on the walls turned at a flick of a switch, showing a matte surface. Choosing from one of the many scenarios, Clint picked a Middle Eastern setting. The projector cast a sultan’s lair on the wall.

  “Yeah,” he said, starting the music. This is what he would do for their first dungeon scene. He would dress Anya as a dancing girl, but she’d be chained to the wall. He would dance for her, just like he had with Kelly.

  Clint danced now, letting the drum beat guide his hips as he spun and ground. Clothes whirled off him, and he danced naked, picturing Anya’s reaction. She would beg him to come closer. He would tease her. Dance over her, close enough for her to feel the heat of his body but never touching.

  What would he deny her? He knew he’d never be able to keep his hands or mouth off her breasts. And he wanted her on her hands and knees in front of him so he could hold on to her ass while he fucked her. Clint gripped his cock and began to stroke himself. So many choices. So many wonderful ways he would have her. He’d make her wait for her orgasm. Wait until she thought she would go mad.

  “Yeah,” he said, slowing his hand down, denying himself the way he was going to deny her. He should get himself off. Otherwise, it might go too fast tonight. He was going to enjoy exploring her kinks. Did she want him to spank her? He could tie her up and fuck her with a ball gag in her mouth.

  The thought sent a jolt of sensation into his quivering prick.

  Or did he leave her mouth free so she would wrap those luscious lips around his cock while he placed clothespins on her nipples?

  “Fuck,” he ground out. She made him feel like a teenager. Clint couldn’t understand it. He was practically drowning in pussy, but it was getting boring. He found himself looking at Anya’s eyes, her smile, and yes, to be honest, her gorgeous rack.

  His hand sped up and Clint decided to make himself come so he wouldn’t embarrass himself tonight.

  She was funny, and he was more than a little obsessed with her. Maybe she would bore him after a few weeks. But it would be a fun few weeks. He wondered what her touch would be like. Would it be caring? Or grabby and greedy? Clint found himself hoping that she would take her time and enjoy him.

  The fact that he wanted to dance for her surprised him. Dancing had become a way to earn money. Another way to control submissives.

  “You want this?” he would ask them. “You can’t have it.” Seeing their wants and desires in their eyes got him off. He had the control. If they behaved, he let them come. If they displeased him, he let them suffer a bit.

  Clint didn’t know if he could let Anya wait for her orgasm. He wanted to feel her come against him. Hell, he needed it. Maybe she was the challenge he needed to get out of the doldrums he was in. Warmth coated his hand and stomach. Groaning in release, Clint played with himself for a few more tugs. Sticky and unsatisfied,
he cleaned up.

  Feeling a little sheepish about jerking off instead of working it off in the dungeon, Clint concentrated on putting the dojo back in order. He thought about going to the yoga class Anya participated in and hanging out in the back to do his workout. But he figured that might be a little too stalkerish.

  He had five text messages waiting for him. Two of them were from Tricky Ricky’s and three were from subs looking for a scene. He called back the venue that was guaranteed to make him a grand a night.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Marta snarled.

  The hostess and owner of Tricky Ricky’s all-male revue was in a fine mood this morning.

  “It’s ten o’clock in the morning,” he said. “I have a day job.” And a night job and a middle-of-the-day job. Not that he was complaining too much. Every little bit would help him put a down payment on his bar.

  “I need you tonight.”

  He winced. That would put a damper on his plans with Anya. “What time?”

  “Eight.”

  “Eight? Are you kidding me? The joint doesn’t heat up until at least eleven.” It would have to be a quick dinner and then he’d have to tell Anya he had an emergency so she didn’t think he was a “wham, bam, thank you, ma’am” sort of guy.

  “You want next Friday off? You be here at eight p.m. sharp. I’ve got two bridal parties, and one of them asked specifically for you and your fireman hose.” Marta gave a short guffaw.

  Eight o’clock wouldn’t even get him appetizers with Anya. He’d have to reschedule. Clint’s eyes closed, and he fought a groan. He could tell Marta to take a hike. But two bachelorette parties and a command performance? He could make three thousand dollars tonight alone. But damn, he wanted Anya. He wanted to tell her his choke story, make her eyes go all hot and molten. Their first kiss. Was he actually going to give that up for a room of screaming women throwing money?

  “Clint, are you still there?”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “I’ll see you at eight.”

  Another year of stripping and he’d have enough money for the bar. He wouldn’t have to be stupid beefcake anymore. He wouldn’t have to lie to his parents and tell them he was a dancer on Broadway. Anya and her kisses could wait a day or so. Still, the stinging feeling of loss confused him and he spent the rest of the day in a funk.