by Lexie Ray
“I hope Blue finds this night to be memorable, then,” Emil said, smiling and stroking my hair.
He undressed, throwing his clothes on the floor like they were nothing. I would’ve hung them up for him, if he’d wanted me to, but when I made a move to do so, he crushed me to him instead.
“They’re just clothes,” he said. “I want you to focus on me, and on yourself. On enjoying this experience.”
I melted into his arms, tangling my fingers in his blond chest hair. He wasn’t overtly muscular, but this was a man who could handle himself. He was fit, and I wondered what he did to keep himself in such good condition. I traced the shape of his defined pectorals, running my fingers down his abdomen and to his well-shaped cock.
I’d been living in the boarding house for long enough to hear the horror stories from the rest of the girls about the condition of the cocks they’d been paid to put inside their bodies. One of them, Daisy, told a hysterical story about how she’d had to make over the tiniest penis she’d ever seen, praising and praising its owner while she gave head. She said it was like licking a lollypop, and used the tip of her thumb to help illustrate. Another girl whose name I’d forgotten told an equally funny story about a customer’s banana cock—curved so profoundly she thought she’d been hallucinating. Other stories were gross—cocks with lint on them, a long, black hair from whoever had been down there last, pubes that hadn’t been cut since the previous millennium.
After this experience, I was going to have my own dick story to tell—the customer with the perfect dick. It was long and thick, the dark blond pubic hair trimmed nicely. I wanted to worship that cock. I slipped my hand up and down the veined shaft, pressing my thumb into the slit at the tip.
“Like what you see?” Emil asked, raising his perfectly shaped eyebrows. I wondered if he had them waxed.
“Oh, yes,” I said. “In fact, I’m going to show you how much I like it.”
Bending forward, I licked it from base to tip and back down again, coating it completely with my spit. When I reached the base again, I kept going down, taking one of his velvety testicles into my mouth, rolling it around, then giving the other the same treatment. I was pleased to hear Emil groaning in appreciation. I started licking the shaft again, cupping his sac with my hand, rolling his balls around in my palm, pushing my thumb against that delicate skin. Without warning, I swallowed him whole, taking his entire length in my mouth. The art of the blow job could be so expressive, so meaningful, and I didn’t think most women realized that.
You could tell a man exactly how you felt about him through a blow job—or make him believe you were telling him exactly how you felt, if you were good enough.
Emil put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me back. I blinked at him, confused.
“You are very talented,” he told me. “But I want to worship your body, too. You’re so beautiful, Blue.”
The more he talked, the more aware I was that English wasn’t his first language. He was impeccable at it, but he had an odd, almost stilted manner of speaking. It only added to his mystique.
He unfastened my bra and buried his face in between my breasts.
“Perfect,” I heard him murmur, his voice muffled.
He skillfully took one of my tits in his hand, weighing it, before he lightly pinched the nipple. I gasped at the electric shock of it, then gasped again as he tightened his hold on the rosy nub. He didn’t release my nipple until I moaned thickly, thrashing beneath him.
Emil kissed me as he dragged my panties down to my knees, and then to my ankles. I kicked them off the bed to join his pile of clothes, then put my legs around his hips.
“We match,” Emil said happily, pressing his erection onto my pubic mound. I laughed as his pubic hair tickled me. I shaved mine into a landing strip, but he was right. The two shades of dark gold between our legs matched almost perfectly.
“I’m glad to see you’re a natural blonde,” he murmured, our noses nearly touching.
“We’re a rare breed,” I said. “Like unicorns.”
Emil threw his head back and laughed. “Very much like unicorns,” he said. “It’s too easy to get blonde out of a bottle these days for you to trust that what you have is real.”
“I’m very real,” I said suggestively, grinding against his boner. “You just wait.”
“I can’t, not for a moment longer,” Emil said. He slipped his fingers between my labia and circled my clitoris. I moaned and moved my hips, wanting even more contact and attention from that twisting hand. While he was distracting me with that hand, he took his cock in his other and guided it into my very, very wet pussy. Part of it was lube, but the majority of it was how much Emil aroused me.
I knew that not every man I would be paid to sleep with at Mama’s nightclub would be as glorious as Emil. I knew that. But a girl could dream, couldn’t she? I fantasized about Emil coming in every night, asking for me. We’d spend all night together in this very room, exploring each other’s bodies. He’d make an honest woman out of me, or at least a rich one, and we’d fuck the night away.
That’s how good his cock felt inside of me.
He was definitely one of the best lays I’d ever experienced, maybe even better than Casey. Emil was on a whole different level than any of the men I’d been with, knowing intimately how to touch me, how to thrust, what angle to approach from, just how to rake his teeth over my bottom lip to make me shiver but not hurt.
I wanted to meet every woman he’d ever been with to compare notes, shake their hands, and thank them for helping him become the lover he was today.
That’s how amazing he felt when he began thrusting.
All of Mama’s girls had talked about all the weird positions they’d been asked to do by customers. It’d made me nervous because I didn’t think I could stand on my head or do the splits or anything else they’d tickled my imagination with.
But this with Emil, this was just classic missionary. The simplest position.
It was so mind-blowing. Completely hot. With simple changes of how he was holding my legs, it was like we were doing a million different positions. I loved the intimacy of wrapping my legs around his middle, drawing him deep into my body. I loved the tightness of putting my legs flat, narrowing my pussy so that he felt even bigger within me. And then, when he propped my legs up on his shoulders and drove down into me, pumping like a piston in and out of my body, I simply exploded.
As a general rule, I was a vocal lover, but there was nothing I could do to muffle my howls of ecstasy. I knew Cocoa had told me to just call for her if I needed help. I sincerely hoped that she wouldn’t think I was screaming for help now.
Emil grunted, then cried out. My heart clenched as I saw him come apart in orgasm. I hoped it was just as sweet as mine—sweeter, even. Seeing him lose control over his perfect visage because of his climax was so incredibly hot.
He sank down gently, pulling out even more gently, and hugged me to him.
“What do you say, Blue?” he began, his voice a little weak after his powerful completion. “Everyone remembers their first time. Is Blue going to remember this?”
“How in the hell do you think I could forget what just happened?” I asked, dumbfounded. “That was the best I’ve ever had.”
Cocoa had told me to fake it if it didn’t seem like I was going to make it, but there hadn’t been a need to. I felt like I had to make Emil realize how good a lover he was, if he didn’t realize it already.
He looked at my guileless face and smiled, tracing down my jaw with his fingers.
“I’m glad that you’ll never forget,” he said. “Now, let’s get cleaned up.”
The shower was just as hot as the bed, and we had sex under the hot spray of water, Emil taking me from behind. I could’ve stayed in the room with him for the entire night.
When I finally got out of the shower, Emil was nearly already dressed, giving worried glances at his watch.
“In a hurry?” I asked lazily, taking the towel
from my body and using it to dry my hair.
“I am,” he admitted. “I’m very sorry to be, because I want nothing more than to fall into bed with you again, but I must go.”
“I understand,” I said, smiling. “We all have places to go.”
Emil finished buttoning the cuffs of his silk shirt and stopped to kiss me before heading to the door. He reached into his pocket and peeled off a hundred dollar bill from what looked like many more. He rubbed it between my breasts before putting it in the palm of my hand.
“I’ll never forget this, either,” he said, smiling as he rubbed my lip with his thumb. When he let himself out, Cocoa slipped in.
“I hope you all had as good a time as it sounded like,” she said rakishly, leering a little at Emil.
“Absolutely,” he said, grinning. “I have to run, though.”
Cocoa shut the door and dropped her smile.
“Probably to go home to his wife,” she said, her voice sarcastic. “Everything go okay?”
“Better than okay,” I said, waving the hundred dollar bill in front of her, not caring that I was naked as the day I was born in front of Cocoa. She was my roommate and had already seen me in varying degrees of undress.
Cocoa smiled at me. “Good girl,” she said. “That’s extra money, just for you. You must have really impressed him.”
“I’m going to charge everyone I sleep with for now on, whether I work here or not,” I announced, grinning. “This is too good to pass up. I can’t believe I was giving it up for free for so long.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cocoa said, laughing. “Now get dressed so you can get your butt back downstairs and make some more money.”
I found my bra easily enough, slipping it around my torso and fastening it in the back. I put my shirt on next for the simple fact that it was on top. But when I went to find my panties, they were nowhere to be found.
“You seen my panties?” I asked Cocoa, pulling the covers back from the bed and even checking beneath it.
“I see that pale ass sticking up in the air, but no panties,” Cocoa joked.
“Son of a bitch!” I exclaimed. “Emil stole my panties!”
Cocoa looked at me, her face blank, before she burst into deep belly laughter.
“Looks like you made such an impression on him that he wanted to take home a little souvenir,” she said, slapping her knees as she fought for control, tears of mirth running down her cheeks.
I couldn’t help but laugh about it, too. Emil was likely long gone, and I’d probably never see him again. Plus, it tickled me to see how amused Cocoa was by the whole thing.
“I’m going to moon you all night long,” I promised her, giving up on the search and pulling on my skirt, sans panties. Going commando was doable, but I’d have to go out and get new panties to match my pretty blue bra.
“Blue moon,” she said, launching into a fresh round of chortles.
When we got back downstairs, Mama flashed me a happy smile and gave me two thumbs up. It was apparent that Emil had sung my praises before leaving. I wondered if Mama had any idea that he’d made off with my panties.
The dull ache of sex was even more delicious without panties as I picked up a couple of drink orders at the bar, mixing two martinis and serving them to one of the girls to take to a table.
Life at Mama’s nightclub was fun, I decided, and I was going to be able to save up tons of cash for art school.
How wrong I was.
Chapter Three
Thinking back on the “good old days,” as we called them, at Mama’s nightclub was almost as painful as the drama we were enduring now. We still laughed and joked around, me leading this effort. But it was nothing like it used to be.
We used to be happy, a closely knit sisterhood of girls living and working together.
Now, it was fear that bound us together. We were afraid of Mama whether she was drunk or sober. We were squirreling away all the money that we could without arousing her suspicions, keeping it in shoeboxes and underwear drawers. We had reached a crisis point, and everyone knew it, even if we tried to keep up the illusion of everything being under control.
It wasn’t. We were right on the edge.
Everything had started going downhill after Jazz left. I hadn’t known Jazz like Cocoa had, so it was no surprise when Cocoa became quieter, more reserved, an undercurrent of worry coloring her every word. The only person who had witnessed the terrible situation was Cocoa, but all of the girls knew the gist of it. It was horrible to try to piece together the details, especially for the trio of girls who’d been deployed to clean up the room.
“There was so much blood,” Daisy said, shaking her head. “We had to throw the sheets out.”
But then, when Mama had driven Cocoa out of the window, everyone knew exactly what had happened. The broken glass, the bullet hole in the hallway carpet, Mama’s apparent descent into madness—everyone got worried. Girls started to leave, slipping away quietly, and the rest of us were doing all we could to pick up the slack without Mama noticing anything was any different.
The one time that there was some semblance of normalcy was when the nightclub was open. It became something of a relief to be focused on working. Mama put her best face on, negotiating cutthroat prices for the pleasure of our company as we all did our part to impress.
It was fun to watch all the other girls flirt and wait on our customers—that is, when I got the chance to watch. I was usually one of the busiest of Mama's girls, mixing all manner of drinks and slinging them onto trays. Each girl tipped me out at the end of the night, and I gave part of it to Mama. I'd always hated the idea of not holding on to my own money, but she was pretty adamant about "keeping it safe." I saw what "keeping it safe" bought Mama—fine dresses and facials and manicures. If one of us wanted to go buy some stuff, we'd make a withdrawal. But never more than a hundred bucks. That rule was instituted after Cocoa left.
God, I missed Cocoa. I missed how easily she handled Mama and hated how I had to now try to fill her shoes.
I sometimes wish I'd jumped right out the window after Cocoa rather than stay here. Here was getting too hard to be.
"Hey Blue, baby!"
I shook myself from my moping and grinned. It was Jake Fraser, or—as his business cards read—J-Fray, DJ Extraordinaire. He was one of two DJs Mama grudgingly allowed to spin at the nightclub. Mama was old-fashioned in her musical tastes, so it was always a pleasure for it to be club music night. The customers were often younger—and cuter—too, and more girls would dance. Everyone's spirits were higher on club music night—mine included.
My reasons had less to do with the music, though.
"Hey baby, yourself," I said, grinning and sliding him a beer. "How's it hanging?"
"You know how it hangs, here," Jake said, leaning against the bar and taking a long pull from his beer. "Lots of gorgeous ladies, dancing to the beats I spin. I can't complain, Blue, except I wish I could see you shaking it out there."
"Baby, if I shook it out there, everyone would go thirsty," I said with a wink.
"There are other bartenders," Jake said, looking at two of my colleagues. "They can spare you, can't they?"
"It's hard to be down the best bartender," I said, casually buffing my nails on my uniform blouse.
"I know the real reason Mama keeps you behind the bar," Jake said, leaning close.
"I wish you'd tell me." I watched Jake's dark eyes sparkle, looked at the latest designs he'd had his barber etch into the sides of his hair. He was built, spending every free moment in the gym, and he didn't mind telling anyone about it. I liked him all the same—all of us girls did. He was sexy and flirtatious and always knew which songs were the best. Some girls would make requests, and he was always thoughtful enough to fulfill them.
"If you were out on the floor, no one else would be making any money," Jake said, kissing me quickly on my lips.
I jerked away, laughing. "We all make money together," I said, batting my eyes at him. "That's how i
t works. I do my part, just like every other girl."
"You're the jewel in Mama's crown," Jake said, his smile white in the lights of the club.
"I think you're trying to butter me up, mister," I said, watching as the crowd of customers started filling the tables. "You're already drinking for free tonight, so I can't possibly guess what else you might want out of me."
"I bet you could guess," Jake said, looking me up and down suggestively before sauntering off to the stage.
I rolled my eyes at both him and myself. My cheeks were flushed bright red at the attention—you'd think I'd never had a man flirt with me. Jake was a noted Casanova, and several of the girls had enjoyed his company free of charge. He was young, sexy, and more desirable than the vast majority of the men the girls regularly had to service. Plus, he was a hell of a DJ.
He started his set, standing on stage, the lights pulsating and swiveling to the beat of the bass. Instantly, the atmosphere of the entire nightclub shifted. Girls relaxed, dancing from table to table. I laughed out right to see one of Shimmy's regulars grab her and drag her out to the dance floor. She did part of the dragging herself. The girl loved to dance. Even sweet little Pumpkin became a different person, swaying that ass like a flesh-coated pendulum.
Jake's driving beat helped us forget who we were and the challenges we were facing. They forced us into a constant present, driving away all of our worries in order to embrace the rhythm of the music. The music was a blessing in disguise.
I danced with my fellow bartenders. We all three worked well together, never bumping or getting into one another’s way. When we danced and worked the bottles, though, we became a show in and of ourselves. I’d taught them both everything they knew about both making drinks and putting on a show with the glasses and bottles. We occasionally got up on the bar and juggled the bottles of liquor, tossing them to one another.
We hadn’t done it recently, though, because it always increased Mama’s blood pressure to see her precious liquor being thrown around. Usually, though, it was quite the crowd pleaser.
