Diamond Girl

by ANDREA SMITH

  “So you see what I’m saying though, right? With some girls, going out with bad boys is like a rite of passage. You never got yours, Sam. I’m just saying it is ludicrous to think that I would have ever married one of those idiots; it was a phase.”

  “So you think my attraction to Slate is my postponed ‘bad boy’ rite of passage phase?”

  “I think so, Sam; but it is something that you likely need to do in order to get it out of your system.”

  “So then you wouldn’t like disown me as a BFF if I did?”

  “Honey, you don’t need my permission to fuck some young ‘bad boy’. I’m just saying you need to be careful; he comes from a whole different world than my college bad boys.”

  CHAPTER 14

  I felt like a giddy teenager as I prepared for my Tuesday shift at the club. I took extra care with my waxing for my first night back since Jack had hit the road again.

  I packed another new dance outfit in my garment bag for tonight. It was a silver-sequined cutout one-piece monikini swimsuit. The cutout was in front and the sparkly material only covered the barest of necessities. I had been getting Brazilian waxes over the past month. That was one reason I was glad Jack hadn’t wanted sex. He definitely would have wondered about my baldness down there, not that he ever really looked at what he fucked.

  Jack had never cared for being the provider of oral sex; he enjoyed the recipient role only. Jack was a taker. He always had been. Tonight I was in the mood for both.

  Margo was happy to see me back. She said that no one knew why I hadn’t been in last week; that was her way of prying it out of me. I simply told her I needed a break to take care of some personal business. She fussed over my hair and make-up; styling my long-tressed wig into an exotic bunch of loose curls that framed my face. She added matching extensions to it so it went down nearly to my waist.

  I got into my silver spiked heels; and added my silver grip gloves that were attached to wrist cuffs.

  “Has Slate been in?”

  “Yep; saw him in last Friday with that wild bunch. He was sitting with Slash; that fucking dirtball.”

  “Slate?”

  “No Slash. I hate that mother fucker for what he is and does. Don’t get me started on that fucking pill pusher.”

  I honored her request; it was not often I saw Margo get that steamed up about someone.

  Opal came in just then, “You’re up, Diamond.”

  “Thanks,” I said, handing Margo her money. “See you in a few.”

  My first dance was dancer’s choice for the music. I had told Kevin I wanted ‘Slow Dancing in a Burning Room’ by John Mayer for my first dance. It was a very slow, sensual song; I loved the lyrics. It was my message to Slate; I prayed that my bad boy was out there. I heard the first chords to the song start as I slipped onto the stage.

  There he was. Sitting along the side of the stage where my dance was being performed. There were four or five others with him; all in the signature leather jackets and colors of OMC. He did a double-take when Kevin announced me as I walked out. Whoever was sitting next to him let out a low growl as I danced seductively for Slate. His face darkened; he was pissed. Even from where I was, I could see the muscle in his cheek twitch.

  (Damn! I’ve pissed an Outlaw off; all I wanted was to dance for him. . .)

  I didn’t take my eyes from Slate; even when his buddy tossed several bills on the floor in front of me, ordering me to bend down and pick them up. Typically the money was put in a large glass jar on the side. This biker asshole was trying to make a point. I wasn’t going for it. It wasn’t about the money for me; it had always been about the dance. I was the only one that knew that.

  I continued my graceful, seductive moves, taking the pole and doing slow, sensual slides; wrapping my leg around it, and twirling to the melodic music of this song meant for Slate and no one else.

  The biker dude that had tossed the money was starting to get a bit louder; more obnoxious. I noticed his denim vest had quite a few emblems on it. Perhaps he was the big kahuna. One patch was of a skull and crossed pistons. The top read ‘Outlaws’ and the bottom portion read ‘Fort Wayne’. There was another patch on the front that was a white diamond-shaped emblem trimmed in red that had '1%' on it.

  Perhaps the Indianapolis chapter was hosting visitors from Fort Wayne this evening. I certainly did not appreciate the guy’s big mouth. He was getting pissed that I hadn’t interrupted my dance to bend over and pick up the handful of twenty dollar bills he had tossed on the runway.

  “Come on baby,” he yelled, “Bend over and pick up the cash. We want to see some tits!”

  I tried my best to ignore the comment; I didn’t want it to throw my rhythm off. I could see Slate’s demeanor worsening by the second. What had started out to be my dance for Slate was turning into a free for all with the barbs and cat whistles amongst the group.

  “Come on Bunny; we want to see if those are bolt-ons you got there!”

  I had taken all of the lip I was going to from this ass trap. I didn’t give a shit what type of violent, abhorrent behavior he was capable of unleashing; the freakin’ bouncers were not addressing the issue. They were probably intimidated. I could see Slate saying something to the loud mouth right now.

  (Shit! Slate was jabbing his finger into the dude’s chest!)

  I strained to hear over the music what was being said; finally I heard motor mouth give Slate a half-ass apology.

  “Chill, Slate - I didn’t know the chick was your Betty, man.”

  (Who the hell is Betty?)

  I was never so grateful for a song to be over; I hurried off the stage behind the curtain. I saw Garnet in the chair getting ready. She smirked as I walked by to the restroom. I found a stall and sat on the commode. I was shaking. I had been humiliated out there. I had been treated like female trash by that loud mouth piece of shit biker from Fort Wayne.

  I stayed hidden in the stall, licking my wounds when Margo finally poked her head in and asked if I was okay.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Uhh - well Kevin came back looking for you; Slate bought a private drink for you.”

  “Tell Kevin to return his money. I’m not having a drink with that S.O.B.”

  “Diamond - you know how Janine feels about turning those down. It’s a lot of money for the club.”

  “Hells bells, I’ll pay it out of my tips then, Margo. I am not going back out there until my next number.”

  “Okay, okay,” she said, soothingly. “I’ll pass the word along to Kevin.”

  Forty-five minutes later with my pride semi-intact I went out to wait behind stage for my next number. I heard Kevin announce the next song was a request for Diamond. It was ‘Bad Girlfriend’ by the group Theory of a Deadman.

  Shit. I knew it was Slate. This song was something else; difficult for pole-dancing for the style that I liked because it was loud and fast; there was no pause or smooth transitioning. He had done this to punish me. I wasn’t sure if it was for not quitting the club; or for refusing his private drink.

  I took the stage and immediately saw his eyes burning into me; he regarded me coldly. It was if I had somehow humiliated him and now it was payback time. I swallowed nervously as I took the stage. I tried like hell to keep up with the beat of the song. I was distracted by him and the others.

  As I descended the pole in a fast, upside down twirl, I saw Slate toss a one dollar bill on the floor next to me. His eyes looked at me in pure anger. Tossing a dollar bill at a dancer was the worst kind of insult. It was along the lines of leaving a penny as a tip for a server. It sent the message to the recipient that he or she was a piece of shit. That was Slate’s message to me . . .

  I felt the tears well up in my overly made-up eyes; he expected me to pick it up. That was the price for his forgiveness. I somehow understood that without having to be told. I was expected to acknowledge his insult so that he could save face with the rest of his biker cronies.

  What the hell?

  I cli
mbed the pole and arched my back doing a downward spiral; my arms were free and as I neared the bottom, I picked up the dollar bill. I looked at Slate and saw the smug look of satisfaction cross his face. In that instant, I hated his guts. His comrades seemed pleased with his subservient treatment of me. The big mouth from Fort Wayne was clapping him on the back as he downed his beer.

  Fuck them all and the bikes they rode in on I thought to myself. Blessedly, the song was over. I went back stage and asked Opal if she would cover my last dance for the night. I gave her fifty bucks to do it.

  I went to the locker room and quickly got out of my costume and into my jeans and sweater. I pulled my new Ugg sweater boots on and got my purse and jacket out. I was out of here. Hopefully, there was a bus due shortly. I slipped out of the back door and ran across the parking lot towards the corner where the bus stopped. I was nearly there when I felt strong arms grab me from behind.

  I started to scream; a hand clamped firmly over my mouth as I was hauled over to the sidewalk near the curb. I recognized Slate’s pick-up truck. I saw the lights flash as the remote was activated unlocking it. I was in Slate’s arms I realized now. That didn’t make it any less scary for me.

  CHAPTER 15

  I was in Slate’s truck; I wasn’t sure where we were going but he seemed determined that we were going somewhere.

  He was still obviously pissed. For whatever reason, the personal humiliation he had doled out to me with his song choice then the tossing the one dollar bill for me to pick up had not fully assuaged his need to punish.

  I finally broke the steely silence.

  “I hope you know that kidnapping is a major felony,” I spat. “Of course, it may be minor compared to what you do on a typical day.”

  “Not a word, Sunny; not one fucking word until we get where we’re going. Do you understand?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “That’s a fucking word! You can’t listen to a goddamn thing I say, can you?”

  I didn’t answer his question because I knew he would explode. Several blocks later he pulled over to the curb. It was in an older neighborhood; there was an alley running along the side of the building that he had pulled up near.

  “Get out,” he ordered gruffly. I scrambled to get the passenger door opened and jumped down from his truck. I was now following him around to the side of the building. It looked to be a neighborhood carry-out store; on the side of the building there was a wooden staircase leading up to an apartment.

  (Shit! Was this their club house? Was I in for some type of a biker gang-bang?)

  Slate turned around briefly to make sure that I was still behind him. He mounted the exterior staircase taking two steps at a time. He was already inside the door by the time I got to the top of the landing.

  “Get your ass in here,” I heard him bellow from inside.

  I quickly opened the storm door and went in; I heard the interior door slam shut behind me. The sound of the deadbolt lock being put into place followed. I turned and faced my kidnapper. He must have seen the look of fear in my eyes at that moment. He must have sensed that I knew I was at his mercy.

  He took my shoulder bag from my arm and tossed it onto the kitchen table. I looked around quickly. This must be his apartment. We were in his kitchen. In one quick movement he had me in his arms; they weren’t angry arms now; they were comforting arms.

  “Sunny,” he breathed against my wig, “What the fuck did you think you were doing tonight, babe?”

  I raised my head to look into his incredibly blue eyes. The anger was gone; his eyes were searching mine now. He really needed an answer.

  “I just wanted to dance for you, Slate. It was just for you. I didn’t mean to make you mad.” I heard my voice tremble with the truth. There it was.

  “Oh baby,” he breathed, cupping my face in his strong hands, “You shouldn’t have come back to the club. I thought you had taken my advice when I didn’t see you last week.”

  “I don’t want to quit, Slate. I wouldn’t see you anymore if I left.”

  “You don’t even know me, Sunny. You don’t know what it is that I do. You don’t fit into my world, baby.”

  “Maybe I could,” I said, realizing how pathetic that probably sounded to him. I had to remember that he thought I was trailer trash.

  His mouth came down onto mine; he pulled me tightly against him, his lips working mine feverishly. I laced my arms around his neck tightly. I answered his kiss with a passion of my own; one that up until now, I hadn’t known I possessed. His tongue explored my mouth; my tongue explored his. I was dizzy with his closeness, his taste, his touch; his scent.

  He lifted me up, carrying me effortlessly into another room off of the living room. It was his bedroom. He set me gently down on his bed.

  “Get undressed for me,” he ordered. I moved quickly to obey him. I kicked off my boots and raised my sweater up and over my head. I unfastened my jeans, lowering them down past my hips until they fell into a heap on the floor. I stepped out of them. I unclasped my bra, in front, letting it slip from my shoulders. All that remained on me was the silky black thong I wore.

  “Take it off,” he ordered as he kicked his boots off, and tossed his leather jacket on a chair. He sat on the bed and removed his socks; then his tee shirt.

  (Oh my God, his muscles bulged beautifully in all of the right places. He had an impressive tattoo of a snake winding up a sword on his back shoulder; another one of the Celtic symbol was on his left upper arm. A silver cross on a chain hung around his neck.)

  He stood up and unbuckled the belt on his jeans. His stomach was firm and muscular. It was male model flat. He looked as if he could have been a model; should have been a model; not a biker who lived a life of crime. I mentally told myself not to think about that part.

  “I said take your underwear off, Sunny. I want to see your pussy. I want to see if it’s worthy of my cock.”

  I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my thong and lowered it down over my hips. Once again, I stepped out of it as I stood now before him totally naked. His eyes were smoldering as he looked over every inch of my nakedness, slowly, methodically.

  “You shave your pussy; I like that.”

  I felt my face flush under his unrelenting gaze.

  “Come here,” he ordered. “Come here and show me what you want.”

  I slowly took the few steps necessary so that I was standing in front of him. We were inches apart. He placed his hands on my shoulders, gently pushing me to my knees in front of him. I could see his erection beneath his jeans.

  My fingers fumbled with the snap and zipper on his jeans. The bulge of his erection was making it difficult for me to get his fly unzipped. He finally brushed my hand aside with his and unfastened his fly. Once unzipped, he unleashed his cock. It was impressive, to say the least.

  I placed my hands around it and guided it into my waiting mouth. I knew from experience, if only with Jack, what to do orally to please a man. I ran my tongue up and down the length of it, I then took the full length into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it over and over again. I heard Slate’s sharp intake of breath as I went from top to bottom sucking and swirling it alternately; my hands gently kneading his balls. He moaned. I was pleased.

  His hands were on my breasts, feeling and massaging them with his long, lean fingers. He captured each nipple between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing them until I flinched with pain that was quickly followed by pleasure.

  He lifted me up in one quick swoop and laid me on my back. He leaned forward, and pulled a condom from his bedside drawer, ripping the foil packet open with his teeth.

  “I need to fuck you now, Sunny.”

  He was straddling me now, his jeans still on, but lowered to below his hips. He wore no underwear, which was sexy to me. I watched as he expertly rolled the condom onto his engorged cock. His thigh parted my legs as he lowered himself down and guided himself into me.

  His lips were on mine, kissing me hungrily and pass
ionately; with one strong thrust, he buried himself inside of me. The fullness was sweet to me. The fact that he continued to kiss me while we fucked was new to me. It was intimate and sexy; I loved it. My legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, pulling him deeper inside of me as I rolled my hips back and forth, side to side. My fingernails dug into his muscular back as waves of pleasure found me. It had never felt like this with Jack.

  He thrust himself in and out of me; his hips swiveling so that his cock was hitting places deep within me that I hadn’t known existed until now. I heard myself moan in pleasure.

  (Oh God! Was that wrong? )

  “You like that don’t you, baby?” He whispered the question into my ear; his warm breath gave me chills as my fingers dug into his back. I felt his tongue now circle the inside of my ear, then he gently nibbled on my ear lobe which sent shivers through me. One hand was kneading my breast tenderly. His mouth once again on mine as he groaned with pleasure.

  “Your pussy is so fucking sweet; that’s it; keeping fucking me just like that, Diamond Girl.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was his sensual sex talk; the rhythm of his thrusting, or his magical fingers and the things they were doing to me; perhaps it was all of the above; all I knew was that something very pleasurable and explosive was building up deep within my core. This was new also. I wasn’t sure how long I would be on the brink of something that felt like a much needed release.

  My breathing quickened as I whimpered with the pulsating pleasure that began unfolding within me. My thrusts quickened with his; my whimpers turned into moans of ecstasy as my first climax exploded around me. I pulled him to me so tightly I felt as if we were one.

  “That’s it baby; just let it come. I’m right there with you.” He arched his back and continued to thrust deeply within me as he groaned and released his climax into me.

  I was still gripping him tightly against me as he relaxed on top of me. My skin everywhere tingled in the aftermath of my orgasm. My God, I had been missing this all along? I felt tears rolling down my cheeks. I had never felt as fulfilled as I did right now. I wasn’t sure what the tears were about. I certainly didn’t feel guilty; I felt cheated by my husband.