Erotic Romance: Toronto Fantasy Club

by Sasha Kale

  EROTIC ROMANCE: TORONTO FANTASY CLUB

  Sasha Kale

  Copyright © 2016 by Sasha Kale. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher or writer except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, businesses, governments, institutions or events is coincidental.

  PUBLISHED IN CANADA

  VEQ-R-1-01-MDS

  Table of Contents

  THE GIRL

  The fire

  Bethany

  The resort buffet

  The phone number for Fantasy Club

  It was Bristol the concierge

  It was all so bizarre

  Behind the curtain

  THE LOVE INTEREST

  Devon’s father: Johan Albright

  Drowns? What do you mean drowns?

  Devon’s office phone kept ringing

  I hope you didn’t forget about Deborah Ann

  Put two cats in a bag and they will claw each other’s eyes out

  Bristol admitted Jennifer had a point

  Jennifer gave her presentation to Devon

  The craziest thing Devon ever heard of

  Back to the meeting

  It was fast and ugly

  Three weeks and a few days later

  “Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

  Devon’s father was a real jerk

  Good looks, money, and free time

  Deborah’s day dream

  It was cozy in there

  THE GIRL

  Deborah Ann hadn't been properly fucked in months.

  She couldn't remember the last she'd climaxed and her pink dildo had gone missing when she went through airport security. It's possible, she admitted, that she’d forgotten it in the Dominican Republic, but she could vividly remember packing it next to a bottle of rum and a bag of Santo Domingo coffee beans. The rum was missing as well, which lead her to believe the baggage handlers and stolen it. This happens sometimes when traveling through airports.

  Deborah Ann didn't really mind the rum was gone, but her dildo was one-of-a-kind. It had been specifically modelled from the cock of her boyfriend, Tom, who had been killed when a roof collapsed. He had been a firefighter with Toronto Fire Services. His arms had been thick, but it was his eyes she’d loved the most about him. Grey with flecks of brown, like a steel tower sitting in a sandstorm.

  His favourite position had been fucking her from behind while they were in the bathroom. They'd both be facing the mirror so he could see her tits bounce up and down as he rammed his cock into her. Tom would slap her ass and tell her she was naughty. He'd call her a slut, and a dirty little girl, and a fucking cum queen. They'd pretend that Deborah Ann was married and her husband was at work. It was easy for her to cum when Tom did that. She liked role-playing. Sometimes when they were fucking in the bathroom Tom would grab her hairbrush and shove inside her. He'd lick it clean and tell her how good she tasted. Then she would sit in the counter and Tom would eat her out. She would grab his black hair and moan when she felt the stubble on his chin run across her thigh. She would come again and he would lick it up like melted candy. Tom liked to cum on her face so when he was ready she'd kneel down on the pink bathmat and flash her best pornstar eyes at him. Big and hungry. Eyelashes batting at him like he was a famous hockey player. "Please," she would beg. "Please cum all over my face. I want it so bad. I’m such a dirty little princess."

  Tom would paint her forehead like he was decorating a birthday cake. Some of it would get in her hair and her eyes but she didn't mind. It made for better photos. Tom would snap them with his smartphone. (They liked to post them online with their heads cropped out. Masturbate to the comments.) Deborah would wipe his cum off her face and then lick her fingers clean. She loved the taste of cum. Loved it when Tom came on her face. It made her feel like such a slut. If the girls at the library ever found out how into sex she was, Deborah would be mortified. They were so uptight. Their idea of a wild time was doggy-style with the lights on.

  After cleaning up, Deborah and Tom would shower together and make plans for dinner. Usually something light like a Greek salad with slices of baked chicken. They both ate healthy and were in fantastic shape in addition to being in love. It was great. It was like a fairy tale come true.

  But then some warehouse worker had thrown his cigarette into a dumpster filled with cardboard boxes. It started a massive fire. A six-alarm blaze.

  The fire

  It had spread to an apartment complex and then a school. Tom had been trying to save a little girl who was trapped on the roof of a church. The girl and her mother had jumped onto the church from their balcony and were cowering near the edge. People screamed at them from the street but there was nothing they could do except take photos. There was just too much smoke and heat.

  It was so high above the ground there was an eagle’s nest. “Help us, goddamnit!” The mother had the little girl in her arms and wanted to throw her down, but the firemen waved her off. Too dangerous, they said. We'll get the ladder.

  Meanwhile the fire had spread through a tunnel connecting the warehouse to the church. It had begun to consume the drapes and the colourful and flammable statues of Jesus Christ and the three wise men.

  On the roof, Tom beckoned the mother and the girl to walk towards him. The mother was paralyzed with fear. She felt the heat beneath her feet and had seen the roof of the warehouse collapse only a few minutes past. The mother was overcome with terrifying visions of crashing through the green shingles and into hell and burning alive.

  Had she not hesitated so long she might have made it across the roof to where Tom was waving at her. Tom realized she wasn't going to make it by herself so he broke protocol and leapt out of the basket. He was determined to save the little girl's life. She had purple flowers in her hair and was terrified beyond belief. Halfway across the roof, the shingles gave way and the inferno swallowed Tom. Seeing him vanish into the blaze snapped the mother into acting. She flung her little girl off the roof and toward the burliest man she could, a janitor named Diego. He caught the girl and she was treated for smoke inhalation but was otherwise fine.

  The mother tried to walk along the ledge to the fire engine’s basket, but she tripped on a steel divot and fell to the street and broke her neck. Tom was given an award posthumously for bravery and courage — Deborah accepted it on his behalf. It was shaped sorta like the Washington Monument, except it was smoother and on top was this planet Earth with Tom's name and firehouse number. When Deborah was high and horny she would sometimes fuck herself with the award. Both ends of it, depending on how her day went. She wondered if it was in bad taste, but she thought if Tom was looking down on her from heaven then he would be cheering her on. He loved that kind of stuff. Role-playing to him was like tiger balls to Asian guys. Total aphrodisiac.

  Hockey game: Tom’s in the bleachers and Deb’s on the ice. She’s the team enforcer and she takes what she wants. And what she wants to get fucked. The rink morphs into four-post bed. She gets on her knees and slips the award inside her. Fucks herself from behind. Pumping in and out to the rhythm the crowd. The beat goes on as Deborah rams herself. The crowd waves pretzels and cans of beer. She sees herself on the jumbotron fucking herself in front of 15,000 people. Thigh-high rainbow socks. She twists her nipple as she cums all over the metal award. Legs slick like melted ice. The crowd goes wild.

  Back in the real world Deborah stared at a cucumber and thought, Jesus Christ I need to get laid. I’m thinking about fucking myself with vegetables.

&n
bsp; Tom had loved putting naughty things inside her, but nothing organic. His favourite thing to fuck her with, aside from his cock, had been the customized pink dildo, which was now lost forever. Sad face.

  It’s in your power to change your situation. Improve your life. All you have to do is pick up that slip of paper with that phone number on it. All you have to do is go for it. You can do it.

  Determined to get fucked, Deborah Ann grabbed a slip of paper from her purse with a phone number for FANTASY CLUB.

  Bethany

  Deborah had met her while she was on vacation. They bumped into each other at the swim-up bar. Bethany was drinking rum out of a coconut and wouldn’t-you-know-it she was also from Toronto. She was 42 and had been through a similar life-altering event. Her husband had died in Iraq. Helicopter accident, though she suspected it was combat. He was JTF2 and mean as a snapping turtle. Bethany said the government always tells the families of special forces their loved ones died in accidents. She seemed bitter about it but Deborah didn’t push her. Just steered the conversation to the cute guy chopping coconuts with a machete. Layered muscle and strong legs. Looked like a Jamaican Spartan warrior from the movie 300. He made them both extremely horny so the conversation drifted from beach reading to getting laid. They were both coming down with jungle fever.

  After her second rum-filled coconut, Bethany had told Deborah about this secret place she'd been going to sometimes on weekends. Many weekends, actually, over the last few years. It was called Fantasy Club. She was pretty tight-lipped about what exactly Fantasy Club was, but she did say she was breaking the rules by even telling Deborah Ann that it existed. But Bethany had felt bad for Deborah after hearing the story about Tom. Bethany had made Deborah promise two things before giving her the information. Firstly, that Deborah could never tell anyone that it was Bethany who told her about Fantasy Club, and secondly, that once she walked through the doors her desires would be fulfilled. Bethany said it was the greatest thing that ever happened to her.

  "You're not looking for another boyfriend, right?" said Bethany. "You just want to have some fun?"

  "Right," said Deborah.

  “You’re open to new experiences?”

  “Yes.”

  Bethany leaned in close and whispered, “Last weekend I had 11 college football players fuck me while I was blindfolded. The entire offensive line came on my tits. So much cum I had to wipe it off with a towel. My own personal gang-bang.”

  Deborah could feel her heartbeat quicken. “Go on...”

  Smiling, Bethany tossed her empty coconut onto a drink cart. “Ask the bartender for a pen and I’ll write down the contact info. But you have to promise not to tell anybody, and I mean anybody, okay? You have to promise it wasn’t me that told you, because they’re strict about that stuff and I don’t want to up in the gutter with a boot up my ass and my tits sawed off.”

  “What?”

  “Just kidding. It’s not like that movie Hostel or whatever. Nobody is gonna chop you up.”

  “Why would you even say that?”

  Bethany shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m drunk. Hey you want to hit the buffet before the staff starts singing that fucking theme song?” She scrunched up her face and gave it her best singing voice, “Bahia Principe, Bahia Principe!” She made a puking face. “Kill me now. I’d rather let a horse cum in my hair than listen to another round of that goddamn song.”

  “You seem overly bothered by it.”

  “I can’t stand a song that doesn’t have a good chorus.”

  The resort buffet

  White tables under a giant tent. Melons carved like fish. Drunk people stumbling in and out.

  They went to the buffet and loaded their plates with pineapple and spiced chicken and salad with purple dressing and chunks of tomato. Bethany got weird again about the phone number and Deborah wondered if maybe she was regretting giving it to her. “I won’t say a word about where I got it,” promised Deborah.

  “You better goddamn well not. Try the pineapple, it’s crazy good.”

  Deborah shoved her plate away. It was good but she had a hamburger a few hours earlier at the 24-hour snack place. “How did you find out about it?”

  “I had some yesterday.”

  “Not the pineapple,” She leaned in close and whispered. “You know, The Fantasy Club.”

  “It’s not The Fantasy Club, it’s just Fantasy Club. Savvy?”

  “Okay, Captain Nemo. Fantasy Club. How did you find out about it if you’re not supposed to talk about it?”

  Bethany shrugged. “My husband bought some kind of insurance with them. After he died they contacted me and said I was now a member. Give me your plate if you’re not gonna eat it.” Deborah pushed the pineapple at her but she was drunk and shoved too hard and the plate flew off the table and into the dirt. “Woops.”

  “Bitch, you are hammered.”

  “It was an accident,” said Deborah. Pouty face.

  “Don’t worry about it there’s tonnes more. They grow them on trees on here. I’m gonna move here if I ever win the lottery. Get me a black man with a machete whose job it is to chop exotic fruit and play with my lady dong.”

  “Who’s hammered?”

  Bethany belched and said, “I am,” and “Let’s blow this joint.”

  Later they met up at the night club and danced to hits from the 80s. Halfway through the Ghostbusters theme song Bethany left with a couple from Texas. Bill and Cora. Cora wanted to watch Bill fuck another woman. They went to small hotel room with a noisy air conditioner. Bill took her missionary while Cora sat naked in a padded chair. She rubbed her crotch and shot cell phone video. Yelled instructions at both of them. Slap her tits. Grab his chest. Fuck her harder!

  “I’m gonna blow,” said Bill.

  “Come on my chest,” said Bethany.

  “I’m in a condom.”

  “Take it off!” So he did. Shot his glue on her tanned boobs. Some got in her belly button, which annoyed her but she didn’t complain. Just grabbed some tissue from the nightstand and wiped it off. Tossed the balled-up tissue at the garbage but totally wiffed her shot. “You’d think it would fly farther with cum in it.”

  Bill and Cora broke out a 7-year-old bottle of rum and Bethany helped them kill it. They talked about meeting up again if Bethany ever made it to Oklahoma (“Fat fucking chance of that, but you guys should come to Toronto.”) They showed Bethany some photo albums they’d posted online of Cora fucking total strangers. Zoom in on the wedding ring. It was mostly black guys with huge cocks. Strangers they’d met on Craigslist. Then Bill took some naked picture of Bethany. Put his cock up against his cheek and got hard again. Cora got jealous and kicked Bethany out of the room. It was her turn. She took off her bathing suit bottoms and pushed Bill onto the bed. “Suck on my pussy.”

  Bethany knocked on Deborah’s room to tell her about what just happened but Deb was fast asleep. She’d taken a couple sleeping pills after drinking all day and was passed-the-fuck-out. Which is a really stupid thing to do because you can fucking die if you mix sleeping bills with booze. Obviously she didn’t die because there’s a bunch more story left, but it was still a stupid thing to do. In the morning Deborah felt rested but was still hornier than a teenage girl at a UFC match.

  The phone number for Fantasy Club

  Deborah thought about throwing it away. It was six days later and she was home in Toronto. Sufficiently tanned and caught up on her reading, but she still had the itch. Desire for cock was at an all-time high and simmering between her legs. A crockpot filled with lab-grown unicorn meat. She felt like everybody wanted to try it but nobody wanted to go first.

  But like anything the itch would come and go. And right now she was having second thoughts. What if I’m kidnapped or murdered? I don't even know that woman. Can I really trust someone like Bethany? A high-school teacher who lets teenagers do body shots off her belly and lick salt off her boobs? If those photos ever make their way to Facebook she's gonna lose her job. Fucking Face
book. She couldn’t stand it since Tom had died. Everybody kept posting their condolences and saying shit like, “If we can do absolutely anything for you just ask us, hon.” Absolutely anything, eh? Okay, how about you bring Tom back to life?

  Using Google she’d found very little information about Fantasy Club. Just some off-hand mentions here and there. The only photo she found was of a fancy-looking room. Red-and gold wallpaper. Leather couches with mahogany frames. Oil paintings of kings and queens. Landscapes with castles and dark forests. A lamp with Chinese writing inlaid with silver. Everything about the room looked high-class. Tasteful. Expensive.

  Across the street her neighbour’s husband was mowing the lawn with his shirt off. She thought the sweat glistening on his hard chest was sexy as hell. He looked like that guy from the Old Spice commercial. You know. The one with the bare-chested cowboy and the diamonds and the whatnot. God she was just so horny. Everything was turning her on. Even the guy who reads the news on CBC was making her wet these days. The way he rolled his R’s and looked straight in the camera like he was reading the news just for you. Steely grey streaks in his hair. Biceps bulging through his tailored suit.

  Her fingers found their way into her jeans and started playing with her pubic hair. Winding it around her fingers and cupping her mound. She thought about all the nasty things she wanted to do with lawnmower man, but quickly grew frustrated because that was never going to happen. She felt a warm gaze like the slip of paper was staring at her. Taunting her. Do it. Do it, Deborah, you know you want to, you dirty slut. It was calling her out like a goon on the other team.

  Hockey game: Deborah just hip-checked the other team’s superstar into the boards and he broke his face. Blood fuckin’ everywhere.

  OH NO SHE DIDN’T!

  OH YES SHE DID!

  The biggest goon on the other team’s bench goes radioactive. Smashes through his own coach getting onto the ice. It’s on like Hong Kong fireworks on New Year’s Eve. Her rival throws down his gloves and they bounce across the ice. The referee tries to stop him but he’s thrown into the boards. The crowd chants: “Fight! Fight! Fight!” They circle each other. Panthers wearing hockey skates. They snarl. She backs up a bit. He smirks like Deborah doesn’t have the guts to face him. He tosses his helmet at his bench and says she’s a pussy. Runs his hands up his beard and gives her the finger. Puts up his dukes. “You wanna stand there like an idiot, or you wanna fuck?”