December Rain (36 page)

It’s not until her eyes adjust to the darkness that she realizes she’s in a strip club.
I shoulda known.
Monica tries not to act fazed by the surprise, honing her Las Vegas upbringing to a nonchalant attitude. Everyone seems to know the couple, taking their coats, and bringing them drinks before asking Monica her choice. There’s a woman with long jet black hair dancing on the stage while Richard continues their conversation, but Monica has tuned out.

“You know,” he says, “the music in here isn’t that great is it?”

Diane shakes her head. “No, and it’s too loud.” She turns to Monica. “He likes to start in here usually, but the special entertainment in the back room is so much better.”

Monica stirs the cherry in her black label whiskey, curious, yet scared. “What makes it special?”

It’s like she said some magic words or something, because the grin that takes over Diane’s face makes Monica cringe.
I’m not up for this shit tonight.
Richard walks ahead as Diane waits for Monica to follow.

She scans the room but sees mirrored walls in most directions. There are two bathroom doors and a third marked Private. Richard approaches a giant European thoroughbred standing in the corner near the restrooms. He appears to say something in the giant’s ear that puts a smile on his face. The giant looks at Diane with familiarity before turning the handle on what looks like a manager’s office door.

They file into a small passage that’s completely dark, like a Halloween fun house. Richard opens a set of black curtains a few feet ahead, illuminating the hallway with what small amount of light exists on the other side. As she crosses the threshold Monica sees a hook holding familiar black face masks. A small sign reads, “Take as you wish.”

Diane sees her interest. “Do you want one dear?”

She’ll think I’m silly if I say yes.
She shakes her head, “No,” and follows Richard to a small U-shaped booth across from the entrance.

The room itself is nearly round and very small. It’s surrounded by U-shaped booths of black faux leather. In the center is a round dark red ottoman that must have been five feet in diameter. It’s on a small elevated platform half enclosed by posts and a curved railing. Monica could almost reach out and touch the railing from her seat.

“If you and Quinn ever want to volunteer to be part of our events, you would fit well into the rotation,” Richard says. “I would, of course, make sure you had an amazing gourmet meal included.” There’s an undertone assuring he’s not just talking about food.

They settle into the booth in awkward silence until a large man escorts another couple inside. The sophisticated Asian couple slide masks over their stoic faces. Their escort makes his way over to greet the Hedlunds, knowing them intimately. He’s in his early fifties and speaks with a thick European accent under a former body builder charm. Monica feels his eyes peeling through the coat she’s still hiding in.

Richard shifts to include the subject of his admiration. “Monica, this is Niels, the owner. He’s from Amsterdam, but we met in Copenhagen a lifetime ago.”

“Before he was as great a chef as he is now,” Niels says. He smiles at his friend, then back to Monica. “Are you too cold? I can adjust the temperature.” He points towards her coat in question.

“Thank you, but I’m fine. I can’t stay long.”
Hopefully I can run outta here any minute.

Niels frowns in disappointment. “I promise it will be kept safe at the front door with Joe. It will make everyone in this space feel more comfortable.” She looks around.
There’s hardly anyone here. Am I not free to wear a coat? What if this was all I had? Never mind, they’d probably be into that.
She slips it off and reluctantly hands it over.

“Much better. That is a lovely dress. It feels like spring has come early.” He bows before excusing himself to other duties.

Monica’s attention shifts when an attractive, shaved, and shirtless black man with a chip-n-dale quality enters. He moves near their table with a smile.
Now who is this guy? A male stripper? Interesting.

As a slow seductive beat takes the room. He turns away from them, displaying the ripples in his back as he starts to move and gyrate his hips. Monica takes an uncomfortable sip of whiskey. She’s never done more than laugh or maybe whistle with playful appreciation at male strippers. This isn’t that kind of place though. The tone is serious and seductive. His body is beautiful, having so many defined areas to watch.
How many hours does he have to work out every day? That’s a commitment.

He slowly unclasps his belt and starts teasing his zipper halfway just an arm’s reach from Monica.
I thought they always ripped off bulky velcro pants, and then end up in some silly thong. I like this guy’s real jeans better, it’s hotter.

Before she gets a glimpse of his underwear a tall brunette saunters straight for his lips and devours them without hesitation. It’s not a play kiss, it’s a heated passionate one, where tongues are truly enjoying the curves of the other’s mouth. The temperature shifts and Monica glances subtly at her companions who are beginning to stroke one another as they watch. The Asian couple are still staring, as if aloof to the action. The brunette slides his jeans down revealing no thong, just smooth black skin and the largest erection Monica’s ever seen. It’s a bit startling and a bit close.

The woman remains on her knees and brushes her face along the smooth dark shaft before grasping it with both hands. The man grabs the railing and leans back as she works him slow. His muscles flex with her tongue massage, making his pulse visibly quicken through engorged veins.

Through the corner of her eye, Monica sees Diane reach into Richard’s pants and release his cock. She doesn’t turn, but the silvery hair that surrounds him peaks her curiosity. The choice of visual options is limited at this point, so she tries to focus on the last sip of whiskey and her exit. Absent-minded in thoughts of escape, she glances at her companions. They don’t seem to mind her eyes, as Diane gives a smile of approval, proudly stroking her aroused chef.

Monica’s eyes flash back at the stage, where she notices a man now sitting on the opposite side of the room. The lights on the stage and the brunette’s bobbing head make it difficult to see across.
I can’t tell if he’s alone or with someone. He has a mask too though. I should have grabbed one. Don’t want to run into these people at the store next week.

The on-stage couple has picked up speed, she has him writhing near release. Monica senses the eruption and sees his cock throb as it explodes in her mouth.
Well, at least it’s not going all over the place. That’s nice, it’s not squirting all over like a porn movie
. The woman laps him up with love. Overcome with an animal desire, he literally pounces on her across the ottoman.

Monica flushes, overwhelmed with a feeling of vulnerability. Richard and Diane progress, his fingers clearly circling between her legs.
Jesus, doesn’t anyone here wear underwear!

Looking back at the stage, she plans her exit, and feels a set of eyes watching her discomfort. The mystery man only slightly more visible, is in fact, sitting alone. He looks like he’s watching the show, but it feels like his eyes are really on her. There’s a hint of a thin beard further darkening the masked face hiding under a black fedora. His possible youth makes her feel even more uneasy and exposed to his memory.

The man on stage rips the woman’s panties and lifts her pussy to his mouth, hoisting her into the air. Her legs wrap around his shoulders tight, as she dangles. Their movements are graceful, even acrobatic, but their passion is real. Their bodies drip with sweat, and they moan with pleasure. The manic lovemaking is becoming hard not to watch. Monica’s never seen anyone have sex like this, and they’re close enough to smell. His mouth works her to a frenzy until her moans grow palatable.

Diane whimpers next to Monica and it’s too much. She grabs her purse and stands just as the man on stage buries himself in deep.
Holy shit!

She freezes there, watching the woman’s swollen lips swell around him while he feeds on her breasts. She could simply reach out and touch them which makes her both crazy wet and scared to death. She can feel a carnal pulse stir between her legs. Her eyes flash to the mystery man, his gaze tilted to hers, his mouth slightly smirked.

Jack? No, I’m going crazy. Can’t be. This was so wrong. I feel dizzy...

She takes off towards the Asian couple who stare like zombies at the stage. In the darkness of the small passage she feels a hand reach through the velvet behind her. The masked man pins her back to the wall and crashes his lips hard, yet perfectly, to hers. She can’t see anything as his fingers slide under her soaked panties and grip her sex. The firm grip isn’t painful, it’s enticing and exciting. His synced tongue to finger motion press a delicious moan from her mouth.

Oh god Jack… oh!

His hand works with persistence in its possession, knowing just what she needs. When she starts to deflate in surrender he drops to his knees and dives his tongue into her sweet swollen cunt. Her hands flick his hat off so her fingers can thread into his hair. It feels thicker than usual though, and the little mole behind his ear isn’t there. She struggles to see him or anything in the darkness, before reality hits.

What am I...? No! No!

She shoves her knee into his cheekbone reaching for the door, and stumbles into the main red room garnering attention from the thoroughbred bouncer and the blonde humping the pole on stage. Disheveled and panting she tries to straighten her dress and runs for the exit. She hears the bouncer and others calling for her to stop, but she keeps running. Into the cold night air now filled with rain she continues onto Broadway flagging the first cab she can see.

Through tears she begs, “Please get me home. Please!”

He rushes her there, refusing any money in her condition. “Are you going to be okay? I can call the police?”

She assures him, trying to pull herself together, and gets out.
What have I done? I’ve ruined everything, again.
She tries to unlock the door with shaking hands. Glancing behind her periodically, she continues until the key sinks in. She can hear the dogs’ murderous barking before she’s even inside. Their snarls echo as she locks the door and slides to the floor.

Oh my god! No! What is wrong with me? You don’t know for sure that was Jack. He didn’t say anything... that doesn’t make it better. It happened so fast.
Heaving sobs take over and wash out the nerve-shattering growls from upstairs until a faint ringing comes through a brief pause.

Quinn!
She runs up the two flights of stairs just as the ringing stops. The barking starts again while she hunches over in pain feeling like a prowler in a stranger’s home. “Hey Sadie, Max, it’s just me. It’s okay. It’s Monica. Don’t bite me.” They start to calm a little as she unlatches their gates. She’s greeted with forceful slobbery licks, breaking up her salty tears.

“I think his father was right guys, I can’t be trusted.” They respond with more licking. “If I don’t tell him… he’ll know. He knows everything in here.” She taps on her head.

The ringing returns. It’s not her phone, it’s the Skype app on her laptop left open on the table.
Shit! He’s gonna see me like this.

She rushes to the mouse, hesitating before she clicks it. Quinn’s face appears in a pixelated ghostly glow. Monica’s monitor looks dark.

“I can’t see you,” he says.

“Where’s the lamp?” She reaches around in the dark.

“Have you been crying?” Monica stops before she turns on the light and takes a deep breath. She sits at the desk and waits while he watches her. “What happened?” he asks.

She shakes her head and can’t decide where to start before tears pour again. “I told you I was too fucked up to start this!” She lashes out at him.

“What happened? You’re soaking wet. Did you go out to get tea?”

“I...” She tries to stop crying and wipes her eyes. “I ran into Richard and Diane, and they invited me for a drink.”

Quinn remains calm. “Okay. Where?”

“I don’t know. Some place off an alley. Off of Broadway.”

“A strip club?”

“Sort of. I wasn’t paying attention when we were walking there. I thought we were just going to a bar.”

“I have a feeling they don’t go to regular bars.”

“Yeah, I know that now.”

“Sorry. So what happened? Did you go in?”

“Yes. It didn’t bother me that much that is was a strip club. We went to the Gold Club for ladies night all the time in college. And in Vegas it’s something people do for lunch. I just felt weird about going without you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, that sort of thing doesn’t bother me. I just worry that we don’t know those people very well. I’m not sure I really trust them.”

“Yeah. Apparently they’re old friends of the owner.”

“They’ve got old friends all over this little city. That’s why I was cautious about what we said and did the-”

“They took me to a back room.”

Quinn sits up, growing tense. “What kind of back room?”

“The kind I suspect aren’t legal outside of Amsterdam, but the owner forgot he left.”