Not In My Wildest Dreams (Dream Series) (9 page)

I looked nervously at Becca. She was riveted, chewing on her lower lip. Her hand was on her breast and she was squeezing, and none too lightly. Lisa then leaned over and kissed Becca deeply.

“Come. Let’s walk, but no touching. Unless you have permission from the parties involved. And for your information,
you
have my
full
permission,” she said, winking at me before leading the way.

In the four corners of the room were beds. The first corner we came upon was a “run of the mill” orgy, if you could call it that. Three men and two women, all fully naked. It reminded me of the “Mattress Room.” The sight was enough to have me nearly exploding in my jeans.

A redhead was on her hands and knees with a man standing in front of her. She had his full cock working in and out of her mouth, and she was getting fucked from behind at the same time by another guy who was sucking the tits of this blonde who was getting eaten by this third guy. My dick ached as it pounded in my pants. Staring at the group, I felt more than a little perverted. But when the redhead looked up and locked eyes with me, smiling around the other man’s junk, I knew that she wanted me to be watching her.

Lisa tugged on my arm and we followed Becca who was walking in a trance. We headed toward the man who was strung up, being whipped by the severe-looking blonde, walking in front of him. As we did, I saw his cock hanging out of his pants and tied up with leather strings. It was bulging and purple. My cock pulsed with concern, and a little intrigued. As the whip came down on his back again, his cock leapt, mine mimicking the action. Lisa groaned wickedly and we continued our journey around the room.

Next, we came to a bed of women. All women. I couldn’t count how many. Some kissing. Some eating pussy while getting eaten. And there were dildos lying all over the bed. How I wanted to climb into that mix of soft flesh and gentle moans and whispers. The snake in my pants was painfully pressing on the zipper of my jeans. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest, it felt like it was bruising. I glanced at Becca. She looked like she might pass out at any moment from panting so hard.

“You could join them, Bec. They wouldn’t mind. But Jacks, you’ll have to stay put. That’s a lady-love-only bed. No salami.”

“Could I?” I heard Becca ask, her fingers already working on the buttons down the front of her shirt.

I flew to her side and stopped her right there. “Next time, love. Let’s see what else is here.” I didn’t want her jumping into something while she was so drunk. She must have been really drunk because she nodded numbly in agreement.

“Party pooper,” Lisa pouted.

We continued our walk passing a softly lit hallway. “What’s down there?” I asked as casually as I could manage.

“Those are private rooms. Not everyone is an exhibitionist. How about you Jack? Would you like to put it all on display? Or are you more private than that?”

The crack of a whip and an unbridled cry came from a door on one side of the hallway. On the other side, we could hear grunts. Manly grunts. Satisfied grunts. Some dude was getting it good. My cock was jealous. All the sounds of sex and dominance engulfed me. I started to sweat. I needed to get laid in the worst way—and soon. I hoped Becca wouldn’t pass out as soon as we got back to the apartment.

“The three of us could get a room. Could be fun. Is your palm itchy?” she asked me knowingly.

I wanted a room, but I didn’t. I couldn’t get involved with Becca in that way. What we had was… Well, I don’t know what it was, but I didn’t want a threesome with Lisa. I did however find myself wanting to watch Lisa and her go at it. And my hand was experiencing an odd tingling like when I’d spanked Lisa last time. My cock throbbed as it recalled her milking snapper.

I looked over at Becca and, with one glance, I knew she was about to hurl. “Quick, Lisa, she’s gonna puke.”

Lisa was always cool under pressure, and for once I was grateful. She dashed and picked up a bucket from God knows where for God knows what, and had it in front of Becca just as she began puking her guts up. And with that, our little adventure to the sex club was officially ended.

I swept Becca up in my arms and we swiftly exited, none the wiser to all the couples and groups moaning, writhing, crying and orgasming all around us.

Back in the apartment, I showered Becca, as I’d done a number of times before. Her binge drinking was, sadly, not new, but when she got emotional, she tended to lose it. The emotional aspect fortunately wasn’t often. But when it happened, it was ugly.

“Wasn’t that crazy?” she asked, half awake as I dried her hair.

“Wasn’t what crazy?” I asked.
That guy, Danny, who broke your heart is a not a man, but is a woman who’s a bitch? Or the sex club with the leather and whips?

“That club? Please tell me I didn’t imagine it.”

“It was a crazy club,” I agreed.

“What part did you like the most?”

“Ha! Lemme see. Which did I like the most? I’ll have to think about that.”

She smiled as I slipped a T-shirt from Barcelona over her head. She snuggled down onto her pillow. “There were so many things I liked. We’ll have to try some one day, okay?” she said through a yawn.

“Get some sleep,” I said tucking her in.

To say I had a tough time falling asleep that night was an understatement. Yes, I had one ear out for Becca, and all that I thought I knew about her. This new Danny/Dani revelation was only a suspicion, something I’d have to confirm tomorrow. But now, my mind was racing with the whips and shit I’d just witnessed. The sounds of the whips and crops, mixed in with the moans and gasps and layered with the sights of the pink and brown flesh.

Some of the scenes were just like the regular sex clubs. The orgy bed. The sofa where the guy was being serviced by the three women. The bed of women. Those were incredibly hot, but the images most scratching at my mind were those where a person was bound and being whipped.

That girl tied down on the horse, what was she getting out of it? Clearly she liked it, but why? She wasn’t able to move, or talk, but her face was absolutely enthralled and at peace. The leather strands smacking her ass, left her cheeks good and pink. I bet it was warm to the touch too. And when the crop was added… She knew it was coming. I knew that a riding crop could hurt. My brother, Kurt, once thought it would be funny to whip me like a horse. It didn’t feel sexual at all. It hurt like a mother fucker and left a mark for a week. Why was it different when that girl had it done to her?

The guy who was strung up and getting whipped was the most intriguing to me. What was he getting out of it? He stood and took the whips to his back. I was surprised that there were mostly only markings on his back and that he wasn’t bleeding much at all. What I was most curious about was the look on his face when we saw the front of him. He looked pained while waiting for the crack of the whip, but when it came down, he looked purely relieved. And the way his tied up cock reacted had me more confused than all of it.

My cock was rock hard and needed relief. Becca was passed out and therefore unavailable. As I stroked it with my hand, I imagined what it would feel like had my balls been tied up like that guy. What was the point? With my other hand, I closed off my balls as much as I could and I continued to stroke. While normally stroking made my cock hard and I came easily, with my balls shut off, my cock was wickedly hard. And when I couldn’t stand it anymore, I released my grip and
mother-fucking-holy-shit!
I came so hard and loud, I was scared I’d woken Becca up.

I cleaned up and checked in on Becca. She was snoring like a lumberjack.

Laying back in bed, I hated Lisa for taking us there, but at the same time, I wanted to ask her to take me back. I needed to see more. I needed to learn more.

T
he next morning, Becca didn’t mention the club, nor did I. I had a feeling she was thinking about it, but I wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. Instead, I quietly served her coffee and toast. Becca was quiet when she was hungover, but this morning she was absolutely melancholy.

We sat quietly, both of our minds turning. Not sure what was going through her mind, but I had so much running through mine I thought I’d explode.

“Becca, can I ask you a question?” I asked quietly.

“You just did,” she replied, throwing on an interview ready smile, already trying to deflect what she sensed was coming.

I chewed on my lip and cracked my knuckles which earned me a glare. She hated when I did that. I couldn’t help it. I always cracked my knuckles when I was nervous.

“Out with it,” she growled.

“Are you… You know…” I let the sentence trail off, not sure which word to use.
Gay. Lesbian. Homosexual.

“Impossibly beautiful? Outrageously talented? Wickedly smart? Yes. Yes. And
hell yes!”

“Forget it,” I muttered. This was going to go nowhere.

“What, Jackie? Just say it.” I gritted my teeth. I had to get her to stop calling me that. “Are you gonna ask your question or what?”

I took a deep breath and let it out in a puff. “Danny. The g—the
person
that broke your heart just before I moved in. Was that short for Danika?”

“What the—? That’s how rumors get started. Why would you even ask that?”

“Well, I overheard you and her… talking… It sounded like—”

Becca got up off the sofa and went to the window. She pulled back the curtain and stared silently.

“I’m sorry. I overstepped,” I apologized. I got up and went over to her. I was surprised to see tears in her eyes again. Becca never cried, now this was the second time in two days. Critiques, harsh reviews, or being rejected from a job, she was always strong and it didn’t seem to bother her.

“I knew it was over. I was just being silly,” she whispered. “First love, you know? You never get over it, I guess,” she sobbed, turning into my chest and clutching around my waist.

“Gotta say, I never saw this coming,” I said, shaking my head.

“You saw what you wanted to see. Classic psychology,” she scoffed.

She was always spouting off psychology bits. She had graduated from Columbia not only with a major in English but a minor in psych.

The feel of her sobbing, complete with hiccups, broke my heart for her. “Hey, hey…” I soothed, rubbing her back. “There’s someone out there. And she’s worthy of being with someone like you.” What the fuck? I was talking like a girl. I better find my balls or they’re gonna come for my man card.

“It’s not easy for people like me. When you’re straight, people accept you. Gay? And with this whole HIV/AIDS thing flying all around… Worse, I like both dicks and chicks. Being pulled by two worlds. My parents won’t talk to me. They’ll accept my fame, but not me. It just hurts so badly and I can’t do a thing about it. And I’ve loved having you as a roommate and the fucking and now—”

“Whoa! Hold your horses,” I interrupted. I pushed her back, still holding onto her shoulders, and studied her red, blotchy face. She looked different. Scared. Sad. Lost. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s gonna take more than you lookin’ for lady love to get rid of me.”

“You’re just saying that so you don’t have to pay rent.” She turned from me and went back to her perch on the sofa.

I went over and knelt before her. “Look, Becca. We have a lot in common.”

“What… you’re gay too?” she asked sarcastically.

“Uh, no. But hey, we both have parents that won’t talk to us. We both have the same job that judges us for what we look like, not who we are. And now I learn that we both like women. This is perfect. If I’d known we could have compared chicks on that level we’d have had a whole lot more fun these past few years.”

She studied my face for a moment. “You really don’t care?”

“No. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. A friend with benefits. You never demand things from me. You make me feel wanted. I’m the youngest of eight. My whole life was hand-me-downs and leftovers. You and me? Our little family works. I couldn’t be happier than hanging with you. But if you want me out of here…”

“NO! God. Jackie, if I’d—”

“Can you please stop calling me that?” I sighed.

“What? Jackie?”

“Yeah. I’m not a chick. It’s Jack. Just Jack. Not Jackie. Not Jacks. Not Jack-o-lantern.
Not
Jackass Jack. Just Jack. Although, maybe now I understand why you call me Jackie…”

She slapped my shoulder, “Okay. Just Jack. Or would you prefer J?”

“Oh. My. God. Was that the trippiest scene last night or what?”

Suddenly, the intercom rang. I answered the phone, and the doorman said that Lisa was here checking on Becca. Against my better judgment, I let her up. Becca and I were talking in a way that we never had. I thought she was my best friend before, but we’d just taken things to a whole new level. And I really wanted to hash through what we’d seen last night without Lisa in the way. But it was nice of Lisa to stop by. Besides, maybe I could get the address of that place from her.

Becca went to the bathroom to clean up from her cry just as Lisa tapped on the door. I let her in and offered her a cup of coffee.