The Diamond Club (20 page)

Unlike some of my recent flings, and conquests we layed there after she came to, and even spooned for a short while making some more small talk.

“Isn’t that tattoo of A..” I began to ask spotting a small tattoo on her left shoulder blade that was normally obscured by her workout clothes when seeing her at Bakrim.
“Isn’t that a little cliche to have for a tattoo?”

“An Irrawaddy? I wouldn’t think so, but if it were bottlenose? Sure. They are from river in the area my mother’s family is from of the same name.”

“Noted” You know you never did get around to showing me those poses, and you know… I don’t have to be anyplace until after noon tomorrow..”

She caught my invitation, and must have been recovered enough from our last round. Turning over, and leaning in for another gentle kiss. We had some nice, and unhurried sex after that exploring each other’s bodies inch by inch until well after midnight.

Yes, even I like to be a little soft now, and then. Even after my life had changed wildly after I became a member of The Diamond Club…

Wub Wub

My heels clicked as I crossed the street towards the Diamond Club. Roman had called me thrice that day. I needed to dance. I marched straight to the door. As the music grew, I threw the doors wide and entered the club. Without pause I crossed to the dance floor. Tonight I would dance until my blisters had blistering blisters the size of blistered shoe-blisters.

I danced half a dozen songs before I even considered drinking enough to kill a horse. Striding to the bar, I picked a spot next to a person I initially perceived to be a woman. After ordering enough alcohol to leave a fleet of Roman Cavalry high and dry, I was approached by the young gentleman to my right. Because - as it would appear - this was, in fact, a dude.

He had the eyes of a child, eyes which were complemented by his baby face and rest of his body which, likewise, resembled that of a child. His eyes were buried in bangs and glasses. They were those big hipster glasses, I doubted if they even had lenses. His hair was long and dark and, unconventionally, swept up, away and down the other side as if at some point he had held his head to the side for an unconventional amount of time. His gauge earrings were huge and the glue from one of his fake lower lip piercings had apparently run its course and the imposter stud was now sloshing around in his drink. This was a man I had to have.

“Do you like the music?” he asked. His voice was small and pathetic.

I listened to the beat that perforated and penetrated the club. The track was riddled with bass and quotes from old science-fiction films. It was riveting. “Yes.”

“I made it.”

“It’s very different,” I observed, “What do you call it?”

“It’s a new thing called Dubstep.”

“Oh… I’m Brianna, Brianna Young.”

“They call me Dead Mo0se.” His voice displayed absolutely not one ounce of pride in this nomenclature.

For the first time I noticed his shirt. It was straight black save for the front panel which lit up and displayed sound levels bouncing to the time of the music. “I like your shirt,” I told him, “Did you make that to?”

“No, not that, I have a friend in the shirt industry.” Friends in high places, this guy thinks he’s got everything, he’s arrogant. “It’s custom,” he continued sheepishly, “It’s powered by a small battery in my pocket. There’s a mic in the collar that judges external sound and displays that data visibly in the levels on the board that you see here.”

I reached out and pressed my hand against his chest. “Well, Mr. Mo0se, I’d like to learn more about your Dubstep and your pocket batteries.” I topped the remark with a knowing wink. He was as good as mine. I told the bartender that the horse genocide would have to wait, I was going with Dead Mo0se to see his studio. We left as the music boomed, the bass modulated to the point of manifesting only in a stark “wub-wub.”

Dead Mo0se’s studio was only a few blocks from The Diamond Club, we walked. I was mildly concerned by how the building appeared to be an apartment building. Mo0se, however, assured me that this was where his studio was. We climbed to the six floor and he unlocked a thick door that swung open to reveal a dark apartment. He made no move to turn the lights on. Past the old pizza and mountain dew strewn about the kitchen we made our way towards the room’s only light: the logo of a MacBook that seemed to hover in its dark containment.

“Have a seat,” Dead Mo0se ordered. By some divine intervention I managed to locate a couch. He opened the MacBook. “I don’t use lights in here, I wouldn’t be able to pay for that much electricity. I’ve got to choose one or the other, lights or the speakers.” Suddenly I was aware that the wall only three feet from my head was actually constructed purely of speakers. The room’s only window was obscured by subwoofers.

The thought of those heavy vibrations shaking my whole body made me swoon. “Play me something,” I begged.

Mo0se knew he could taunt me as much as he wanted but he offered to please me anyway. “This is one of my new ones, it’s not quite done yet. I call it 8-Bit Shit, continuous mix.”

When he played the song my body was immediately oppressed by shocking vibrations. The bass was hard and unforgiving. So hard. The whole apartment jumped to the rhythm. He moved towards me in the darkness and kissed me, then on my neck.
“I’m ready for you,” I whispered. “Take that 8-Bit Shit all over me.” Without a word Mo0se moved in, the music still blasting. He pulled my shirt off and handled me. I ripped his shirt off, the electronic panel clattered to the floor. When we had both disrobed we moved to a classic 69 position on the dark couch, I straddled his face.
He beatboxed my cinnamon hole. It was amazing. I pleasured him as he worked on me. Seemingly forgetting his need of breath, Mo0se tirelessly motorboated my secret flesh.

Wub-wub-wub-wub-wub.

The bass was crushing. I orgasmed three times before the feeling was too much. Then he turned me over and entered me with his Dubstep stick. He was bigger than I thought he would be and I came again.

When we were done I left the dark apartment behind. Dead Mo0se promised he would write a song about me and that I would hear it some time in The Diamond Club. I made my sluggish way home in the dead of night, the bass still echoing in my head, the vibrations still dancing on my body.

Honey for the Queen Bee

I had slept in after my late night with Dead Mo0se and had to skip my morning workout to make this morning’s meeting. My body, bursting with energy needed some release, and so I went straight to the diamond club after work. Hopefully somebody there would give me a good workout.

I approached the bar and took a seat, “An appletini please, hows it going Dia Monde?”

“Oh you know honey, same old same old.” she answered with a devilish smile.

“You’re here early honey, have a bad day?”

“You don’t know the half of it Dia, I don’t want to talk about it but lets just say I need to have a good time tonight.”

“Oooh” she cooed as she passed me the appletini, “well maybe I can help you out with that, there is a new guy in here tonight, just joined the club maybe he can help you ‘relax’.” She said with a wink. “He is sitting in the booth just by the door.”

I turned to where Dia Monde was pointing and saw him. His tight black suit seemed to barely contain his bulging muscles. He had golden blonde hair and a well groomed beard, large, but not too bushy or unkempt. His beard seemed to hint at a wild demeanor, but the suit said he was a professional. “What’s his name?” I asked.

“Roger Maxwell,” replied Dia Monde “and honey let me just say, if you don’t jump on this opportunity tonight I just might.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that Dia.” I said before downing the rest of my appletini and walking over to Roger.

The small talk didn’t last long, it seemed that Roger and I were at the Diamond Club for very similar reasons. It turns out that he was the CEO of the new and successful Nature Valley Honey Co. His company supplied honey to every organic market on the west coast, but soon enough I had a feeling that he would be supplying me with a completely different organic fluid. We started talking business and fifteen minutes later we were headed back to his apartment here in the city.

His place was big, a luxury suite at the top of a large apartment block. The yellow walls and black carpet flooring was striking. “Nice place you got here.” I cooed as he took my coat. “It is my home away from home,” he replied with a smile, “though my real home is out on the bee farms.”

He lead me to a large sitting room with several windows looking out to the city and one window covered by curtains. I grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him into a ferocious kiss. His beard tickled my face as my tongue danced with his. One of his hands began to fondle my breast as we lowered ourselves onto the black and yellow striped couch of his living room. I reached my hand into his pants and felt a bulge grow beneath his underwear. He pulled away, “Wait, I need to show you something first.”

Perplexed I sat up on the couch as he went across the room to the curtained window. He pulled the curtains back to reveal a large picture window that looked into a small room with several large holes in the back wall. At the center of the room was a large white box, an artificial bee hive that farmers use to house their bees in. The hive was teeming with insects all working together to make the golden liquid that made Roger his fortune. I looked (with some confusion) back to Roger, he was staring transfixed by the hive; the outline of his thick cock plain to see on his pants. Finally Roger looked back, embarrassed, “I need a moment to freshen up, would you give me a minute?” he said timidly. With a grin I replied “Ill be right here waiting big boy.”

After a few minutes Roger returned. He didn’t have any pants on, his erect phallus throbbing eagerly, but above he wore a white beekeeper’s suit, complete with a mesh head enclosure. The sight was odd but the change excited me, this is just what I needed, something different.

“Do you mind?” he asked. “No, not all” I replied and in a flash of brilliance I added. “now come here and gimme your stinger.” This set him over the top! He came at me with a fiery passion that matched my own. I leaned back on the couch and spread my legs, the beekeeper slid his hard cock into me and shivers of pleasure went up and down my spine. I moaned with pleasure as he thrust himself into me, my wet pussy aflame with ecstasy.

“Over by the window.” I managed to say in between the gasps of pleasure. I leaned on the window sill and peered through at the bees working away as he took me from behind. “Oooh bzzzzzzz!” I exclaimed as the pleasure shot through me. This drove him wild. His stamina was redoubled as he energetically fed me his manhood. The bees walked on the other side of the glass, almost like the fires of our passion drew them in. His rapid thrusts sent me over the edge and I let out another long buzzzzz as I came and still he kept on thrusting.

“Ooh yea, give me your honey,” I moaned, “I’m your queen bee and I demand honey!” He tickled my clit with mastrful cock strokes between thrusts, “yes my queen, you want honey, I’ll give you honey.” Just then he stopped and ran to get something out of his coffee table drawer. I turned back to see him grab a bottle of liquid honey and look at me through the mesh of his outfit. I strolled over and lay back on the coffee table.

He kneeled between my legs and teased my hot sex with the tip of his cock before slathering them both with golden honey. The smell of the sticky goo filled the air as he slowly fed his honey covered member into me. The pleasure was electric as his thrusts sped up, the honey made a ‘shlop’ sound each time he plunged into me. Moaning with pleasure I grabbed hold of the table. Honey and fluid began to drip down onto the floor, but Roger kept squirting more and more on both of our genitals. With increasing intensity he thrust and I heaved myself into him, I came again and moaned between labored breaths. Roger, in a frenzy now grabbed hold of both my legs and pulled me closer, deeper. He let out a dull roar as he climaxed, mixing his pearly seed with the golden yellow honey that filled my throbbing sex. Sweat poured off of both of us as we sat there panting. At least I got my cardio in today, I thought to myself.

After a few minutes we composed ourselves and he lead me around a corner to a sealed door. “Ready for round two?” he asked with a smile. Roger opened the door and the sound of buzzing filled the air. The white walls of the bee room were within; and that’s when things got really freaky.

Out With a Bang

My night started like so many others. I was sipping a drink at the Diamond Club when a guy caught my eye. He was over six feet tall and looked to be in great shape. Normally I wait for the guys to come to me but with this guy I couldn’t help myself. I approached him with one of the lame pickup lines often tried on me.

“Come here often?” I asked

“Nope” He replied.

He told me his name was George but seemed squirrelly about sharing any more details about himself. The air of mystery intrigued me. I ended up telling him my entire life story and he actually listened like he cared. Whether he really did or not I don’t know. I was enjoying the conversation and the harmless flirting but my loins were beginning to stir. If I didn’t get a penis in me soon I was going to start taking hostages. I had checked out George’s crotch and he seemed to be well equipped for the job, unless of course he had a sock stuffed in there. Since it didn’t seem like George was ever going to make a move I took matters into my own hands, literally. I grabbed his crotch and asked.

“You plan on using this thing tonight.”

He seemed startled at first but then he replied.

“I was certainly hoping to.”

We left the Diamond Club and went to his hotel room. I was so horny by the time we got there I could barely stand it . As soon as the door closed I began to kiss him violently and started tearing away at his clothes. No time for buttons I had to have him now. When I tore off his shirt I discovered he had a body that makes Michelangelo’s David look like a pile of shit. It only made me more aggressive. I dropped to my knees and unwrapped his package. No sock in there, all meat. He was so hard I could see his cock throbbing with each beat of his heart.