Saffi

Only fifteen minutes in, but so far, sex clubs rocked.

The place was overwhelming. Refraining from staring was simply not possible. I couldn’t help myself. In the few minutes I’d been in the Twist Room, the place had filled up. P’s dress was down around her waist, and a man and a woman enjoyed each of her bare breasts. Gradually, the dress came completely off, revealing a clean-shaven pussy, which she began to finger with fury.

Jesus. She’s gonna come.

I’d never seen a woman orgasm. Well, except in porn, and everyone knew that shit was fake. On top of that, I’d never been with a woman—something I was beginning to think I might be interested in changing.

At the other end of the room, a man lay on his back with a woman straddling his hips. She leaned forward, kissing him. Just behind her was another guy. Holy shit, no way. The guy in back had loaded up his hand and then his cock with a bunch of lube. And now that cock was disappearing into that woman’s—ass. Yes, ass.

What a night to remember. For the sake of the paper, of course.

The woman, nearing delirium, moaned loudly. The guys were pretty damn loud, too, with their grunts and groans. I looked around to see if I was the only looky-loo staring, but the three had attracted attention from many in the room.

“You seem to like what you’re seeing,” my new friend whispered.

No shit.

G—the club nickname of a guy wearing a wild-looking Venetian mask—seemed to have taken a liking to me, at least enough to spirit me away from my new “friend,” P.

I turned my attention back to him. “Well, don’t you think it’s hot? I mean, come on.” I gestured to all the people gathered around to watch.

His head twitched the tiniest amount. God, I wish I could have seen his face. I was at such a disadvantage.

He didn’t miss a beat. “The first time you see other people fucking, it’s kind of shocking. But once you get used to it, it’s pretty damn alluring,” he said, quietly.

His voice sounded tinny from inside the mask. I guess I understood the desire to disguise one’s identity. Indeed, it seemed about half the club felt that way. But it would have been nice to see the man I was speaking with.

“It is pretty amazing,” I agreed.

He stood, hand extended. “Let’s get a better look.”

“Really? It’s not, I don’t know…tacky?” Someone I’d not known fifteen minutes ago was inviting me to watch sex.

“It’s to be expected, watching and being watched,” he said, leading me over to the threesome. “Have you ever been watched?”

Kind of a personal question. But given where we were, it seemed par for the course.

“No,” I said, trying to stay cool, like I talked about things like this all the time. “In college, my roommate and I sometimes had our boyfriends stay over at the same time. We’d all be going at it, but the lights would be out.” I shook me head. “It was nothing like this, that’s for sure.”

He laughed. “I remember those days. I guess some things never change.”

“What about you?” It was so strange to talk to someone whose eyes were the only thing I could see. No expression to read, no emotion to react to. And I could barely see his eyes as it was, with the room so dark.

He paused before answering me. “I’ve enjoyed my time as a member of the club. Let’s just say that.”

The woman just next to me, nude but for high heels, leaned into the man behind her. One of his hands worked its way in and out of her pussy lips, slowing to provide her clit extra attention. She writhed against him, one hand gripping his arm for balance, the other stroking her own breasts.

Another member of the audience had freed his cock from the fly of his trousers and was stroking it in a leisurely rhythm. In the outside world you’d call the cops on that. But at Club Silk, it seemed all bets were off.

The other voyeurs were enthralled, some silent and awestruck, while others chatted quietly as if they were studying a work of art.

The subject of all this attention, the threesome, seemed not to notice. The woman being pummeled in two places had closed her eyes, having reached another plane of being. She ground onto the cock below her while the one behind slowly made its way in and out of her ass.

How the hell would I put this in my story?

The experience stunned me into an erotic daze. The three were entirely in sync, enjoying their own pleasure as equally as their lovers’. I shifted to get comfortable in my binding blue jeans, and when I looked down, found my nipples jutting hard against my silk top.

I wobbled in my high-heeled boots, and just as wooziness overtook me, G caught my arm and lowered me to a close by sofa.

“You almost fainted,” he said, pushing errant strands of hair from my face.

The room was still swirling. “Could I get a glass of cool water, please?” I asked, and leaned my head back on the sofa.

When he returned, he ran a small ice cube over the back of my neck. God, that felt good.

“Thank you. I don’t know what happened. I guess it was the champagne, the excitement...” I shook my head to clear the cobwebs.

He ran his palm along my cheek. It felt nice, but with the mask between us, it was oddly non-intimate.

“Why do you wear that?” I asked, running a finger along the filigree trim.

He placed my hand back in my lap. Geez.

“I like my privacy.”

“Do you take it off?”

“Nope. Not in the club, anyway.”

With the heady setting, coupled with the champagne and G’s seductive attentions, I’d nearly forgotten my purpose for being there. “Have you been a member long?” I asked, easing back into reporter mode.

His fingers entwined mine. Smart move, this guy. Make the girl relaxed, admired, and then go in for the kill.

“Nobody knows how long the club has been around. As for me, I’ve been a member…long enough.”

A non-answer answer.

“Okay.” Seemed that was all I was going to get. At least for now.

He ran his thumb over my lower lip. His hand smelled like expensive soap, and his rolled sleeves showed a nice, strong forearm, and just the edge of a tattoo.

“What’s with all the questions?” he asked. “Are you a private detective or something?”

With the damn mask, I couldn’t tell if he was serious or pulling my leg.

I leaned toward him and whispered, “Why yes. I am a private detective. I’m here to gather information on—” I looked for someone to gesture toward. “Him. That gentleman over there.”

“Why? What did he do?” He leaned in conspiratorially, playing along.

“Rumor has it...” I paused and looked around for dramatic effect. “That he waters his lawn when California’s in a drought.”

G laughed from behind his mask, shaking his head.

Whew. Close one.

So far, I hadn’t gathered much of anything to build a story around. But I’d gotten a ton of material that I could…um…dream about. That sort of thing.

I stood. Time for good-byes. I saw P on the other side of the room, having fun with a new couple—a very expensively dressed man, and a woman who looked like a model. She moved back and forth between kissing the two of them.

Damn.

I caught her eye, and she waved and blew me a kiss. So I blew one back. When in Rome…

I turned to G, yawning dramatically. “I need to head home. Early morning.”

He stood slowly and tilted his head at me. “I’ll walk you out.”

As we approached the ground floor, he stopped me on the stairs and seized a shank of hair from the back of my head. Holy shit. With a tug, he pulled my head back, holding it close enough to his face that I could hear his breath.

I closed my eyes, tumbling into the sensation of a strange man taking control. And as soon as I did, he spun me around to bend me over the stair railing. With my balance thrown off, there was no choice but to lean all my weight on it. He’d seized the upper hand. Not that I minded.

I hadn’t come to play, but if I were an ice queen, wouldn’t that raise suspicion?

Oh hell, who was I kidding. I was dying for release. Watching all that fucking was not for the faint of heart, and especially not for someone who badly needed to get off. The atmosphere was irresistible. I wouldn’t have made it home without at least one good orgasm in the car.

“Pull down your jeans,” he growled, tightening his grip on my hair.

My hands flew to unbutton my pants. I hesitated and glanced around, seeing people in various stages of undress all around.

So I undid my fly—all in the name of research—and pushed my jeans to just below my ass cheeks.

G followed by hooking a finger in the lace of my thong panty. In an instant, my ass was entirely bare, my sex throbbing from the thrill of exposure.

And strangely, there was no embarrassment. On the contrary, it was empowering. And fucking sexy as hell. Exhibitionism was underrated.

His warm hand ran over my ass, and then thwack! He’d smacked my right cheek good and hard. And it hurt. But just when the stinging reached its crescendo, his large palm relieved my burning skin with a soft, smooth touch, calming the fire.

Thwack!

This time he’d smacked my left ass cheek. And again, as my flesh screamed in pain, he soothed me. For a moment, I considered protesting out of decorum, having never been spanked before. But the truth was, I wanted him to continue. It was confusing as hell. The more turned on I got, the more confused I became, vacillating between wondering if our play was okay or whether it was degrading, and admitting I loved it.

His lips touched my ear. “You like that, my little friend? You like having your sweet ass smacked till it’s bright pink? You should see it. So pretty, all worked up.”

I just nodded. I couldn’t even speak.

As my burning flesh cooled, his fingers tickled the crack of my ass. I squirmed from the sensation, earning myself another smack. And then another

I squeezed my thighs together in hope of some relief. But I knew there was only one thing that would help.