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I feel myself getting flustered as juices slowly seep from my own neglected slit. “No. I mean, yes.”
She rolls her eyes up in the back of her head, then shudders for effect. “Like heaven, girl; especially when Dante is fucking me from the back and my face is buried between her legs, and my tongue slithering in and out of her wet, warm pussy.” She fans herself. “Girl, I can’t get enough of it.”
She finishes off her drink, flags the bartender down for another round, then goes on to share her first experience with another woman. Four years ago. She and Dante were vacationing in Jamaica when she suggested they have a threesome. One thing led to another and she found herself sucking at her breasts, leaving her nipples tight and wet. Slowly her tongue and mouth glided down the rest of their lover’s body, feasting on her, nipping and sucking all over her until Sheena found her mouth on this woman’s pussy, pulling her pussy lips into her mouth while Dante eased in back of her and slid his dick deep into her soppy-wet pussy. She tells me that was the first time she had multiple orgasms, and squirted.
My breath catches in my throat as she recounts the lusty details of her tryst in Jamaica. She pauses when the bartender returns with our drinks. We both eye him as he sets a fresh napkin down in front of us, then places our drinks down on the bar. He walks off and she continues, “We fucked her the whole weekend, then came back to the states with our relationship renewed, refreshed, and stronger than ever. Or so I thought.” She rolls her eyes. “Every time I think about them damn condoms and Dante fucking behind my back it pisses—”
I cut her off, needing to know more about her lesbian experience. “So are you bisexual?”
She sips her drink, eyeing me over the rim of her glass. “I’m enjoying sexual freedom, boo. And I’m living my life without any regrets. And I’m fortunate enough to have a man who is also very open-minded and willing to try almost anything once, even if the nigga is a sneaky-ass liar at times.”
I don’t want to admit it, but listening to her has me pissed the hell off. I’m mad at Kareem’s ass for not being as open as Dante. And I’m even madder that I’m sitting here with a wet, horny pussy and will have to eventually go home to Kareem rolling on top of me in the middle of the night, ramming his dick into me, humping and pumping me fast and hard a few times, then rolling off after he finishes shooting his nut inside of me, then falling back to sleep. I remind myself, again, that he’s a good man. But that knowing does nothing for my pulsing cunt and throbbing clit.
I imagine Sheena between the legs of some busty vixen—her hands roaming all over her body, only stopping once she finds her hungry pussy, spread open and ready for lips, tongue, fingers—as Dante plunges his dick nonstop into Sheena’s juicy snatch. I can almost hear her juices splashing out of her. My heartbeat quickens a
t the delicious thought. I take another sip of my drink, then decide to gulp the rest of it back. I swallow, hard.
Sheena laughs. “You all right, girl? You seem a little flustered.”
“I am,” I admit, running my fingertips along my neck, then through the nape of my neck. Subconsciously, I slip a hand between my legs and squeeze. I want my pussy ate. Want to know what it’s like to taste a pussy. Its scent stained into my tongue. I lean in, then whisper, “I’m so jealous. I wanna know what it’s like to be made love to by a woman. It’s one of my fantasies.”
“Does Kareem know?”
I shake my head. “Girl, he’d lose his mind if I told him some shit like that.”
She gives me one of those “you poor thing” looks, then shakes her head. “So what are you going to do about it?”
I shrug. “Keep my fantasies to myself, I guess.”
I need another drink. I catch the eye of the bartender, signaling for another martini.
A sly smile forms across her pouty lips as she glances down at her watch. She eyes me. “It’s almost eleven. If you really wanna take a walk over on the other side, and are willing to toss your inhibitions to the wind, I know just the place where you can go to indulge your fantasy. And the one thing you must know is this, what’s done there, stays there.” She flicks up an eyebrow.
“Trust me,” I say as the bartender places my drink in front of me, then serves Sheena another cosmo. “My lips are sealed.”
She lifts her glass to her lips, eyeing me. “So does that mean you’re ready to experience a night of uninhibited freakiness?”
I inhale a deep breath, then take a slow sip of my drink. My head is spinning, my heart is racing. I am nervous and excited at the thought of finally indulging my deepest desire. I guzzle down my drink, dab the corners of my mouth with my napkin, then say. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Then, girlfriend, buckle up and prepare yourself for a night you will soon never forget.” I nervously ask her where she’s taking me. Her response is, “To Paradise, a place like no other.”
***
To my surprise, Paradise, as Sheena calls it, happens to be an exclusive woman’s club called The Stud Palace housed in what looks like an abandoned warehouse building on Hubert Street in the city. And, truthfully, the outside looks like shit. But once you walk through the metal door you are in a whole other world. The inside is a four-floored fantasy-freaks playground. The walls drip with lust. The music pumps out seduction. Sex fills the air. And you are surrounded by a sea of feminine women from all walks of life, looking to toss caution to the wind for a night of unadulterated pleasure with other women. Females who are not so feminine; studs, women who have the swagger of a man—some donned in boxers, wife beaters, fitted hats, and Timbs with strap-ons on; some more masculine than others with shaved heads and dreads and low-cut fades; others with ponytails and long, flowing hair. They all work at the club. All here to cater to your every sexual whim, eager to please you, tease you and suck and fuck you to ecstasy.
I glance around the room, taking in everything. The first floor has purple walls trimmed in gold with splashes of pink. There’s a huge oval bar in the center of the room and smack in the center of the bar is an elevated stage where scantily-clad dancers flex their beautifully-sculpted, oiled and tatted up bodies. There are two smaller stages on each side of the room. Pale pink and purple spotlights bathe each stage as strippers hump and gyrate their bodies to the music, stroking themselves to orgasms, thrusting their hips and pelvises at on-lookers as they drool and make it rain on them. There are also four large go-go cages sitting atop massive speakers with naked women dancing inside, each woman covered in colorful body paint. And in the far back of the bar there are numerous booths with plush pink leather seats for those who prefer a lap dance. Sheer curtains can be drawn for those who desire a little more privacy. The music is instrumental, sexual and very sensual. The lit candles and wall torches only add to the ambiance.
Some of the patrons boldly prance around in skintight camisoles and bikini bottoms wearing strappy heels; others are topless wearing colorful thongs. While the more daring flaunt Mother Nature’s gift, bearing their nakedness for all to see, save the heels on their feet.
I am overwhelmed as Sheena and I maneuver our way through the club, holding our drinks. I’m drinking a Clit Teaser—a mixture of 1800 Tequila, Bombay gin, Grey Goose vodka and splashes of pineapple and cranberry juice shaken, then poured over ice. It’s strong as hell. And I’m already starting to feel it course through my body. Sheena is playing it safe, sipping on another Cosmo.
“So girrrrl,” Sheena says as we climb the stairs to the next level, “what do you think?”
“It’s like nothing I’ve ever imagined. How did you hear about this place?”
She grins. “Girl, this is one of New York’s best-kept secrets. So if I tell you. I’ll have to kill you. Just know, that whatever, or should I say, whoever you decide to do tonight, you will be in good hands. Trust me. And when you leave up out of here, nothing about you will ever be the same.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. I sip my drink and follow behind her as we get to the next level. The second floor is painted all black with splashes of red. It has a huge dance room with wall-to-wall mirrors, red strobe lights, and plays strictly house and club music for those who are simply looking to get their dance on before, or after, venturing off to one of the many lounges where the imagination can be stretched beyond its limits. Watching naked women dance with each other, grinding their pussies and asses into one another causes a flash of heat to shoot through me. It singes my clit, then shoots out of my cunt. My red lace panties have seeped up my ass and barely cover my wet pussy. I am dripping with excitement from the drink and all of the sightings.
