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the tepid water. It was time to get out, before I turned into a prune, but thinking about the club had me excited again. My hand wandered down to my pussy, where I found my clit, hard and erect, for the second time that day.
Mmmm.
I reached farther down to my opening, which had not surprisingly become quite slippery in all the excitement. Another finger joined my first. Initially, I made slow circles around my clit, still sensitive from my session a few hours earlier. My nipples tightened and poked through the surface of the bath, and with my free hand, I pinched and pulled them.
What would the club be like? Dark and dreamy? Would people be fucking right out in the open? Going at it in every nook and cranny? I couldn’t wait to find out. Not participate, of course. Just observe. This was strictly work.
I pictured a beautiful woman, legs covered in thigh-high stockings. She bent forward, her ass in the air for all the world to see. A tall, dark stranger stood behind her, holding his giant erect cock just at the opening to her pussy. She raised her hips to open herself to him, and he slowly entered. Once he was halfway in, she bucked against him, begging for more. The man pulled her long hair, her back curving into what looked like an uncomfortable arch. But she didn’t seem to mind, and in fact bucked harder, releasing a scream that filled the club. All heads turned to see her, and several observers moved closer for a better view.
With his hand full of her hair, the man plunged his cock balls-deep inside her. Her mouth hung open, her body convulsing. Her hands pulled her ass cheeks open in case the man could drive his cock even deeper. He pumped faster and faster, and when he released her hair, her head bounced wildly. A series of guttural cries announced her explosion into in orgasm. Her lover was not far behind. Another pump, and he threw his head back, releasing a string of profanities…
I’d had been rubbing my clit in time to my imaginary friends, my own orgasm building to a crescendo. I gasped as my climax gripped me, leaving me shaking in the now-cold bath water.
This sex club stuff could be a fun and career-boosting experience.
Chapter 7
Varden
The City Grille was an old San Francisco institution with dark paneling, leather booths, and strong cocktails. I walked past the hostess stand to meet my attorney, Hugh Bartlett, for dinner.
“Hugh, good to see you.” I clapped him on the back. He was a great guy, and had represented my firm and me for years.
“You, too. It’s been awhile. Where does the time go?”
“I have no idea. It’s been a couple months since the last deal you helped us with. Seems like last week.”
Hugh waved the waiter over. “What’re you drinking? I’m quite happy here with my Maker’s Mark.”
“Same please,” I said to the waiter.
“Hey,” Hugh said, “I hope you don’t mind, but my daughter may join us at some point. Her office is just around the corner.”
“That’d be great.”
“She just graduated from college and is working for the newspaper,” Hugh explained.
“No kidding. That must be fun.”
“Well, I’m not sure how much fun it is. They pay her shit, so she’s stuck living at home, at least for the time being.” He shook his head.
“Oh, I remember those days,” I said. “I don’t know what’s worse—being broke in college or being broke after college thanks to your shitty first job.”
While we caught up on business, a couple women at the bar made no secret of their interest in us. They had a world-worn look with bleached hair, spray tans, and overly Botoxed foreheads. They weren’t really my type, but they sure looked friendly.
“Sweetie!” Hugh jumped up from his chair to greet the woman who must have been his daughter. She was freaking gorgeous, with long, swingy, almost-black hair, deep blue eyes, and the lush lips of a young woman. The resemblance to her father was easy to see.
“Saffi, this is Varden Gallagher. Varden, my daughter, Saffi.” Hugh beamed as she extended her hand.
I found myself smiling, too. I hadn’t seen anything this sweet and young in far too long, and as she settled in, I noted her rocking body. Maybe it was the whole package—her bright smile, tight jeans, and low-cut halter, but she was cute as hell.
Her father took notice of her outfit, too. “Are you going somewhere after dinner? Because I know you didn’t go to work like that.”
She smiled, dimples jumping into action. Damn, she was cute.
“You are correct, Dad. I did not dress like this for work.” She laughed and shook her head.
“So where are you off to?” Hugh asked.
