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But her biggest coup was in making it exclusive and keeping it under the radar.
Most San Franciscans had heard of the place but weren’t sure whether it truly existed, or whether it was just another urban myth. A lucky few of us knew where the truth lie, and we paid handsomely for the privilege. This kept out the riff-raff, the creepy guys who walked around with their dicks in their hands, and kept the gorgeous women coming in.
And it all gave me an escape I’d die without.
A female hand landed on my arm.
“Hey.”
I turned to see the voluptuous redhead I’d fucked a couple weeks ago.
“How are you?” I asked. Too bad I was in the mood for a spinner tonight, because this woman was fucking hot. Her curvy ass might be worth revisiting, though, depending on how the night progressed.
“I thought you were gonna call me,” she said with a delicious pout. My cock jerked again as I remembered her lips wrapped around my hard wood.
“A.” I think that was her club name. It was hard to keep all the goddamn initials straight. “You know I never call. It’s just not my thing.”
Her gaze drilled into my eyes, the only part of my face she could see behind the mask. I know she wanted to see more. They always did.
She, too, wore a mask, but it covered only the upper half of her face, which allowed me to enjoy her pretty smile. Her red lips were always ready for whatever she got the urge to do, and lucky for me that had included sucking me off to a point where I’d nearly lost consciousness.
A true cocksucker she was, and I meant that in the nicest possible way.
But I didn’t normally repeat women. That was the beauty of Silk.
In consolation, I ran my thumb along her lower lip and dipped it into her willing mouth.
The old cock shifted again, reminding me to get on with the female attention I so desperately needed, and to stop being so goddamn coy. I retrieved my thumb. Time to get back to assessing other, new talent.
“See you later, hon,” I said, heading for the building’s massive second floor, a mezzanine with a perfect view of everything below.
The elevator, a rickety old freight thing, was moving at its usual glacial speed. But I kept pressing the up button anyway, as if that would make a difference. Probably someone in there playing out their elevator fucking fantasy. I had to shake my head and chuckle. I’d tried that when I was a newbie at the club, too.
As a noob, I’d wanted to fuck in every nook and cranny of the place, and the more people who could see and watch me, the better. Of course, this was always done with my mask in place.
Most clubgoers wore some version of one, as well. Those of us with a lot to lose guarded our privacy to a point bordering on obsession.
You couldn’t be too careful, as the saying went.
But these days I preferred playing with some sweet female in the smaller rooms, and even on occasion in one of the private rooms with locking doors.
As much as I dug being watched, getting off was the top priority now that I was a seasoned club member. I no longer craved the ego boost of being watched like I once did—it actually made it damn hard to come, truth be told.
No, filling some hot thing’s pussy, mouth, or ass with my big load was my kryptonite.
I bailed on the slow elevator and headed for the stairs. In keeping with the rest of the building, they were a wide, creaky contraption barely sturdy enough to pass city inspection, not to mention support the couple going at it doggy style on the second step. As I climbed past them, I nodded at the dude. He was drilling a screaming woman with her dress pushed up to her tits and her pretty ass up in the air, and he didn’t miss a beat. He nodded right back while he held her arms behind her back.
Nice.
Up on the mezzanine, I found three beauties in various stages of undress—mostly completely undressed, actually—cuddling on a large velvet sofa, sipping champagne from tall flutes they held with perfectly manicured fingers.
I made a quick mental calculation of which I liked best, and which I would settle for, if need be. Not to be a dick about it—I loved fucking all women. I just knew what I needed that night, and if I could find it, well bingo.
“Ladies.” I nodded at them. Lord, they were cute.
“Hey, take that mask off. I wanna see your face,” the voluptuous one demanded.
“Sorry, babe. No can do.”
They scooted a place open for me on the sofa and the blonde one patted a spot next to her. “Have a seat, masked man.”
I squeezed between the hips of two of the beauties. Christ, they were all stunners.
“I’ve seen you here before. I know that mask,” the skinny brunette said. “What’s your name?”
“G. What are yours?”
“X.”
“Y.”
“And—“
“Don’t tell me,” I interrupted. I pointed at the brunette.
“Your name is Z.”
She shrugged with a lovely laugh. “Somebody knows his alphabet. We got a smart one here, ladies”
If she only knew.
I smiled under my mask, not that they could see it. Damn thing was making me hot, one of the hazards of wearing it.
I removed my suit jacket and roll up the sleeves of my starched, cotton shirt to cover the initials on my cuff: VG. They knew the G. They didn’t need to know the V.
“You’re funny, Miss Z. Why don’t you do a little dance for me?”
“Yeah, Z,” X said. “Show us your stuff.”
“I can do that.” She stood, taking a position in front of us, and commenced to gyrating, wearing only fuck me high heels and a lacy thong panty.
My dick strained against my trousers, the compression approaching downright pain.
“You’re fucking beautiful, Z, you know that?”
I reached to place my hands on her lovely hips, but she stepped back, just beyond my reach.
Fair enough.
I stood. “I’ll be in the playroom on the third floor. Just letting you know.”
I left them in a flurry of protests and headed for the best part of the club, the one place in the universe to truly scratch my itch.
