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When Sabrina returns, she’s flushed and giddy, her lips swollen as she sucks on the lime.
“You like that?” I ask her.
“Who wouldn’t,” Sabrina casts an appreciative look back at the redhead.
“Have you been to the private rooms upstairs?”
“No.” She glances toward the back staircase, blocked by two bouncers and a velvet rope. “What’s up there?”
“The best part of the club.”
Taking her hand, I pull her toward the staircase.
I peel a thick wad of bills off my roll, passing a couple grand to the bouncer, saying, “We need a table and bottle service.”
The bouncer unhooks the rope to let us pass.
“Upstairs and to the right,” he grunts.
Sabrina follows me up, all eyes and ears, looking everywhere at once.
Turquoise light shimmers across the domed ceiling overhead, as if we’ve plunged underwater.
Up here, the private tables are surrounded by high-backed booths. Each booth faces a shower, enclosed in glass, in which dancers undulate beneath the pounding spray.
“Which table?” I say to Sabrina.
What I really mean is,which girl?
Sabrina examines her choices before pointing. “That one.”
We sit at the table facing a blonde girl in a white bikini, the straps of her bathing suit wrapped around her waist, crisscrossing her body. The girl’s hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, her sharp cheekbones and narrow green eyes giving her an almost alien appearance.
I put my arm around Sabrina’s shoulders, watching her watch the girl dance.
The pane separating us is tinted a smoky gray, the transparent box filled with steam, but the girl can see us just like we can see her. She leans against the glass wall, letting the shower pour down on her breasts, the white material of her bikini top turning translucent as it soaks through. She looks over at Sabrina, biting her lip.
Sabrina’s cheeks flush. Her hand tightens on my thigh.
“Is she your type?” I murmur in Sabrina’s ear.
“My type is hot.”
“And is that hot to you?”
Sabrina laughs. “What do you think?”
Leaning over so my lips are right against her ear, I growl, “I think I’d love to watch you peel that bikini off her body.”
Concealed by the table, I slide my hand up Sabrina’s thigh. I meet the hem of her dress and keep going, up to the heat and warmth of the furnace between her thighs. My fingertips find her pussy lips. Sabrina isn’t wearing any underwear.
She shivers when I touch her. Her eyes meet mine and she licks her lips. Then she turns back to the girl, spreading her thighs an inch wider to give me more space.
Holding Sabrina’s gaze, the blonde reaches up and unfastens the tie behind her neck. Slowly, languorously, she lowers the bikini top, revealing a pair of magnificent breasts with pale pink nipples. She shakes her tits lightly, letting them sway and then settle back into place.
Sabrina is hypnotized.
I slide my fingers up and down the cleft of her pussy lips. She’s fucking soaked.
