As expected I arrive first at Madame X, a W. Houston Street lounge with bordello ambiance on New York’s Lower East Side. Any lighting seems to be quickly absorbed into the red-painted walls, making the place dark and decadent. The primary seating are shabby, chic sofas upholstered in torn red velvet that bring to mind gaping wounds, only in reverse; white innards push through crimson skin. The pungent odor of age-old sex acts, all musk and brine, mingled with mildew adds to the decadent aura.
I’m here to meet a couple that Victor contacted so that I can have a cock in my cunt at the same time his fills my ass; DP Deluxe, if you will, if I will. The thought, like so many surrounding my relationship with Victor, arouses and disturbs me. When I arrive, the place is nearly deserted and remains so up until the time we leave. It’s early on a Tuesday night and I suspect the place will fill up later on, but for me, this is fine, this is perfect. The shadowy room, its soft music melded with the laughter of three Asian girls, is a welcome respite from my busy day.
Settled as I am in cozy corner of the back room, I keep glancing towards the front bar in case the couple has settled there. Finally, I see an attractive dark haired woman and her spiky haired companion so I pack up my stuff and head to the bar to greet them. They have just ordered drinks and I expect him to offer me one but he says nothing. I shrug it off, earlier I had a tequila martini with a co-worker and really don’t want to be drunk, yet it leaves me with a weird vibe. I am always polite and I expect that, at the very least, from others. So I’m already vaguely disinterested despite their good look as we move to the dim back room.
As we chat, he and I discover we know many of the same people. Even in a city as vast as New York, that small town feeling can suddenly crop up, when you least expect or desire it, especially in the kink community. Despite Victor’s thought that it doesn’t matter, it does matter to me. Perhaps contradictory, I prefer not to have my personal details discussed unless it’s me discussing them. Still, they are pleasant and it turns out she and I are in the same field, so when Victor finally arrives and attempts some male bonding with him, she and I talk shop. She seems very sweet and lovely.
His phones trills and he wanders into the back garden only to return and announce he’s needed by a client. He suggests we all mull it over and they take their leave. Victor and I decide that’s their no-go signal, and I am relieved. After discovering that they both are heavy smokers I really do not want to have this experience with them. I simply hate the bitter, acrid taste of the bodily secretions of smokers, and kissing someone after a cig just repulses me. And that pesky matter of common acquaintances. I can be very hard to please when it comes to who I want in my body, but in my opinion, that is a very good thing.
I snuggle up against Victor’s warm body and we kiss. Mouths open to devour each other, lips press hard and persistent until his teeth clamp my bottom lip in a tight vise which leaves a dark bruise inside my lower lip. I moan my pain and arousal into his mouth as my sex involuntarily tightens, I feel my nether lips engorge to mimic my bruised and swollen mouth.
“Look what you do to me, bitch,” he says, indicating the erection that strains at his slacks.
I rest my hard on his cock, feel it so fucking hard, alive and pulsing. “I love what I do to you, Victor. I love how hard you get…”
“I know, it’s my perfect cock you love. I’m sure you same the same thing to all your men. Oh Joe, your cock is soooo big, it’s perrrrr-fect,” he says trying to match the pitch of my voice, knowing it irks me when he does.
“Shut up, Victor,” I say with a smile, leaning in to kiss him again.
His hands snake inside my dress, before I can think to pull away his fingers home in on my nipples, pinching them hard enough to make me cry out and bury my face in his shoulder to stifle the sound.
“Come on,” he says, rising rapidly and grabbing my hand.
“Where are we going?” I reply as I attempt to gather my bag and laptop.
“Out in the garden.”
He drops my hand and pushes his way out the door with its sign warning that only the smoking of cigarettes is permitted, that the garden is not a lavatory and to keep the noise to a low roar. I follow a minute behind him and find him in the stairwell immediately outside the door, in front of the six steps that lead up to the patio.
“Hi, baby,” I say, smiling up at him.
I never notice that his gaze has darkened until it’s too late. My cheek stings as bright specks of light explode before my eyes momentarily obscuring my vision. There’s no time to even react, except for the deep gasp that explodes from my throat, because his fist is now knotted in my hair, pulling, pulling, pulling, straining my neck so I’m looking up at him. He smiles then – and slaps me again. Then he leans his back against the door we came through.
“Bitch,” he hisses. “Unzip me and take out my cock.”
I hasten to do as he says; worried about someone coming out for a smoke, relieved that the bar is nearly deserted.
“Get on your knees,” he demands.
I squat down but it’s not good enough.
“I said on your knees, Tess. Get on your fucking knees and suck my cock.”
I try not to think about the dirty ground or the gritty, irritating feel of rough pavement as I kneel. I glance up at the lit windows in the buildings that surround the patio aware that at anytime someone could look down and see us there, and the thought makes me hotter. I suck his cock with relish. When I tell him he has a perfect cock, I mean it. It’s so hard, his skin is stretched taut and utterly smooth. I love the pulse of blood flowing through his body, pumped by his heart, in my mouth. It’s as if I hold the very essence of him there on my tongue, surrounding by the warm, wetness of my sucked in cheeks.
“Do you want to go inside with my come dripping down your chin, Tess,” he whispers, lingering on my name in that way that causes my cunt to contract even harder.
Looking up, meeting his dark eyes, eyes that somehow cause me to melt even when they lack warmth, even when they are cold as ice, I shake my head – no.
“Then you had best do a good job and swallow every drop. Don’t you think?”
I keep sucking him, harder now, entranced with the way his cock fills my mouth. Come for me, I think. Come now, baby, before anyone interrupts us, because I need to taste you, to make this vital connection with you, to have part of you living inside me. Come for me.
It isn’t long before he does just that. I taste him, salty and pungent, his own unique flavor and one that I have come to crave. I continue to suck at him. His cock, as usual, still ram-rod hard though he is momentarily spent.
I only notice that his hand his been in my hair the entire time when he lets goes to help me rise. He kisses me and I press against him, feeling his cock still hard and wanting.
“Put me away,” he says. “Zip up my pants.”
I divert my eyes from his to focus on my task, letting my hands stroke his erection as I force it back through the slit in his briefs, zip his pants and buckle his belt. Then I fall back against him and let him caress me, hug me tight against his chest. It alerts my defenses. Don’t feel that, I think, don’t feel that warmth. It is what it is and nothing more, I say to myself, repeating what I have always known and only forget in the most minute of increments, in those few precious moments when I am able to let go completely, to knock down parts of the walls I have erected that protect my heart.
I step in front of him and his heat encompasses me as he reaches around me for the doorknob, when suddenly he brushes the hair from my neck and his teeth sink into my neck. I moan and I relent and in that one instant my walls crumble, and I’m his, just his. Then he releases me and I’m glad to be back to myself, glad to feel my defenses rising once again. I am his – but just for these few stolen moments.