Mmmm … tight, yellow dress clinging onto breasts like planets. Well, big enough to feed a small African tribe anyway. I like that. Abundance. That’s what stuck-up, spoilt Layla lacks.
And blonde. Yeah. I’m very partial to blonde pussy.
My eyes rise higher up to a plump, slightly sulky mouth. Perfect for sucking cock.
By the time I reach her eyes, it’s a done deal. Cornflower blue, of course. As pretty as flowers and no hint that she sees anything unclean or itchy about the view in front of her.
I vaguely recognize her. The memory is fuzzy, but I think she’s candy from one of Shane’s clubs. I sort of remember flirting with her at the party Jake threw to celebrate the reopening of Eden. However, if I remember correctly, I ended up leaving with another dancer. It occurs to me that I had seen Layla that night too, and she had been rude to me then too. Bitch.
‘Hello,’ Blondie drawls. ‘You went home with the South American dancer the last time.’
I smile, letting it reach all the way up to my eyes. ‘I might have been a bit drunk and my cock might have been waylaid around the corner from you.’
She leans closer. ‘You’re not drunk tonight, are you?’
‘As sober as a saint.’
‘Good. Cause my pussy’s been aching for that great fuck you promised ever since.’
My smile widens. I could do with a dose of random cunt. There is comfort, immense comfort in anonymous curves. ‘I remember you now. You’re the one who can suck cock for days.’
She smiles with satisfaction that I have remembered her. ‘That’s right. I can suck cock like you can’t believe.’
I grab Blondie and, swinging her around, walk her backwards until her back presses against the wall, and she is hidden from the room by my bulk. I slide my hand under her dress and she helpfully spreads her legs. She is not wearing panties. Perfect. My kind of girl. She moans as my fingers part her slippery folds. She is so wet, even I am impressed.
‘What’s this?’ I ask.
‘Tug it and see,’ she suggests.
I tug at the metal stud in her pieced labia.
She wriggles and tilts her pelvis towards me.
I insert a finger into her and slowly fuck her with it.
‘Harder,’ she urges throatily.
I fit another two fingers in and pump her so roughly her body jerks.
‘Yes, yes,’ she encourages fiercely, her eyes glazed with lust.
She’s great, but she won’t be enough. Not tonight. Not when I am this wired. I’ve got too much energy to burn. She’ll be out cold before I’m finished.
‘Listen cupcake, I’m looking for a threesome tonight,’ I whisper in her ear.
‘I have a friend,’ she gasps immediately.
‘Good. Go get her.’ I take my fingers out of her pussy and hold them in front of her mouth. She tilts her head forward and sucks them greedily the way she would a dick, while staring boldly into my eyes. Yup, definitely my kind of girl.
My fingers exit her mouth with a wet pop.
I step sideways to let her pass, and watch her truly round and wonderful ass samba as she goes off in search of another body for me. I feel rather pleased with myself. It’s gonna be a goooooood night, after all.
I bring my hand up to my nose and smell it, but she has sucked away the smell of her pussy. All that is left is Layla’s scent, lingering like a rare perfume from a lost garden.
Damn you, Layla Eden. Just damn you.
Her friend is a Rita Hayworth look alike, but with flaming copper hair. Obviously another dancer; I can always tell by the confident way they move. Unlike women who don’t use their bodies to earn money, dancers get that their physical form gives them immense power over mere men. She slides up to me sinuously. I swear I have never seen a woman to walk in such a serpentine fashion before. It is actually fascinating to watch. My cock twitches with interest.
‘I have a thing for men with gleaming raven hair,’ she says, stopping less than six inches away from me. The tips of her perky breasts almost touch my abs.
‘Oh yeah?’ Her obvious attraction is a balm after Layla’s unconcealed contempt and disgust.
A knowing smile stretches across her scarlet lips. ‘Yeah. Is it true what they say about you?’
‘I don’t know, what do they say?’
She lays her palms on my chest, stands on tiptoe, and whispers into the side of my neck. ‘That your mama gave you a horse cock.’
I grin slowly.
She puts her hand on my hardening dick, rubs along the length of it through the material and slowly opens her mouth as if she is becoming unbearably sexually stimulated. It is a practiced but highly effective move.
‘Oh! That’s no horse cock. That’s a whole python you have there in your jeans, Mister,’ she teases with a sly smile.