Author's note: Just a hard fucking. You know, your basic pick-up-in-nightclub-for-night-of-extreme-group-slavery sort of thing.
This wasn't how it was going to end up, but hey, the characters ordered me about.
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Four for fucking
I saw them come in, stalking in confidently with a sense of being absolutely in control of their own space that stopped just short of arrogance.
She was short, very compact, with chunky boots up to her knees and bare legs under a pleated skirt, a corset that gave her respectable cleavage and Death eye makeup. Her two boys were tall, one solid in band T-shirt, the other thin in a black shirt that gleamed like silk, both in eyeliner and pants festooned with buckles and chains above solid-soled boots.
She walked between them but as they arrowed straight for the bar, and at the last moment solid boy peeled off and laid claim to a sofa in front of a low table.
I was already riding a buzz by that time, dancing to Bauhaus, Rob Zombie, New Order and even Ramstein, staying on a dance floor that ebbed but was never crowded, not this early in the night.
I had packed light for this trip, carrying enough for business and some clothes for fun, so hadn't been able to bring many outfits. When I had found this club I had looked at their website and decided on a fishnet shirt over a standard black bra over my barely-B cup breasts, tight leather pants and low-cut black boots I could wear with a pants suit at the meetings. I managed to find room to pack my coffin backpack for my phone and wallet and keys, so I wouldn't have to worry about losing a shoulder bag.
I went heavy on black lipstick and eyeliner, putting an Egyptian hook out to the side of each eye.
I wasn't looking to chat, I had done enough of that through the interminable two days I was being paid for, so I went to drink, and dance, and if I found some cute boy to fuck, why not?
I got there early, of course, because there was nothing for me to do to delay me.
The bouncers were clearly with the club, not some rental company, which is always a good sign, and the bar staff were quick, efficient, tattooed and pierced. The bald bloke was too chunky for my liking, but I'd happily do both the spiky blonde girl with conical tits and the young bloke with the mohawk.
I took a beer on a tour, finding the toilets (there was a sign on the door saying "If you want to fuck, get a room, people need to piss in here.") and a balcony for smoking (got to love upstairs venues).
The DJ had a mixtape on as he set up, and instead of the pen and clipboard I was used to there was a sign saying "Fuck your requests". That was a refreshing change.
The people already there were a familiar crowd, some of them quite well dressed but everybody in their own self-created space of maudlin aloofness. I felt a few eyes on me, but if nobody was going to move on me, I didn't feel like putting the effort into moving on someone else. At least - not yet.
I finished that beer at about the time the DJ started, and since there was no movement towards the dance floor, not even a subtle drift, I decided I would start. I had been pacing restlessly for long enough I didn't need to get into a rhythm, I already had one.
I danced through two songs, by which time there was one other girl moving without moving her feet in the shadows against one wall, and when I went for a beer I gave the DJ half a salute and got a quarter of a nod in return.
I bought the beer back with me and danced through another two songs before finishing it, then two more, and by that time the place was beginning to fill up, there were a few more people dancing and I was getting some looks from people who didn't look like they had the confidence to do anything else.
Then I saw them come in.
I kept an eye on them, sideways, through another song, while the skinny boy and the girl got beers and headed over to the sofa that solid had claimed, him pacing like a sexy leopard and she stalking and hitting the ground aggressively with her two-inch platforms.
I turned away from them then to lose myself in some VNV Nation and when I looked back, she was sitting sideways on solid's lap with his arms possessively around her tightly boned waist while skinny sprawled at the other end of the sofa, raking the crowd with his eyes.
The next time I looked, after the DJ changed things up with some Peter Murphy and I was beginning to work up a sweat, the two boys were sitting next to each other, her boots were across skinny's lap, and they were all talking with their heads together. Skinny's hands were possessively on her boots, which was very interesting.
I went to get another beer, and a scarecrow figure in a flapping black jacket and impossibly stable top hat bowed me off the dance floor, so I sketched him a curtsy back. The next time I looked, she was straddling solid's lap and eating his face as he cupped her arse under her skirt, and skinny was nowhere to be seen.
I took my next beer back to dance with me, riding a buzz that felt much more adrenalin than alcohol, gulping it down so quickly I realised I should probably start drinking some water if I was going to be sweating this much.
The beer disappeared so quickly I left it on a table before hitting the floor again, and this time it was getting harder to secure a spot for myself, so I ended up close to the DJ's booth, and rode through two songs without slowing down.
The next time I saw them, through a gap in the crowd, she was sitting backwards on skinny's lap and moving in time with the music while he drank a beer over her shoulder. With her skirt, if they were clever he could have been fucking her, but I didn't think they were. Solid was leaning against the other arm of the sofa, drinking and, I was pretty sure, looking straight at me.
Then the crowd closed between us again and I went back to the music, but feeling a bit more confident about prospects for the evening.
When I went to get a glass of water off the end of the bar, she was sitting on the couch sideways, leaning against solid, who had an arm curling around her and his hand cupping the underside of one corsetted boob, and her legs across skinny's lap, one of his hands up under her skirt.
I was beginning to get jealous of her. They all three of them looked at me, so I looked right back until I had put the empty glass back on the bar, when I twisted on my heel and marched back to the dance floor.
Three songs later, when I went to get another beer, skinny pushed next to me at the bar. His shirt really did make me ache to stroke it.
"What are you drinking?" He asked bluntly.
"Whatever you buy me," I said, equally bluntly.
"Only if you come back with us."
It was a nicely ambiguous phrase. I just nodded him towards the bald bartender, who had appeared in front of us.
We each carried two beers back, as the compact girl straddled the solid boy and rubbed the edge of her corset's cups into his chest while he sucked on her neck.
"So what's the deal?" I asked as we wove back between a couple of pillars. "Do you share her?"
"We share everything," he said.
Well, that was promising!
