Author's Note: This story is completely fictional and did not happen. All characters and names are fictional and were made up. I do not make money from these stories. Please do not copy and plagiarize my work.
******************
Ibiza, Spain
Wind blew, rustling a row of palm trees outside next to the building. The sound of booming bass thumps were audible, even for one standing around waiting to to enter the club. Outside, a large pink colored neon lit sign in cursive writing read 'Gran Sonido' in a cursive font. An entry fee was required before stepping through metal detectors and past the two security guards standing outside the black doors for entry. On an average of Saturday nights, a line would follow outside the club and down the street block. Gran Sonido was only the most recent name in a long string of changes that had come for this specific club. Every few years, a new manager stepped in to purchase the building and push through with a renovation project to put their ownership onto it. Either way, one thing had remained the same regardless the club's owner. This was party city and that reputation had not faded.
Darkness greeted every person who stepped beyond the large metal doors. The walls were painted black, down below a checkered floor tile of white and black was visible. People shuffled beyond one another, making it towards the bar that was located on the left side of the building. A staircase with a sleek silver metal railing took one upstairs to get a better view of the dance floor. Most of the action was on the right side of the club with a massive round shaped dance floor and laser lights beaming from across the building. Beyond the dance floor was an elevated stage where the resident DJ made their earnings from working turntables and keyboards. The laser lights flashed an array of colors from green to yellow, blinding anyone that was gazing directly above the stage. For every step one took in the club, their ears were bombarded with the sound of hardcore bass beats.
Hardcore was the flavor of dance music that Gran Sonido was known for in it's short life as a club. It wasn't any different from the other clubs across Ibiza that also played heavy tempo fueled dance music. On most nights, the resident DJ was a twenty something year old man using the stage name of Captain Big Beat. The man had went from club to club over the past three years, trying his best to make a living with working the turntables and work station on stage. Tonight was a different night however, as the man was out for the weekend. Instead, a female DJ was in the house for an exclusive set for tonight only. Demi Rose Mawby stood in front of the turntables and work station. She adjusted the black noiseless earphone set over her ears while her eyes gazed down at pink colored vinyl on the turntable slowly spinning. A bright yellow cord was attached to her headphones, the coiled line going back to the workstation so she could hear properly among the ambience of the club.
Her long jet black hair had been fixed up into a pony tail extending down her back prior to when she took the stage. Demi curved her pink lips into a smile while moving her hands away from the headphones. She tapped her right hand fingers across an array of buttons to begin playing a low tempo of bass beats to go along with the instrumental track from the turntable. Her curvaceous body was only slightly hidden between a robe-like gold dress that hugged over her neck. A large V-neck split revealed her heavy cleavage, as she didn't wear a bra to go with this outfit. Gold high heels down below matched the robe, as anyone standing behind her would've took notice of her giant rump and thick hips visible from the outfit. DJing was a secondary hobby for the up and coming British glamour model. Times had changed with a collapsed industry, but Demi knew that Ibiza was an island with ties back to glamour modelling. Gone were the days of Lucy Pinder and Holly Peers shaking up rumors on the island, but the party scene remained alive and well.
Standing behind the model was a dark skinned man of Jamaican descent known by the name as Elgin. He stood tall in a black pinstriped suit, unbuttoned to reveal a white collared shirt underneath. The first few buttons were undone, revealing gold Cuban linked chains, matching the gold Rolex watch. In the day time, he covered his eyes with a pair of sunglasses, but tonight one could see the brown hue in his eyes. With a clean shaved face, his hair had recently been fixed up into short a Hi-top fade. At thirty years of age, he had given up his quest becoming a hip hop artist back home in Britain. Elgin had better success at production, working alongside up and coming hip hop artists for a few years before finding another avenue with DJ sets. He met Demi Rose when she was dating a rapper by the name of Tyga. Having a one night stand with the model years ago led to an affair and now a relationship between them.
He stood behind her, watching as her right hand fingers glided across the controls of the work station. She paid special attention to the spinning vinyl across the turntable. Demi had her own talents, but Elgin offered a guiding hand when she spoke of wanting to have DJ sets. The girl had spent the past few weeks practicing for this night between doing photoshoots that would be posted on social media. Demi had a way of getting all the gossip tabloid rags of England talking about her. Elgin had told her before, that if the glamour industry had not collapsed, she would've been the next Lucy Pinder. Taking in much pride with such bold claims, Demi knew that her body was desired. Her likes and reposts on the various social media accounts were enough to tell her that. Elgin took a better sense in pride, just knowing that he was sharing a bed with the woman who was currently the most famous model out of Britain. It made him feel better about his lack of stardom compared to rappers he had competed with in the past.
Backstage, another man was making his way up. Wearing a pair of khaki shorts that showed off his skinny pale white legs, Paul began to bob his head at the rhythm of the song currently playing. Wearing a black T-shirt with Metallica's classic 'Master of Puppets' album cover over the front, the skinny American man stomped his red Nike tennis shoes over the floor while brushing past a few security guards. His short brown hair was visible thanks to the lighting down the hallway, also illuminating the view of his arms covered in dark tattoos. A short black beard was visible from his chin, as the only bit of facial hair the man preferred. Paul was known as the American friend to Demi and Elgin. He had known Elgin for a few years prior, going back to the days that they worked in a studio together. An efficient sound engineer, Paul had traveled from Miami to London chasing a career in the music industry. Little could have guessed that by the age of twenty-seven he would find himself venturing through nightclubs helping with DJ sets.
Elgin had specifically brought Paul along to help Demi with the equipment on stage. Taking in the guess that there could be audio problems of sorts. In the past, they had all partied in Miami in the months prior. Getting to know Demi better, Paul offered to manage one of her social media accounts online. That began something of a working friendship, though he knew that his chance of slipping in bed with her was slim to none. A man like Elgin would surely leave him battered, bloody and blue if he would catch them flirting. It was difficult for Paul not to have such fantasies regarding Demi, not helped when he had access to her Instagram account. Sometimes, he just wanted to sit in bed and jack himself off when gazing at pictures of her titanic sized booty. There was so much to love about Demi's thick, voluptuous body. From that ass to her massive tits and cute face. While there were other models he could easily look at, there was something better about knowing her in the real world.
Demi had caught Paul in the past unable to look her in the eyes when she wore outfits that exposed her heavy cleavage. Over time, she began to tease him about it as a way of torturing the man. Maybe she simply enjoyed watching his face blush in a red hue, or perhaps Demi had a more dirty side within her. Either way, Paul didn't push the temptations as he knew that Elgin would beat him to a pulp if they were caught. As time progressed, he continued to fantasize about Demi. Upon arriving in Ibiza, Paul put those filthy thoughts to the back of his mind knowing he had a job at hand. Elgin was the one who did the negotiations to get Demi the DJ gig and now, Paul was returning from a quick bathroom break to step back onto the stage. When he opened the door, the music had become louder. Demi had switched songs briefly in preparation for a special banger that was to come.
The door shut behind Paul as Elgin offered him a nod. The two friends moved closer, butting their knuckles together before glancing at the woman standing in front of him. Both men glanced down at Demi's huge ass. The gold dress was shiny throughout the dark club while the lights above contracted into an array of differing colors. Pink and blue shined brightly across many faces from the dance floor. The vinyl had stopped spinning on the turn table, giving Paul the second-guess that she was about to put on a different song. What Demi had planned was a special song that she didn't have a vinyl for. The track was pre-loaded into the workstation of the club. All she had to do was take one look at the title of the track across the small laptop screen and that told her all she needed to know about this song. A soft grin curved across her angelic face. Gliding her hand across the various buttons, Demi pushed play.
Once again, the lights shifted colors. Pink became an array of red while the blue had faded into a purple. Dun-dun-dun-dun, the sound of bass booms began to pound through the stereo speaker system in the club. A few movers and shakers down on the dance floor came to a stop. This tempo was fast paced, unlike any other song that had been played tonight in Demi's setlist. She licked her lips, still smirking while moving her hands to adjust the headphones once more. Neither Elgin or Paul were familiar with this tune, but Demi knew it all too well. This wasn't the first time she had listened to the works of S3RL. Soft moans from a female voice were heard beyond the booming bass rhythm. Looking out into the crowd, she noticed a man in the sea of people throw his hands in the air and begin clapping them in pace with the beat of the song. Yes, this was that song, Demi thought to herself.
"Bass slut!"
A female voice called out the opening lyrics of the song. As the crowd began to move around following the beat of the song, the lights shifted once again. Blinking in a fast tempo in an array of changing colors, orange to yellow. Elgin quirked his eyebrows as the song continued.
"Big fat hard kicks!"
The tempo increased slightly with more instruments entering the mix of the song. Paul and Elgin glanced at each other for a moment, as this specific song had taken them by surprise. Demi knew what she was doing, as her hands moved to the controls of her DJ work station. It was time to turn the bass up even louder as the song's main lyric verse began to play.
"I'm a hard bass slut, I want the sound that gets me hot!
