So far, Amy got a birthday present from Tasha: DJ & Jay. They went shopping. They went to the track. They got it on. The adventure continues...
V. In the Club
The Riverdale's dance bar, better known as just The Club, covered half the basement. You'd never know that from the outside, or the inside for that matter. It was reached by a long, rather steep metal staircase followed by drab and featureless cement-block hallway. That served it well for noise control. As we were to learn, the music throughout most often thumped in a decidedly sexual beat, like the orgy scene of a recent movie. Four-inch thick metal doors opened outwards from the seamless grey wall. Four room keys, the plastic-card kind, had been left with us at the start of our stay. We each carried one, just in case. As soon as he saw the passes, the tuxedoed bouncer shoved us through into strobe lights and banged the doors shut so close behind Tasha and me that it was wonder we didn't get our clothing caught in it.
Inside, a warren of small dance floors and partial walls led in a semi circle around the central bar area. Each floor, six of them, had its own unique shape and theme. There were an assortment of permanently placed tables and booths extending from the walls around the edges, and various other moveable furniture. A lot of large couches and overstuffed chairs were scattered about, too. Some of these rooms were built with sunken levels. While you could get glimpses of the others when you were on one, it was impossible to see much more because of the walls in the way. Blacklights were standard; I understood now why all the white. I looked at Jay and he positively glowed blue where he stood.
Maybe two hundred people were already inside. Most were sitting around, talking quietly and smoking. The smoke hung in the air and the intermittent flashes of strobes caught in it. Not many were dancing yet, that I could see, but within minutes of being there I knew that's what I wanted to do, all night if possible, or at least till something better presented itself.
Jay nudged me and asked what I wanted to drink. Just Corona. I wanted to get a slow buzz tonight, but not be totally wasted. Dancing was best that way. DJ and Tasha had wandered off by themselves, exploring one room and then the next, but I waited where I stood, leaning against the wall and swaying in time to the beat. A hand appeared around the side of my face with a bottle of amber liquid clutched in it. Another landed on my waist, and pulled back. Jay bit my earlobe and breathed into my ear. "What do you say we show 'em how it's done, huh baby?" The blunt end of the bottle bumped against my chest and slid down into my cleavage. "Come on," Jay wheedled. "You want to dance; I can tell just by the way you move your ass. From what I hear they do more here ('hee-ah') than just dance."
There was no point in saying no; I just wanted to say yes, to everything. Appropriating the beer bottle, I drained half of it in one long draw and turned around to face Jay. "You're on."
"Yeah," he said enthusiastically. The beat was changing, the upbeat music that was in evidence when we first walked in slowing slightly, with a techno drive to it. Dark trance, I was pretty sure. There was a small knot of people dancing already on the closest floor. Jay led me out near them and looked at me expectantly. "What?" He looked to one side then the other, and cocked an eyebrow. I knew what to do. Dance. This was as natural as breathing.
The trance beat was so perfect; it went on and on and on. Dancing was a response, a call, and an offering. Though Jay was there, and he was a good partner with a good sense of rhythm, for a while I didn't really pay him much attention. I was lost; it was just the music. After a half hour, DJ and Tasha showed up and joined us. Jay took a break and got more drinks. I left them to their own devices, and just danced. The music was sinuous, dark, hypnotic. Exactly the way it needed to be. The people all around us must have felt the same. The movements we were all making were complimentary to the music. It was starting to resemble a rave as more and more people came out. Strobes flashed and white-clothed bodies gyrated. Jay's blue-tinted mane appeared over the crowd and he handed me another bottle. Thirsty, I threw it back and handed it back to Jay to get rid of. He walked off. Shortly thereafter, he was behind me, grinding against my ass.
We didn't need to talk, we just followed each other's moves. Jay was expansive. He hopped around and gestured with his arms. When he wasn't doing that, he was either up against the back of me, moving in a very dirty fashion, or to the side, one or the other leg out in my direction, inviting me to do the same to him. Though there was plenty of that type of thing going on, even people starting to take off clothing, I didn't. I waited, and let the slow burn rise. Jay was more about showing off at first anyway. He got plenty of attention to stoke his ego. Many of the women were watching him, some more obviously than others; some of the men too. A few came up and cut in but I didn't mind. During those intervals I'd find wherever DJ and Tasha had moved to and join them. They seemed to be happy with whatever groove they'd found, but indulged me to dance as their third leg several times over the period of the next hour. Jay always found his way back. Then he'd grab me, give my butt a little squeeze and push his groin against my back. He was getting pretty worked up with all the dancing. I was, too, besides hot and sweaty and sometimes out of breath.
He got back from one more session with an aerobicized-looking female with short spiky blond hair and slammed into my backside with more force than before. His cock was hard as a rock and he wanted to play. He was chanting to himself under his breath, "Uh, uh, go Jason, go Jason, it's your birthday…" It stuck me so funny I broke into wild giggling, but at the same time whipped around and plastered myself to his front, grasping his upper arms to steady myself. The trance beat took over. We humped ourselves all over each other on the floor. It was like riding the ocean: powerful, flowing rhythmically up and down. At the same there was much room for hip-writhing, grinding, hair-throwing, and skin-kissing.
"You like my guns?" Jay yelled over the noise, tightening his biceps. Hell, yes. Running my thumbs over said 'guns' I manually appreciated, but didn't stop there. Tipping my head back, I gazed woozily into his innocent-dirty blue eyes and systematically went to work discovering all of his body I could lay my hands on. His arms were first, then up to his long tower of a neck where his pulse pounded hyperactively, then over his sweet pointed chin, the lips he was pouting for all he was worth. Reaching to tuck his messed-up strands of hair back over his ears, I traced each, and tugged gently on the earrings in the left one. He had two gold hoops tonight. Jay performed similar ministrations on me, all the while keeping his timing. His hands snaked lower and firmly grabbed me on the buns. I leaned back slightly, and did the same to him. We ground against each other steadily, lower, then back up, finding a pace just short of ecstatic, electronica overwhelming every sense. Jay's white silk shirt got steadily damper with his sweat and clung to him. I could see his pale pink nipples through it, and unable to help myself, tweaked them. His expression turned surprised, and then he closed his eyes and went with it, once again mirroring me. My own breasts got hard under his caressing palms, straining against the lacy bra I'd picked out.
Bare skin gleamed among the swaying bodies. Jay's was next. Never missing his rhythm, he unbuttoned his shirt from the top down, and peeled it off. His skin turned all the colors of the neon flashing around us in quick succession, flashing with the strobes. Carelessly he threw the garment over the nearby wall. As I watched it drop, I felt him lift the bottom of my shirt, a classic "artist smock" type with long draped and dagged sleeves. Unsure this was a good idea, I smoothed it back down.
"Look around, look at people," Jay asked, his eyes darting left then right. Again, I did. Seemed like every time I chanced to look at the crowd, thicker around us now than before, there were fewer clothes and less left to the imagination. He was right with his observation. I let him pull the shirt over my head. He tossed it to the side and it landed next to his on the wall. Ridiculously modest, I hugged him around the back so our chests would be pressed together too. He didn't mind. The music changed slightly. The pulse was even deeper, slightly faster. Jay slid his slick smooth chest against my breasts. I'd been aroused for at least an hour. This made me wild. All of a sudden I wanted to be naked, dancing and sexing at the same time, moving against Jay while he moved in me. I let myself go, and let Jay lead as he'd been trying and I'd been resisting.
Crouching slightly, he stroked my thighs while I invaded his hairline and became his human comb. My 'thing' for long hair had never really gone away, even after it became less fashionable for men to wear it that way; I was loving it so much I threw my head back and my hips forward, got one leg up on Jay's upper thigh and spread my crotch against his for the next song. He became more urgent, not so much in the moves of his dancing, but in the way he was looking at me and the way he handled me.
A waitress moved among the crowd with her little rack of shots held high and a fan of bills threaded through her fingers. Jay pushed me off him momentarily and dug in his front pockets for cash. He found some bills and signaled the girl. She made a detour in our direction, eyes widening slightly, but she recovered herself. He made some gesture that she understood, and she handed him four of the little vials. With a wink and an obvious come-hither look, she wandered off again, as much dancing as walking, herself. Jay spared a look at her ass, which was adorned with a skirt so short you could see the bottom of her cheeks. He grinned to himself, then pulled the cork off the first tube with his teeth and spit it to the side. He threw his head back, exposing his throat, which I wanted to bite, and bolted it. He did the same thing with the next one, but didn't swallow. Giving me look like, "Oh, did you want some?" he raised his eyebrows at me. The message was clear. I crossed the couple feet of space that had opened between us and presented my face. Leaning down, he kissed me, finally, as I'd been wanting him to all weekend. His lips stayed closed till I couldn't stand it anymore and prodded my eager tongue past and into the cavity of his mouth. Warm, sweet liquid gushed into my mouth, tasting of rum and brown sugar and banana. He pressed our lips into a seal and let me take it all.
"Now you do it," he said when we finally broke off. I had to stop dancing or I'd have fallen. Handing over the remaining two vials, I broke the seal on the first, threw back the peach-tasting shot, and held the second in my mouth. Jay was too tall; he'd need a straw, I thought stupidly. Looking around, the man backed me up to one of their half-walls and boosted me up. On the wall, I was sitting about four feet off the floor, enough to be a few inches 'taller' than Jay if I sat up straight. It was hard not to swallow the liquor in my mouth, and I was sure I was salivating in it enough for him to taste that too. Once up there, Jay tilted back his head and waited with an expectant look. I leaned forward and let him have it. God, I wanted the man. I let him know with the kiss, with the movements of my lips. At first I wouldn't let him open my mouth, going instead to the side, and leaving a tiny trail of liqueur down his neck. Then the other side. He got too inpatient and captured my mouth before I was really ready, but I managed to seal my lips against his invasion, and clenched me teeth behind them. I was going to make him work for it. Jay licked my lips with the point of his tongue, trying to weasel inside, but no. He licked them fully next, with broad swipes, which tickled, but he was unsuccessful. It was becoming a battle of wills. He wanted the booze, and I wanted him.
"Give over, Amy," he said. "You're going to get what you want. No worries." He moved in for a kiss again and I gave it to him, putting my hand over the back of his head to make sure I didn't accidentally drop any liquid. I kept it in the cavity under my tongue till he was just opening up his mouth, then let it spill forth. As he was still swallowing, open-mouthed, I followed it with as much fervor as I could muster into a deep soul kiss. He received it, and then reciprocated with his own version, the kind I'd watched over and over on DVD that made me wet just to watch, and worse now. My snatch gushed like it was spitting, and there I was with liquid running down my legs and down my face too. Jay and I were not being neat with our making out. The alcohol we'd swallowed off each other seemed to make us much more salacious; we were literally drooling all over each other.
