I wasn't sure why I was about to enter the club. Actually, that's a lie. I knew why I was there. Why I was standing at the entrance of the "weird" club under the bridge nestled among the run-down warehouses, homeless people and street-walkers. It's just, well, it's just that I had an affinity to the music, the people and the setting. It wasn't so much that I got off doing something I wasn't supposed to do. It's more than I was doing what always got me the most excited, the most revved up. Circumstances and a quality upbringing just took me another route from those typically residing in such places.
VP's of Fortune 250 companies aren't supposed to hang out at places like this. They are supposed to dine at fine restaurants, relax listening to jazz or chamber music and make themselves comfortable in a country club setting. I always find those settings to be a bit pretentious and superficial. It's not that I can't integrate myself into those settings. Hell, one almost has to to succeed in business. I just know I don't really need to immerse myself among groups of people trying to live a lifestyle they can't afford or one that helped them compensate for their lack of self-worth. At the heart of it, I am a bit of a loner, with the ability to morph myself into the role needed to succeed. Clubs like these…didn't need that flexibility.
I entered the club. And, as hard I might try, I knew I didn't quite fit in. Of course, these people are less judgmental, but they didn't arrive in a M5, wearing an Armani shirt, Lucky Jeans, sporting a Tag watch and Allan Edmonds shoes. Oh well, there are benefits to success. Nine Inch nails pulsed in the background. No dance mixes here, just beats that hit you right in the gut. Cigarette and Reefer smoke filled my nostrils. The blue and red giving the club light required a pupil adjustment. I had the time; I was going to be there all night.
I began to find my way to the bar on the far left of the club. Of course, along the way there were the requisite colored rooms. At least they weren't VIP rooms filled with wannabes. The Red Room with it is shaggy couch and walls contained several leather-clad Mistresses with female and male subs on leashes. The blue room with its retro furniture housed the early 20's group of silicone-filled girls and drunk boys who were too scared to explore the club but needed to feel of excitement of a "dirty" night out. I didn't feel compelled to explore the secluded rooms lit only by candles and filled with lots of exposed skin.
My spot at the end of the bar provided me with a great view of the dance floor and entrance. I settled in and watched the Amazon bartender walks toward me. She wore tight jeans, a black wife-beater cut off just below her enormous chest and black cowboy boots. A bra wasn't needed on her 38DD chest. The tattoo around her belly button just didn't do it for me, but she certainly was someone both men and women would notice and fantasize about. She didn't even ask me for a drink, she just looked at me. I ordered a Bombay Sapphire and Tonic and watched her walk away from me. "I bet she could wear someone out," I thought to myself.
With drink in hand, I watched the crowd. For some reason, my eyes glanced over to the entrance as the most stunning woman I'd ever seen walked in. She stood maybe 5'9", just a bit shorter than my 6'1" frame. Her brown suede skirt was zipped tight against her lower body but not so tight I couldn't get a glimpse of her stockings and garter through the front and back slits in her skirt when she walked. Her calf-high boots were a special fetish for me. Her ass sat high atop her gloriously long legs. I could witness the firmness of her ass through the snug fitting fabric of her skirt. Her black blouse allowed one to see-through to an Aubade demi bra. The fullness of her breasts was clearly visible. Her lips covered with black provided no protection for what I was sure were legendary oral skills. Her nails, like her lipstick, were black. Her brunette mane fell to the top of her ass. The choker she wore completed her outfit. This was the woman I long had fascinated about during my many travels. She exercised at my health club and was the manager of the Starbucks on my way to work. Her nametag read Samantha. I'd never really talked to her, but had long pleasured myself to the thought of orally worshipping her wetness. I guessed her age closer to late 30's than to my 34 years. She reeked of sex. No woman should be able to look that hot. I never even talked to her, and she owned me. I watched her follow the same path I had taken only 45 minutes earlier.
She finally found her way to the bar. I was amazed someone so stunning arrived alone. Women of her beauty aren't supposed to go anywhere solo. She ordered a Shiraz. "Yes," I spoke to myself, "A women after my own heart." It was obvious from the Amazon's not so casual hand-touching and the way she asked my desire to repeat her drink order that I wasn't the only one captivated by this regal woman.
I did my best to catch her attention. It really is kind of amazing. No matter how successful a man may become, a beautiful woman always has the upper hand. I suppose the blatant staring wasn't the best approach, but damn she was beautiful. If she had any idea how many times I had fallen asleep thinking about her she would understand my trance. She didn't dance nor talk to anyone; she watched the crowd much like myself. After another drink, I decided it was time to approach this vision of so many, shall we say, explosive thoughts.
"Hello."
She gave me a quick glance and resumed her crowd watching.
"Hello," I said again.
This time she didn't even look. In fact, she looked away. "Son-of-a-Bitch," I thought to myself. I finally get up the nerve to talk to this creature and she wants nothing to do with me. I stood for a second, stared at her profile and watched her place her drink on the bar and find her way to the bathroom. I thought about following her, but it was evident she didn't want me around. I turned around to go back to my spot at the bar. There was a drink waiting for me. The Amazon was smirking at me. "Bitch," I said under my breath. I slowly finished this, my last drink and made my way to the bar. Despite the smirk, I gave the Amazon a quality tip.
I made my way to the exit still hurting from the search for the woman of my dreams. I felt a firm grip on my right hand. I stopped and turned only to find my dream staring in my eyes.
"Are you leaving?" she purred. Her smell intoxicated me. Her eyes seduced me. I couldn't believe the depth of green in her eyes. "How in the world is this woman so unbelievably attractive?" I questioned myself.
