It had been fairly easy for Jonathan to join Devina's preferred sex club. He used forged documents and gave his name as Joe Grind. However, the club's administrators seemed more focused on his ability to pay their fees than on his name. Plus they only referred to members by their membership numbers, so no one needed his name.
This was his first night there, so he got a guided tour. The place was like Sodom and Gomorrah in overdrive. There were transsexuals, homosexuals and heterosexuals on every level. The ground level was the entry level. That level was home to a spa, a pool, a restaurant, a bar, a clinic, lockers for personal belongings and the main shower area, which was completely open with no separations for the different genders. The next level, or first level as they referred to it, was where the toys and costumes and all sorts of sexual paraphernalia were displayed and issued. That level had hosts guiding club members through their options and demonstrating how to use the equipment. The second level was the party floor, where you could literally fornicate with any and everyone. They had open sets, which were clearly for voyeurs and role players; there were makeshift public toilets; fake farm barns; mock classrooms; and so on but the main area was a tiled dance floor with disco lighting and live sex shows. The third and final level was for niche orgies and private sessions. That is ostensibly where couples who meet on the ground floor can go to explore each other fully and privately. It is also where routine parties were held to suit every fetish imaginable.
Jonathan was surprised that he was not erect after the tour. Maybe his penis was disappointed that it had not seen Devina. He decided to spend some time on the ground floor, which was the only place he felt comfortable. He went to the restaurant and had a Sushi meal. The topless waitress who served him made a point about Sushi being an aphrodisiac and recommended a Saké to wash it down. He smiled with her nipples and asked what time her shift would end. She giggled and left him her number, which he knew he would never use.
The atmosphere there was quite nice. The music on the ground floor was soothing and low enough to encourage conversations. He looked around and noticed that he was the only one sitting alone. Everyone else was with someone or in a group. He saw two pleasantly plump white women looking at him and giggling. One of them decided to approach him.
"Hi ya," she smiled, "How long is your penis?"
Jonathan was truly shocked. The lady looked like a kindergarten school teacher and grandmother wrapped in one, "Hello," he responded.
"Hi dear," she smiled again, "How long is your penis?"
"Well," he laughed, "It's seven inches when erect."
She looked in his eyes to see if he was lying, then she said, "Seven inches? What kind of nigger only has seven inches?"
"What?!" he was incredulous. "Did you just call me a nigger?"
"Well you's a nigger ain't ya?" she asked matter-of-factly, "And what kind a nigger only has seven inches?"
"The kind with a law degree," Jonathan said defiantly.
"Pshh!" the woman responded. "Your law degree ain't worth diddly squat in here nigger. Not unless you plan to roll it up and shove it up my asshole while you plough my vagina with your seven inch penis."
"Oh dear," he was not accustomed to this at all. "Lady, is there something wrong with you?" he asked.
"Something wrong with me? I'm not the nigger with the seven inch penis! Better question is: What's wrong with you?! Seven inches... What kind a black penis is that? Nigger you better spray paint that appendage white! My friend and I have had black penis before and it sure as hell wasn't no seven inches; more like seventeen inches! That black anaconda almost shifted my intestines!"
"Lord, have mercy," thought Jonathan but then someone came to his rescue.
"Hey! Are you bothering my man?" Devina asked.
The white woman said, "Pshh! You can keep that one for yourself honey. I want me a real nigger with at least ten inches. Pshh! Seven inches..."
"Yeah whatever," Devina said, "Move your shrivelled white self along." Then she sat across from Jonathan at his table.
Jonathan was shocked and it showed. Devina's soft dark skin and thick luscious lips were more beautiful in person than in the file his P.I. had prepared.
She smiled at him, "I just saved you from an old cougar, so the least you can do is buy me dinner," she said.
"Buy?" he asked, "I thought this was all free with membership?"
Devina laughed, "Free? Not at all. What they'll do is, they'll bill your credit card for it under some nondescript name like Barney Bear's Diner, so that people who see your credit card history don't notice that you're a freak. But it's definitely not free."
Jonathan sighed, no wonder the administrators focused on his ability to pay rather than on who he really was.
"I take it you're new then?" Devina asked.
"Yeah and I've already been bamboozled by the club and attacked by a cougar," he said.
"Hahaha," Devina laughed, "That lady wasn't attacking you. It was foreplay. She was warming you up. It's what they call a hate fetish. She abuses you verbally, questions your manhood, then let's you take her upstairs to make angry, merciless love to her in order to restore your ego. But that's what she really wants: a good, hard, hateful romp in the sack."
Jonathan was intrigued, "Really?"
"Yes really! Seven inches is more than enough penis, honey. No matter your race," she said.
Jonathan smiled. He did not realize how much he needed to hear that.
"What do you want to eat?" he asked.
