It's a Wednesday night in 2002. I'm driving out to the club I own in Renton in a sleazy industrial district just south of Lake Washington. I'm wearing my usual long black trench coat with matching leather gloves, the bulge of my wedding ring clearly visible. Underneath the coat is my form-fitting black silk cocktail dress, with just enough cleavage showing that everyone checks out my 38DD tits, but also realizes I'm the boss. No underwear tonight.
I like to come out on Fridays too, when I can get away. It depends on how horny I am. This club is my favorite investment. I park a block away from the flashing red neon sign: "Aphrodite's."
The lineup is already snaking around the corner under the flickering street light. My new red platform heels, which I purchased at the Southcenter Mall last week, click loudly as I stride past the line, opening up my trenchcoat to give the young women in line a good fuckin' look at the goods.
There's a big poster promoting local bands on the wall next to the entrance. I actually had public sex out here - getting fucked against the wall by two strangers - one night after midnight back in the summer. One of them was an off-duty cop: he had his long prick shoved up me with my skirt yanked up and panties askew while his wife opened up my blouse and devoured my nipples. Three young women - East Indian sisters with heavy eye make-up and Gucci handbags - cheered me on as I orgasmed in front of them.