CHAPTER SIX: ECLIPSE VIP ROOM
Mr. Nolan was sitting in the living room trying to be patient. He heard my heels clicking on the stairs and met me at the bottom. He watched me descend the last steps with a big smile. I stopped and did a little pirouette before him.
"As you instructed, sir?" There really wasn't much doubt that I was wearing what he wanted since he had my clothes spread across the bed when I came out of the shower. I was wearing what he like to call 'the school-girl outfit', which consisted of a gray plaid, micro-skirt, thin black tank top, black knee-high stockings that came only just over the knees, a black thong, and heels.
"Women," he said as a tease, "for as little as you have on, how does it take so long?" I shrugged and smiled at him. His fingers went to the waist band of my micro-skirt and pulled it up my waist an additional couple inches.
"Sir, it barely covered me as I had it."
"Tonight, you are my slut in my club. There is public and there is club-public. Ultimately, these clubs are a place where the women who come knowing what they want flaunt what they have. There are mostly voyeurs and in-betweens, but the action can be extremely sensual." He kissed my cheek as he took my arm. "Remember the image we want."
I remembered. How could I forget. Him wanting me as his slut had surprised me, at first. But over these months, my learning wasn't all sex and taking big cock in all my holes. My learning was also subtly taking on the persona of the image he saw in us together: a big, powerful black man and his petite, 'innocent' white slut. I glanced at the hall mirror we passed and nervously smiled at my appearance. I had arranged the micro-skirt to barely cover the bottom of my butt cheeks. His arrangement no longer did that and I imagined the crotch of my thong might be just visible, too. But the image was as he expected despite the absurdity of the outfit. My youthful, athletic walk, my petite breasts, the disarming smile and eyes sparkling with anticipated excitement stood out in contrast to the expectation alongside him.
In the car, I had asked him what I should expect and he avoided answering, instead wanting me to experience it myself. He had brought me to this club a few times, but always early in the evening and it was for business. This was different. This time it was to experience the club during the peak time of action. These clubs had reputations, but the other men of the office were no more help in giving me information that Mr. Nolan wasn't providing. This was a place that women wanting action baited their efforts by their dress and actions. The men, mostly self-assured blacks, trolled the scene and dance floor for what they wanted. Visitors were made aware that security cameras were always in play to control anyone becoming too aggressive, using drugs, or activity that went too far over the line.
When we arrived at the club, I was surprised by the long line of people hoping to gain entrance. He commented to me as he followed the flow of traffic that had slowed, "Many won't ever get inside unless they come earlier and wait. Notice the guys walking the line. They are looking for single or small groups of unattached women who will be allowed in ahead of the line. Some people will grumble, but everyone who comes here knows that inside are unattached women. That expectation draws the men and the men spend a lot of money on expensive drinks."
When we got to the front of the club, I saw Tommy (head of security who met us at the tattoo parlor) break from the front entrance to my door. Another man moved in front of the car to Mr. Nolan's door. My door opened and a massive, black hand reached toward me. I took it and shifted in the seat, but it was impossible to avoid showing my thong as the skirt slid completely to the top of my thighs during the drive.
"Ms. Collins, welcome." I stood next to him as he slammed the door. "You look amazing, ma'am. How are the tattoos?"
I reached up on my toes and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Tommy. My markings are healed and exactly what I wanted."
I felt Mr. Nolan's hand at the small of my back. Tommy shifted his attention to him. "Always good to have you at the club, sir. The company VIP room is waiting for you."
"Thanks, Tommy. We're going to spend some time on the floor so she can experience that, but do you think you could join us later in the suite? I think Megan would like to show you her markings and thank you."
Tommy looked down at me. In the stark lighting of the entrance, I was blushing. I touched his massive arm, "I hope you can." Mr. Nolan had provided little in the way of expectation for the evening. Only to experience the club. I never believed that was all.
Mr. Nolan was obviously known by the staff of the club. We were immediately shown to a reserved booth near the dance floor. My skirt surprisingly didn't immediately attract attention, but the place was so crowded we were winding our way through people. But that would last only so long. People sitting at tables we walked by were the first to draw attention to me and it seemed to spread by some sort of silent osmosis of leering eyes drawn to the glimpse of my thong covered crotch and the bottom portion of my ass cheeks.
I waitress appeared quickly and took our drink order, but as soon as she left, Mr. Nolan snapped his finger and lean toward me, "Megan, see if you can catch her and ask for two waters, too."
I nodded and slipped out of the booth; my skirt bunched at my waist as I did. I smoothed the skirt back down as I stood up, but it was of little help. As I squeezed through the crowded floor and past tables, it wasn't long until my body was being aggressively touched and felt. When I caught the waitress and stopped, leaning into her to explain what we wanted, a hand slid up the back of my legs, over my butt, to the top of my thong. As my head started to turn, the hand moved and there were numerous guys close enough to have done it but none now paying me any attention.
The waitress leaned into me, "Honey, you are hot, but dressed like that is going to get you felt up. I'm betting he sent you after me just for that to happen." I thanked her and smiled. I stood there for a moment and considered her comment. I looked toward where Mr. Nolan was, but there were too many people and I was too short. It suddenly occurred to me that he put off coming to the club until he felt I was ready to truly look and act the slut he would have with him. I have been telling him I was the kind of slut he wanted, even wanting to be marked to show it. If he wanted to subject me to this random grasping and touching, then I would show him what I truly was ready for.
I decided the best way to experience it was to take the same route back to the booth. I walked slower this time, more deliberately, and with a strut. I spotted a table to the right with four big black men. All of them were ogling me as I approached. I changed direction to pass by their table. One shifted slightly and presented a blockage to my route in the crammed space. I stopped alongside one of the men.
His hand extended the short distance and touch my thigh with confidence, "Are you with someone, honey?" His hand glided smoothly up my thigh. I stood confidently and held his eyes.
"I am," I replied.
A hand behind me rose up the back of my thigh and over my ass. I felt the short skirt rise to my waist and we all heard him comment, "I think she's already taken, dude." The guy turned me around and all of them leaned in to look at my exposed butt in the thong, but my bull marking clearly shown just above my crack. I leaned down to the one who had stopped me and gave him a peck on the cheek, the hand on my ass still there.
Once settled next to Mr. Nolan, again, his arm around me securely, I realized how fast my heart was pounding. He kissed the top of my head, "Well done, dear. You understood why I sent you out there?" I nodded, though confessed it took me a while. He chuckled. "You see now what the attraction is at this club. Women who want to hook up and those who just want to feel the thrill, they can experience it. The men who think they want to watch their wives or girlfriends are the dangerous ones for us. Some think they want to watch or let them experience something new but suddenly become threatened. The white men are the ones we watch the closest."
This was what I was helping to promote, to profit from, really. The profiting wasn't only my job, though. I already understood and accepted the other 'profiting', the profiting from having big black cock available to me... or, maybe, I was made available to it. Either way, I liked big black cock. No, I loved big black cock and my markings showed that.
With a signal from Mr. Nolan that I didn't even notice, a young black man appeared deferentially at our table and politely asked Mr. Nolan if he could be allowed to take me out for a dance. It all seemed so innocent and I waited for his reaction. I would learn quickly that it was anything but purely innocent.
With Mr. Nolan's approval, I took the hand of the young man (young... he was my age but, like me, much younger than the men I have been surrounded with in my recent life) and followed him to the packed dance floor. I wouldn't claim to be an accomplished dancer, but I have always felt my body flowed with music and I stole glances at women around me and my new partner for inspiration. I quickly found myself lost in the maze of people all possibly dancing individually or with everyone around them. I raised my arms above my head like many of the other women, my body moving sensuously and forgot about the skirt that hadn't covered much of me to begin with.
I mimicked a woman nearby and turned my back to my partner, slowly gyrating my body back to him until my butt pressed into the man and I ground myself against his crotch. It was terribly erotic looking and feeling. More so when his hands took my hips from under my nothing skirt and rose to my waist so I knew my entire thong was exposed to anyone and everyone.
I turned around, but stayed pressed up against the man, now my breast pressing into him as I slinked up and down, my own hands now moving up and down the sides of his body. Then, it changed... a man from behind moved into my ass. I turned while still moving to the endless music to find another young black man. I noticed I was now surrounded by five young black men who seemed to only be dancing with me. I was subtly moved from one to the other of the men, their hands moving over my body, my ass, and glancing touches to my breasts.
Soon, the music stopped amid cheers and calls for more. I broke free of the group and returned to the booth. Mr. Nolan was smiling. He had seen it all and it dawned on me that he had probably choregraphed the encounter.