The crowd in the Gentleman's club was almost as obnoxious as the thick acrid cloud of smoke that hung about the noisy room. My cheeks burned a painful awkward red from the torrent of emotions that waged war in my mind and heart. Regardless of my discomfort, I refused to give in to the desire to flee the club, head lowered with embarrassment. I couldn't believe my husband would bring me to such a place.
I'd been so excited from the moment he'd mentioned taking me out. Sitting there alone, as he sat glued to the stage drooling over half naked tiny women that I could never compare to, all I could feel was anger. That anger fueled a deep seated slowly building sense of self hatred and resentment for not being more attractive. I was so lost in my own self deprecating thoughts and fighting the urge to burst into tears, that I didn't even notice her slipping into my booth.
I started anxiously as she cleared her throat to draw my attention. Despite my usual lady like etiquette my mother had instilled in me, my jaw dropped. I was powerless to do much more than stare. The woman that had taken the liberty of joining me was magnificent.
Her sun kissed skin only accentuated her long strait shining black hair. The way her soft brown almond shaped eyes watched my reaction intently only served to stun me more. As her full heart shaped mouth curled into a soft amused smile, I found it painfully hard to breathe.
"I didn't mean to pull you from your thoughts," she started honestly, in a voice as soft and calming as warm summer breeze. "But I couldn't stand to watch you sitting here alone another second." She said seriously, as though the idea was far too tragic to contemplate.
"Let me guess, another wife?" I questioned, too nervous to come up with any thing more stimulating to say. The look of disappointment on her face told me very quickly that I'd said something wrong. Immediately I started mentally kicking myself.
"Something like that." she said with a slightly insecure half smile. She looked almost annoyed by the disruption of my husbands sudden appearance at the side of the table. He had in tow with him an overly petite blond.
Though I figured she had to be at least 18 to work there, her smooth though tired looking features made her look as though she belonged more in a middle school some where. Not taking her clothes off for a never ending parade of horny old men. It didn't take but a second of watching her shift restlessly from foot to foot, to realize the young girl was also a drug addict. My mental self mutilation, quickly turned to sympathy for the circumstances that lured such a young girl into her situation.
"I need to steal my wife away for a bit." he said smoothly, flashing my guest the same charming smile that got my attention two years earlier.
"For what?" I questioned, really not wanting to risk the sexy trespasser to turn her attention else where.
"We're going in the back room for a 'private' dance." he said firmly, leaving no room for argument from me. I felt an odd sense of foreboding, triggered by the way he said the word private. A small part of me, still to this day, wishes I'd stayed in the booth that night.
"I'm sorry." I frowned apologetically, confused by the forlorn shaking of her head as she watched me leaving. Her face was so full of regret that one would have thought I were being led to my execution.
The 'back room' turned out to be a fancy word for basically a small box that amounted to the size of an antique out house. If the wooden bench seat against the back wall of the tiny closet had a whole in the center, I would have sworn that that was precisely what it was. I watched with tight lipped apprehension as he took a seat in the middle of the bench, basically pushing me aside as usual. His eyes were glued, fixated on the young girl as her slim shapeless body began to sway with the rhythm of the slow sensual music.
The embarrassed heat that once again colored my cheeks took a back seat to the pure rage that followed as the girl dropped to her knees in front of my husband. For a split second only, I'd managed to convince myself that it was all apart of the dance. As I watched her and button and unzip his jeans with her teeth, I caught on too quickly what the meaning of the word 'private' was.
Though every ounce of me wanted to scream, kick, curse, stomp... hell any thing to display my displeasure, I couldn't. I knew all too well what such a display of emotion would lead to when my husband and I were alone later. Clenching my teeth so hard that I thought my jaw would break, I stood in stunned silence.
Her small hands quickly worked his already hard cock free of his plain white briefs. I forced the pounding of my heart to slow as she took him in her mouth and began bobbing her head up and down the length of him. I watched as his fingers entangled themselves in her long blond locks as they had in mine several times before. A sigh of satisfaction crossed my lips as her heard her low grunts of discomfort as he began forcing her faster up and down on his cock. Then I felt a deep sense of shame for my pleasure in knowing he was hurting her.
My fingers were curled into my palm painfully as he finally allowed the woman to pull away. She desperately began to gasp for the air she'd been denied as he essentially raped her mouth and throat. Before she could regulate her erratic breathing, he stood and spun her away from him, pushing her hard against the solid wooden wall. Her muffled moan of pleasure as he pushed her panties aside and entered her from behind almost sent me over the edge.
As he pounded thoughtlessly in and out of the tiny young woman, using her as roughly as one would a rag doll, he turned his cold blue eyes to me. He studied me as his hand slid around the dancers waist to slip between her trembling thighs. A cold cruel smile crossed his lips as he began to stroke her clitoris as he fucked her brutally.
I think he wanted me to react. To get angry, to cry, something. Though she feigned pleasure dutifully, he seemed less interested in his conquest than in hurting me. I was determined not to give him that satisfaction. I forced my best 'I don't give a damn' smile onto my face. To his annoyance, I watched with obvious bored disinterest as he performed.
