Of all the nightclubs, in the entire world, I had been waiting two days to see if she would walk into mine. I was irritable. It had become difficult to ignore the nagging lust that hung around my person and distorted the shape of my pants.
Resisting the urge to feed on all these lovely women was a compliment to my willpower and maturity. But now it was over. She was finally here, I could feel her. And I was eager to keep myself hidden. I urged my party to recuse themselves to a recently vacated booth, and there was a hurried migration of drinks and personal effects.
The pounding bass of the house music mirrored the heartbeat of half a dozen awestruck men and women. It mirrored mine too, but for entirely different reasons. All they saw was a beautiful woman, confidently striding across the dance floor. I saw a goddess who I planned to ravish.
Those she passed were momentarily thrown off their step. Ebony skin was carefully wrapped in a skin-tight white strapless dress. Her breasts broke the crowd in front like a ship's prow slicing through water. The dress framed a posterior that was more than just an ass to every sentient being present; it was a promise of heaven.
I watched the lovely outline of those two ebony ass cheeks clothed in a white so pure you could ascribe it religious significance. I knew what lay underneath that purity, I was eager to experience it again.
I can smell her sex; I can practically feel her pussy lips rubbing together as she walks.
But not so eager I would tip my hand too soon and let her feel my presence before I could chose to reveal it.
The blonde girl next to me is crying, jeans undone, one pale hand furiously fingering her cunt. I replaced that hand with my more practiced one, covering her mouth with mine to stifle her cries. She rode me through several orgasms that calmed her down enough that I could remove my hand without risking her becoming violent and irritable at its withdrawal.
I redid her pants and signaled one of her friends to keep an eye on her for me. Their attention was affixed to the ebony goddess previously mentioned, so this took some work. They nodded assent and I slapped a Benjamin on our table to cover our drinks for the evening. I felt bad I had to leave this girl in such an unsatisfied state. I hadn't been sure about the Goddess's feeding habits, and I never like spending my evenings alone. I remembered the blonde's face, I had her number, I would make it up to her on some later date.
I meandered across the dance floor towards the bar. I split up couples and made new ones. I danced with a boy who had obviously used a fake ID to get in here. Twenty-one? Try nineteen. I set him up with a woman twice his age that happened to be a Domme out looking for a new pet and made a mental note to check in on them later.
Ten minutes of dancing with two girls who insisted they were unrelated despite looking exactly alike AND have the ability to synchronously perform the most lurid of the contemporary dances with me.
When Girl Number One trailed her tongue over my clavicle and Girl Number Two began to whisper things in my ear that even I thought were a little out there, I made my exit. I deflected Number Two's propositions and entwined her limbs with those of her double, subtly disentangling myself in the process. I left them with the thought that maybe a little bit more same-sex experimentation was in order this evening and gave them the address of my favorite toy store. Ask for Nyssa, the one with the tits.
The bass still pounded in my ears and I found my heartbeat in the music. The goddess was bending over, leaning against the bar, ass extended like an invitation. I had been hard for three days. It had been excruciating waiting for the right moment, not knowing if it would happen, and now here we were. I extended a finger, a single fingernail sharpened itself into an edge that put most mortal cutting instruments to shame.
I ran it down the middle of her dress, tracing the contours of feminine perfection. I had waited until she had pulled most of her hair over her right shoulder, twirling several silken strands in between her fingers as she flirted with the bartender. I could smell her arousal.
Seconds later her dress still clung to her body, held on by the inertia of convenience and time. I kneeled down, drinking in the musculature of feminine thighs sculpted for divine and exquisite sin.
The dress barely covered her ass. I let my eyes linger on her naked sex exposed to the open air and my lustful gaze. I inhaled a lungful of her scent and stood up again, removing my clothes and fading into the background of the club's collective consciousness.
She suspected nothing.
Up to this point the other patrons might have observed my behavior and deemed it inappropriate. I assure the reader that stranger things happen everyday, and it brought little comment in this environment where alcohol flowed freely and people coupled freely in the darker corners of the dance floor.
Every action I took next however would elicit reactions from the other patrons that would seriously ruin my evening. A 'Glamour' fell around the two of us, a barrier that would keep the imposition of my carnal desires on the 'lady' in question private.
The dulling of the bartender's eyes was her first clue. My hands ripping off the rag that was now the dress and slamming her against the bar was the second. Her hands tried to cover her body as she gasped in surprise and shock. Being stripped naked and manhandled in a public place is unnerving no matter who or what you might be.
A drop of blood sat alone in the middle of her spine, where my fingernail had accidentally broke skin. I ran my tongue from her asshole to that droplet, pressing the head of my member against her sex as I tasted copper, penetrating her with one savage stroke. I could feel the slippery musculature of her vagina, surprised and angry at my unexpected intrusion. Finally, she screamed.
