I pulled into the large parking lot. There were two empty spots that I could see, and I managed to squeeze my small Toyota into a space that had been artificially narrowed by the two assholes on either side. The gearshift of the car clicked into park, and I turned off the engine. I could still feel a small buzz from the two glasses of champagne I had downed earlier but was still feeling generally astute and aware.
My eyes shifted to the dingy, brick building that the cramped lot was situated behind. It looked perfectly nondescript, and the only thing betraying its run-down look was the clean, bright red door on the back of the building. From the street, you could only see tinted windows and a dusty, locked door, but the red entrance in back opened up the vibrant world that lay inside the confines of the brick structure.
I was very happy and excited to be at this building. It was my 25th birthday. One of my closest friends had their birthday a few days earlier, and we had combined both of our parties into a single big one.
This made my actual birthday more quiet. I had gone out for a fancy dinner with my mom Rebecca, my older sister Scarlett, and my younger sisters Leanne and Ella. It was a lovely meal, but now came the real treat.
I checked my makeup in the mirror of the car. I touched up my eyeshadow and bright red lipstick before deciding to walk in.
The car door gingerly creaked open as I had to take care not to hit the other car. I found my immediate hatred for the other driver rather hypocritical, as I myself was an awful parker, and usually on the receiving end of such loathing.
My bright red slut heels clacked along the pavement as I sauntered towards the entrance. I reached the door, which happened to match the color of my heels and lipstick, and knocked thrice.
The door slowly opened, and an extremely buff, suited man stood in the threshold, blocking most of the light out and creating an ominous shadow.
"ID please," he curtly demanded.
I reached in my small pocketbook and handed him my driver's license. He read over it briefly.
"And then your pass."
I knew what he was referring to. I took out a green card and gave it to the doorman. It contained only my name, date of birth, ID number, and gender. The green color was a designation. I was a low-level patron.
The man compared the info on my license and pass and found it to be satisfactory.
"Alright, ma'am. Thank you for that," he said as he gave them back to me. He stepped out of the way, freeing me to walk past his hulking frame. "I hope you have a nice night."
"Thank you. You as well," I courteously responded. I wondered why. He would just be standing there, guarding a door for the whole night. Compared to my night, it seemed very difficult for him to have a good one.
I walked past the man and down a short and narrow hallway before reaching another door, guarded by another large man. He opened the door behind him and moved aside. I nodded my head and stepped into the doorway.
My heels weren't meant for the stairway headed down, but ample overhead lighting and a handrail made it easier. I descended the stairs and walked into the large, underground space.
My eyes took a small moment to adjust to the dim lighting of the club. The pungent smell of perfume, cigar smoke, and alcohol hit my nose immediately. It wasn't a particularly pleasant smell, but one that I had come to love. Masked underneath it all was the aroma of sex.
I approached the girl working behind the desk. Whoever was behind the desk checked members in and kept track of services exchanged. As a low-level member, the club was used for finding a partner (or partners) to have sex with, like a traditional sex or swingers club. I tended to take on a bit of a different role though as a "pleaser."
Normally, that role involved offering up my services to a high-ranking member or a VIP to be used as they so desired. These were usually either very wealthy individuals or those who had been coming to the club and contributing for a long time. It was a very high-brow establishment, and you had to earn the right to be in control.
I had been going to the club ever since I found out about it from one of my older sister Scarlett's friends, who had previously frequented the establishment. That was when I had just turned 21, so I had been going for nearly four years.
As a horny college kid, I used to come to the club as often as I could, but now that I had a steady job and enough money to buy wonderful toys, I only came for special occasions. My birthday was one of them. My pussy had been slightly moist through my entire dinner, thinking about how much fun I would have tonight.
I scanned the girl working as I approached her. I hadn't ever seen her before and took in every detail that I could. Half of her head was shaved in a buzz cut, the other half was covered by her flowing long black hair. She had bright green eyes, and a nose ring. She was very hot, and I hoped that I would see her again, and maybe buy her a drink.
Girls weren't necessarily my forte. I had never been romantically attracted to a woman, and never dated one outside the club. But just for fucking, I hadn't ever encountered a man who could eat my pussy as well as most of the girls and women at the club.
"Hello, I don't believe I know you. I'm Violet," I said, introducing myself. I handed the girl my pass as I did so.
"Nice to meet you, Violet. I'm Charlise. I just started here recently, so that's probably why you don't know me," she replied. She looked at the green card and began typing into her computer.
"Well, I must say that you are absolutely stunning," I complimented her. She blushed, which I took as a good sign. "What time are you done with your shift?"
Charlise smirked at me. "Straight to the point. I like it. I get off at three. And hopefully I'll be getting off shortly after as well." She winked at me.
"Am I all set?" I asked, referring to her check-in.
"Oh, yes," she replied, her mind returning to the task. She handed me back the card.
"Great," I answered, and began turning to walk to the main lobby area, hoping to find someone who I could give myself to.
"Actually, Violet," Charlise stated from behind me. "You're already booked. In case you didn't know."
I paused and turned around. "What?" I asked, slightly confused.
"Someone's already acquired your services for tonight," she explained.
"I didn't know you could pre-order like that."
"Apparently you can. It's labelled as a birthday gift."
"So who got me?" I asked.
"I'm not allowed to tell you that. But I am to tell you that you are supposed to go to Suite 17. And Happy Birthday."
"Thank you," I responded, still puzzled as to who at the club would've known me well enough to acquire me on my birthday. "I will be seeing you later, Charlise. 3:00."
She smiled back at me and seductively cupped her small boobs. "My pussy is waiting!"
I turned away from Charlise and walked into the lobby. Everyone gathered here to socialize and drink, as well as arrange service exchanges or meetings. Off of the lobby was the common area, a gigantic, dimly-lit room which was home to most of the debaucherous acts of the night. As soon as I walked in, the smell of whiskey and tobacco was immediately replaced by sweat and bodily fluids. I could feel the immediate change in temperature from all of the warm bodies huddled closely together.
Branching off from the common room were 18 individual suites, which could be reserved for a high price, and then two VIP/celebrity suites which I hadn't ever been in before.
Someone had once told me that the club began as a secret storehouse for alcohol during Prohibition, and then continued on as a sex club later on to keep business going, the shop above it having long since closed and been lost to history and fading memories. It always made me wary of how much cum and pussy juice had seeped into the walls and floors over the years, even though everything was scrubbed and cleaned daily.
I found the suite labelled 17. Just like a hotel room, I had to insert my pass, and was granted access in.
I was standing in a small changing room. Set out on a lone bench was a lace bra, matching panties, garter belt, and thigh-high stockings. All were bright red-colored and matched my heels and lipstick.
It was easy for me to figure out what I was supposed to do. I stripped out of my loose white dress, and took off my cotton underwear. The sheer lace felt amazing on my skin as it slid up my legs and my nipples rubbed up against the fabric. The person had managed to get a 40A, my perfect bra size.
I took a look at myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the room. The lingerie looked amazing, but was quite small. I kept my pussy hair groomed in a large but neat triangle above my slit, and the very edges of my bush could be glimpsed peeking out of the panties.