Baumgartner Generations: Janie Ch. 02bySelena_Kitt©
The secret to getting into a club was acting as if you couldn't care less, no matter what. You couldn't beg or plead or make up some story about knowing someone inside—the guys at the door had built-in bullshit radar. You just had to stand there and expect to get in.
"Sorry, we're closed for a private party." The bouncer at the door was a big guy—they were always big guys who stood there with their arms crossed, making their pecs and biceps stand out even more. Of course, they weren't really closed for a private party. That was just what they said when they didn't want to let someone in. We'd heard it before.
"Who's this, Sailor Moon and her lesbian lover?"
I looked over at Lil and almost laughed—he was right on. She looked just like a dark-haired Sailor Moon with the short navy pleated skirt and white blouse and red bows. I told her with my eyes, don't say anything. She raised an eyebrow but she kept her mouth shut.
We both just stood there, not even looking at the bouncer. I took my phone out to glance at it. It wasn't ringing and I didn't have a text—I just wanted to look like I had something to do. Lil took a stick of gum out of her purse and put it into her mouth.
"Go on," he said, waving us through. I saw him look at my legs first, though, and I was glad I was wearing heels that made me a good four inches taller. Lil snuck a triumphant squeeze to my hand as we walked past him.
"Damn, you weren't kidding when you said your skirt was invisible!" She had to yell to be heard, and this was the first chance we'd had to talk. She came from West Chelsea, and TJ and Ronnie's house was all the way out in Douglaston, a place that always had Ronnie saying, "There's nothing wrong with living in Queens!" Of course, you couldn't tell that to the Upper West Siders.
"Like it?" I yelled back, flipping the hem. I couldn't flip it much—it was one of my shortest, cream-colored, a halter dress, if you could call so little material a dress, with a plunging neckline, completely backless. I wore a silver armband with it and my hair was up—it was too hot to dance with my hair down.
Lil gave me two thumbs up and then grabbed my hand. We checked our wraps before heading toward the dance floor. We'd dance until we got thirsty—and by that time, we could take advantage of some guy trying to pick one of us up and offering to buy us drinks. Even a gin and tonic was eighteen bucks!
The music was so loud I could barely think—it was fantastic. We waded to the center of the sea of writhing bodies, our hips already moving, driven by the beat. For me, dancing was almost as good as sex—hell, it was sex—hips grinding, bodies swaying, adrenaline pumping. It was like an all-night orgasm, a constant throb. I lost myself dancing, and in that, Lil and I were just alike.
Of course, it was all dependent on the music. The DJ was important, and when we got one that was into the rap and hip-hop thing, or someone who was just crazy bi-polar, picking one good song followed by a dud, we usually called it a night early, because we were all about the dancing. Unless one of us—usually Lil—found someone to go home with. That was a given.
I'd only done it twice, myself. Once it was some male model—and oh my god he was beautiful, but the sex was boring as hell. He loved being worshipped but didn't want to do any of the work. Another was a woman, Catherine. She said she had an "arrangement" with her husband, an open marriage. Well, I knew all about that, didn't I? The sex that night had been incredible. I saw her here sometimes, still, and she made it pretty clear I could go home with her again anytime I wanted.
"Look!" Lil was pointing and I followed her finger toward the upper deck.
"Is that—?" I squinted, shading my eyes against the strobe, but I was sure. "Jim Carrey?"
Lil grinned, bobbing her head and bumping me with her hip. I didn't get as star struck as I used to, when I first came to New York, but it still stunned me when I ran into one. I'd even seen Kate Hudson jogging in Central Park—of course, I only knew her because TMZ was following and snapping pictures. Otherwise, she just would have been another blond woman running in sweats and a baseball cap.
"I gotta pee!" I pointed to my bladder and then toward the bathrooms downstairs. Lil nodded, following me. We didn't like to get split up.
"Hey! Lil!" The voice came from behind us and Lil turned. Inwardly, I groaned, knowing the night was pretty much over. He was gorgeous, I'd give her that—but aside from the perfect hair, perfect teeth and perfect body, I didn't understand what she saw in him.
"Alek!" Her whole face lit up. I bit the inside of my cheek and tried not to roll my eyes. "What are you doing here?"
He nodded toward the bar. "Buy you a drink?"
She looked back at me and I waved her away. "Go on! I'll meet you!"
"I'll be right here!" she yelled, grabbing a stool. Alek was already ordering their drinks.
I nodded, weaving through the crowd and deciding to take a detour upstairs first. Jim Carrey was one of my little brother, Henry's, absolute favorites. It was worth a shot, right? He was still standing there near the railing, talking to someone I didn't recognize—a short, balding guy in a suit.
I dug a receipt out of my purse and climbed the stairs, hoping he wouldn't disappear before I got to the top.
"Mr. Carrey?" God, this was embarrassing. Was I really doing this? It's for Henry, I reminded myself, imagining his shock and awe when I gave it to him and told him the story—embellished, of course.
He glanced at me and then did a double-take, his eyes moving first to the plunge in my neckline and then to the hem of my skirt.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," I said, holding out the receipt and a pen. It was one of TJ's—it had his name, followed by his title, 'financial consultant,' along with his business phone number. That was when I noticed my hands were actually shaking! "But could you sign this?"
He blinked at me for a moment, as if he was considering, and then he smiled brightly, that same smile you see on screen, too big and wide and a little bit fake. "What's your name, sweetie?"
"It's for my brother," I explained as he took the pen and paper, looking around for a hard surface to write on. "His name is Henry."
"Turn around," he told his friend, and the balding guy hesitated for a moment, looking at me—he was staring, really. Then he sighed and turned, leaning over the railing slightly.
"Agents." Jim grinned at me and it was real this time. "They'll do anything."
"Thanks a lot!" the guy mumbled, glancing over his shoulder as Carrey used his back to put the receipt on. "Just because I'll bend over a railing for you..."
"Ha! It's usually the other way around, pal." Carrey scribbled his name with a flourish and then looked at me. "Let me tell you something—agents smell money like sharks smell blood." Carrey winked as he handed me both the receipt and the pen. "Nice dress. What's your name?"
"Jane." I felt more flushed now than I had on the dance floor.
"Oh no, not you!" He was just as smooth and dramatic in person as he was on screen. "You give plain Janes a bad name, sweetheart."
"Thank you." I tucked the autograph and pen away in my little purse. "And thank you again, for this."
"My pleasure." He grabbed my hand and actually bowed, leaning it to kiss it. People around us were watching and he waggled his eyebrows at me. "And a very nice view, I might add."
Now I was sure I was bright red.
"Jim." The agent saved me, clearing his throat.
"Right. Back to business." Carrey straightened and tipped me a dismissing wave. "Nice meeting you, Jane."
"You, too." I didn't even hear my name being called until I got to the stairs. If I hadn't detoured on my way to the bathroom that night to get Jim Carrey's autograph for my little brother, things would have gone very differently later, but Catherine found me again because I had, grabbing my arm and pulling me into a hug.
"It's so good to see you!" she exclaimed. I returned her affection, still flushed from dancing and my encounter with a real celebrity. I hadn't had the guts to actually go up to any of the stars I'd seen in New York since I'd been there, and probably wouldn't have this time, if it weren't for Henry. He'd seen Bruce Almighty fifteen times!
"You look gorgeous," she gushed in my ear, still holding me close. Catherine was a leggy redhead with a temperament as fiery as her hair. Even in my heels I felt short and dumpy next to her. The night she'd taken me home from 1 Oak, I felt like I was going home with a goddess.
"So do you." My returned compliment was genuine. She looked fantastic in a black mini-dress—her legs went on forever!
"You alone?" Her smile was suggestive as we parted, still standing close and practically blocking the stairway. People squeezed by us, both coming up and going down.
I shook my head. "I'm here with my friend Lil."
She looked disappointed and, for a minute, I was, too. I wondered if she was remembering the night we spent in her posh Manhattan apartment. I'd been pretty drunk—Lil's Alec had bought drinks for us all night long in hopes that she would go home with him and I had taken full advantage of his generosity. He'd taken advantage of Lil later, she said, so I guess it was a win-win for everyone that night. I couldn't help remembering what it felt like to kiss Catherine, how full and sweet her lips were, and thinking about kissing her reminded me of the taste of her pussy, completely shaved below with a fine landing strip of red hair at the top to prove, she said, that she was a real redhead.
"Listen, I have to pee." I smiled apologetically, remembering Lil waiting for me at the bar.
"I'll go with you."
And that's how we ended up downstairs in the bathroom, which looked like the Starship Enterprise and made me feel like I was peeing in outer space. It was crowded, as usual, as we pushed our way to the sinks to wash our hands. Catherine touched up her make-up, blinking fast to dry her mascara. Her eyes were big and blue, gorgeous, probably contacts—they were too bright not to be. But she was stunning.
"If you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to be forced to take you home with me again." She didn't look away from the mirror as she said the words, but her smile was slow and mischievous.
"Don't throw me in the briar patch," I quipped, adjusting the top of my dress—it really was too low-cut for someone with my cup size. I felt like I was falling out of it constantly, but at least it had gotten us through the door.
"Don't tempt me." She did look at me then, her eyes darkening, her smile fading, and I gasped when she grabbed my shoulders, pressing me against the bathroom wall between two hand-dryers and kissing me. She tasted like sweet alcohol and cherries and I didn't even care that women were moving around us to dry their hands, probably watching Catherine's long, silky tanned thigh sliding between mine, her hand reaching under the front of my dress to caress the bare flesh of my breast and thumb my nipple.
"Cat," I gasped when we parted, my thighs squeezing hers. I couldn't help myself. My pussy was pounding, sodden. "What are you doing?"
"Tempting myself." She stepped back, letting me go. I caught the eye of the woman next to me at the hand dryer. She was watching us, expressionless. Things like this happened in the 1 Oak bathroom a lot, though. I'd heard couples fucking in the stalls before, while a line of women waited to go.
"Let's dance." Catherine grabbed my hand, pulling me along. Saying 'no' to her was next to impossible.
I didn't even think of Lil until we got back upstairs and I looked for her at the bar. She'd promised to wait, but she wasn't there.
"Come on!" Catherine led me and I followed, letting her rub up against me as we danced. She turned me around, pulling my behind into the saddle of her hips as if she were a guy getting ready to fuck me. I felt the press of her breasts against my bare back, the silky material of her dress brushing against me.
"I love your tattoo." Her thumbs were there, at the small of my back. "I forgot how sexy it was."
When her fingers began tracing the Celtic design, I shivered, telling myself I had to find Lil, that I wasn't, under any circumstances, going to give in and go home with Catherine tonight. Both TJ and Ronnie had admonished me not to be too late, and I knew, just from the way they'd said it, they both wanted me in their bed. After Ronnie's morning confession, the mood between them had gone from tense to loving as the day wore on, and by the time I was getting ready to go out, they were lazing together on the sofa, watching The Marriage Ref and laughing.
"I have to find my friend." I said the words into Catherine's ear as she turned me around. The music was like an aphrodisiac. My body moved all on its own, creating delicious friction between us.
"You'll never find her in this crowd." Catherine shook her head. "Text her!"
Brilliant. Why didn't I think of that? Probably because Catherine's hands were petting my behind.
I unzipped my purse and found my phone, quickly typing in a text message to Lil.
WHERE R U?
Catherine didn't let me alone, her long limbs twining with mine, moving me to the music. God, she was something else, so hungry. It was very hard to refuse her, which was probably why I never had. The other times I'd seen her here, I'd avoided her for just this reason. I admit, I felt guilty going home with her, knowing Ronnie and TJ were waiting for me. It didn't make any sense, I knew. Technically, I was a single girl, and they were fine with me dating, encouraged me, in fact—but something in me still felt as if it were a betrayal. I didn't understand it.
DOWNSTAIRS. WITH ALEK.
Well. I knew what that meant. I texted her back.
RU GOING HOME W HIM?
I gasped when Catherine began kissing the back of my neck, my bare shoulder, instantly hardening my nipples. I glanced around. Most people weren't paying any attention to us, but a few were watching. It was quite a display of dirty dancing, the tall redhead and the little blond making out on the dance floor. And I couldn't pretend we weren't making out as she turned me around and kissed me fully on the mouth, her tongue softly touching mine, exploring. I moaned when she slipped a hand down to fondle my ass and clasp me tightly against her.
My phone, still in one of the hands wrapped around Cat's neck, vibrated, and I broke the kiss, checking the text message over her shoulder.
"I want you." Catherine's didn't have to say it. I knew—everyone on the dance floor knew. But she extended the invitation anyway. "Come home with me."
Lil was going home with Alek. Ronnie and TJ were home and had each other. As much as I liked to think of myself as part of them, as part of the family, they were really a separate unit, a family of their own—and a growing one. Who did I have, really?
"Do you have a car?" Last time, we'd gone to her place in a limo, a luxury that both shocked and thrilled me.
Her smile widened. "Driver's waiting outside."
Over her shoulder, I saw Jim Carrey, still standing at the railing talking to his agent, but I could swear he was looking at us. Then, when he turned to look fully at me, his eyes met mine and I knew he'd been watching. He grinned, winked and gave me a thumbs up. I almost laughed out loud.
"Okay." I acquiesced, and her eyes brightened as she took my hand, leading me through the throng of people.
I took the time to text Lil one-handed.
And I told myself, as I swept through the club on Catherine's arm, that I was just taking my own advice.
We stopped for a courage-drink at the bar before we left—two shots of tequila each. The bar in the limo was stocked, too, and she kept pouring, champagne this time, petting me the whole way. But I was nowhere near as drunk as I'd been the last time we showed up at her penthouse apartment, and I'd forgotten how intimidating her wealth was. I hadn't even seen the view from her balcony before.
That night, we'd made it first to the immaculate white leather sofa, and then to her four-poster bed, where I'd woken up early and tried to sneak out. When she woke, looking as hung over as I felt but still gorgeous, her hair hanging in red waves over the side of the bed, asking where I was going, I told her, "I'll take the subway home," and took off.
"This place is...breathtaking." I looked out across the terrace to the lights of the city, flickering like fireflies in the night. The whole place was alive and moving below us.
"Nowhere near as breathtaking as you are." Catherine pulled the tie behind my neck, moving her hands over my shoulders, sweeping the material away. It puddled in a creamy, silky heap at my feet and I stood there in my panties and heels, letting her massage my breasts, standing in front of the window for all of New York to see if they wanted to.
"So sexy." She slid a hand down my belly, under the elastic edge of my cream-colored panties, her fingers parting my flesh. "Oh god, so wet...!"
I was. I knew she must be too, between the music and the dancing and the drinking and the anticipation. I wanted to turn around and kiss her, to show her how much I wanted her, how good it felt to be there, but her finger found my clit, rubbing in circles, and I was lost.
"Oh, yes..." I leaned back against her, my nipples hardening. I saw our reflection in the glass, my blond head arched back against her shoulder, her red one bent to brush kisses over my neck.
I should have felt awkward or ashamed of myself, going home with a woman I hardly knew, practically a stranger. Okay, so I'd done it once already... but I'd never called her, she'd never called me. It was just a one-night stand, a little bit of very drunk fun for both of us. I hadn't planned to ever repeat it, with her or anyone else.
But here I was again.
"Let's go to bed." I didn't want to see myself doing this, even just in reflection.
"Mmmm...not yet..." She grabbed my hips, swinging me around and pressing me against the door wall. I gasped as the cold glass met my back, but the heat of her breath warmed me when she sank to her knees, pulling my panties aside to probe my slit with her tongue.
"Cat..." I moaned in spite of myself when she sucked at my clit. "Come on. Not here."
"Right here," she insisted, pulling my panties down to my knees, her eyes meeting mine. "Right now."
I was buzzed, but I wasn't drunk. I definitely wasn't too drunk to care that we were standing in front of a window, that anyone might see us. But the more her tongue and fingers delved, the more exciting the thought became. What if someone was watching us? What if some voyeuristic guy across the way had a pair of binoculars and was standing there, cock in hand, watching Catherine lick my cunt?
"I wanted to do this to you right there in the bathroom." Her voice was husky, her fingers sliding in deep. Oh god, what if she had? The thought made me burn. "Right there on the dance floor."
Jesus. While the entire club watched?
"Oh god." I stroked the thick mass of her hair as she tongued my clit. "That's so good. I don't think... oh! I don't think I can stand up much longer..."
It was true—my knees were actually weak.
"Come here." She directed me, sitting me on the edge of the coffee table and spreading my thighs. "Don't move."
I watched as she stood, slipping out of her dress, too, and then kneeling in front of me, both of us now in panties and heels, black and white. She slipped her heels off, but mine were the strappy kind and I didn't want to take the time to struggle with the straps.
"I'm going to lick you until you come all over my face." She parted labia with her fingers, admiring my cunt. "Then I'm going to take you to my room and fuck you with a strap-on until you can't breathe or think or do anything but come and come and come for me..."