Pushing the Envelope

I wasn't sure why I was about to enter the club. Actually, that's a lie. I knew why I was there. Why I was standing at the entrance of the "weird" club under the bridge nestled among the run-down warehouses, homeless people and street-walkers. It's just, well, it's just that I had an affinity to the music, the people and the setting. It wasn't so much that I got off doing something I wasn't supposed to do. It's more than I was doing what always got me the most excited, the most revved up. Circumstances and a quality upbringing just took me another route from those typically residing in such places.

VP's of Fortune 250 companies aren't supposed to hang out at places like this. They are supposed to dine at fine restaurants, relax listening to jazz or chamber music and make themselves comfortable in a country club setting. I always find those settings to be a bit pretentious and superficial. It's not that I can't integrate myself into those settings. Hell, one almost has to to succeed in business. I just know I don't really need to immerse myself among groups of people trying to live a lifestyle they can't afford or one that helped them compensate for their lack of self-worth. At the heart of it, I am a bit of a loner, with the ability to morph myself into the role needed to succeed. Clubs like these…didn't need that flexibility.

I entered the club. And, as hard I might try, I knew I didn't quite fit in. Of course, these people are less judgmental, but they didn't arrive in a M5, wearing an Armani shirt, Lucky Jeans, sporting a Tag watch and Allan Edmonds shoes. Oh well, there are benefits to success. Nine Inch nails pulsed in the background. No dance mixes here, just beats that hit you right in the gut. Cigarette and Reefer smoke filled my nostrils. The blue and red giving the club light required a pupil adjustment. I had the time; I was going to be there all night.

I began to find my way to the bar on the far left of the club. Of course, along the way there were the requisite colored rooms. At least they weren't VIP rooms filled with wannabes. The Red Room with it is shaggy couch and walls contained several leather-clad Mistresses with female and male subs on leashes. The blue room with its retro furniture housed the early 20's group of silicone-filled girls and drunk boys who were too scared to explore the club but needed to feel of excitement of a "dirty" night out. I didn't feel compelled to explore the secluded rooms lit only by candles and filled with lots of exposed skin.

My spot at the end of the bar provided me with a great view of the dance floor and entrance. I settled in and watched the Amazon bartender walks toward me. She wore tight jeans, a black wife-beater cut off just below her enormous chest and black cowboy boots. A bra wasn't needed on her 38DD chest. The tattoo around her belly button just didn't do it for me, but she certainly was someone both men and women would notice and fantasize about. She didn't even ask me for a drink, she just looked at me. I ordered a Bombay Sapphire and Tonic and watched her walk away from me. "I bet she could wear someone out," I thought to myself.

With drink in hand, I watched the crowd. For some reason, my eyes glanced over to the entrance as the most stunning woman I'd ever seen walked in. She stood maybe 5'9", just a bit shorter than my 6'1" frame. Her brown suede skirt was zipped tight against her lower body but not so tight I couldn't get a glimpse of her stockings and garter through the front and back slits in her skirt when she walked. Her calf-high boots were a special fetish for me. Her ass sat high atop her gloriously long legs. I could witness the firmness of her ass through the snug fitting fabric of her skirt. Her black blouse allowed one to see-through to an Aubade demi bra. The fullness of her breasts was clearly visible. Her lips covered with black provided no protection for what I was sure were legendary oral skills. Her nails, like her lipstick, were black. Her brunette mane fell to the top of her ass. The choker she wore completed her outfit. This was the woman I long had fascinated about during my many travels. She exercised at my health club and was the manager of the Starbucks on my way to work. Her nametag read Samantha. I'd never really talked to her, but had long pleasured myself to the thought of orally worshipping her wetness. I guessed her age closer to late 30's than to my 34 years. She reeked of sex. No woman should be able to look that hot. I never even talked to her, and she owned me. I watched her follow the same path I had taken only 45 minutes earlier.

She finally found her way to the bar. I was amazed someone so stunning arrived alone. Women of her beauty aren't supposed to go anywhere solo. She ordered a Shiraz. "Yes," I spoke to myself, "A women after my own heart." It was obvious from the Amazon's not so casual hand-touching and the way she asked my desire to repeat her drink order that I wasn't the only one captivated by this regal woman.

I did my best to catch her attention. It really is kind of amazing. No matter how successful a man may become, a beautiful woman always has the upper hand. I suppose the blatant staring wasn't the best approach, but damn she was beautiful. If she had any idea how many times I had fallen asleep thinking about her she would understand my trance. She didn't dance nor talk to anyone; she watched the crowd much like myself. After another drink, I decided it was time to approach this vision of so many, shall we say, explosive thoughts.

"Hello."

She gave me a quick glance and resumed her crowd watching.

"Hello," I said again.

This time she didn't even look. In fact, she looked away. "Son-of-a-Bitch," I thought to myself. I finally get up the nerve to talk to this creature and she wants nothing to do with me. I stood for a second, stared at her profile and watched her place her drink on the bar and find her way to the bathroom. I thought about following her, but it was evident she didn't want me around. I turned around to go back to my spot at the bar. There was a drink waiting for me. The Amazon was smirking at me. "Bitch," I said under my breath. I slowly finished this, my last drink and made my way to the bar. Despite the smirk, I gave the Amazon a quality tip.

I made my way to the exit still hurting from the search for the woman of my dreams. I felt a firm grip on my right hand. I stopped and turned only to find my dream staring in my eyes.

"Are you leaving?" she purred. Her smell intoxicated me. Her eyes seduced me. I couldn't believe the depth of green in her eyes. "How in the world is this woman so unbelievably attractive?" I questioned myself.

"The surroundings aren't too receptive tonight."

"I would have expected more from you. The night is young."

"I'd thought I'd change my venue." I responded.

"I think you should stay," she spoke in my ear while rubbing her breast against my chest. Her breath lingered just a bit in my ear. The fingers of her left hand playfully tickled my neck. I could feel her nipple against my pectoral. I am sure she could feel the beginning of my arousal.

I pulled away from her just a bit to scan her body language. She gripped my hand even harder and pulled me to the dance floor.

Chemical Brothers showered down on us as we began to dance. It was hard to move among the throng of people, but it only gave me the opportunity to pull her even closer. I fully expected her to challenge me, but she seemed almost comfortable pressed against my athletic frame. She definitely knew how to move her long, sexy body. She worked her right leg between mine and pulled herself even closer to me. Her toned arms alternated between gripping the back of my head and raising them above her head. Her belly piercing, not to mention her flat, defined abs, was visible when she raised her arms. My arousal had grown to its full potential. I stared at her body with lust. I longed to kiss her gothic lips, to make love to them, to fell them pressed against mine as my tongue snaked its way inside her mouth.

Finally, I pulled her close to me. Her nipples were clearly visible through both bra and shirt. She gave me a quick glance and leaned forward to kiss me. My dream…my passion…I was finally kissing her. The fact that I didn't cum right there still escapes me. She outlined my lips with her tongue before playfully biting my lower lip. And then I could feel her tongue inside my mouth. Our tongues danced together and then took turns exploring each other's mouths. It was like no kiss I had known before. So many months of dreaming, hoping and then it finally happened. I was weak in the knees. There was no way should could not feel the passion I had for her. My arousal had grown to uncomfortable levels. I could feel her smile at my plight as she kissed me.

I worked my down to her neck only to hear her moan in my ear. Her nipples became even harder, and I lowered my left hand to run my palm against the skin of her upper chest.

"I'm soaking wet," she whispered as she moved her tongue around my outer ear.

"I've thought about this for months," I admitted.

Slowly she turned herself around and positioned her ass against my cock. She leaned against my chest and put her hands behind her back. I glanced over the dance floor and found no one but one of the young 20 something hotties in the blue room watching us. I gave her a crooked smile as she watched in amazement.

Samantha found her way to my fly and unbuttoned my pants. The relief I so desperately needed was available. My cock sprung through the fly of my boxers. Samantha did nothing to help my problem. Her hand gripped my erection while she smiled at me with her head tilting against me chest. Our "fan" watched without complete fascination.

To my amazement, Samantha squatted down just a few inches until my cock was positioned underneath her skirt. I could feel the warmth of her thighs against my arousal. Her legs were wet with her own moisture. She bent forward slightly until my cock had found its way through her thighs against the vision of so many of my dreams. She gave me a quick glance over her should and pushed against me. I entered her quickly. I could feel her wetness surrounding my cock. I heard her moan as my head pushed farther and farther into her. We continued to dance slowly with my member inside her. I kissed the back of her neck while my fingers traced the outline of her nipples through her shirt. I felt her grow wetter as my cock pulsed several streams of cum. She moaned even louder as my orgasm splashed against her g-spot.

We continued to dance as my cock withdrew to its normal length. I could feel my cum on the inside of her thighs. Samantha put her hand inside her skirt, dipper her finger into her wetness and licked if off her forefinger in front of me. Samantha leaned forward and kissed me, put my cock back in my pants and slowly buttoned my jeans. She then grabbed my hand and pulled me to the exit. After two steps, she stopped, looked at our observer and gave her a come-her motion. Our visitor grabbed Samantha's hand and joined me in our pursuit of the most stunning creature.