The Thrill is Gone

Disclaimer:

This story is a work of fantasy, fiction, parody and satire. As such, no offence is meant to anyone who is mentioned within it as they would never act this way in real life. This is just a fictional erotic fantasy story to be read by those over 18 years of age. All characters mentioned within this text are 18 years of age or older and are therefore considered to be consenting adults. I make no money from this story and do not know any of the characters mentioned within it. If piquantly described sex and harsh, colourful language offend you then really you shouldn't read on, should you? You've ALL been warned 😊

"She took her tongue out her mouth, put it on top.

Like a cherry, started movin' it like a snake

and it was very irresistible"

She Swallowed It -- NWA

The Thrill is Gone

I

Arriving back to cold, dreary London from sunny Portugal had been tough. The snow had started to fall a few days after Melissa had touched down at Heathrow to further compound it. A slight flurry here and there at first and then pretty steadily since early that afternoon, coating the city in a white powder that crunched underfoot. It was predicted to be the heaviest snowfall for over a decade. Judging from the pictures that her had mother had texted her, it was already beginning to drift in Kent.

Thankfully, the inclement weather would not interfere with her plans tonight. She was staying at one of her friend's apartments in Canary Wharf, so she didn't need to worry about being stranded and unable to get back to Kent. Emma was away in Spain for the week, and Melissa had asked her if she could stay there tonight. She'd told Emma she was meeting friends for dinner and drinks in Brick Lane that evening. It hadn't been a problem at all, and Emma had even left a bottle of Pinot for Melissa. A lovely thought from one of her besties.

Dinner and drinks were the last things on her mind as she stared out of the taxi window as it lurched and jolted down Blackheath Road. She watched the snowflakes twirl and dance in the air, illumined by the street lights sentried along the road. Traffic was sparse with just a few taxis and cars on the road at this hour on a Sunday evening.

Save for a few brave souls out in the cold, heads down as they endured the wintry weather, the footpaths were also pretty empty. She could see their breath hanging in the air as they shuffled morosely through the cold. A shiver ran up her spine when the taxi stopped at the traffic lights outside the Travelodge Hotel. After the lights, they would come to Deptford Bridge. They were close to New Cross Road, and closer still to Club 487.

"I can't believe I'm actually gonna' do this." she thought to herself, and her feelings of excitement and anxiety increased. She picked up her phone and started fiddling with it, the light from the screen illuminating the gloom in the back of the taxi.

As the traffic lights turned green and the cab trundled forward, Melissa's mind and tummy were in turmoil, and she was torn between wanting to go through with it and calling it a day. Heading back to Emma's and having a glass or two of Pinot while watching Netflix had its appeal, and she had spent the last few days since she'd gotten back from Albufeira second-guessing her decision. A Fantasy was a fantasy after all, but did she really want to go through with this?

"You wouldn't be sat here in this cab if you didn't want to do it." She argued with herself. "It's literally all you've been thinking about for the last few months."

Truth be told, she'd been thinking about it for longer than a few months. It had been over a year since she'd seen the porn movie on Paul, her ex-boyfriends' iPad, and been enraptured by it. She had watched porn before, of course, but never this genre of film. The premise of this particular skin flick was pretty simple. A woman in a room with two gloryholes cut into the wall, sucking random cocks that were stuck through them. They couldn't see her, and she couldn't see them.

And that was what had turned Melissa on the most, the whole anonymity of it all. No-one knew who anyone was, but were getting off just the same. One particular video had captivated her more than any other. It was of a pretty black woman who brought ten men to orgasm in an hour using just her mouth, swallowing their loads as they came. She'd watched that one a few times, fantasising about doing the same. Kneeling down in a darkened room in front of a gloryhole, kissing, licking, and sucking on whatever penis was presented to her. Listening to the men moan as they climaxed, feeling their cocks twitch and jolt as they deposited their warm, sticky payload in her mouth.

Over the next few weeks, she'd become obsessed with it, spending hours online watching gloryhole movies and researching gloryholes in London. She'd learned that while they were primarily the preserve of the gay community, there were two straight ones in the city, one in an adult cinema in Soho and the other in an adult club on New Cross Road. That was the one she was headed to now, and as the cab passed under Deptford Bridge and drove along the Broadway, she knew they were getting closer.

She'd not been to this part of London before, and staring the taxi window, she saw how run-down the area was. The street was lined with old, decaying buildings; some were boarded up, some with broken windows. Discoloured, plastic signs adorned most of the buildings along the street, adding to its ramshackle appearance. In a way, though, the run-down, seedy nature of the location suited Club 487.

New Cross Road was not a lot better; the street lined with bookies, takeaways, and many random shops. The road was narrower, so Melissa was able to see buildings on both sides of it. She sat up in her seat and stared out the cab's right-hand side, trying to locate the Club. She saw it through the street lights and falling snow, a building with a broken sign overhead for a printing company that had long gone out of business. She noted that the adjoining building had been demolished since she had seen pictures of it, an empty space ringed with temporary wooden fencing plastered with promotional posters replacing it. As the cab rolled by, she looked back at the Club and felt her heart beat quicker in her chest.

"Royal Albert pub?"

Torn from her thoughts, she replied.

"Sorry? What?"

The cab driver looked at her through the rear-view mirror.

"You going to the Royal Albert pub?"

"Yeah. Sorry! The Royal Albert. That's great." She stammered as the cab started to slow down.

"OK. We are here".

Despite the cold, she saw a couple of people outside smoking, shuffling about, trying to keep warm. Looking up and down the street, she saw very few people out and about.

"That'll be £25." The taxi driver intoned, and he switched on the cabs dome light so that Melissa could pay him. She fished out three tens from her purse and handed them across to the driver, telling him to keep the change. He flashed her a smile and thanked her. Smiling back, she put on her winter jacket, affixed her blue bobble-hat to her head, and opened the taxi door.

"You have a good night, Miss." the taxi driver called after her.

"Thank you! Same to you too." Melissa replied, and she stepped out of the cab, closing the door behind her.

----------------------------

The cold air assaulted her when she left the cab's warm confines and stepped out onto the snow-covered footpath. The wind chill factor made it seem even more arctic, and she shivered, quickly doing up her winter coat. She grimaced as a blast of wind cut through her, driving flakes of snow into her face. She looked around at the pub, and it did look very tempting. Warm and inviting and out of the elements. As the door opened, and another smoker stepped outside, laughing and general merriment wafted out at her from its confines. She turned around and looked across the road. About 200 yards away was Club 487, and she quivered a little, peering into the night.

"You want to do this, Mel." She thought to herself.

There was always the place in Soho? She dismissed that out of hand. No, that wasn't an option for her. Given the clientele likely to frequent it, she was too well known to do something like this in Soho. She'd be recognised either going into or out of that cinema, given how busy the place typically was. It had to be here in New Cross. Taking a deep breath, she carefully crossed the road, and once she was outside of the estate agents, she took one final lingering look at the Royal Albert, pushed up the lapels of her coat, and started walking towards Club 487.

Her heart skipped faster as she walked on through the wind and snow, looking left before crossing the street. Walking past the wooden fencing, she felt goosebumps erupt on her arms when she saw a wooden door marked 487A and embedded into the building was an ATM, its green light blinking like a beacon in the dark.

Then Melissa was outside it, a black metal door with a peep-hole at eye level and a bell just below it. She looked up and saw the cracked signage confirming what she knew already. Her heart was pounding, her mouth dry when she saw the sign on the door.

487. Private members only. Stiff door, push hard.

She looked up and down the street, but there was not another soul on it.

"Not too late to turn back, Mel." She heard herself say. "You can go home and forget about all this. Have a nice glass of wine or two in the bath. Watch some TV. Maybe even play with your wand for a little while."

She stood in front of the door for a minute, torn between staying or going. She walked a little way up the road away from the Club, past several shops before stopping at a wrought iron gate. She remembered the excitement that she had felt watching that first gloryhole video over a year ago, and how she had fantasised about doing the same thing. She thought about the excitement she had felt planning this visit, the thrill she had felt when she had decided in Albufeira that she would go through with it.

"Let's do it, Mel." She whispered to herself.

She turned around and retraced her steps back towards the black door and stood there for a few seconds. She took a deep breath and pressed the bell.

II

"Who the hell is this?" Claire Holding swore as the club doorbell rang, interrupting the game of Candy Crush she had been engrossed in. She couldn't check the Club's CCTV cameras as neither were working at the moment and were unlikely to be replaced now that the Club was due to close. Pending an appeal, of course.

Setting down her phone, the handsome brunette 40-something sighed with irritation and climbed the wooden stairs to the main entrance. It was nearly 8 o'clock, and the Club closed at 9pm. All the regulars knew that. Who could this possibly be?

"This better not be the Met again," She muttered, peering out the lozenge-shaped peep-hole affixed to the black iron door. She did a double-take when she saw a very pretty young blonde girl standing outside, shivering in the cold.

"What did she want?" Claire shook her head and, sighing deeply, pressed the intercom.

"Listen, love, if you're looking to use the toilets, the Royal Albert is a couple of hundred yards down the road, to the right, and across the street. You can't miss it."

A sweet voice answered her back.

"Uh...hi. No, I'm not looking to use the toilets. Look, can I come in? I'm literally freezing out here."

Claire looked at the young woman, wrapped in her winter coat and pink bobbled-hat, and grunted to herself. The girl may be in trouble, and if she could help her, she should.

"OK, darling. You'll need to push the door hard as it is as stiff as a board."

The blonde nodded her head, and Claire pushed the door release. The girl initially struggled with its weight, and it took the two of them to open it so that she could squeeze inside. Once she was in, Claire closed the door and bolted it.

"God, it is freezing out there. I was literally turning to ice!" The girl spoke, her voice quivering, her eyes darting around Claire and down the Club's stairs.

Claire now got a better look at her. She wasn't just a pretty girl; she was beautiful. The girl had taken off her hat, and her long straight blonde hair rolled down past her shoulders. She was slightly shorter than Claire, with tanned skin that was pretty much perfect looking. She had a little mole on her right-hand cheek that only accentuated how flawless her skin was. She wasn't wearing much make-up, but she really didn't need to. Her blue eyes gleamed like jewels. She was a doll, alright.

"OK, darling. How can I help you? You looking to use the phone? You want me to call you a cab?"

The blonde shook her head and giggled nervously.

"Um, no. Ah... I've come here to...ah...have a look around."

Claire raised an eyebrow and stared at the girl.

"You do know what this place is, don't you, love?"

The girl nodded.

Claire looked at her appraisingly.

"Look, if you're a hack from one of the papers or magazines, I've nothing to say. The place is closing down in a few weeks anyway, and we've had lots of you journos here over the last few weeks."

The young woman shook her head profusely.

"No...No...No. I'm not a journalist. I'm literally the last person who would be a journalist!"

Irritated now, Claire sighed, pointing to her watch.

"Then what do you want, darling? The place closes in about an hour, and I have things to be doing."

The girl spoke in a low voice, hesitating a little, her voice shaking.

"I....I....I.....I ..."

'C'mon, my love. Spit it out."

The girl gulped and blurted out.

"I want to use your gloryhole."

Claire took a step back, raising an eyebrow appraisingly at the young woman in front of her.

"Use the gloryhole? Really? Well, I certainly didn't expect you to say that, darling! OK, well, you'd better follow me. Watch the steps, my love. They are quite narrow."

Claire led the way, holding onto the bannisters, descending the stairs slowly, her heels clacking on the bare wooden steps.

"What's your name, darling." She asked the blonde who was following behind her.

"Melissa."

Claire stopped and turned on the steps and smiled up at the girl.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Melissa. My name is Claire. I run the front desk here. Gerry runs the operations, but he's upstairs most of the time. Counting the money and drinking scotch mostly."

The blonde smiled down at her, a sweet smile that lit up her face.

"Nice to meet you, Claire."

The sounds of female cries of pleasure grew louder as the two women reached the bottom of the stairs where there were two black doors, one in front of them and one to the left of them. Claire turned to Melissa and pointed in the direction of the door straight in front of them.

"That's the cinema in there. Well, cinema is probably not the right word for it. It's just a large HD TV with a bunch of seats in front of it. We were hoping that if we could have stayed here, we would have built a real cinema like the one we had in Islington. But that's not going to happen now. I'm guessing you don't want to go in there and have all the guys see you, right? Or do you?"

Melissa shook her head, and Claire nodded back.

"OK, we'll go in through the office, darling. The gloryhole is at the back of the building, and I can shoo anyone who is loitering around there so you can go in then. That OK for you, doll?"

Melissa smiled nervously.

"Thank you."

"OK, then." She looked at her watch and frowned. "That movie will be over soon. We'd better get a move on."

-------------

The first thing Melissa noticed when she had entered the Club was how dark it was. The entrance walls were painted jet black, and the one bare light bulb that dangled overhead, emitting just enough light to see. That the staircase was made of dark oak hardly helped the decor or atmosphere of the place.

She followed Claire as they descended the stairs, and as they entered the main office, she saw that it was not much better. It was sparsely furnished with a battered oak desk, ancient and torn leather chair, a phone, and a laptop. The room had the same seedy air about it as the rest of the building. The fact that it was lit with a single, bare light bulb didn't help the ambience. The only saving grace was how warm it was inside, a stark contrast to the miserable elements outside.

Claire stopped at the door on the other side of the office and turned to Melissa.

"You stay here, darling. I'll go check and see if the back area is free. I'll be back in a jiffy."

Before Melissa could even answer, Claire was gone out the door and had closed it behind her.

Standing alone in this bare room, the sound of fucking playing at full volume on the TV next door was almost enough to make Melissa consider turning around and walking back up the stairs and out the door right then. The fact that she had let slip her real name, and not the one she had planned to use, compounded it. She could flag down a cab and get the hell out of New Cross and back to civilisation. She'd be back in Emma's in 25 minutes if she left now. What was she even thinking of doing this?

She knew the answer, of course.

"You know why you're doing it. You're doing it for the same reason you shagged Danny at Dover Castle and almost got caught by those tourists. For the same reason that you've shagged boyfriends in public places before. Why you've flashed your tits in public after a few drinks. You're an exhibitionist, Mel. You get off on the thrill. And when was the last time you had a thrill like this? When you brought Paul to the public toilet with that gloryhole in it. How long ago was that? A year ago?"

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the door opening and Claire reappearing. She didn't say anything but put her finger to her lips and beckoned Melissa to her. Steeling herself, Melissa walked over to Claire and gingerly followed her out into the corridor, looking left and right, the sounds of the porn movie in the background amplified by the passage. Claire turned to her and pointed ahead.

"Just follow me, darling. It's right around the corner here on the left."

Melissa nodded and followed the older woman down the dark corridor, noting the strong smell in the air that reminded her of male cum and dirty socks. As they rounded the corner, she saw two small rooms nestled side by side, separated by a partition wall that ran from floor to ceiling. Claire pointed in at the second room and stepped aside to let her see it. As Melissa peered inside the space, Claire spoke to her.

"You'd better get in there, darling. Someone may come around the corner. The toilets are down this corridor." Claire pointed out. "I need to run back and get some stuff you're going to need. There is a lock on the door there, and I'll knock when I come back."

She smiled and placed her hand on Melissa's arm, stroking it gently.

"Would you like a drink, darling? Beer or maybe a soft drink? That's really all I can offer you at the moment."

Melissa shook her head and smiled.

"Just some water if you have it."

"Sure thing, my love. I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

She was gone, and Melissa stepped into the claustrophobic room and locked the door behind her.

III

It would have been generous to call the room poky. It was a dimly lit space with a single lightbulb that hung forlornly above. It radiated just enough light for Melissa to not trip over anything. The black décor of the room, walls, door, and partition matched the rest of the Club. They were not ones for expressive interior design here at Club 487, she thought to herself, and she familiarised herself with the sights, sounds, and smells of the place.