A Fucking Investment Ch. 13

The crowd roared. Many must know this moment.

John leaned over and yelled into the maelstrom. "She has become a sensation."

I nodded. The first throbbing chords of I Feel Love and moments later her voice crowded out the instrumentation. She lashed out at the crowd, her body undulating, much as she had down below. But now, she was living the dress, showing her legs. A woman came out with a trident that turned out to be a mic stand.

In a bridge, Jeri mounted the mic, on the mic stand, and proceeded to unhook the ruffles around her legs. When the music demanded her voice, she leaned into the mic and burst with the words, her contralto giving the song a whole new erotic meaning. Now she wore a short, tight white dress and skirt. The black stocking matched the piano and stood starkly against the white stage and her white dress. The contrast was arresting. As the song progressed, she pulled the strings holding the front of the dress down one arm and then the other, revealing a very tight bustier. Her breasts were encased, like jewels in a setting. The dress was so tight on her body, the released bodice just ruffled around her narrow waist.

The song ended but the next one rose immediately. I Love to Love You, Baby! ground around us. The previous performance, it turned out, had been foreplay for this, an erotic rehearsal. It swirled like perfume in an elevator, pulling at us. The dress disappeared down her impossibly long legs. She strutted around the stage, ravaging the audience with her rendition of the song, lashing them with her sensual interpretation. Her hips pulsed with the beat thrusting forward and back as she fucked the crowd, pounding the air with her hips. She wore only the bustier, the garter belt, the black stockings, and the black heels. She carried the dildo mic and sang into it, licking it extravagantly when there were no words to add, the lascivious sound of it snarled around us, like the world was licking us all. The sound of her mouth on the mic echoed through the close room. I glanced around and saw plenty of bobbing heads in laps, not all female heads mind you and not all male laps.

I watched, detached. While I found her performance erotic enough, all I could think was to wonder how I would ever break her away from this. She owned the stage and the audience. Her body glistened with perspiration, but the glistening on the inside of her thighs could not have been merely sweat. I feared not, at least. This sort of high was difficult if not impossible for me to duplicate. She was here for the money but the high made it endurable and kept her coming back, like an addiction.

Then the music slowed and she was at the piano. She stood beside it, elbows hooked on the edge, one leg extended straight, the other bent. She then stood and she moaned into the mic, taking Donna Summer's suggestive moans to a much more lascivious extent. She used one hand to unhook the side of the bustier, one hook at a time, down one side, till it clung to her but loosely. The other side released her tits and she shrugged it onto the stage. She stood before us topless. She was a monument to the female body, unsubtle, unmistakable, and completely intriguing.

She managed to crawl onto the broad back of the piano without ever looking awkward or missing a line. She lay on her back and with both feet planted on the black edge, her head and shoulder dangling over the side. She sang into mic but, with the other hand, stroked between her legs. Her knees were bent but arched straight up and down but soon they began to loll, sagging to the side and finally butterflying completely. Her hips pumped up and down to the music and every man imagined themselves between her legs, letting her body thrust up at him, taking him deep inside of her incredibly sexual body. The stage was turning and as it did, I could see light through the arch of her back. Her sway back posture accented the swell of her ass, even laying flat on the piano.

Her hips began to rise and fall, her free hand between her legs, stroking and poking and arousing her. Tension in her voice made the song sound desperate, filled with pleading and hinting at her demands. She moaned into the mc and then we heard it. Her tongue licking it and then she was thrusting it into her mouth and deeper. The wet clicking and smacking of her mouth on the cock-mic intermixed with the music. The mic picked up her moans, her voice below the end of the mic in her throat, down in her chest, throbbing in time with her undulating hips. Her hand worked between her legs. She groaned, she gasped, she sucked and kissed, muttering the words of the song intermittently, cooing to her "baby" as she worked herself to her erotic frenzy.

The stage turned, slowly, beginning when she lay down on the piano. In the space of a minute, she turned half way around. From a view of the cock-mic thrusting down her throat, it shifted to the view between her legs, her hand covering her pussy, the stretched straps of the garters, and the horizon of her mighty tits, stacked like silos on her chest, wavering and shimmering in the bright spotlight.

When the light shifted, they turned into silhouettes. Her black sheathed legs now blended with the piano and her pink-white body slashed the blackness with its brilliance in the spotlight. While all we had was a view of her arched legs, she began to scream, grinding her hips up at her imaginary lover. Her legs rose, making a V over her waist, then she planted her heels on the edge of the piano and began to rhythmically arch her body, pumping her hips up in profound time with the music and her own ministrations to the mic. With an amplified slurp, she withdrew the mic from her mouth, the guttural sound, the animal moaning gave way once more to her impassioned voice.

"Love to love you, baby!" She gasped, hissing and moaning.

Her hips arched and she ground at the empty space above her, thrusting and bucking. Her voice hitched and she keened into a chorus of "coming, coming, coming"! The crowd seemed to moan with her, surrounding us with more than just the amplified sound of her impassioned voice. Her moaning seemed to echoe from every part of the room.

Her body went still and then she contracted, dropping her hips onto the surface of the piano and pulling her legs into her chest. She rolled to the side, gasping and whispering the words, panting into the cock-mic. Her gasping for breath reverberated around us. She lay on her side as the stage turned, singing her orgasm into it as her body shivered with the aftershocks.

I was hard, rock hard, hard as Gibraltar.

"Oh fuck me!" I growled. I glanced away from the woman, at John and he was fixed on her. I looked around and found the whole place had the same pose. There was very little motion that I could see though plenty of couples were caught in the midst of copulating, stilled by the drama of Jeri's shared orgasm. Everyone seemed, again, focused on the woman singing about her love of love on the stage.

When the music ended, the place was silent but for Jeri's panting into the mic. The spot light went out. The panting turned into kissing and subtle sucking. Next, we all heard as the mic entered her throat, her moaning, her grunting and then the "gulp" of her swallowing around the head of the cock buried in her throat.

Hearing that reverberating in the darkness made me gasp for air myself. I had stopped breathing for fear of interfering with her aural testament to cock sucking. She grunted and grunted in the darkness, the sounds reverberating from the sound system. It was all around us. My cock was so hard and sensitive I wanted to take it out of my pants. I was certain I wasn't the only one. All thoughts of owning her, the contract, business of any kind was swamped in the sounds of her deep throating the microphone.

With a huge exhalation, that sounded like the rush of a wind presaging a rending storm, she expelled the microphone. I didn't see it, but, along with everyone else, I heard it. My cock had ears by now and it understood what it was hearing.

"Thank you everybody, for letting me come for you. We have made love together. Kisses." The voice rasped at us, grating across the supersensitive tip of my cock. Then the lights came up, slowly, revealing the empty piano. I stared. I was thunderstruck and I knew I had to have her. I was possessed. I turned every way till I found the stairs leading up to the bank of glass that must have been the office. I made for it.

John must have known what I was doing. He caught hold of my arm before I put a foot on the stairs. "Don't, Josh. Don't do it. These guys, they are for real!"

I shook off his arm and took the metal stairs to the side of the office three at a time. There were two guards at the door but I did not even hesitate, I was through it and into the dim room before either of them could move. They caught John though. I give him credit, he didn't hesitate but charged up behind me, only to get caught by their slow reflexes. They dragged him into the room.

A big man stood at one of the windows, gazing down onto the stage.

"You approve of her performance?" His voice snarled around me, tangling me with its melodic appeal. When he turned, all artistry vanished. He was ugly. The sort of ugly that attracted women for reasons passing understanding. Perhaps it was the hair. He had good hair, black and thick, with a widow's peak. He waved his guys away from me. I don't look that imposing, particularly if you were the size of this guy.

"I do. I want her." I said, panting with my sudden exertion.

"Everyone does. Why should you be the one who has her?"

"I paid to get into this place."

"Everyone did. Why you?" The man had turned back to look down on the stage. Music began. He touched something and it muted, leaving it beyond us, throbbing in the great room below us, seeping through the open door behind me. On the stage, two women began to disrobe.

He turned and strode over to the massive desk that dominated the round room—not round exactly but none of the walls were straight and there were no corners. Curved though.

"I, I want her." The desire to copulate with her, to complete what her teasing performance had begun in me throbbed, raging like a grand passion. I had to have her!

The man picked up a tumbler and drank. "I usually just throw people like you out, like out a window and let you find your way to the ground without any other help. But you are in luck, tonight she needs a reminder that I protect her, that she is being paid plenty, that she has it good here. Better than anyone else. So. Stay right there. Do not move. We'll, we'll wait for her. She'll be here presently."

He looked past me. "Is he with you?"

I twisted to be sure it was John he referred to. It was. I nodded.

The man nodded. "Don't move, either of you. If they move, shoot them both." The man sat down. He lit a fat cigar, puffed, put his feet up on his desk. "What is your name?"

"I'm..." I hesitated. For a terrifying moment, I was peeled open and bared to the world. I nearly said I was Alan Livingston.

The man moved the cigar from before his face. "Forgot your own name?" He chuckled. "That happens. That is why she is here."

"Joshua Gale." I managed to get out. My heart hammered in my chest, aware I had nearly broken my identity.

"Well, Mr. Gale," he began but I interrupted.

"Who are you?"

He put down his feet and sat forward, planting elbows on the desk. "Jake Masters." He said. "I am not usually that rude." He puffed, drank. "What are you doing here?"

I hesitated, having no ready answer to that question. I was saved by the bell, literally. A tinny ding that was soon followed by a golden wash of light filled with a shadow and a silhouette. I followed the path of light to the figure. It was Jeri Lewis.

She stood, framed by the open elevator and the garish yellow light planking into the coolness of the dim room. "How was that, Jake?" She asked, before striding into the room, towards the desk.

"Fine, Jeri." He gestured at me with his cigar. "Someone is here to see you."

She turned and her face flashed from instant surprise to instant anger so quickly I was surprised she didn't sprain something. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"He wants you. I mean, he wants to fuck you. Like the rest, like every night. Isn't that what you want? To be desired?" He put down the cigar, then ground it out. He cocked his head. "Wait a minute, do you know this guy?" He stood up and walked around the great wooden desk, a dark form in the gloom. He sat on it, hitching his butt and lifting one knee over which he clasped his hands. "You two know each other?"

"What are you fucking doing here? How did you fucking find me?"

I looked away from the wild-eyed woman and her bare tits. She was dressed just as she had left the stage, though she held the tangle of her discarded garments under one arm. "I want to fuck her. How much."

"No! No fucking way!" She screeched.

Jake dropped his knee and stood up, twisted back and found his drink. He sipped at it again. "Jesus, Mr. Gale. No one gets any rise out of her. She is usually Miss Cooler-than-thou. But you, you bust in here and she is boiling over before we are even all properly introduced. How does that happen?"

I ignored him. "I said, I want her. She's for sale, right? How much?"

"I have been offered a hundred-thousand just for a blow job from her. How much do you have?"

"I doubt that." I said.

The man took the hand out of his pocket and leaned towards me, still holding the drink. "Don't fuck with me, buster." He growled. "You calling me a liar."

"Oh, I thought we were negotiating." I said as lightly as I could with my heart cuddling up to my tonsils. I was thankful it did not make my voice rattle when I spoke.

"I said don't fuck with..." The man turned around and set his drink down and then turned back to me. "Mister, I don't know you. She ain't for sale. Now leave."

I felt Jeri grin a death's head grin at me but I glanced at her to be sure. Yep. She was mocking and jeering without making a sound.

I heard them grab John. I tensed my shoulders in anticipation of needing to flap my arms in a vain attempt to fly. But I spoke too, into the sliver of silence before they were to grab me. "Wait. I, I have a better idea. We both get something."

"Shut the fuck up and get out, Gale. I told you, no fucking way! Now leave like the man said!"

I think if Jeri had just kept silent, I would have been helped out of the room to whatever came next in their MO. As it was, she buggered her own donut.

Masters looked over at her. She noticed. She nodded, pointing at me, eyes flashing, nearly bulging.

"Yeah, Gale, get the fuck out! I told you...I said...you know what I said and I meant it. Now beat it!" Her controlled voice coiled evilly around the words, filling them with her intent and intense antipathy.

Mr. Masters turned around. I couldn't see him clearly but he seemed to be tense, or I hoped he was tense as I was. He waved a hand. "I like it that you make her crazy. Why is that, Mr. Gale? I have the most famous nightclub act the country has seen in years. People are coming from all over to see her. No one has gotten a rise out of her. Why you, Mr. Gale."

I went with the truth, prosaic and plain. "I live down the street from her. We're neighbors."

"Joshua, shut the fuck up!"

I have to stop here and confess to an adolescent moment. I got all gooey inside, a flush ran through my body, my toes curled. All because she spoke my first name. Context did not matter, nor how she spoke it. I just liked that she said it. Her voice was sexy, sexy as hell and I wanted to make her scream. I wanted to tickle her tonsils with my cock.

Silence. No one spoke. No one moved.

"Neighbors? Wow. I guess I never thought about it but she has to live some place, right?"

"You let her work here and don't know where she lives?" I asked, actually amazed and speaking my mind rather more forthrightly than required.

The other man apparently did not like to be questioned, so he altered the conversation, back to an earlier point. Actually the one I wanted to make.

"You said something about an alternative to throwing you out a sixth story window?"

I grinned, suddenly calm. "Mr. Masters, if that is your name, you should know who you are threatening before you threaten. You might be pulling on what you think is a snake's tale only to find it is attached to a dragon." I waved at him. "But I was rude first. This bitch, she makes me crazy and you seem to have your glasses steamed up just like mine. Here is what I suggest. I want her but if I can't have her, if she doesn't lay down like the rest, if you haven't figured out how to get her to fuck, if she just teases and goes home, fine. But here is a thought. I would pay to see you fuck her. Name your price. But I get to watch. You fuck her now, just like she is." I pointed. "On that desk." I dropped my arm.

"Fuck you, Gale." Jeri hissed.

Masters looked over at her, a smoky look, calculating, smoldering.

"Name your price. I would give a lot to see her actually rattling in the throes of coitus." I pressed.

"The throes of coitus? Hifalutin talk for a good fucking." Masters said; his tone of voice said I had caught his imagination. He walked over to stand in front of Jeri. She eyed him uncertainly.

"You aren't going to listen to this fuck are you?" She snarled, her beautiful voice putting feeling and conviction into her words no ordinary voice could have achieved. Venom, even.

"Five grand. I fuck her, front and back. Not ass, just pussy, front and back."

"Done."

"Hey! You can't do that!" Mrs. Lewis whined, now torturing the notes as no other untrained voice could. "Jake, you promised."

Masters put one hand over one of her swaying breasts. Jeri tried to hold her look but when he massaged her breast, her eyes closed. She was not that far removed from a profoundly empty orgasm.

"I promised you would not have to sell your puss. Or mouth. Or ass. To anyone. Your voice is enough for the club. You have fucked me. If precedence counts for anything, your cunt is mine as part of the deal. And your mouth. And your ass. You gave mouth and cunt to me when we made our little agreement. We sealed the deal with my cock in your mouth and my cum in your cunt. You said, you said if you weren't a hit, you'd fuck on stage, anyone I designated and you sucked me off then fucked me but good to make sure that the offer was real. I have kept my part of the bargain.

"This afternoon, though, you seemed to have forgotten that I keep all those swinging dicks and dangling tongues you tease to distraction out there...I keep them away from you. You want more money? You have to do more. Now this nice gentleman, he, all he wants is to be able to watch while we do it. How many times have you fucked me since you started?"

Jeri wilted. She seemed to contract, shrinking even as she stood there. "Every night since I started. I haven't kept count. That was the deal. You could fuck me after the performance. Every night. I'm here."

"The boys have watched for free. Why shouldn't I take this fellow's money?"

"I..." Jeri bowed her head. "Fuck it. Fuck you, Joshua." The whine was gone, her voice was normal, resigned perhaps, but otherwise uninflected. It still rattled the cockles of my heart, making my chest ache. I fucking loved that feeling of need, of want, desire, passion all pulsing in you, making you wild.

Masters looked at me. "You have the cash?"

I nodded. I took out the roll from my slacks and counted, augmenting it with what was left in the coat. I had $5,500. I gave it all to him. "There. We just want to watch." I stopped, looking at the curled bills. "I forgot parking. How much is that?"