Baring Souls

I was caught between arousal and intimidation. Candace could easily be a man-eater with her attitude, or a sultry vixen. I got the feeling that being alone with her would be an experience borderline between heaven and hell. Still, I could not resist the lure she had thrown to me.

"And that is . . .?"

Her lips curled at the corners, giving her a sexy, catlike look. "Earned," she said simply.

I managed a smile. "Fair enough."

Candace toyed casually with her transparent blouse, shifting a little on my lap . . . which, conveniently, allowed my cock to become tucked between her firm cheeks. She smiled slyly, then, in an erotic display of agility, swung her left leg around until she was straddling me, her legs hanging over the arm rests of the chair. My eyes naturally wandered down, noting how tight her thong was over the puffy lips of her sex.

I barely heard Ramon's voice as he chuckled. "Guess, uh, I'll leave you two alone," he said.

I did not respond. I couldn't. Candace captured my attention completely. Her limber, lithe form wiggled a little in my lap as she got comfortable, the muscles of her abdomen standing out as she held herself up. She hooked her left hand around the back of my neck, idly stroking the short hair there, as she smoked her cigarette.

"So . . . you wanna do it here, or in private?" she asked.

I blinked. Damn, she can't be that bold, that easy, can she? "Wh-what?"

Candace laughed softly, leaned in close. For some reason, the aroma of nicotine wafting from her lips, mingled with her perfume, was suddenly and irrevocably arousing. My dick throbbed again, pushing through my slacks and her tiny thong, against her warm sex.

Her eyes drilled into mine. "Lap dance," she said.

I could feel myself blushing in embarrassment. Of course that's what she meant. "Oh . . . right."

Candace chuckled softly, leaned back – damn, every little shift in movement worked wonders on me – and crushed out her cigarette. The small, firm mounds of her breasts thrust straight up to the ceiling, those eternally-stiff nipples showcased by the shimmering, translucent fabric encasing them. She blew out a last plume of smoke, settled back on my lap, locking her hands behind my neck. "Come on," she said, and cocked her head, indicating a dark hallway not far past the main stage.

I glanced to the shadowed archway – the doorway to Heaven . . . or Hell? – then back to Candace. "What's in there?"

She bit her lip in a way that was way too sexy. "Wanna find out?"

I took a breath. "Sure."

***

Candace held my hand in both of hers as she walked before me, swaying those sexy little hips of hers. I watched the flashing lights play across her glossy hair, the muscles beneath her tanned skin. Especially those that rippled above the firm cheeks of her perfect, round butt. I could not have cared less if she was leading me into Hell; I was captivated by this sultry woman, this seductress.

"Have a seat," she said as we stepped into a small booth, about five feet square, with a single, broad, low-backed chair. There was a large mirror along one wall that seemed to catch the light from the end of the hall. Candace gave me an expectant look.

I settled into the chair as Candace stood before me, looking me over. I noticed her fingers twitching slightly. Was she nervous, as well?

"You never told me your name," she said.

"Will."

She smiled again. "Hmm, Will," she said, considering my name. With another of those I-can-melt-you-with-a-look expressions, Candace reached behind her neck. "Normally, I'd wait for the next song to start, but I figure, what's another minute or two?"

I couldn't speak as Candace let her sheer top flutter to the ground. Practically naked, she stood before me, smoothing her hands up from her hips and along her sides. She kept her eyes on mine as she cupped her firm, upturned breasts. Her rosy nipples seemed to be pointed at me, especially when she pulled on them with her fingers, making them distend and darken.

"I'm flattered," I finally managed to squeak out.

Sexily, Candace slid onto my lap, straddling me once more. In private, and with Candace practically nude, the situation was exponentially more erotic than it had been on the main floor. She arched her back, bringing those firm, perfectly round breasts in line with my face, looping her arms around my neck.

"You should be," she whispered, and then she slid down and began moving, rolling her hips, grinding herself into my groin. My cock had not lost any firmness, and the stimulation of her barely-covered sex against me was maddening. I couldn't help but sigh, and even moaned when she leaned in, raking her stiff nipples up my chest to my neck. I smelled the sharp, spicy perfume on her neck, her flesh so close I could have easily licked it. But I wasn't sure how far I could go.

"So, tell me, Will," she breathed into my ear, her left hand gracing my cheek. "Is it just me, or do you always get hard when you see a girl in a thong?"

I swallowed, enjoying the feel of her undulating body. My hands automatically settled onto her hips for wont of any other place to go. Candace made no move to push them away; indeed, she seemed encouraged, really bearing into me. Her breath was warm and moist on my ear and neck. Had it not been for the presence of our clothing, I would have sworn we were fucking.

"Just you," I whispered back.

"Hmmm," she mumbled contemplatively.

Just then, the music changed, to something dark and industrial, something I remembered from days spent in night clubs long before. Nine Inch Nails at its' finest.

Candace reared back, her cheeks glowing, eyes flashing brilliantly. "I always loved this song," she declared, then slid off my lap. She turned about, settling that perfect ass back over my groin, supporting herself with her hands on my knees as she ground into me once more.

"Bow down before the one you serve/You're going to get what you deserve . . . ."

The words echoed around us, permeating the air, seeping into our skin. Candace seemed to be getting into it as much as I was. Inspired, turned on, and bold from the two beers I'd had, I let my hands roam over Candace's back, her hips, her firm, round cheeks. I stared at the snaking tribal pattern tattooed above her delectable ass. There was a tiny red heart in the center, surrounded by flames. I passed my thumb over it. Candace cast a look over her shoulder at me, eyes heavy and lips spread by a broad grin. She wanted me to do what I was doing.

Abruptly, she leaned back against my chest, sliding up and down my body. One of her hands slid up behind my head, pulling my face toward her neck. I took that as an invitation, and kissed and sucked lightly at her neck. A gentle, aroused sigh escaped her lips. Then she surprised me.

Candace took my left hand, lacing her fingers in mine, and cupped it over her left breast. I breathed in sharply, feeling her stiff nipple push into my palm. Then she really did it.

"Bite me," she whispered, her tongue snaking out to tickle my ear. "Bite my neck. Do it, baby."

I groaned in arousal. I was caught up in the moment. I didn't care for the reasons regarding Candace's request; at the time, they seemed the hottest words a woman could utter. My cock throbbed, punching up between her cheeks. Her heat was searing and insistent, and I felt – either truly or imagined – her wetness.

I kissed, sucked harder at her neck. I loved the taste of her skin. "You want me to bite you, Candace?"

She squirmed against me, panting hot breath in my ear. "Please," she pleaded.

I felt a sense of control in that moment. At the time, I did not truly understand it other than through a simple transfer of roles. But, for that moment, Candace was giving herself to me. I cupped her other breast with my right hand, squeezed them both, pinching her nipples hard. Candace emitted a high-pitched, girlish sound and ground harder into my crotch. Her hand behind my neck gripped a fistful of hair.

"Tell me your name," I whispered, then gave her neck a little nip with my teeth.

She gasped. "Mmm," she moaned, and slid her hand beneath her, lifting up just enough to grope my cock through my slacks. "Bite me, please."

I groaned, squeezed her tits roughly. "Tell me, first," I said.

"Will you do it if I tell you?"

"Yes."

She whimpered heatedly, sliding her hand back and forth along my stiff cock. "Michelle," she sighed. "M-my name's . . . Michelle."

I dragged the tip of my tongue along the side of her neck, feeling the muscles move beneath, the pumping of her blood through her jugular. I felt like a vampire taking his next victim. "Nice to meet you," I whispered, then sucked her flesh into my mouth, trapping it between my cuspids. Viciously, I bit down, penetrating her skin.

"Ah!" she gasped, catching her breath. She writhed against me, gasping and shuddering, and I realized, even as I tasted something warm and metallic trickling into my mouth, that Michelle was cumming.

She squirmed and shook, rolling her hips hard into my cock, almost insistently enough to make me cum. But then, suddenly, as the song reached its apex, Michelle jerked away and stood, whirling around to face me.

I was instantly shocked back to reality. I stared at Michelle as she stood, naked save for her tiny thong and stiletto heels, a dark trail of blood dripping from her neck and down over her left breast. Wide amber eyes stared at me inscrutably.

The flavor of her blood lingered in my mouth. I felt it on my lips, thick and rich, as I touched them. "I'm sorry," was all I could say.

She lifted her hand, never taking her accusing eyes from mine, and touched her neck. For a moment, as she pulled her hand away and held it up, she looked to the blood on her fingers, then gave me an emotional look.

"No you're not," she said bitingly, and abruptly fled from the cubicle.

***

I was in a daze as I headed back to the table. Ramon was chatting it up with an attractive Hispanic girl who sat topless in his lap, making her breasts jiggle through muscle control. He was pretty much captivated, barely noticing I had returned until I sank down in my chair.

He grinned at me. "That was quick," he said with a chuckle. "Seriously, man, you guys were gone, like, fifteen minutes. What'd you do in there, anyway?"

The girl in his lap giggled, giving me a curious look.

I felt suddenly disgusted, and sat up. I took up Ramon's pack of cigarettes, lit one. I hadn't had a cigarette in over eight years. Monica had asked me to quit, and being the devoted man I was, I had.

Ramon frowned, then laughed. "Thought you didn't smoke," he said.

I lit up, inhaled, feeling my throat constrict slightly. But my body remembered the sensation, and welcomed it. I sighed, blowing out smoke. "I don't," I said.

Ramon laughed. "So where's your girl?"

I met his eyes a moment, then looked around. I couldn't see Michelle anywhere. The feeling of disgust remained and only grew stronger. In an instant, I decided I couldn't stand where I was, the environment I was in. I pushed up quickly, startling Ramon and the girl in his lap.

"I gotta go," I said.

***

Ramon was not ready to leave, so I left him twenty bucks to cover his cab fare and took off. He tried to call after me, but the girl wiggling her butt in his crotch kept him where he was. I was glad for that, in all actuality; that just made my escape easier.

I made my way back to the car in a daze, feeling conflicted in my emotions. Michelle had wanted what we had done, so why did she act that way? Why did she act as if I had practically raped her?

And why the fuck do you care, Will? She's pyscho, man, can't you see that?

I tried to get Michelle out of my head as I drove home, but it was useless. I wanted to know what possessed a woman to act the way Michelle did, to encourage me to bite her, only to become repulsed and disgusted afterward. And what made me want to do it in the first place? Why I had I acquiesced so easily?

These were questions deeper than what I wanted to think about. I decided to head home and have a couple of beers, maybe work on my next account to take my mind off what had happened.

On the way to my apartment, I stopped off at a corner store and bought a pack of cigarettes.

***

Seven o'clock, and I'm buzzed, I thought. I chuckled darkly as I watched some banal program on TV and sipped from my fifth beer of the day. Peripherally, I eyed the glowing light from my bathroom. Again, that eerie, telepathic call came to my mind.

Fuck it.

I got up, headed to the bathroom, crouched on the floor. I eyed the loose tile a moment, Feeling for a moment that I was balanced on the blade of a razor. If I didn't choose a side, I'd be split in half. So I made a decision, lifted the tile away and peered down.

Michelle was there, leaning over the sink as she stared at her neck in the mirror, her chin cocked to one side. She wore only a pair of loose grey sweatpants. Her expression seemed blank to me as she touched the welt on her neck.

The welt I had given her.

I saw her shoulders roll as she took a deep breath. She washed her hands, wetted a towel and rubbed a bar of soap into it. She dabbed at the wound, washed it off, then straightened. Her lips moved as she said something to her reflection, a hard and angry look on her face. Then she stepped from view.

I followed her into the bedroom, watching from above as she slipped out of her sweatpants and slipped on a pair of simple cotton panties and a loose T-shirt. Her next stop was the kitchen, where she took a Corona from the fridge. She found her purse on the counter. Michelle talked on her cell-phone for several minutes, grimacing and sighing often, blowing strands of damp blonde hair from her face. Then she hung up and fell into the chair across from her TV.

I watched for several minutes, and Michelle did not move. I was suddenly struck with a sense of self-loathing. Bad enough you hurt her, now you have to invade her privacy?

I slipped the board back in place over the spyhole in the living room and climbed onto my couch.

Tick . . . tock . . . tick . . . tock . . . .

***

I was surprised to find that over two hours had passed since I had left my voyeuristic perch. Two more beers had rekindled both my libido and curiosity. I scrambled to the floor and pulled back the board, looking down . . . .

She wasn't in the living room. The TV flickered, casting ghostly light across the reflective surface of the glass coffee table. It seemed to accentuate the loneliness of the room. I moved to the kitchen, the bathroom. Nothing. Then I pulled up the little square section in my bedroom, and gazed down upon Michelle's bed.

She lay upon her back, eyes closed, mouth hanging open as her features twisted slightly. Her hands massaged her naked breasts. Her legs were spread wide open. And between them was the dark-maned head of another woman, her mouth obviously and fervently pressed to Michelle's shaved sex.

The woman was more buxom, more curvaceous than Michelle, her only similarity to my slender blonde neighbor being her complete nudity. Her head moved only slightly, long black hair spread out across a muscular back. Hands stroked slowly up and down Michelle's lean thighs. A full, round ass flexed now and then as her well-toned legs kicked slowly in the air.

After only a few moments of watching, Michelle reached down and grabbed her lover's head, her face flushed, her mouth slack. She pushed her hips up repeatedly, and I heard her faint gasps and moans as she came. Michelle's body tensed, and she squeezed her eyes, looking almost in pain. Then she fell back, sagging into her bed, her raven-haired lover remaining between her legs.

I could not help but think how beautiful Michelle looked at that moment, how satisfied. She panted as she recovered her breath, then smiled and giggled, stroking the other girl's hair. As she languished in bliss, her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I felt that she was looking directly at me . . . teasing me, perhaps, or . . . punishing me for having seen her at such an intimate moment.

I covered up the spyhole, got into bed, and spent the next few hours trying to sleep while listening to faint, muffled moans and giggles through the floor.

***

"Hey, Will, you okay?"

I looked up from my desk at Ramon's question. He and I had been busy with our own accounts for the previous few days, ever since that afternoon at the Blue Velvet Lounge. I tried not to think that I was purposely avoiding him, as if I blamed him in some way for what had happened between myself and Michelle.

I forced a smile, shuffled some papers. "Fine."

He gave me a funny look, stepped closer in my small office. "You been acting kind'a funny ever since we went to that strip club."

I tried to pass off my feelings with a shrug. "I just really don't like those places," I said. "I'm not into exploiting women." My response had been rehearsed; I rattled it off a little too quickly, I thought.

He scoffed. "What, you got a problem with chicks who like showing off their tits?" he asked.

I stared at him a moment, wanting to retort with something belligerent and politically correct. But I didn't. "Just some of them."

Ramon laughed. "Oh, don't tell me you're hung up on that bitch from the club. What happened? She give you a little somethin'-somethin' during the table dance? She—"

I glared. "You know what bothers me?" I asked curtly, cutting him off.

He frowned, his mirth vanishing. "What?"

"Guys who look at women like that and only see a pair of tits and a cute little ass. You don't know anything about them, you just assume they like what they're doing."

Ramon gave me a denigrating look. "Man, you've been working too hard," he said. "Chicks like that, that's all they know. Cocktease the guys, get their money, then they go home to whatever sugar-daddy or dyke bitch is waiting for them. That's what those chicks are all about. Who cares if they like what they're doing? They wanna show it off, I'm gonna look. And once in a while, when I get lucky, I do more than look."

He turned away from my desk, paused at the door. "You know, you oughtta try it some time, Will. Ain't never met someone who needed to get laid as bad as you do."

I frowned, my ire rising faster than I could control it. "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

Ramon fixed his dark eyes on mine. "Tell you what," he said. "You go back there, find that skinny little blonde you like. Then ask her how much it takes to buy her out. Guarantee she'll give you a price."

I ground my teeth. "A price for what?" I asked.

He laughed. "I know you ain't that stupid. Just ask her, Will. Then you'll know."

***

I hadn't watched Michelle in days, ever since that sapphic night with her dark-haired friend. I had mustered my willpower and decided I wouldn't violate her privacy any longer. That, and . . . maybe a part of me did not want to see someone else making her happy, or at least satisfied.

But Ramon's words rang in my ears for days. I tried to occupy myself with work, but all I could think about was Michelle. I could smell her, taste her, feel her against me, hear those sexy whimpers and girl-like squeals. I had gone back to smoking, and every time I lit up, I couldn't help but think of how sexy Michelle looked when she sucked on a filter.

I was obsessed, not necessarily with Michelle, but with what had happened that day. I needed some answers. I needed to know why she was the way she was . . . or at least a reason as to why that day had happened the way it had.

So on an overcast Sunday afternoon, finally giving myself a break from work, I went back to the Blue Velvet Lounge and took a little booth to myself. There wasn't much business in the place, and it seemed only a few girls were working. Cocktail waitresses in tight, sleeveless tuxedo shirts and tiny black shorts lounged around the bar, looking bored.