Club Paradise Ch. 02

Frank laughed, "Wow, that's an actual session?"

"It's a culturally common high school trope, isn't it?" She looked at him, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"For sure -- but do you supply the joint, or do I? I mean, either way..." Frank trailed off.

"The session comes with one. If we end up wanting another, though..." Now she abandoned her sentence too, mirroring him.

"Done deal!" Frank nodded. "How does it work?"

"You go to the iPad and enter the details," Ms. Mandible said from behind the desk.

Frank was momentarily startled as he had totally forgotten she was there. He flushed for a moment, but only a moment.

The iPad was in Kiosk mode, with a wallpaper image of the pink cursive club logo. There was a big yellow button that said "Begin." When he pressed it, the screen populated with a gallery view of beautiful headshots. There were at least fifteen women, all model-beautiful and done up with sparkle & glamor. He assumed they corresponded to the dancers currently on shift.

Darcy said, "Allow me," and stepped in front of him. She passed her wrist over the iPad and Frank saw she had on a tiny bracelet. Immediately, Darcy's headshot came up. It was stunning -- she was made up in glam silver eyeshadow and hot pink lipstick. Her high-contrast blue eyes shone with light.

The right half of the screen had a new menu. The first entry was "Detention", and the next few were visible as well:

"Uniform Code Violation"

"I Want to be a Cheerleader!"

"Snuck-Out Stepdaughter"

"The Substitute Teacher"

"Helping Her with Homework"

"Precocious Prom Date"

Darcy scrolled quickly down to the second page and selected "#17: Smoke under the Bleachers". She looked at him for approval and, of course, he assented -- he could sense she had a plan, and he wasn't about to countermand her.

She stepped aside to let him continue, and he pressed enter.

A page came up showing Darcy's latest STI screening, from a week ago. There was a place to self attest to that he was, likewise, free of STIs, with a healthy legal penalty for lying. He knew he was clean -- it had been about six months since he had had sex with anyone.

There was a list of add-ons next, and he checked the "Souvenir Program" option. A box appeared for him to enter his email, which he did. On the last page, he signed his signature with his finger, and pressed the "Finish Up!" button.

"A fine choice," Ms. Mandible opined from behind the desk. "Will that be cash or charge? We also accept ApplePay, PayPal, CashApp and Venmo."

Frank was impressed, but was more than prepared for a cash transaction. He pulled a fold of hundreds from his back pocket and counted out twenty, turning back to face the desk.

"Thank you, young man," replied Ms. Mandible, as she took the stack of cash without batting an eye. She slid two hundreds back to him and said, "This is from Coach Johnson."

Frank took one, and slid the other back to her. "Give him my thanks, and half of this; the other half is for you."

Ms. Mandible took the hundred dollar bill with a brisk nod, "Such a gentleman. Okay." This was businesslike and proper. "I see you opted for the Souvenir Package. I have a code that we email you, so you can access the pictures and video of Darcy in that outfit. The files are forensically encoded, and if you upload them to any websites, we'll know it was you." She shook her finger at him sternly, "They're for your eyes only, young man, do you understand?"

He nodded his agreement.

Satisfied, Ms. Mandible gestured to Darcy, who nodded back, and then she reached down into a drawer of her desk.

"This is for the session."

Ms. Mandible handed Darcy a plastic tube with an average looking cone preroll inside, and then gave them both a huge smile.

"Alright kids, have fun! You are dismissed." She pointed at the exit doors.

Darcy grabbed Frank's hand and pulled him out of the office. She took off at a clip down the far hall, and he rushed to keep up. Only every other light fixture was illuminated, and the hallway was shadowy as they went deeper inside the closed school.

When they reached the end of the hallway, Darcy pushed open the big double doors, and they went into a vast, darkened gymnasium. Their steps echoed, as she led them across the wooden floor. Her high heels sounded like rifle shots.

The place seemed oddly familiar to him, as a type anyway. As an event tech, Frank had spent more time in gymnasiums as an adult than he ever had in high school. He was always with a group of sweaty guys, though; and not a model-hot vamp in a smoking outfit.

Darcy led him behind the bleachers, and then under their spindly truss structure. Without a word, she pushed him up against the faux wood-grained wall and kissed him passionately, thrusting her tongue all around his throat. Her hands sandwiched his head on either side, running all over his ear and up into his hair as she kissed him.

Frank was caught by surprise at the assault and gasped for breath, before returning her kiss. Her hands were behind his head now, pulling him in towards her. After a minute or two of mad necking, Darcy broke it, pulling off his lips. Her teeth lightly dragged at his bottom lip before it popped free.

"I've seen you checking me out in homeroom." She fixed him with a mock glare, her blue eyes flashing like lightning. Then she grinned an evil grin, "Maybe I like it. Maybe I'm a little slut who likes it."

She writhed up and down in front of him, and came in with her mouth open, and just barely grazed his lips. "Don't I look like a little slut who likes it?" She leaned back, pushing her chest out. Her arms pressed in against her sides, and her cleavage was huge and round above her top.

"You've been staring at these tits ever since I walked into the club. You should feel me up," she whispered, "like you've been dreaming about."

Frank reached out and lightly touched her skin, beneath her throat, but she was having none of that. She grabbed Frank's hands and pulled them to her breasts, pushing them up from underneath. Frank opened his fingers and closed his hands around her tits, outside her shirt. They were so firm, but also so soft, big and squishy. More than handfuls, they pushed up against the cushioning of her bra and spilled over.

"Oh yeah, you fucking player, just like that," she moaned into his neck.

He slid his hands down, and then up under her shirt, grasping her more directly. He put his massage skills to work on these glorious tits, working them with strong, measured motions. These were some of the biggest, nicest, natural tits he had ever touched. As a sometime "hobbyist" -- escorts, dommes, clubs -- he had seen some truly astounding bodies, up close and personal; but none of them could quite measure up to Darcy, for sheer voluptuous perfection.

Through all of this pawing and groping, her face was right in his, not six inches away. When she wasn't encouraging him with dirty talk, she was making a series of shocked, but delighted faces, both her eyes and mouth open wide, as if in response to his touch. Frank slipped one hand down again and this time worked it up under her bra. Her breast flesh was heavy and mushy, as his fingers pushed their way up over it.

"Fraaaaaank, oh yeah," moaning right into his face, her breath hot on his cheeks.

He teased her nipple with his fingers, feeling the force of her bra elastic pressing down against his hand, as his other hand pushed up over her other breast. The bra over both hands now, he worked both tits together, pushing them against each other, and then sliding his hands over their flattened curves back in between them and pulling them apart again. He cupped them both in his hands, kneading and squeezing with deliberate, even tension.

Her heroic stretch shirt bubbled out with all the action under it. The continually moving silver fabric reflected a barely perceptible dapple of light all around them. She brought her mouth over his to kiss him again, as his fingers flickered against both of her erect nipples. Then she pulled back, gently guiding his arms out from under her bra.

"You know what, Mister Handsy, you have got quite the fingers," she said, watching as he adjusted the visible boner in his pants. She took a moment to rearrange her bra and tits, smoothing down the fabric of her shirt and plumping out her cleavage. "A girl could get used to this."

Frank just waited -- he'd given himself over to her and would do anything she said.

"So, it's a little drafty back here -- do you want to go to one of the rooms instead, and get more comfortable?" Her already high voice went up into a question, and she nodded her head slightly.

"Sure," Frank agreed, "As long as you come, too."

"Oh, I'd better come at least twice." Her finger jabbed into his chest, "Or else you're in big trouble, mister."

With that, she scampered along the wall under the whole length of the bleachers, dragging him along behind her. They came out from under the seats on the other side of the gym, and exited through a pair of doors on the far wall.

The doors opened onto a wide stairwell, with two broad landings. Darcy started up and Frank followed. He could see most of the way up her skirt as she climbed ahead of him, and her smooth, toned thighs were mouthwatering. The white thigh-highs clung to her curves, and seemed to shine in the dim light, while he could easily discern flashes of her hot pink panties under the shadow of her skirt. About halfway up she looked back and busted him staring.

At the top of the stairwell was another set of double doors with tall, thin, glass windows. On the other side was another long hallway of classrooms, stretching off onto darkness.

She skipped the first classroom on the left, and opened the door to the second. She glanced over her shoulder at him, "Don't worry, it's empty."

Frank followed her inside and looked around. The front half of the room still looked like the classroom it had once been -- a blackboard behind a large teacher's desk, and three rows of student desks facing front.

The back of the room, however, had been retrofitted into a lounge space, not unlike a hotel. There was a king size bed in one corner, and a couch and coffee table beside it.

Subtle, Frank thought. What he said was, "But can we smoke in here?"

Darcy fixed him with a look. "Yes we can fucking smoke in here, Handso. It's fucking Las Vegas, after all. There are no shortages of space on this 'campus' -- they actually only use every other classroom as a session room."

"What's in the other rooms?"

"Empty, mostly. Sometimes they use the empty rooms for storage, etc.. It means that nobody is gonna see or hear or smell anything we do in here." She held up the joint Ms. Mandible had given her. "You wanna light me up, big boy?"

Frank held up his finger. "Allow me." Darcy's eyes widened, but she didn't say anything. Frank pulled out his second plastic tube. Popping it open, he extracted its bedazzled contents and held the joint up for her to see.

Her blue eyes lit up when she saw the sparkles. "Oh yes. You're cooler than I thought, boy."

Darcy made her lips into a kissyface, and teased the end of Frank's joint all around them before sticking it right in the middle. The one they'd gotten from Ms. Mandible went down on the desk, forgotten.

Frank flamed his lighter and held it up to the smoke. Darcy inhaled a huge deep hit and held it in. "Fuck, yeah," she choked out, before tipping her head back and blowing a stream of smoke straight up to the ceiling.

Her head tipped back down again and she smiled, stretching her arm out towards Frank. Her fingers spun the joint so the flame was pointing back at her. Frank opened his mouth and took the joint between his lips without touching it. While Darcy held it for him, he pulled as deep as she had and felt the head rush.

"Goddamn," he said, once he exhaled. "I'm smoking top shelf grass with the hottest girl in school; and, she thinks I'm cool."

Darcy's eyes flashed as she heard this, and she snatched the stogy back.

"I didn't say you were cool." She pulled fast and hard, and exhaled the marijuana smoke right into his face.

"I said you're cooler than I thought." She sneered down at him.

He devoured her countenance, mesmerized by her bright eyes rimmed in black, her aristocratic cheekbones, her smooth skin white like a hotel sheet.

"Why would you..." she stuffed the joint back between his lips, "... think you're cool, eh?"

Frank inhaled with all his might -- who knew when she'd snatch it back?

"With a fucking T-shirt to a concert you didn't go to? And a fancy joint someone else rolled?" She snapped her fingers, and Frank passed the joint back. Another deep deep hit, and then, "Fuck you, you poser."

Trailing smoke from her mouth and nose like a dragon, she grabbed his shirt in her fist and pulled him towards her, "I am going to fuck you." She passed the joint, "But first, I'm gonna fuck with you."

Frank took his hit and just stared back at her, waiting for the next part. The joint was getting down to the end by this point.

"I'm gonna use you to get myself off, and if you do a good job at that then I'm going to blow your fucking mind. You have no idea how good I am at making men come."

Frank grinned, "I'm beginning to get a sense," and handed the smoke back, for her to finish off. Darcy sucked down the last quarter inch of the spliff, and then jammed the butt down onto the teachers desk.

Frank started, but then noticed that the desk was already well covered with blemishes and scratched initials. Darcy slowly walked backwards toward the bed in the back, pulling Frank along magnetically in her wake. When she got to the bed she jumped up on top and crouched on her hands and knees. Her ass was sticking up, and her skirt barely covering it, hiding her flesh from his view, just before where her butt cheeks started.

She looked over her shoulder at him, coquettishly. "Go ahead, Spicoli, check me out," she taunted him, waggling her ass from side to side; "Isn't this what you want, you fucking pervert? A hot girl giving you a peek up her skirt?"

He slowly advanced, and dropped down to one knee at the edge of the bed. Her platform heels were pointing right at him, as his eyes eagerly devoured the sight of her legs, the soft fabric of her skirt, and the shape of her ass underneath.

"You were pretty damn fresh with my tits earlier -- now cop a feel of this booty," she purred from the front. "This bitch wants your grabby little hands all over her ass."

Frank laid both of his hands lightly on top of her skirt. He felt the textile texture of the fabric first, and then pressed down a little harder. Her soft, squishy butt indented under his touch. Pushing harder he ran his fingers through the channel in the middle, and then separated his hands to grab one bubble butt cheek in each hand. He gave her a gentle spank, and she squealed in delight.

"Go under," she ordered; and his hand slipped beneath her skirt and caressed bare skin and her panties. Her flesh was hot to the touch, but her silk smooth underwear was cool. He slipped one hand underneath the tight panties, squeezing himself in there between her skin and the fabric. He took another bold handful of her ass cheek -- his fingers, under her panties, brushed against the wrinkled flesh of her starfish. He felt her quiver, and flickered the top of his finger ever so lightly against it.

She said, "Oh," in a strange tone of voice. Her hips arched, pushing her ass up into his face, turning her neck to look back at him. She reached back and flipped her skirt over her back, revealing what was underneath.

Frank bravely held her gaze as they stared at each other over her ass. Her hot pink panties were taut against her butt, as they ran down into her crack and disappeared.

"When one of those girls sticks her ass in your face, I know what you really want to do." Darcy was smiling evilly, now. "You want to go underneath those panties for real, don't you. You want to pull them away and get all up inside."

Frank slowly nodded, "...yes."

"Go on -- stick your finger in me! You've been madly groping the rest of me; but now it's time to explore inside."

Frank reached out and lightly grazed her panties with two of his fingers. They felt soaked. Then he slipped them underneath the fabric and touched her pussy for the first time. He felt her quiver when his fingers made contact. Her hidden flesh was warm and, as he suspected, already quite moist. He strained to reach her clit, and began to push it around in tiny little circles. He was mesmerized by the sight of his hand disappearing under her panties.

He leaned in and kissed her butt cheeks as he fingered her, listening to her moan in response. Her legs flexed up on either side of him, battering his shoulders with her high heels. He grabbed one foot with his free hand, as he continued to finger her pussy with the other; and massaged away at her toes and ankle. His face came down right into the fabric of her panties, as his hand underneath kept stimulating her. She was rocking on her knees, pushing herself against his fingers and his face. The foot that he wasn't massaging rubbed gently against his side as she shook.

Then with a final vigorous shudder, she stopped and pulled herself off of him. She spun around and came down on his lap, facing him. Her face was so so close, her nose brushing up against his. Without saying anything, she grabbed his hand and took it into her mouth. She licked her juices off his fingers like she was starving, and couldn't get enough. Through it all, her stare pinned him down, like a butterfly on a board. She slowly pulled his hand down out of her mouth.

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

There was that question again. Frank just nodded. He did. Also, his fingers had just been all the way up inside her pussy, so some sort of intimacy had already been established.

"Now I'm gonna break character for a moment. I'm not the hot goth flirting with the wannabe cool kid -- now, I'm the hot stripper talking to the older man underneath me."

Frank nodded, caught up in both fantasies at once.

"You like strip clubs, don't you? Like really like them, right?"

Frank nodded wordlessly.

"How many have you been to?"

"A bunch," Frank hedged a little, not knowing where this was heading.

"You look like a normie, but deep down, you like dirty dirty sluts, don't you. Fucking filthy bitches." There was a ring of pride in her voice.

Frank just nodded, caught in her spell, "Yes, I do. You said that earlier, and you're right." The phrase 'dirty sluts' was echoing in his thoughts.

"How many times have you looked down in between your legs at the beautiful woman dancing for you? How many times has your cock strained against the inside of your pants, while that hot bitch smiles up at you, her face just inches away from your boner?"

Frank knew better than to speak now.

"How many gorgeous, aggressively hot, glammed-up, out-of-your league women have sat in your lap and rubbed their perfect bodies against your pants to make you get hard?"

She gave him a sideways look and raised her eyebrows.

"This is not a rhetorical question -- I want to know. I want to know how many women I'll be flying past when I overwrite your stripper spank bank tonight."

Put on the spot, Frank was clearly at a loss to spit out an exact number.

Darcy started, "Let's figure it out together. How many years have you been going to clubs?"

"Well, since I was twenty, so twenty-five years." He could answer this, no problem.

"And how often do you go?"

Frank confessed, "I'd say the first eighteen years it was once or twice a year; but for the past seven years that I've been touring, it's every couple of months."

"When you're inside, you never just dance with one girl, right?"