tagExhibitionist & VoyeurDesiree Ch. 03: Diva's Sharp Clause

Desiree Ch. 03: Diva's Sharp Clause

byDoctorOh©

My pursuer was so close now I could see her eyes glowing emerald green in the darkness. All I could do was keep running, but I was exhausted and she was relentless.

A few seconds later, she took me down. Her sharp claws tore away my dress and left bleeding scratches on my skin. Her blond dreadlocks swirled around her head and whipped my face. Her breath was hot against my skin in the cold moonlight. Her eyes stared straight into my soul, while her lips parted in a feral smile, showing her dazzling, sharply pointed teeth.

Her tongue was all over my body, starting at my breasts and moving down. It wasn't wet and smooth like I expected, but instead was rough and sandpaper-scratchy. Like the tongue of a cat.

She dragged her tongue through my pussy. Even though it was rough, it slid easily because I was soaking wet. I moaned as a long finger went up my ass. Thank God she had sheathed her claws.

Her mouth opened onto my clit. She sucked it up into her mouth and assaulted it with her tongue. The pleasure was almost unbearable. Then she bit down, her needle sharp teeth stabbing into the most sensitive part of my body. I screamed in pain. I climaxed uncontrollably.

And then I woke up.

* * * * *

I untangled my nude body from soaked sheets. It had been a hot night, but I knew the sheets weren't just wet from sweat. I touched between my legs and found a seemingly bottomless pool of creamy, slippery juice.

Another fucking wet dream about Melrose.

Melrose: a blazing-hot hip hop diva with an insane combination of beauty and talent, her debut album had just gone platinum. She had a naughty reputation, and her team decided to leverage it by doing a photo shoot of her partying in a strip club, including closeups of the young diva with a hot, sexy stripper.

The club they chose was mine. The stripper she picked was me.

The photo shoot quickly spun out of control, as the kinky diva did desperately naughty things to me, forcing me into orgasm after soul-shattering orgasm in front of a crowd of onlookers. That night, she dragged me unwillingly to levels of ecstasy I never knew existed.

I despised the way she had toyed with me, but I couldn't forget the magic we had created together. A month had gone by, and I couldn't stop thinking about her. Dreaming about her.

It didn't help that the tabloids were full of pics from the photo shoot (the tamest ones), with headlines screaming things like "Melrose has private party with mystery woman in strip club." Some of the less tame shots made it onto porn sites. The whole city seemed to be buzzing about Melrose's "secret stripper girlfriend." My face was blurred in all the pics, but I still got asked several times a day if it was me.

I could (and did) deny it, but I couldn't deny my own emotions. Melrose was on my mind, under my skin, in my blood. I craved her desperately but swore I would die before I went back to her, and I was beginning to think I might.

I sat in bed watching the sun come up. I didn't need to get up for hours, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep again. As I lit a cigarette, my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I knew it was her before I looked.

I know you're thinking about me, the text said, because I'm thinking about you. Just fucking call me.

I stared at her words for several minutes before finally finding the strength to delete them. Not today, I thought. Today will be the day I forget you.

But I was very, very wrong.

* * * * *

When I walked into the club that evening, I knew something was off. There was an energy in the air, but a strange one. People seemed tense. They avoided eye contact with me. Nate, the club manager, had his door closed, which was rare.

"What's going on?" I asked Mac, the bartender.

"Boss wants to see you," he said. "Right away." He turned away and busied himself before I could ask any questions.

My stomach crawled with dread as I approached Nate's door. Had a customer complained? Were the cops here? Was I going to get fired? Or...was it something to do with Melrose?

Fuck it, I thought and boldly opened the door without knocking. I almost turned around, as my worst fears were confirmed. Nate was talking to Steve Shields, aka Steve the Suit, a high-end gopher at the record label that carried Melrose. He was the one who organized the photo shoot, and he seemed to relish his role as Melrose's fixer.

"Fuck you, asshole," I greeted Steve.

"Hey, watch your mouth," said Nate. I just ignored him; he was in Steve's pocket.

"Nice to see you too, Dez," said Steve. "We've been trying to reach you, but you're not returning our calls."

"So she sent you down to fetch me?"

"She tried to call you herself to let you know what's going on."

"Okay," I said. "So tell me what's going on and then get the fuck out of my life."

Steve paused for a moment, letting the suspense build. It was one of his tricks. He wanted to see if I'd ask again. If I did, it was a sign of fear or weakness or desperation, and it meant he'd already won. I waited him out.

"We need you for another photo shoot," he said.

"Oh HELL no," I said and spun around toward the door. I nearly ran into Bill, an enormous bouncer, who must have snuck in behind me before the door closed, stealthy despite his bulk. He was leaning back against the doorframe, and he wasn't moving aside. He'd obviously been stationed there to keep me from leaving. He had an apologetic look on his face.

"Hear him out," said Nate.

I considered throwing a shit fit, but I decided it would just look weak and foolish. I grabbed the chair next to Steve and dragged it over to the side wall, where I'd be able to see all three of them.

"No fucking way," I said. "I won't do it."

"You have to," said Steve. "It's in the contract you signed for the first shoot. There's a clause that gives us an option to do another shoot. We're exercising that option."

"The fuck it says that."

"The fuck it doesn't," he said, sliding a copy acoss the the floor to me. "Fourth page. Halfway down."

I picked it up and scanned the page. Sure enough, there it was. As far as I could tell, it said I would have return the $20k they'd paid me for the first shoot if I refused to honor the option. That gave me pause. I had plans for that money. Luckily, though, most of it was still parked at my local credit union.

"Fine," I said. "I'll give you back the money." Steve laughed.

"Not that simple, sweetheart," he said. "Remember the liquidated damages clause?"

My dread spiked to a new level. The liquidated damages clause required me to pay Melrose's record label an additional $50,000 if I did anything that caused the cancellation of the original shoot once it was scheduled. It was the leverage they'd used to force me to do some freaky stuff in that shoot.

"It also applies to a second shoot, if we exercise the option," Steve told me helpfully.

I flipped to the page it was on. I read it quickly, and it seemed that he was right. I read through it again more slowly. On the third reading, I spotted it: my way out.

"Sorry, Stevie," I said with a triumphant smile. "It says scheduled shoots. This one isn't scheduled yet. And the option expired three days ago, so it's too late now."

"Actually, it's been scheduled for about two weeks," he said. "Which you would know, if you'd read any of the emails we sent to notify you."

Well, fuck me sideways.

"Nate?" I asked. "You're really gonna let them trash the club again?" Now I was just grasping at straws.

"It's gonna be at Mel's place," said Steve.

"Mel?" I said. "You got nicknames for each other? How adorable. What does she call you, Suit Boy?" It looked like I was going to lose the argument, but at least I could be bitchy about it.

A tiny trace of anger flared on his face, but it was gone in an instant. Interesting. For a moment, I toyed with the idea of trying to provoke a bigger response. If I could get him to slap me or maybe even just yell at me, maybe Nate and Bill would remember they had penises and stick up for me (no pun intended). But I knew Steve dealt with Melrose every day, so his skin must have been thick to the point of being bulletproof. And Steve would certainly have lined the pockets of Nate and Bill well enough to ensure their loyalty.

Suit Boy stood and stretched, then started toward the door as Bill scrambled out of his way. He paused for a moment before exiting.

"It's gonna be a week from Friday," he said. "I know you normally work that night, but Nate has graciously agreed to give you the night off. We'll send a car for you at 9:00."

Bill the bouncer slipped away. The door was unguarded and now I could leave whenever I wanted. But all I could do was sit there, wallowing in my defeat.

"I'm sorry about this," Nate said. "I really am."

"No you're not, you lying piece of shit," I answered. He shrugged.

"Have it your way," he said. "If you want to fight them, I know some lawyers."

"No thanks," I said, finally rising to my feet. "I already have one."

* * * * *

Maximilian Cordero, Esquire, was prompt as always. He showed up at the hotel room with a single rose, bless his heart.

Max was medium height, his body beefy but a bit soft. His curly brown hair and short beard were just beginning to show traces of gray. He looked and felt a bit like a life-sized teddy bear.

"Fucking hell, Dez," he said. "Where have you been for the last month? I really missed you."

"Sorry, babe, just had some personal stuff going on," I said, feeling twinges of guilt and regret about losing a month of my life while wrestling with my feelings about...her. Anyway, Max was all smiles, excited as ever to see me.

"Well, I'm glad you remembered my birthday's coming up," he said. "Speaking of which...what's this big birthday surprise you were promising me?"

"That would be me," said my best friend Jasmine, intoxicatingly nude as she stepped from the bathroom. Well, not entirely nude...she had a red ribbon around her neck, tied at her throat into a pretty bow.

And far from nude, actually, if you included the tattoos. My gorgeous Asian friend's slender body was a work of art. Dragons, serpents, flowers, ninjas and geishas began at her shoulders and travelled intricate paths all the way down to her tiny, delicate feet. Her breasts, surprisingly large for such a petite girl, rose from the fray like mountains in the mist. Mountains topped by radio antennae, I guess, as her cute nipples flashed metallic piercings.

"Fucking hell," said Max.

"Calm down, sweetie," I said. "Put your eyeballs back in your head and stop drooling. This is my friend Jasmine, she's been dying to meet you."

"Hi," she whispered, playing shy as she extended a dainty hand. Instead of shaking it, he raised it to lips and kissed it.

"Oh my," she giggled. "Such a gentleman."

There was instant chemistry between them, as I had expected. I knew Max would be smitten, because, well, he had eyes. As for for her...I knew my exquisite co-worker had a lifelong passion for teddy bears. I'd spent some time in her bed, fighting for space with her large collection of furry critters.

"There's beer in the fridge," I said, "and I think I saw a big fat blunt around here somewhere. Let's sit down and chat a bit, so you too can get acquainted. And then you can fuck each other's brains out."

The chatting lasted through only about half of the blunt, and then Jaz lay back on the bed and started caressing herself and moaning. Max slipped out of his clothes, climbed onto the bed and buried his face in her delicious pussy. It was on.

Max was a skilled and considerate lover. He had a talented mouth and liked to use it. Jaz was making strange but sexy noises. Her hands gripped his hair as she seemed to be trying to push his entire head inside her. His hands slid under her, and he gripped and raised her ass, enhancing his angle of attack. She screeched and shuddered, enjoying what would be the first of many orgasms that evening.

I had already stripped, but instead of joining them, I settled back in my chair to watch the show. I wasn't quite ready to party yet. I needed to get my mind off of a certain green-eyed tigress who stalked me in my dreams. My thoughts started to drift again, until Jaz rolled Max onto his back and straddled him. It was about to get real.

Jasmine had the sexiest hair I'd ever seen. Ass-length, jet-black, brilliantly shiny and utterly subservient to her will. When she was on top, her hair was the show. One second it would be wildly out of control, flying around her head like a cloud. Then she would twitch her head, and all her hair would snap together into a tight coil, which she could twirl and crack like a whip.

And tonight, her hair was bringing out its A-game. Max lay mesmerized beneath her. Jaz slammed her hips into him, approaching her next O. His average-sized cock, which was sometimes a bit underwhelming for me, was perfect for tiny Jaz. She often complained to me about her struggles with well-endowed lovers.

Meanwhile, I leisurely fingered myself, enjoying a slow build. My pussy was getting nice and wet. I removed my dripping fingers from my slit and smeared the magic potion on my nipples. I loved how it made me feel like a decadent slut.

On the bed, Max had recovered from the hypnotic effects of Jaz's hair. He had rolled her onto her back before morphing from considerate lover into Teddy Bear From Hell. He pounded her without mercy.

"GIVE ME THAT FUCKING COCK!" Jaz screamed as she exploded into a massive orgasm. He didn't slow down as her climax faded; instead he pushed the pace even harder, and I could see her eyes roll back as the next wave overtook her...

* * * * *

I hugged Jaz as she was heading out the door. I held her that way for a long time, not caring if a lucky passerby caught sight of a bare-assed ebony beauty making out with a barely dressed, tattooed sex goddess.

"Thanks baby," I whispered, kissing her on the lips while Max snored on the bed.

"I should be thanking you," she said. "That was so fucking hot. I wish I could stay, but I gotta work tonight. I'm covering for Charlotte."

"No worries," I said. "I'm sure Max won't mind doing this again." A hint of anxiety crossed her face.

"About that," she said. "He kind of, ummm, slipped me his number." I kissed her again, slipping in some tongue in appreciation for her loyalty.

"Go ahead and call him," I said. "He and I are both ready to move on, and it's obvious you two are meant for each other. Just don't let on that you told me. Let him feel like a player."

"Thanks, beautiful," she said, and we kissed again.

I watched as her sweet little ass danced with her mini skirt while she walked away. It looked like she was wearing stockings that laced up the back of her legs, but I knew those were tattoos. As she reached the landing to the stairs she turned back to me.

"Good luck on Friday," she said with a wink, and then she was gone. I stood there in openmouthed surprise. How did she know about Friday? I hadn't told anyone. Only Nate and Bill had been in the room when Steve delivered the ultimatum, and they were both known for being tight-lipped.

I snapped back to the present when I noticed some dude in the parking lot staring up at me in all my naked glory. I retreated into the room and closed the door. I got back into bed, snuggled with with Max and fell asleep.

I woke up tp see Max sitting up in bed, smoking a cigarette and playing with his phone.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," he said. He handed me his cigarette and I took a drag.

"Did you like your birthday present, baby?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Oh FUCK yeah!" he said. "That was amazing! Jaz is so..."

He was going to say more, but stopped himself. He had a secret little plan, and he didn't want to raise my suspicions. I stifled a chuckle. Men are so transparent.

"It was great," he said, kissing my forehead. "You can bring her along anytime. Uh, anytime you feel like it, I mean..."

"So Maxxie..." I said, batting my eyes and biting my lower lip. He laughed.

"Yeah babe," he said. "The legal thing. Did you bring it?"

"Yeah." I handed it to him.

"Let me take a look," he said, and almost immediately he laughed.

"I KNEW that was you in the photos," he said. I rolled my eyes.

"You and everyone else in LA," I said.

"Hey, ummm...I saw some pics online...was that a, uh..."

"A plug up my ass, yeah."

"Oh wow. I wish I'd known you're into anal."

"I'm NOT, ok?" My voice rose a bit as the anger flowed back into me. "It wasn't my fucking idea."

"Oh...sorry," he said. I forced a smile.

"It's okay," I said. "So about that document.."

"Yeah, I'm on it," he said.

After a few minutes, he set the document aside.

"So," he said, "you're trying to..."

"...get out of the second photo shoot," I finished.

"It's not crystal clear whether you can or not," he said. "But I can kind of give you both sides of it, if that would help."

"It definitely would, Max."

"Okay, here it is," he said. "I'll do another read, but here's my first take. The contract itself is really tight, as you'd expect. They do a lot of litigation in the entertainment business. There aren't any obvious holes in it that you could attack. Plus, you're required to go through arbitration. That probably works against you. Arbitrators aren't usually trying to set landmark legal precedent, they're more about interpreting and enforcing contracts."

"Ugh," I said. "Is there any good news?"

"Well, if you step back and look at the big picture, it's kind of draconian to force someone to do something like that, and a judge or jury might consider it be unenforceable. But that's kind of a crapshoot, and it wouldn't be easy to get the case moved out of arbitration. And If you lose, then you gotta come up with the $50k, plus find a way to pay your lawyers.

"Alternatively, you could go to the media and try to make this a #MeToo case. But they've anticipated that, and there's some language rhat would make it riskier to do that. Plus, your entire life would be picked apart and publicly scrutinized, you might not want that."

"No," I agreed. "So my only other option..."

"Just do the shoot," he said. "If you want, I'll hit them up for a llttle more money, They probably won't care much, it's small potatoes to them. And it would make them look a bit more humane and reasonable, in case they have to defend their conduct later."

"Fucking cocksuckers," I said.

"My advice is just go do it," he said. "It's just a photo shoot. How bad can it be?" I laughed at him bitterly.

"You have no idea," I said.

* * * * *

A large, uniformed, clean-shaven black man was at my door at precisely 9:00 pm. Muscles bulged inside his dark suit, and he was actually kind of sexy, although he looked to be well into middle age.

"Your car is here, miss," he rumbled. He looked like he would be more than capable of throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me if I resisted, but I was resigned to my fate. I gave him a cheerful smile.

"Let's get it over with," I said, following him toward the stairs.

I had gotten a massage in the morning and then pampered myself with a manicure, pedicure, facial and Brazilian wax. The entire afternoon had beem dedicated to soothing music and meditation. And I was stoned as fuck for good measure. Even so, the butterflies were back in my stomach. Butterflies? No, more like angry hornets. I was throwing my fate into the hands of an evil, sadistic snake who felt like she had unfinished business with me. And I really had no idea how far she might take this.

The "car" was a super-stretch Hummer. My escort opened the door and I stepped into darkness. I heard female giggles, and someone shushing them.

Someone grabbed my hands. I felt cold metal on my wrists and heard a double click. I was handcuffed.

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