Enticed by a Rose

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. How did you get here, and how did everything go so terribly wrong? Well, not wrong, you realize, just crazy. Upside down. Inside out. You remember the bar, a dive operation with dust-caked lightbulbs and cracks in the vinyl covering the barstools. The kind of place you wouldn't be surprised to meet a dealer, a strung-out murder-for-hire, a low-rent call girl. But not someone like her, the woman in the corner, with legs even longer than her sky-high heels, a provocative but expensive dress tight around the ample bust and narrow hips. A wry smile playing on her full red lips, an expression that in retrospect gave the lie to her eyes, which were turned demurely downward and veiled by thick black lashes. The eyes said I don't know what I want. The lips said I'm going to take everything you have. You listened to the eyes. But you should have heard the lips.

You walk over to her, casually, as if you might have better offers on the other side of the room.

"Hiya, sailor. Can I buy a girl a drink?" You always play it light.

"Oh captain, my captain," she replies with a smile. Light herself, and apparently well read. You like that. "I'm drinking whiskey, mate." She pauses slightly on the last word, as if considering all its various meanings. It sends a flash of color to your brain and a pulse of blood engorges your genitals.

"I see you *are* buying," she says, glancing down at the bulge in your khakis. Again the double entendre. What to make of her, you ponder as you come back from the bar with a fresh drink and slide into the chair next to hers. You look at her legs, and imagine them wrapped around you, the stiletto heels of her shoes pushing into your thighs for extra leverage. Sweet pain.

"Not to sound cliche, but what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Her eyelashes sweep her cheek. "I got lost and I can't find my way home."

"Pity," you say with a smile, "perhaps I can help you."

"But only if I show you the way."

"Lead on," you whisper, your penis now so hard it is distinctly uncomforatble.

"Oh no, I never lead on, I always fulfill my promises," doe-eyed innocence above the playfully malicious lips.

You laugh. "I'll bet you do. Let me put this another way: let's get out of here."

She returns your laugh, an acknowledgment that act one, Wordplay, is over. "Fine, we can have it your way... perhaps. But do you mind if we stop by a friend's place first?"

You consider. "It depends on what kind of friend. But let's have tonight's motto be 'the more the merrier.'"

"Cliche aside, I was hoping you'd say that." She stands up, and the silk of her dress slips down her thighs. You think about sliding your hand up under the silk, but quickly realize she's not that kind of girl, not the kind to be rushed by an eagerness other than her own.

You follow her out, noting the easy grace with which her auburn hair is swept into a chignon at the nape of her neck. Small tendrils of hair have escaped their captivity and caress her creamy skin. Your tongue longs to do the same.

"Perhaps I should know your name?" you whisper into ear.

"Rose," she replies simply over her shoulder, as if it's not all that important. She does not ask for yours. She leads you to her car, a small, sporty affair in midnight blue.

You hop in the passenger seat while Rose starts the engine and slips the gear shift into drive. Her hand brushes your crotch lightly as it moves back to the steering wheel, feeling the bulge you are still sporting.

"Good boy," she smiles and releases the clutch.

A short drive brings you in front of a small bungalow, its windows aglow with warm light, snuggled in the shrubbery. Rose gets out of the car slowly while you watch her curves bend and stretch. You follow her to the front door; she does not knock but simply grabs the doorknob.

"She's used to my coming," Rose says with a smirk. "And going."

The room you enter is inviting and neat, furnished simply but comfortably. A young woman stands up from a low sofa. She is wearing an almost transparent black robe, untied, and you notice she is nude underneath except for a garter and stockings. She is smaller than Rose, thin without being bony, her long dark hair worn in a low ponytail. Small tight rosebud breasts lurk in the shadowy folds of her garment. Rose gives her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Meet my new friend," she says.

You have never been introduced to a naked person before, and are unsure of the protocol. You put out your hand awkwardly.

"Pleasure to meet you," you say, trying to be coy.

"Is that any way to greet a lady?" the young woman replies as she looks at your hand, then takes it in hers and guides it downward, pressing two of your fingers against her clitoris then into the crack of her vagina. Her pussy is smooth and bare, as befits her girlish physique. She guides your fingers back up to your mouth, which you willingly open for her; in fact you are having trouble breathing.

"My name is Violet," she states simply.

"Certainly not a shrinking one," you reply, regaining your composure.

Rose chuckles; you are glad you seem to have won points with her sense of humor. You are ready to settle in for the night, and notice a room in the back, a large bed covered in a soft white blanket revealing itself in the doorway. You wonder whether you should make the first move and try to herd your little flock back there.

Rose seems to read your mind. "Don't get too comfortable here, because we're going out again. The night is young, and there are miles to go before we sleep."

Violet grabs a simple wrap dress and replaces her robe with it. She slips on some strappy sandals by the door, and both she and Rose are outside in the night. You can't believe you have both of them here, alone with you, and yet they are all but gone. You are in no condition

to travel, but you have no choice but to follow. The car is a two-seater, so Violet has to sit on your lap while Rose drives. You are not complaining. Her small buttocks bounce around on our crotch, helping to maintain your state of arousal. Almost absent mindedly, she takes your hand and slips it under her dress, on top of her breasts. They are small and pleasing, but they only serve to remind you of Rose's large full breasts, so close to you but as yet so

unavailable. Funny, you haven't even touched Rose, and it's all you can think about doing.

The car stops in front of a low, nondescript building on an out of the way street. A large man quietly waves the three of you inside, into a large but intimate room that is soothingly lit, with comfortably upholstered chairs clustered around various tables. It looks like an

upscale strip club, because on one side of the room there is a runway with a pole at the front. But there do not appear to be any strippers, and the wait staff is provocatively but discreetly dressed in bustiers and short skirts. You are ushered to a table.

"Where are the strippers?" you ask Rose as you sit down next to her,

placing your hand casually on her thigh.

She leans over to whisper in your ear. "Darling, strippers are for little boys. And you aren't a little boy, are you?"

She taps the crotch of your pants to make her point. She looks into your eyes, and then begins to kiss you, her tongue pushing open your lips and swelling into your mouth, pulsing in time with your increasing heart rate. You feel as if an electric current is passing through you, every nerve on end. Suddenly, she and Violet stand up.

"We must do something now," Rose tells you. "And you must promise that whatever happens, you will not get out of that chair." She begins to walk away. "And you must also promise that you will not cum," she adds with a smile.

Initially you are confused, thinking she is telling you not to come, not to follow them. Are they leaving you here? But soon you see them tripping lightly up the few steps onto the runway. Rose stands with her back on the pole and reaches up, grasping the pole with both hands above her head. She slides her back down the pole a little and bends her knees. Violet quickly gets on her knees in front of Rose and slides her silky dress up her thighs. She grabs Rose's haunches and

thrusts her head between Rose's legs. You know she is probing and sucking Rose's pussy, but Rose's thigh and dress are maddeningly locking you from that precious view. Others in the room are not so hampered, however, and all eyes turn towards the two women. It is as

if the room is holding its breath, watching while Rose writhes and groans.

But the next thing you know she is standing upright, surveying the audience. She points to someone and crooks her finger, beckoning. Who is the lucky one? A young man in a suit and tie, seated with some other young men, stands and slowly comes forward. He is a bit

embarrassed, and had clearly planned on just watching the show at this exhibitionists' club rather than participating. But still he walks onto the runway.

"Duty calls," you say grimly as you watch Rose undo his belt and pulldown his pants.

His cock is large and hard, clearly ready for action. Rose smiles at him and walks back over to the pole, this time facing it, grabbing it and bending forward, hiking up her dress over her hips. This time your vision is unimpeded, and you watch mesmerized as her beautiful pink pussy unfolds beneath her spread buttocks, like a flower waiting for its sting. The young man quickly obliges, grabs her loins and thrusts himself inside. Her knuckles turn white for a moment while she takes the full force of the impact, then she relaxes and begins to move with him, his red cock sliding in and out, glistening with her juices. You think about getting up from the chair, pushing

him aside and banging on her yourself. But you are a man of your word and you stay seated. Why is she doing this to you, you wonder? Then you see her look over her shoulder, directly at you, with a secretive smile playing on her lips. And you understand: this is not just for

her—oh, make no mistake, it is definitely for her—but it is also for you, and her look tells you to sit back, relax, and enjoy, your turn will come.

It is apparently too much for a perky blond at the table next to yours, and she runs over to you, undoes your zipper and releases your straining cock from bondage, slips it into her wet pussy and begins grinding down on it with short grunts. You begin to thrust into her

and think about cumming, but then you remember your second promise, made clear to you now, and you quit moving and look instead up at Rose, who is still being pounded by the young man. And Violet, that little oral scamp, has torn Rose's dress off her breasts and is tickling the tight, red nipples with her tongue. The little blond notices your gaze, and she slowly stops as well.

"Yeah, I see what you mean," she says and pulls off you, leaving you in exquisite agony.

You are not sure how much more of this you can take. It seems crazy, but the only woman you want to fuck is currently being fucked by another man. The young man is gearing up for his big finale, his muscles clenching as he works vigorously in and out of Rose's beautiful slit. He groans hugely and all but collapses on his knees, out of breath. Rose simply stands and pulls her dress back down; her breasts are hanging out of her torn dress, and you and everyone else in the room can't take their eyes off them. The young man quietly returns to his table; his friends are too much in awe to congratulate him. Rose and Violet return to your table. Your first instinct is to grab Rose and start suckling her nipples. You are ready to take her right there on the table, you ache so much. But she pushes you back in your seat. Still, you will not be denied.

"Shall we go get the car?" you suggest.

All you want is to get her back to the bungalow and start fucking her hard.

"Oh, I don't know that I could wait as long as all that, could you, Violet?" Rose laughs lightly. "Follow me. I think the club can indulge our desire for a bit of privacy."

The three of you head towards a hallway off to the side of the main room. Rose beckons a man who looks like he belongs to the club, whisper briefly in his ear, then reaches in his pocket languorously for a set of keys. With a sleek smile, she squeezes his arm then starts walking away. You and Violet almost compete with each other to catch up with her. You realize Violet is in this for more than the game.

Rose leads you to a large but intimate feeling room at the end of the hallway. Soft lighting from wall sconces reflect off the creamy plaster walls and the huge expanse of windows that cover one end of the room. A comfortable arm chair resides in one corner, and a large bed covered with soft furs takes center stage. Rose invites you to take a seat in the arm chair. You oblige.

You don't notice the leg shackles attached to the chair legs until Violet has already incarcerated you in them. You look up at Rose in dismay, pleadingly, but she only sneers back, beautifully, of course, but still it is a look of pure torture. Violet sneers at you differently as if to say, did you really expect to win this? She turns back to Rose, who has by this time splayed herself across the furs and has begun to caress herself. Violet uncharacteristically roughly pushes her hands aside and begins to suck and lick the gorgeous pussy. This time it is all there for your view, Violet's red tongue probing and caressing, her lips sucking as if she were lapping at ambrosia. In fact, you reason, she is. Her hands creep up to Rose's large heaving breasts and pinch the nipples lightly. By this time Rose has closed her eyes, wrapped her fists in Violet's long hair, and is rocking and groaning in ecstasy.

You pull against your shackles. They do not give at all; Tantalus never had it so hard, you think- literally. You put your hands under the seat cushion to keep yourself from trying to pry off the shackles with your fingers. Suddenly you feel something: a small key. It's worth a shot. You quickly bend over and find the keyhole on the shackles. The key fits: you decide you do believe in miracles after all. Rose opens her eyes as you release yourself, and she smiles at your ingenuity, or luck. You wonder if she knew that key was there. Of course she knew.

She unwinds her hands from Violet's hair and runs them down her flanks, her index fingers both seeming to point at Violet's buttocks, which are cantilevering off the edge of the bed as she spread-kneels over Rose's legs. By this time you are beginning to understand Rose's mind, at least as she wants you to understand it, and you immediately grab Violet by her slender hips and force yourself into her pussy from behind. She gasps for a moment, but continues her ministrations to Rose, who has regained her focus on the pleasures being done to her. She knows exactly what she is doing, you think, as you pound into Violet but stare at Rose... from a distance. The only flesh of hers you can feel are her toes which reach up occasionally to tickle your balls. You don't want Violet, tempting as she is, and yet here you are, fucking her, while Rose remains at bay.

Suddenly Rose pushes her feet sharply against your hipbones and you stumble back, your cock dripping with Violet's juices. It's just in time for you to see Rose arch her back and groan in such an exquisite way you are sure she must be passing out. Violet, exhausted, collapses to Rose's side, her hand unthinkingly passing its way over Rose's belly to rest on her breasts. Rose sits up slightly to appraise the situation of your dick. You are still hard and needy.

"I am impressed," she says with a slight smile. "You even made it through the shrinking Violet, unscathed."

"Perhaps not unscathed, but still unsheathed" you reply with hesitant pride, not knowing what your immediate future holds.

Rose turns to Violet and caresses her cheek. "What shall we do with him, my dear? They so rarely make it to this point in the proceedings."

Violet, half asleep, mumbles, "Kick him out. You never keep them any longer than this. He's a lucky boy already."

"True, true," Rose responds. "And yet there may be some value in him yet."

Rose walks over to the door and gives it a small tap. Two men enter immediately and escort Violet out of the room when Rose points to her and then the door. Violet looks betrayed, but too tired to fight. She knows she has nothing real to worry about.

Finally, it is just you and Rose in the room, together. You suddenly realize that you have as yet hardly touched her. You are overwhelmed by a sense of tenderness. Gently you go over to her and remove the remnants of her clothing. Your hands run through her silky hair, over her full breasts and down her hourglass waist and hips. She is almost too beautiful to touch beyond this, you think. And yet, you know it will go beyond this. Your mouth finds hers and you softly kiss her generous lips, which return your gentle passion...and begin to charge it up. Harder and harder you kiss, your tongues grappling each other. Suddenly you feel yourself internally combust, and you grab her and fling her to the window. She spreads her palms on the glass and her thighs for your cock, and you don't waste a moment to shove yourself into her, one hand on wrapped around her belly to help weather your powerful thrusts, the other curled in her hair and tugging her head back. You know there well may be people on the street watching the scene you are enacting, but you don't care. Like Rose, you welcome the spectacle."The more the merrier," you think smugly to yourself. Then you lose yourself in ecstasy.

She screams. You groan and shudder, then collapse. She falls slowly on top of you. All is black.

Weak light seeps through your eyelids and you awaken slowly. Looking around, you realize you are still in the back room at the club. No one else is in the room. Your ankles feel sore and cold, and you try to move your foot up to your hand. You cannot, for you are back in the chair, in the shackles that so inconveniently held you the night before. But not for too long. You smile as you reach under the seat for the key. But it is not there. Instead, there is something smooth and creamy. You pull it out: a rose petal.

You don't know how long you will have to wait before someone discovers you. And you have a feeling you will never see Rose again, no matter how many times you go to that dive bar, or even to this club. But you don't really care. The torture, the pain, the evanescence of it all. It was worth it. Life, you reckon, as the shackles cut your skin and your body feels like jelly, is good.