tagRomanceKim's Valentine's Day Surprise

Kim's Valentine's Day Surprise

bylegerdemer©

Author's notes: This is an edited version of the original story, which was submitted in a rush to the Valentine's Day contest. My warmest thanks to Wylderos, the generous and perceptive reader who found most of the weak spots but was gentle in pointing them out. Any remaining mistakes are my own fault.

~~~~~

"Here goes...something," Kim said, as she sucked in air deeply, trying to fill her lungs. She was only moderately successful. She closed her eyes briefly, then pulled open the door to the club, moving from the nondescript parking lot lights into the club's warmth. Inside, she was enveloped in the blues and purples of soft neon bouncing off the dark-painted walls, their actual color hard to make out. She walked up to a small lectern where a gorgeous, perfectly made-up twenty-something hostess sat, chatting easily with a dark-haired man who looked to be in his forties. The hostess immediately smiled at her and subtly looked her up and down, not letting any judgement, if she'd made any, show. The man's eyes seemed to follow her as well, his expression verging on curious.

Kim pulled her shoulders up and straightened her spine, deciding it was too late back out now. "I should be on the guest list, I signed up earlier today, on the web site," she said a little breathlessly, and gave her name.

"Ah yes, of course, you're right here. You're... alone tonight? Your... husband, is it, he's not with you?

Kim shook her head. "No, not my husband. My ex-boyfriend. No, we're no longer together. I wasn't sure what I owe."

"Nothing, actually. The entry is free for single women. I see you haven't visited us in a couple of months. You may remember, the bar is through that door, and if you've brought any alcoholic beverages, just give them to the bartender. There're some finger foods right there, feel free to help yourself. And the play rooms are upstairs. Welcome back, we're so glad you joined us again."

As Kim listened, she was aware of the man now openly appraising her with a calm, confident, maybe even thoughtful gaze. Neither predatory nor judgmental - a rarity in her experience. These people must be great at hiding their judgments, she thought. Good thing, or she'd have bolted. Her courage was a thin veneer, barely covering her discomfort and fear. She nodded at the hostess and started to turn toward the entrance to the bar.

"We have a coatroom, if you'd like. We keep the club pretty warm..."

"Thanks, not yet. Maybe later," Kim said, hugging her arms across her open coat a little tighter, and moving away from the hostess and her companion.

She advanced through the door to the room that held the bar, the dance floor, and several large screen TVs playing porn flicks. The beat of the music was catchy enough but the dance floor was still empty. She wasn't ready yet to display herself publicly, so she turned toward the bar and handed over two mini-bottles of single malt whisky to the bartender. He looked them over and grinned appreciatively.

"Good taste. How'd you like those?"
 "Thanks," she answered, tilting her head ever so slightly in his direction to acknowledge his friendliness. "One ice cube, please."

He grabbed a glass, added an ice cube, and poured the contents of one of the bottles in it, then slid the glass across the bar to her.

"A little liquid courage for you. Cheers, my dear," he said, and smiled broadly at her before moving down the bar to fill other orders.

She sipped her drink slowly, trying to gather her courage about her. What a weird thing she'd done, coming to a sex club on her own. She was the only woman on her own so far, and though there were a few single men, most of the other patrons were in small mixed groups of three, four, or five. Low conversations hummed underneath the heavy drum machine beat, with the occasional peals of laughter. She discerned some of the voices were clearly relaxed while others were anxious and seemed slightly desperate. She didn't want to admit her anxiety out loud, though she felt it in her tight shoulders. She started playing a game with herself, trying to match voices she heard without looking to the people around her. And slowly, she felt her muscles beginning to unknot.

She felt movement behind her, a light touch on her waist that disappeared almost as soon as she'd become aware of it, as the man who'd been talking to the hostess at the door leaned on the bar next to her.

"Is the coat for warmth or is it armor?" he asked, getting right to the point.

She tensed, then forced herself to relax. His voice had been soothing and straightforward, calm enough to dissipate some of her reaction. He had an easy-going smile and pleasing, not flashy, good looks.

"A bit of both, I suppose. In truth." At least she owed him a civil answer, as uncomfortable as she was.

"May I take it then, your coat?"

"Uh, no, thanks, but I will take it off... soon," she smiled tentatively. Ummm, do you come here often?"

"I suppose. A couple of times a month. And you?"

"I've only come a couple of times total. It's been a while..."

He gave her a good-humored smirk, and she realized, embarrassed, of the double entendre.

"Is this your first time alone?" he asked.

She paused for a few seconds, deciding how to answer, and settling on the truth rather than a snappy comeback. Her snaps nearly always sounded bitchy and mean. She had no reason to lie, though the question was entirely too personal for her.

"Yes, my first time alone," she admitted. "My boyfriend and I split up, shortly after our last visit here."

His eyes, so dark in the low light of the room that the pupils were entirely lost in the irises, watched her intently, as if trying to read her. He didn't seem to be on the make, or if he was, he was being either very subtle or very cautious. Measuring her in some way she couldn't easily define.

"Did your break-up have something to do with the club?"

She nodded. "Yes. A... misunderstanding that, well, we just couldn't resolve. I suppose we should never have come..."

"His idea or yours?"

She shrugged, a defensive gesture, she knew. As if she was guilty of some disgusting sin....

"I thought it was his. He said it was mine."

"Ah, the old 'he said, she said... But you're back, so something must have attracted you."

"I'm not so sure. I suppose it's a bit like... like that cliché about falling off a horse and wanting to get back in the saddle before the fear completely overruns the pleasure."

"I see."

Did he really?

"Umm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I did, though, didn't I?" he continued.

She gave him a small smile, acknowledging his apology.

"Will you come and dance? They're playing one of my favorites, Whiskey For My Men. Toby Keith is very funny, not what you'd normally hear in a club like this."

"I don't know..."

"Aw, come on. You've finished your drink. And really, it's a beautiful, fun song."

He pulled her gently up, waiting for her step in front of him, and when she did, he casually slipped her coat off and draped it over the back of an empty stool. When she'd turned to face the D.J.'s corner, he placed his hand low in the middle of her back, that warm protective gesture that only one or perhaps two men had ever used with her. This one's touch was firm, calming, as if he was simply an attentive host.

He placed his hands on her hips and led her into an easy Western swing routine, leading her with what seemed to be his trademark soft pushes and pulls. He guided her expertly through a twirl with natural rather than practiced moves.

"My name is Adam. What's yours?"

"Kim. Pleased to meet you, Adam."
 "Thank you for the dance, Kim," and he pulled her in for a light kiss, a peck chaste enough that she really couldn't call it sexual, couldn't object and retreat.

"Regretfully, I need to make the rounds upstairs for a bit," he said. "Would you like to come with me, or will you stay here?"

She drew back a couple of steps, unsure. Upstairs were the sex rooms, of course, the rooms where everything... X-rated went on.

"Not yet. I think perhaps I'll have my second drink."

"I'll be back down in not too long. I'll look for you. Would you wait for me?"

What could she say to that? He was going to go up for a quickie, then was going to come back down and chat her up again, take her for another round on the dance floor? All she could muster was a noncommittal shrug.

"Kim, I'm sorry. I didn't explain," he said, stepping close enough to her she could feel his breath expel through his nostrils and placing his hand on hers. "I work here. All I'll be doing is checking that everyone is OK upstairs, and that no one needs anything. OK?"

He'd read her body language so well she was embarrassed. He didn't owe any explanation at all. She must have come across as petulant, needy. 
 "Yes, of course. I'll wait," she said, with barely a smile.

~~~~~~

A few months earlier.

"Kim, we'll go if you want to."

"I don't know, Greg... I thought you wanted to."

"Yes, it will be fun. Different."

"We've talked about this, several times before, but I'm still not sure."

"What's your worry?"

"I don't know, exactly..."

And yet she did, although she couldn't bring herself to voice it. She wanted to show him how important he was to her, that only he mattered, that she could be adventurous and stretch her comfort zone to please him. They'd been having a difficult time lately. He had accused her of cheating because he'd found some flirtatious emails with a colleague he knew had been a former lover. Nothing she said could convince him that it had been innocent, meaningless flirtation rather than the worst spin he gave the incident. But his jealous streak worried her. He'd convinced himself that she had cheated and she could do nothing to change his mind. It was ridiculous: she'd had plenty of opportunities over the years they'd been together, and had taken none of them, and this had come up all of a sudden.

She'd dressed for him carefully: she had shaved herself all over in her afternoon shower and slathered her favorite lotion all over, then rolled on thigh high stockings, lining up the seams in back. A short, silky sleeveless dress with a splattering of sparkly decorations over the straight collar. The dress just covered her arse, and the black lacy boy short underwear she'd worn had already made her aware of how little material covered her private parts. The smoke-gray thin stockings cinched her thighs, sending teasing frissons further northwards. She'd added some light make-up and mascara, just enough lipstick to highlight her full lips. She'd thought about putting in contacts, but settled on her black-rimmed glasses.

They'd had a leisurely light supper, started by sharing a dozen oysters and wine. Had talked about this and that, movies and books and trips they'd taken and trips they'd like to take next. They'd taken a walk in the park, the weather still mid-summer sultry. Suitably late, they'd driven to the club in her car, and had taken their time drinking the red wine they'd brought and dancing to the alternative rock sounds of the club's D.J. There weren't many people in yet, and he'd pulled close behind her and pressed himself to her ass.

"Go to the bathroom and take your undies off," he said, breathing by her ear.

She'd looked at him, seen that he was entirely serious, and went to do as he'd asked. In the bathroom, as she slid the undergarment off, she chanced a look behind her in the full length mirror. Amused, she had bent over further and seen the shadow between her ass cheeks and the already glistening lips of her pussy. She could not resist running her finger lightly along her plump vulva, dipping in just slightly and bringing the finger up to lick the moisture off. She bent over and took several pictures of herself, pulling at one cheek with her black-painted nails. She looked through the pictures, picking out the best and texting it to him.

"Mmmm," she'd purred when she'd returned, rubbing her hips against his hardening member.

"Thanks for the picture," he said, taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips, using the old world gesture as a cover to sniff the scent on her fingers. "Nicely slutty! Where are they?"

She gave him her underwear, and he took the lace and brought them to his nose, breathing in deeply.

"Very nice aroma. Let's go upstairs, sexy. You've been teasing me long enough tonight. I can't wait to get at what's underneath that dress of yours."

She was getting wetter, and let him lead her up. No one was upstairs yet, and she felt mild relief. He pulled her into one of the three-sided rooms and pushed her onto her knees on the bed in front of him. He ran his hands up and down her dress, pushing the silken fabric up her thighs, rubbed it back and forth across her now-naked buttocks. The soft silk contrasted with his forceful hands. Sliding them to her front, his fingers found the buttons holding the top of her dress closed and undid them one by one until the dress was opened down to her waist. He slid his hands in and cupped her breasts, while rubbing his pelvis against her bottom. He pulled the lace of the bra down and bunched the material under each breast, pinching her sensitive nipples and making her moan.

He made her feel voluptuous and wanton, a floozy in an old Western brothel playing with her gentleman john. She pushed herself further into his crotch, unable to restrain herself. She heard him unzip his fly, freeing his shaft and rubbing it against her moist folds. He pushed the silk of her dress up her hips again and ran the swollen flesh of his cock between her ass cheeks.

Just as he was about to push into her, she noticed he was distracted and exchanging words in a low voice she couldn't make out. He patted her rump and asked, "Do you want to include him in our play?" She turned her head to the right and saw a man sitting on the edge of the bed opposite theirs, looking at them, and rubbing himself. He'd directed his question to Greg.

"What would you like, Kim?"

"It's up to you, lover," she said, preoccupied less with the intruder than with returning Greg's focus to her. "What is he asking?"

"He wants to know if you'd suck him."

She thought about it for a few seconds only, then nodded, assuming Greg wouldn't have asked if he didn't want her to say yes.

"I will if you want me to."

Greg must have agreed, because the man scooted onto the bed next to her head on his knees, taking his cock out in front of her mouth. As he got closer, all Kim could see is the man's strong thighs and his clean-shaven member. She'd never touched another man even remotely sexually ever since she and Greg had started dating, years ago. She wanted to look at Greg while she asked him again if this is what he truly wanted, but he only patted her thigh. The man's cock was stretched toward her, and she barely had to lean forward to take it between her lips. He was bigger than Greg, and forceful but not in a bad way. As she sucked him harder, she could hear his moans of approval, and felt a new hand insinuating itself between her legs, rough-tipped fingers seeking out the dripping wet heat of her labia. Soon the hand went away and was replaced by Greg's cock again, rubbing insistently against her, entering and sawing into her.

She wondered what Greg was thinking and how much he liked this, but soon her thoughts were drowned out again by the cock moving in and out of her mouth. The man placed one of his hands on her head, not pushing or pulling but simply holding her, making the contact.

"God, so good, you're so good at that," he groaned, his voice deep and thick with desire. "Oh, yes, please, more."

She snaked a hand behind his balls, rubbing them while the other squeezed the root of his shaft upwards as she swirled her tongue around his glans, taking him deeper. "I'm so close to cumming. Do you want me to pull out?"

She had been so immersed in the act itself and simultaneously feeling the degradation and the power of giving a stranger a blow job while her boyfriend watched and used her cunt that she hesitated, not knowing what to say. She and Greg hadn't discussed this at all, it hadn't even come up.

"It's up to Greg, he decides," she finally said, around the man's cock.

She felt the slight dip in the mattress as the man reoriented himself and directed his question to Greg. She didn't hear the answer, and couldn't see behind her. But she couldn't stop, the lust coursing through her now, the decadence of being impaled on Greg's cock while sucking in another man's. Her lips tightened against the thick, smooth shaft, and she rolled the balls between her fingers with a firm grip, then rubbed his taint, pushing in towards his prostate. The groaned "I'm cumming!" warned her just before she felt his cream erupt into her, the cock pulsing forcefully, expelling the thick fluid that coated her mouth and smeared her lips. "Ahhhhhha, god, yes! Thank you. That was so good, you were so good. So lovely, thank you, both!" The owner of the cock retreated the same way he'd arrived, scooting back on his knees. The mattress moved again as the weight lifted off the bed, while she let her head drop helplessly, already her mouth missing being filled.

She heard Greg zip himself up, then he pulled her up roughly. "Let's go," he said, his voice strained and hoarse.

She wasn't sure what was going on, still dazed from the experience, but straightened and pulled down her dress to cover herself, buttoning it up. They walked out into the corridor and down the stairs, and collected their coats.

"Leaving us?" the hostess asked.

"Yes, thank you." She heard Greg's voice, surprisingly curt.

Her fingers were having a hard time guiding the key into the car's keyhole, but she managed to open her door and unlock the passenger's side as well, Greg getting in silently beside her.

As she backed the car out of the parking space and turned it around towards the exit, she felt Greg uncoil, and his hand lashed out at her head.

"You slut! You fucking slut!"

"Wha...? What the hell, Greg? Don't hit me!"

"Slut! Did he come in you? Did you let him come in your mouth?"

"I thought it's what you wanted!"

"Did he come in your mouth? I can't believe it! You fucking cunt! You slut!"

"Greg, I didn't do anything you didn't want me to do! I asked you! I told you it was up to you!"

"Slut! Couldn't you tell I wasn't even hard? I couldn't get it up to fuck you, watching him fucking your mouth!"

"What? I couldn't see you. You were in me!"

"I wasn't half hard, you fucking cunt! Whore!"

The shock as much as the force of his fist hitting her head again brought the tears and made the car swerve as she flinched to try to get away from him. She couldn't think of anything to say, couldn't say anything other than repeat what seemed obvious to her.

"I thought it's what you wanted! We talked about it before we went to the club!!"

She was trembling and crying, the tears staining her glasses and making it even harder to see. Luckily there was little traffic this time of night. What would she do? What could she do? She couldn't go home with him like this.

The street lights took on distorted shapes, the reds, greens and yellows smearing up and down from their center. They were closing in on their house, taking the exit ramp, when she was surprised by another hit, this time in her side. Luckily the awkward angle dulled the force of the blow, but it was enough that she swerved again. And that hit was followed by another, this time to her chin.

"What the fuck are you doing, Greg? Please, stop. You're going to get us both killed!"

She barely made it off the exit ramp without crashing into the curb, and was about to pull to the side when he barked, "Keep going, don't stop here. Too close to the exit."

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