Clubbing

The club where I arranged to meet Emily is owned by The Dancing Queens. One of them has a famous fashion business and is a very wealthy masochist. The other, when I met him, was in a boring job and a boring marriage, pretending he was straight. He has a strong sadistic streak but likes to switch when he encounters someone dominant enough, such as me. I met them through separate adventures and introduced them, as they seemed perfectly matched. This was not, of course, an act of altruism. I was simply banking a lot of good will, to call on some time in the future. The two of them have now been couple for nearly four years and recently did the civil ceremony thing.

Given their private predilections, their dance club has some unique and unusual features, known only to the most trusted friends. In the basement are four adjoining rooms. The first is a handsome bedroom, kitted out in the manner one might expect for a wealthy gay couple. The second room is a completely tiled wet room. The third room is a soundproofed  S&M playroom with a mind-boggling range of toys and equipment. These three rooms are arranged in a triangle and all are equipped with hidden, state-of-the-art audio and video recording equipment.

The fourth room is a "viewing gallery" in the centre of the triangle. On each side of its triangular shape are large two-way mirrors that provide a full view into each of the other rooms. It is furnished with a number of comfortable black leather armchairs and one sofa. The fourth room was my idea and only a handful of people know that it exists.

There is one last, very secret, space and is not a room as such. It is a five foot square space under the floor, with a solid steel trap-door. The door has small hatch for passing things in and out. It has a very bright light that is operated from the outside. When it is switched off,  it is totally dark inside. This was also my idea.

***

Emily and her two friends arrived at the club around ten o'clock. Emily was clearly the leader of the group. The two friends had both gone blonde and wore short skirts, high heels, skimpy tops and lots of make-up. Anyone who has been out in the West-End of London, late at night, will be familiar with this look, favoured by suburban girls of their age, who come up to town to go clubbing. Emily's outfit marked her out from the other two. She was wearing tiny gold lurex shorts, matching gold, ballet-style pumps and a skin-tight, green, sleeveless top. She wore minimal make-up, except around her eyes, and her skin radiated a healthy glow. All three girls had clearly had a few drinks and the friends were in a nervous, giggly mood. Emily was confident and bold, making a point of touching me on the arm or hand, in view of the others, every time she spoke to me.

The two friends were keen to dance and go celebrity spotting. I gave Emily a "privileged guest card" that allowed them to get free drinks from the bar. I also told them that if they needed something other than alcohol to keep them going then that could be arranged. The friends looked to Emily for leadership. She opened the palm of her hand and confidently said, "yes please." 

Into her hand I dropped three smiley faces. "Let's go," she said, popping one into her mouth and giving the others one each. And off they all went, onto the dance floor. I sat down in a private area that overlooked the dance floor and chatted to some other guests that I had invited but that the girls had not seen. Emily disappeared into the heaving mass of bodies with her friends. A while later she appeared, dancing alone, seemingly absorbed in herself, close to where I sat. After she had been dancing for some time, apparently oblivious to eager suitors of both genders, she came and sat down next to me, her skin damp with sweat.

"I thought you might come and dance with me," she said.

"Not my type of dancing," I said.

"What sort of dancing do you like then?" she asked.

"I like dancing in private with a few selected friends," I said.

"Shame there is nowhere private here then. I would love to dance with you," she said putting her hand on my thigh.

"Oh but there is," I said, "but as I said before, I like to dance with friends and I think those dance moves would be too advanced for someone of your age and experience."

"You calling me a coward?" said Emily boldly.

"I'm being realistic," I said, "and stopping you from doing something you might regret."

"You don't know me. I don't believe in regrets," she said, "try me."

"I don't think so. You wouldn't be able to handle it" I said.

She moved her hand up my thigh, finding my cock, as she leaned across and pushed her tongue deep into my mouth.

"Try me," she said, emphatically.

"You will probably need this," I said, opening my palm. She took the smiley face and popped it into her mouth.

I lead Emily towards the three rooms. My urge to take her pristine, elastic skin into S&M room was very strong. Given my usual impulsiveness, I am, with hindsight, surprised and impressed that I resisted. I stuck to he original plan and. instead, took Emily into the well-appointed bedroom. My three other guests were already waiting inside. Emily's mouth dropped open momentarily,  in shock, as she registered the situation. But she quickly recovered her bravado, emboldened by the second dose of chemicals, intermingling with the alcohol.

"I told you that I like dancing with a few friends," I said, "you can back out now if you want." 

She responded by kneeling down and unzipping my flies. Ah the folly of youth!

As I started to take her for the first time, she muttered, "condoms," hardly audibly, as her mind descended into the haze of drink and drugs.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," I lied.

"Okay," she whispered, as if speaking to herself, her eyes struggling to stay open.

And so, me and my three black guests took turns, keeping it going through the night.