Betrayal (15 page)

Trey took a white handkerchief out of his back pocket, and handed it to her. “Look, Ariel, it’s not the end of the world. We’re only human with mortal flaws. When are you going back to D.C.?”

She dabbed her face with the cotton cloth, and composed herself. “I’m working on a case with one of the senior partners, and won’t be able to leave for another week or so.”

“Let me know when you make your plans to leave, and I’ll go back to Washington with you. We’ll tell my dad together. I think a united front will be much better than you going it alone.”

“What about Michele?” Ariel asked, still concerned about her nemesis.

“Don’t worry about Michele. I’ll deal with her.” Trey had been blowing his girlfriend off lately, but now he’d have to reverse his role, and become the caring boyfriend once again, so that she wouldn’t reveal their secret before they had a chance to tell Preston face-to-face. “Maybe I’ll invite her up for the weekend.”

“That’s an excellent idea. At least she’ll be away from Preston for a few days.” Ariel exhaled a sigh of relief. She knew that once she and Trey put their heads together, they would come up with a reasonable solution. Ariel had neutralized Michele as a threat, and felt slightly better, but her nerves were still frayed, so she picked up her drink and polished it off. She offered to buy Trey a Velvet Cane, but he declined, saying that he had to go back to work. Once he was gone, Ariel ordered another cocktail. Even though they had committed the ultimate act of betrayal, Trey was one of the good guys. He wanted to make things right with Preston, and so did she. Ariel knew marrying Preston once he lost his memory was a gamble. She had been playing a high-stakes game, now it was time to cut her losses and tell him the truth. She had hoped to be at least pregnant when that day came, but with Michele on the warpath, she didn’t have much of a choice. Her only comfort was in knowing that she and Trey were in this together. They couldn’t be lovers anymore, but at least they were allies. Ariel raised her glass and silently drank to their newfound friendship.

SHE WAS
in New York on business, but her business had nothing to do with corporate boardrooms, conference calls, or spreadsheets. It had to do with bedsheets, and not the five-hundred thread count variety. She was a frequent visitor to the Black Door, but had yet to visit the sister club, BD2, in the meatpacking district. She told her husband that she was spending a few days in Manhattan shopping, lunching, and visiting with friends. For obvious reasons, she omitted that she was also going to do some fucking as well. She loved her husband, but sex with him was like painting by numbers—you knew exactly where the next color was supposed to go before you finished the picture. In other words, their sex life was beyond predictable. She craved the exhilaration the Black Door offered. With its exotic theme rooms and sexy servers, it was anything but predictable.

“Welcome to BD Two,” said the beefy greeter the moment she stepped off the freight elevator. “Can I take your coat?”

She unfastened the rhinestone buttons on the fuchsia evening coat and slipped her arms out. Underneath, she wore a silver mesh halter chemise, which matched her silver mask. The dress was so short that it barely covered her bottom. She knew the outfit was designed for a
younger woman, but inside the confines of the Black Door, any article of clothing was appropriate, or none at all. Some members wore nothing more than their masks, a thong, and stilettos.

The greeter walked up close behind her, and asked, “Do you need tweaking?”

She smiled broadly, and nodded her head yes. She purposely left her panties in the hotel in anticipation of getting tweaked. He was nearly six and a half feet tall, and towered over her. He wrapped his muscular arms around her, engulfing her in his embrace. His large masculine frame made her feel like a sexy feline, and she backed her ass up into his crotch. He then reached underneath her microminidress, and his hand immediately landed on her smooth triangle. She had gotten a Brazilian wax earlier that day, and her pussy was now as clean as a cue ball. He stroked the smooth skin back and forth with his thumb, until he felt the tip of her clit poke out like a turtle emerging from its shell. He took his thumb and index finger and began kneading the soft, sensitive tissue until she started moaning.

“Oohh, daddy, you found my spot. Don’t stop!”

Once her clitoris was totally engorged, he slipped his middle finger inside of her vagina and found that she was dripping wet. A moist box was a sign that he had done his job to perfection, so he stopped and said, “Now you’re tweaked.”

“Why’d you stop?” she whined.

“Because you’re wet and ready to enter BD Two,” he said, backing away.

“But I want you to fuck me right now,” she demanded.

“My job is to tweak, not to fuck. You’ll have to find a server for that. We have a new chamber called Between the Sheets, and I’m sure you can find a willing participant there.” He opened the door to the club, and pointed her in the direction of the new theme room.

Music was emanating from the disco, and she bopped her head to the beat as she made her way down the corridor. The sound of Gloria Gaynor reminded her of Studio 54 back in the seventies and early eighties. She continued down the hallway, and stopped at a door that
was wrapped in a black satin sheet, turned the doorknob—the only part of the door that was exposed—and walked inside.

“Would you care to change into a sheet?” asked a young Hispanic server, standing inside of the doorway with a black satin sheet draped over his arm.

He was clothed in only a thin sheet wrapped around his waist; she admired his bare chest, which was toned and sculpted into a series of undulating muscles. He looked good enough to eat, and she thought about propositioning him, but obviously he was working the door, and she didn’t want to get turned down twice in the same night. She quickly scoped out the room for a victim, and noticed that everyone was either dressed toga style, draped in sheets, or on beds between black satin sheets, more than likely nude. “I’d love to change.”

He held up the sheet and used it as a shield as she slipped out of her dress. He then wrapped the sinuous fabric around her body so that she resembled a Greek goddess. Once he secured the toga, he picked up her dress from the floor and hung it in a nearby closet.

There were various sized beds—round, oval, square, king, queen, and twin—strategically placed throughout the large room, and she gracefully maneuvered her body around each one. A sexy French song by the hot new artist BabyKat was playing in the background, everyone seemed lost in the hypnotic music, and nobody noticed her as she scanned the room looking for a partner. All the servers were engaged, pleasuring the oversexed members. They were humping, pumping, sucking, and fucking. She slowed her pace and nearly stopped at the bedside of a couple that was going at it sideways. The server had the woman turned on her left side, and his body was angled horizontally to hers, right near her ass. He was easing his dick into her pussy from behind. The way they were positioned reminded her of a moving T Square. She could see the rim of his penis as he pulled out, and his huge balls as he eased back inside. He was plunging in and out and in and out of the member’s vagina like an expert plumber. The sound of his bloated scrotum slapping against the woman’s ass was making her hornier. She wanted a good plunging of her own, and licked her lips at the sight of them.

“You don’t have to stand there and drool. If you like what you see, you can have some of the same action,” a server said, approaching her.

She looked at the person in front of her, and wondered whether that person worked at the club or not. She couldn’t decide, so she asked, “
You
work here?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Oh. Since when did they start hiring women?” Ever since she’d been coming to the Black Door, she had never seen a female server.

“My name is Christy,” said the auburn-haired beauty. “I’m the first woman to ever work at the club, but I assure you that I can do everything the male servers can do.” She smiled a crooked smile below her purple half-mask, and added, “Probably even better.”

“And how is that?”

“Because I’ve got a twelve inch strap-on with the girth of an overgrown plantain, if not thicker,” Christy said, and whipped back her toga, revealing a lethal looking prosthetic penis.

She had never seen a dick that long and thick before—real or fake—and she couldn’t help but to reach out and touch it. She ran her hand along the length of the shaft, and it felt authentic, even down to the bulging veins. It was totally erect, and she wondered how a cock that large would feel inside of her pussy. She looked into Christy’s face, and though she could only see her mouth—which was decorated in bright red lipstick, with a heavy coat of gloss—she thought that Christy was attractive enough to fuck, and continued stroking the fake dick. She hadn’t been with a woman since college, and didn’t consider herself gay or bisexual, but she was bi-curious. Curiosity was making her mouth water, so she bent down and licked the tip of the strap-on. One thing she couldn’t resist was a big cock, and even though she knew it wasn’t the real deal, she wanted to experience it anyway. After she finished deep throating the long schlong, she said, “I want you to fuck me.”

Christy didn’t say a word. She grabbed her prey by the hand, led her to an empty bed, laid her on her back, and mounted her like a man. Christy rubbed the oversized dick with a handful of K-Y Jelly,
and then eased the tip inside of her partner’s pussy. Once she was all the way in, she began pumping like a man, until the woman underneath her started moaning with pleasure. She was humping so hard that sweat began pouring down her chest onto her exposed nipples. “You like this hard cock?” she asked in between breaths.

“I love it. It’s sooo good!” Her husband’s penis wasn’t nearly this big, and barely filled her up, but this dick was so large that it hit her G-spot over and over and over. She was in climax heaven, and with her eyes closed, she couldn’t tell that a woman was doing the fucking.

“I told you, I can do anything a man can do.”

“Can you suck a clit?”

“Like a pro.” Christy slid the dildo out, spread her partner’s legs further apart, and began feasting on her clitoris.

Five minutes later, she started screaming, “Oh shit, I’m cumming! I’m cumming!! After she recovered from her sixth climax, she leaned up on one elbow and said, “Christy, I think you’re going to be my new best friend.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Christy said.

She watched as Christy wiped the dildo clean, and then she readjusted the belt around her waist to tighten the cock back in place. Once she had secured the strap-on, she disappeared toward the front of the room, no doubt looking for another victim.

TREY HAD
been blowing up Michele’s phone all night, and most of the following day. She purposely sent his calls to voice mail, just like he had done to her. Every time she hit the reject button on her phone, she felt empowered. He’d even called her work number. Fortunately there was caller ID on the phone, and she let the automated recording answer instead of picking up. Michele was on a new mission, which didn’t include Trey. She’d made up her mind to seduce Preston, and didn’t want to deal with any distractions from Trey. She thought about coming right out and telling him that it was over, but she didn’t want to tip him off. Trey would probably want to know why she was dumping him without notice, and he of all people couldn’t be privy to her plan.

For some reason, he had finally decided to return her calls, but she was no longer interested in telling him about Preston’s dream. He had left numerous messages, but she deleted every single one before listening to them. If her scheme had any chance of succeeding she needed to cut Trey loose, cold turkey—no patch, no placebos.

Her phone rang again, and again she looked at the caller ID. It was Fiona, so she picked up.

“Hey girl, what’s up?”

“That’s my question to you,” Fiona said, sounding a little put off. “I haven’t heard from you since the CBC affair. I hope you’re not still upset that Thompson gave away the extra ticket.”