Breath on the Wind (5 page)

It had been a nominally successful scheme, but not all the new occupiers were in the entertainment industry.  One of the buildings had been rented out to the First Church of Christ, an evangelical group who seemed to have developed a personal vendetta against Andrea and the Pumpkin Patch.  They had declared their intention to turn the tide of iniquity in the area.  The Pumpkin Patch wasn’t the only strip club on the block, and she didn’t advertise the dungeon services openly, but the evangelicals had found out about it anyway, and had singled her business out for their attention.

On a good day, the congregation walked past in twos or threes, shouting bible quotes and insults.  On bad days they got their placards out proclaiming the Pumpkin Patch to be Sodom and Gomorrah, the home of Lucifer himself, and the gateway to hell.  They patrolled the street, and did a good job of scaring customers and clients away.

Joe gulped down the last of his coffee.  “I brought a big box of mama’s pastries in.  Once word gets ‘round, it should motivate the cops to come a little quicker if the prayer bunnies get frisky.”

Andy laughed as she finished her own drink. Jackie held her hand out for the empty mug.  Andy handed it over.

“Hopefully.  Well, guess I better suit up.”

“You could stay as you are.  You look hot,” Jackie suggested.  Joe nodded his agreement.

“Thanks, guys, but no.  Today’s list requires wipe clean.  And no one who is on the roster today warrants the Loubies.”

Andy left Joe and Jackie chuckling and pushed open the door to the rest of the club.  It opened into a small hallway.  A door led to Jackie’s office and the dressing room that the strippers used.  There was a fire escape door which could only be opened from the inside, and which was generally the entrance of choice for people who had booked a session in the dungeon.  There was a discrete button on the wall outside it that set off a buzzer both in Jackie’s office and by Joe’s position on the street door, so that either of them knew when a client was waiting to be granted entry.

Andy started up the flight of stairs that led from the hallway to the first floor. At the top of the stairs was a stylish reception area with a small desk that was never manned and a leather couch.  Another button on the desk set off a bell in Andy’s office.  The setup was designed to be inaccessible to curious gawkers.  Andy was only interested in entertaining people who were serious about their peccadilloes.

Beyond the desk, a door opened into another hallway, not unlike a motel corridor, but decorated in much better fashion, maintaining the color scheme from the strip club below.  There were several doors set into the walls lining the corridor.  Most led to the working rooms.  One room was laid out in the style of a traditional dungeon, with hooks in the wall, benches, a St Andrew’s Cross, and a bondage bed, which was basically a four-poster bed with some extra framing and metal hoops screwed into the frame.  Another was set up in the manner of a hospital room.  It was painted in a generic, institutional green, with a linoleum floor and medical bed accompanied by wheeled metal trays and stands.  A third room was set up as a schoolroom, complete with desks and a blackboard.  The fourth room had been decorated as a normal, if sumptuous, bedroom.  At the end of the corridor was the door that Andy was aiming for, the one that led to her office and the dressing room.

Andy double checked the large, leather-bound appointment book on her desk.  She didn’t trust the internet to record details of client’s appointments and preferences.  Some wealthy and influential people regularly walked through her door; the last thing she needed was for some acne-ridden teenager looking for their fifteen minutes of fame, or a journalist hell-bent on getting an exclusive, to hack into her system and reveal such intimate details. 

On this day her clients all had comparable needs, no need for any costume changes.  Andy changed into a black dress, although that made it sound ordinary.  The shiny black plastic zipped up at the back, which was a struggle on her own, but she managed it.  It hugged her body, stopping just below the cheeks of her ass.  It was sleeveless, with a deep neckline that exposed a lot of cleavage.  The snugness of the dress negated the need for her to wear a bra, but she kept her black satin thong on.  She wasn’t running that kind of establishment.  There were no exchanges of any fluids and no penetration in her club.  If a client needed to orgasm, they did it by their own hand, or not at all.  The dungeon skirted close to several legal lines, ones regarding assault as well as pandering, but strictly-enforced rules kept everyone out of jail.  Andy completed the day’s costume with a pair of thigh-high, black patent boots with a sharply pointed toe and wicked spike heel. 

As she would be using the boudoir room first, Andy did a check to make sure that everything was as it should be.  The professional that used the room had the responsibility for cleaning the toys and equipment afterwards.  Andy organized the laundry, and the cleaners that tended to the downstairs of the club also took care of the basics in the rooms upstairs as part of their daily ritual.

Satisfied that she had everything she would need to hand, Andy returned to her office to wait.  At exactly ten a.m., a deep buzz informed her that her client was right on time.

~o0o~

Several hours later, Andy was rubbing her boots with a wet wipe, even though they’d just been thoroughly licked by a lawyer who liked to spend an hour every week being shouted at and demeaned.  He didn’t want physical chastisement, only verbal abasement, a relatively easy gig.  She could still feel the stretch in the muscles of her right arm from the paddling she’d delivered to the chef that had been her first client.  He always came in early.  He worked at one of the most prestigious restaurants in the city and had a thing about cooking lunch for the great and the good with his ass paddled pink.

There was a firm knock at the door.  Andy knew from the weight of it that it was Josiah.

“Come in.”  She dumped the wipe in the trash basket under her desk.

The door opened and he stuck his head around without coming all the way in.  The strip club was open for business now; he wouldn’t linger. 

“Thought you should know, boss, the prayer bunnies are out in force.  Looks like the whole damn church set up camp outside.  I called the cops and promised them baked goods, so they should be here in five, but if they don’t arrest ‘em then it looks like we’re in for a slow day.”

“Fuck,” Andy spat. 

The constant attention of the churchgoers was beginning to have an adverse effect on her business.  Andy loved the building she was in; it had taken years to build up the reputation of both clubs, and the building itself worked perfectly, but unless the church up and moved, it was beginning to look like she was going to have to, otherwise she’d be paying out rent on a strip club that no one could get into, and a dungeon that no one wanted to get into.  Discretion was a primary concern to her clients, and a complement of raving nutballs was the polar opposite of discreet.

“Okay, thanks, Joe.  Let me know if the cops can’t run them off.”

“Will do, boss.”  Joe disappeared to keep an eye on the situation.

Andy relaxed in her plush desk chair until it was time to set up the room for her third and last client of the day.  This lady, a highflying CEO, liked to be chained and flogged.  Her husband knew and approved of her desires, but there was still care to be taken.  She had to be able to sit at the head of her corporate table without wincing.  Squirming maybe, but not wincing.

With her last client thoroughly satisfied, Andy cleaned the equipment that she’d used, replaced it in its storage compartment and tidied the room.  There was a small shower room off the dressing room, and Andy made use of it before she changed back into her own clothes.  Once downstairs she could see that business was slower than she would have expected.  She made a detour to Jackie’s office.  She didn’t take a seat inside; she wasn’t planning on staying.

“Have the holy rollers rolled off yet?”

“Most of them,” Jackie replied with a heavy sigh.  “There’s still a handful outside.  The police threatened them with disturbing the peace, so they’re not shouting, but they’ve still got their little signs.  It’s putting folks off.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.  Unless they do something like damage the building, the cops can’t do much.  Not even for Joe’s mama’s baking.”

“Okay.  Call me if we have a problem.”

“Will do.”

Andy left the club by the back door.  The churchgoers knew what she looked like and she wasn’t in the mood for abuse.  She did take the opportunity, when she could, to take a look at the goings-on in front of her building.  Oh, fuck her sideways with a popsicle stick, they’d even brought lawn chairs.  They were just sitting there with their pieces of cardboard proclaiming hellfire and damnation in front of them.  As she watched, Andy saw people hurry past her establishment, only to disappear into one of the other, un-picketed, strip clubs at the end of the block.  Double fuck.

At least they’d left her car alone.  One time she’d come out to find that it had been completely covered in a mixture of wallpaper paste and flour that Andy had supposed some witty fuck thought looked like semen.  She slumped in the driver’s seat, momentarily lost for a course of action.  She was pissed the fuck off with these people.  Who the fuck were they to tell her or her clients what they should or shouldn’t do?  She felt tense and helpless and frustrated.

She needed to get out and do... something.  She wasn’t a submissive by nature, nor was she a dominant in her sexual life, she preferred more flexibility depending on her mood and the moment, but occasionally she wanted to let go of all the responsibility and just be.  She could go out and get blazingly drunk, but she didn’t fancy dealing with the hangover the following morning.

But thinking of drinking turned her mind to a different track, to the bar from the night before, and the guy, Chiz.  He’d been a good fuck, a really good fuck.  And he was easy on the eyes, head shaved almost smooth, just a velvet buzz of fuzz, dark blue eyes, and muscles that begged for her to dig her nails into them.

Suddenly Andy knew exactly where she was going to get her release.

Chapter Four

Chiz was wary when there was a knock on his motel room door in the early evening.  He’d called Samuel earlier in the day, just to let him know that he wasn’t in a ditch somewhere.  It was either check in or know that Samuel would set Crash, his pet geek, on Chiz’s trail to find out where he was using the information superhighway.  Making contact early on meant he could get away without being specific about his location, at least for a while, and for however short a time, he wanted to keep that feeling of separateness.

So he knew that his visitor was unlikely to be one of his brothers.  He doubted the manager would bother him.  He picked his gun up from the nightstand, checked the clip, and thumbed the safety off before he took a look through the peephole.

Elmo was probably the last person he expected to see through the fisheye lens.  He had been sure that had been a one-time deal, and yet here she was.  He clicked the safety back on and tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back before he opened the door.  He was shirtless, and the metal was cold against his skin.

“Hey.  You feel like some company?”

“When it turns up at my door lookin’ like you, doll, I ain’t gonna say no.”

Surprised, intrigued, and more than a little excited, he stood back and motioned her into the room with a sweeping bow.  When he’d opened the door, Elmo had looked tense, a tightness around the eyes that gave the lie to her smile.  Chiz figured most people wouldn’t have noticed, but he’d invested a lot of time in learning the little nuances of expressions and tone that told him more than words could.  Her smile widened, though, as she crossed the threshold, and Chiz chalked the reserve up to trepidation.

He looked her over as she stepped inside.  Damn, but she really did look good.  It looked like she was dressed for the office, or some nerd’s wet dream of how a woman should dress for the office, a tight blouse showing plenty of cleavage and tight skirt showing the sweeping curve of her hips.  He almost groaned and went to his knees when she walked past him and he spotted the seams on her nylons.  Fuck, he hoped they were stockings.  Stockings would be sweet.  And the shoes, he had an intense and very urgent need to have those sexy heels scratching the shit out of the small of his back. 

“Lonely, doll?”

“Maybe.  Thought you might be.”

“You worried about me?”  He must have made an impression.  She certainly had.

“Not especially.”  She motioned at his back with a careless wave of her hand.  “I figured you can take care of yourself.” 

Ah, so she hadn’t missed that he’d been carrying the previous night.  She was observant.  Chiz shrugged, pulled the gun out and replaced it on the nightstand.

“So, you came for a bedtime story?”

She grinned at that.  “No, I came for a fuck, but if you’re not interested...?”  She shrugged.

Not interested?  Not fucking likely.  Surprised?  Yes, definitely.  He wasn’t used to women who looked like this, confident, refined, civilian women, throwing themselves in his path.

“Oh I’m interested.  Just wonderin’ if I’ve got myself a stalker.

He watched anger flash over her features.  “You know what, this was a bad idea.  I thought maybe we both needed to take the edge off. You’re here for whatever you’re here for, vacation, whatever.  I’ve had enough of the shit I need to deal with, and I’d like to fuck, relax, maybe get some Chinese food, and maybe fuck again.  I’m not looking for a ring and a dress, and I like animals I’m not going to boil your bunny.”

Chiz couldn’t help it, the whole situation was just the other side of bizarre, he laughed.  “Whoa.  Hold up.”  Chiz thought about debating her unexpected arrival with her, and then decided that it was an argument he had no chance of winning.  He could take the offered fuck, or leave it, and Chiz never turned down a fuck.  “I ain’t complainin’.  That sounds like a fuckin’ good plan to me.”

Chiz went into the bathroom to get the second glass that he’d rinsed out and left on the basin.  Glass in hand, he crossed to the small, flimsy table that had been provided should guests wish to eat in the room.  It was complemented by two of the most uncomfortable chairs he’d ever come across in his life.  That was why he’d been sitting on the bed to watch the ancient box television when Elmo had knocked on his door.

“You need something to take the edge off, doll.” 

Chiz had been out for a ride, just for the pure pleasure of enjoying the open road, but he’d also taken the opportunity to pick up some supplies.  His list of essentials had included a bottle of Jameson, which he’d only just opened.  His own half-full glass was on the nightstand.  He’d left the bottle on the table, figuring that having to get up and walk over to it for his next drink would slow him down some.  He hadn’t been planning to drink himself unconscious before it got dark.

He poured her a generous measure of whiskey and handed the glass to her before retrieving his own.

“Cheers.”  Elmo raised her drink to him and took a healthy swallow.

Chiz returned the toast as he thought about asking her if she did this a lot, if she was single, or whether he needed to worry about a jealous husband or boyfriend turning up on his doorstep.  He thought about asking her what had drawn her, or pushed her, to his door tonight, but as he watched her throat work as she took another drink, he decided he didn’t give a shit.  He’d enjoyed the previous night, a lot, and here she was offering a repeat performance.  He’d be a fool to look such a sexy gift horse in the mouth

She looked fucking superb.  Chiz wasn’t used to having his hands full of what he would term a high-class woman.  He was used to the sweetbutts who filled every clichéd definition of every patch-hungry piece of ass he’d ever encountered, or prostitutes who didn’t much care beyond what would attract their next trick.

He wanted to get his hands on her.  His cock was uncomfortably hard.  He wanted them both naked and sweaty, and didn’t see the point in waiting around.  She’d come to him for that specific reason, so he figured she wouldn’t be put off by the direct approach.

Chiz put his glass down and went to her.  Elmo didn’t take her eyes from him as she finished her drink before setting her glass down on the table.  Chiz wasn’t in the mood to start slowly.  There was a charge in the air that felt like an electric current running over his skin.  He kissed her, nipping gently at her lower lip as he smoothed his palms up her ribs, over her blouse.  The bright red material was stiffer than it looked, but it made the swell of her tits, which looked about ready to burst out of the top, positively glow.

As pretty as it was, he wanted it off her.  He went for the buttons as Elmo ran her palms up and over the bare skin of his back.  He could feel her fingers playing along the ridges of the muscles there.  He spent a lot of time in the gym, he needed the strength and the speed, but he was proud of the way that his body was cut.  When he put his mind to it, cut down on his vices and ate right, he was virtually a walking anatomy lesson.

When he was able to slide the shirt off her shoulders, Chiz stood back to appreciate what he knew would be a beautiful view.  He wasn’t disappointed.  The black satin bra she was wearing was cut so that her tits still looked like they were straining for freedom, about to spill over at any second.

Elmo’s expression told him that she knew he was appreciating the view, and that she was just as proud of her own body as he was of his.  There was definition in her arms and stomach that spoke of her own dedication to fitness.  When she reached behind her waist and started to unfasten her skirt, Chiz let her.  He wanted to see her in her lingerie, and he sent up another prayer that the nylons were stockings and not hose.

Elmo shimmied out of the skirt and kicked it away with one foot.  Chiz took her arms by the wrists and held them out to the side as he took a step back to fully appreciate the sight before him.  His prayers had been answered.  They were stockings, no garter belt, but that was quibbling about small details.  He licked his lips at the sight of the thong.  It was all black satin and lace above the sheer nylon, and it was finished off with those spectacularly sexy shoes.  His cock twitched impatiently.

For a moment, he hesitated. He simply didn’t know where to start, it was all so alluring.  Elmo’s eyes were still hot; she was turned on by his appreciation.  Chiz wanted to find out just how turned on she was.  He dropped to his knees, surprising her.  He snagged the band of her thong and pulled it down her legs until she could step out of it.  He sent it in the vague direction of her skirt.

Chiz stayed on his knees and pushed her thighs gently until she adjusted her stance.  He looked up her body, catching her gaze as he nuzzled her inner thigh, heading higher.  He slid his arms around her thighs, hugging her to his face as he started to lap at her.  She was sweetly salty and delicious enough to make him crazy.  He moaned along with her, taking pleasure in her reactions as he alternated between suckling her clit and licking at her wet folds.  Soon she was trying to move on his face despite his grasp on her hips.

He wanted in.  He wanted to be buried in that responsive body again.  He rolled to his feet, and chuckled at her growl of disappointment.  He knew she hadn’t gotten off.  He wanted her writhing and wild.  He unhooked her bra next, stepping back just far enough to slip it from her arms, but when he stepped forward after dropping it to the floor, Elmo evaded him.

He was aroused enough to feel fury, until she winked and stepped around him to the bed.  She climbed on, looking feline and liquid, and knelt on all fours, her palms flat on the covers.  She was still wearing the stockings and the sex-kitten heels.  She winked again.  Oh, but she was going to get fucked.

Chiz found a condom, and shed his jeans before rolling it on, while Elmo watched avidly.  He had a moment of concern; he’d fucked her hard the night before and there was a chance she could be sore.  But then she’d presented herself this way to him.  He decided to give her what she’d asked for.  Elmo had stayed at the edge of the bed, so Chiz stood behind her.  He took a firm grip on her hips, admiring the way this position showed off the way they flared from her waist, and buried himself right to the balls in her wet pussy.

Elmo didn’t scream, but she did cry out, and that did something to Chiz.  He didn’t want to examine his motivations too clearly, but he wanted to hear more of that sound.  He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back into her.  She cried out again, and again as he repeated the action.  Elmo dropped to her elbows and pushed her ass back towards him.  If she was asking for more, she was sure as fuck going to get it.

There would be time to explore and enjoy her body later.  Apparently what they were both aiming for now was a good, hard fuck.  Chiz slammed into her over and over.  Her cries became moans, running into one another until she was barely drawing breath between them.  Chiz was about ready to speed up and start on the home run, it sure felt like Elmo was nearly there, but this was a position he favored for more than one reason.  He sucked his thumb to wet it, and as he pumped into Elmo, he ran it around the tight ring of her anus, which was completely exposed to him.

He was wondering what her reaction would be when he pressed firmly against it.

“Oh, fuck.  Fuck yes.  Please.”

He nearly came right there and then.  And that was when he made up his mind that despite the fact his orgasm was just waiting to be released, he wasn’t ready for this fuck to be over just yet.

He pulled out of her suddenly and walked round the bed to the nightstand.

“Chiz, what the holy fuck are you doing?”  Elmo gasped as she rose back up on straightened arms.

“Hold up, doll.  I’ll make it worth the wait.”

“You fucking better or I’m going to shoot you stone dead with your own fucking gun.  Bring that cock of yours back here right the fuck now.”

“Patience, doll.”  He found what he was looking for and resumed his position behind her.

One of the things he’d picked up on his shopping trip had been a tube of lubricant.  He hadn’t had his mind made up at the time as to whether he’d be using it to jack off, or whether he wanted to purchase some company, but he believed in being prepared.  He was supremely glad of that now.

He squirted some of the clear gel onto his palm, before dropping the tube onto the bed.  Elmo was looking over her shoulder, obviously wondering why he was stalling.