Les Tales (18 page)

The building was gray and dull, like a slab of concrete had been dropped between two buildings. It was surrounded by busy, lively bars and restaurants on a main street just west of downtown. I had passed the location on a few occasions on my way to the Magnificent Mile and had never noticed it.

“This is it?” I asked Nina over the Bluetooth speaker in my car.

“Yes.”

The club we sat in front of was one of three that Nina and Layne had frequented.

It was 6:00 p.m. on a Thursday night, and most passersby crept past the building as if it weren't there. Only a few people, a trio of two men and a woman, stopped in front of the slate and iron door and sought entrance.

“Are you ready?” Nina asked me.

“I am.”

Although I had been perturbed by the realization that Nina had attended Layne's funeral, it hadn't overshadowed the newfound power I felt after the near choking episode in her office. I had replayed the incident repeatedly in my mind, on an ego trip, envisioning that if I hadn't snapped out of my daze, I might have killed her.

I drove another block to a public parking lot and paid the fee. We exited our cars, each of us bundled under wool coats, as the temperature had dropped from above to below average Midwest numbers. Together we walked, both of us well dressed, our heels tap-dancing against the sidewalk. We looked like two friends on our way for after-work cocktails and casual conversation, not the taboo lovers we had become, preparing for my introduction to an evening of unrestricted voyeuristic pleasure.

At the door Nina knocked twice, and the cover to a small rectangular peephole slid sideways. Bland blue-gray eyes surveyed us before the cover closed once again. The door buzzed, and we were granted access. A bulky male, muscular in the arms and fat around his midsection, stood before us. I saw recognition dawn between him and Nina, though they didn't acknowledge one another. It felt like a scene from one of my favorite crime shows, like the clubs they showcased, the ones with secret back-alley entrances and passwords to disclose for admission.

“Identification, please,” he requested.

Nina had already advised that I leave my wallet behind, so in my pocket I had only my driver's license and eight twenty-dollar bills. The bouncer took both my and Nina's ID and went into an office. Through a small window we could see him quickly scan and print copies of our licenses, then place the papers on top of a small pile. He returned to us.

“For our records only,” he informed me prior to handing me my license.

“Protocol,” Nina echoed.

From the small space in which we stood, we moved through another door into a dim hallway. Light fog circled about the air as we walked toward yet a third door. Nina paused before opening it, glancing back at me again and asking if was I ready. I nodded to her. Inside the next room, I didn't know what to take in first, the porn playing on the big-screen televisions, the bar filled with people making out, or the couples freely engaging in sexual acts on the couches to our left.

The room smelled of spice. And sex. It smelled like Nina and that part of her I craved to devour once more. Nina led us toward two empty stools on the opposite side of the bar from the entrance. My legs shook with nervousness as we walked past a man and a woman leaning against the bar. He was performing body shots from her cleavage, and his thick pink tongue licked salt, lemon, and tequila from her skin. Beyond them was another couple, and they kissed and groped one another.

“Hey, sexy,” the brunette woman whispered to me as we walked past, before placing her tongue back in the man's mouth.

As we rounded the bar, I stopped, caught off guard by a man who sat on a stool, his zipper open, a blond woman's head bobbing up and down between his legs as she sucked his manhood. He puffed a cigarette and winked at us as we took seats next to him. I tried not to look, but they were right next to me. My eyes locked on the man's veined, pale penis, and I noted how it disappeared into the woman's mouth every other second. She sucked hard and fast, her cheeks caving and filling with each up-and-down movement. A few minutes later, the man placed a hand firmly on top of the blonde's head and released a few grunts. The woman swallowed, taking deep gulps, stoop up, wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin, and took the man's cigarette and began puffing on it herself.

Finally, I turned to Nina, who had placed our drink orders. I removed my coat, which Nina took and placed with hers on the stool beside her.

“Seriously?” I mouthed to her, unsure how I felt about what I had just witnessed. Maybe I would feel differently if it had been two women.

“Have you ever?” Nina asked.

“Only once,” I admitted. “With Jenna's father.” I recalled the incident and told her about it. “I was fifteen. We had just left White Castle and had walked to one of his friends' houses. The place was filled with guys, all older than me, and girls about my age. Everyone was smoking and drinking. I didn't do either.”

Because of the effect drinking had on my father, I had refrained from alcohol as a teenager and had never had any until I met Layne. I had smoked weed once, but Grandma had smelled it on my clothes and had told me that I was too good to smoke reefer and that it would turn my lips black.

“He smoked with his friends and then took me into a bedroom,” I continued. “We had already had sex a couple times, and I thought that's what he wanted again. I started to take off my shorts, but he told me no and asked me to take off my shirt instead. He sat on the edge of the bed and told me to get on my knees in front of him, so I did. He pulled his penis out and asked me the same question you did. Had I ever sucked dick? I told him I hadn't. He liked that. He instructed me to lick my lips and open. Then he stuck it in my mouth.”

I paused to accept my drink from the bartender.

“He told me what to do. Lick, suck, and stroke. The whole time he pinched my nipples. I coughed and gagged when he came, but he held my head down and made me swallow it. The taste . . .”

“Bitter.”

“Yes. I hated it and never did it again. We had sex a few more times before he moved on to another girl.”

I took a sip of the rum concoction Nina had ordered for me. It created an immediate buzz, not surprising considering my body was accustomed only to wine.

“There was a man many years ago, when I was much younger, who wanted nothing but for me to give him head,” Nina told me. “I don't hate men at all, but I have never wanted to be with one since him. Women, now that's my specialty, even though I still like to watch straight sex and gay boys. This place is the best of all worlds. It's for those who want to be free to do whatever, wherever, and however they want to. There's no pressure. Most people come with people they plan to have sex with, but there's no requirement to have sex, either. You and I can sit here all night long and watch with no questions.”

Nina cocked her head to the side. I followed the direction in which she was pointing and saw a man seated in a reclined chair, stroking himself. “Some people come alone and masturbate their evening away. It's like a lovefest. People who are alone, couples, or groups, all are welcome. Even the bartenders indulge from time to time,” Nina went on. “This one here, one night she fucked herself on top of the bar with a beer bottle.”

I looked at the middle-aged woman, who appeared to be a mother, judging by the scratchy stretch marks that scarred her belly. She had full breasts and wide hips, and her loose thighs suggested that she hadn't exercised in years. She was average looking, and with clothes on, she could be the woman picking fruit next to me in the grocery store, or a fellow shopper I said hello to as we passed one another while browsing in a department store.

“We're no different than everybody else,” Nina explained, reading my thoughts. “We get up and go to work each day, some of us have families, we're young, we're old, and we're single, married, gay, straight, bi, black, white, Asian, whatever. We come from every color of the rainbow.”

Nina had identified nearly every characteristic of the horny people around us. A twentysomething Hispanic couple sat in the far right corner, and a bare-assed male was seated on the couch, a woman straddling and bouncing on him, her ass smacking his groin with each thrust. An older lesbian couple lay next to them, and the woman with short, cropped hair had her face buried in the bosom of the voluptuous lady beneath her. There was a group of individuals who were dry humping each other on the small dance floor, and there were many like us, who drank and watched the activities about them.

“You came here with Amber as well?” I asked.

Nina leaned forward and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Yes.” She lifted my shirt and kissed the skin around my navel.

I leaned my head back and allowed her tongue to dive into the small peephole of my stomach. “I'd like to meet her.”

Nina stopped. “Amber?”

“Yes.”

Nina sat back, biting the nail of her index finger, deciding. “She would like that. I am protective of her, you know. You can look, but don't touch.”

“I'll try to keep my hands to myself.”

“You better.”

“Let me know when you plan to meet again. I'll stop by.”

Nina smiled. “You sure learn quickly. Me, you, Layne, Amber, and all these people around us, we have one thing in common—pleasure. We've all been blessed with these beautiful bodies that respond to others visually and physically. I watch that couple over there, and I get wet.” Nina stroked my lips with her index finger. “I touch you, and I get wetter.”

I took Nina's finger inside my mouth and sucked it. She moaned as my tongue licked her skin and under her smooth fingernail. Suddenly she stood, took my head in her hands, and thrust her tongue deep into my mouth. We kissed hard, angrily and passionately, our teeth clicking against the other's. She bit my tongue, and I bit hers back. I tasted blood and kissed deeper, again feeling frenzied at the thought of hurting her. I felt a hand on my behind.

“May we?” the gentleman next to us inquired.

Nina and I broke apart. Breathless, I wiped my mouth.

Nina smirked. “No, not my specialty. Sorry.”

“Well, what about her?” he asked. The blond woman grinned excitedly.

“Let's see.” Nina walked over and leaned the woman's body against the bar. “Take off your panties,” Nina instructed and held out her hand.

The woman lifted her short, faux leather skirt and stepped out of a white lace thong. She gave it to Nina, who placed it over the man's head. The crotch area rested on his nose.

Nina ran her hand over the woman's brown, stubbly pubic hair. She reached lower and, judging by the woman's sharp inhale, placed fingers inside her. The woman's head rolled backward.

“If you want it, you have to get it,” Nina told her. She then placed her left foot on the rest that circled the bar and leaned her left hand against the bar. The woman began to grind and circle her hips over Nina's fingers. “That's it.”

Nina then turned to me and tilted her head in a “Come here” gesture. I moved to Nina's right side.

“Lift her shirt,” Nina instructed.

The woman wore a white T-shirt with a ragged-cut V-neck. I raised her shirt and unhooked the front clasp of her bra. Her large, heavy breasts fell against her rib cage. The woman continued to rub against Nina's palm, her legs bent, the muscles in her thighs flexed. She lifted her head again; her green eyes were half closed.

I positioned myself so I could assist Nina. I leaned forward and placed a pink nipple in my mouth. The woman responded with a soft sigh, and then a pleased exhale escaped from her lips. I felt moist. Layne had rarely permitted me even that simplest of acts, and here a stranger, a woman whose name I didn't even know, wanted me to have her. I licked her areola, my tongue tracing the outer circle. I opened my mouth wider, taking as much of her fullness inside as I could. She rocked her hips, fucking Nina's fingers, while I stimulated her breasts. She panted and moaned and squealed high-pitched, nasty words of delight.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck my pussy,” she repeated.

Nina's breath was hot against my ear. She too was panting and whispering her thoughts. She called the woman a bitch, which the woman accepted, informing us she was “about to cum all over” Nina's fingers. Her body stiffened, and then she collapsed against the bar. Her head hung limp, and her eyes were shut tightly. She never reopened them while we were there.

Nina released her fingers and wiped her hand with a napkin. The man, with the panties still on his head, had unzipped his pants again, and his exposed penis rested in his sticky hand.

“You're welcome,” Nina told him before she turned to me. “Let's go.”

We put our coats back on and exited the building just as a woman and a man were entering. The woman's face was familiar, like that of someone I had seen in passing on more than one occasion. Her expression showed that she had recognized mine as well, and then I realized she was a client at the salon where every two weeks I got my hair washed, deep conditioned, and flat-ironed. I turned my head and pulled the hood of my coat over my face.

“What happens if you run into people you know?” I asked Nina, feeling panicked during our walk back to my car. “Does that happen?”

“It does from time to time, and there's nothing to do but acknowledge the fact that we all were in the club together. We all keep one another's secret. At least that's the silent code.”

“Who have you run into?” I wanted to know.

“Now, Taryn, that would be defying the code, wouldn't it?” She chuckled.

“Yes, I suppose it would.” Inside, I had become paranoid about the woman we saw. Would she tell my stylist? I hadn't considered the possibility of encountering someone I knew, not during my first visit, given the fact that Layne had escaped recognition for seven years. Or had she? Were the exhibitionists bound that tightly by the code of confidentiality?