Lance and Dianna return to Club Ringers - and 'Lisa Layne' is born.
Betrayed Ch. 04
by Cherysse St. Claire ©
Chapter 4: Let The Games Begin
I really wasn't surprised when Dianna directed me into the parking lot at
Ringers. It was only a few blocks across town from my new home; a
five-minute drive, if the traffic wasn't killing at the time. Consciously,
it had not been a factor in my decision to take the new place.
Sub-consciously... well, who knows?
"Pop the trunk," she instructed as I shifted into Park.
I complied. She didn't wait for me to get her door. She slid out, stepped
to the rear of the car, fished her Capezio bag out of the trunk, then
closed the lid with a precise click. I guessed she had had experience with
precision-engineered automobiles before. Most people would have slammed
the trunk lid; so necessary with American cars. It occurred to me Dianna
was the type of girl who attracted a more affluent clientele. She had said
she had had her pick of a large number of 'Sugar Daddies' — and turned
them all down. I felt blessed.
She shouldered the bag and took my arm in hers.
"Let's go, Sweetie," she chirped brightly.
"Where to?" I responded coyly.
"Your future awaits," she replied, "but we mustn't keep it waiting another
minute."
We strolled down the sidewalk, my arm linked through hers, past the usual
long line for the second show. The doorman recognized her immediately,
greeted her, and waved us through, much to the muttered annoyance of the
lost souls waiting in line. They were not amused that the "rich bitch and
her husband" were given preferential treatment. "Talent coming through,"
was all the hired muscle said to placate the throng, who were anything but
as we were admitted. We picked our way from the door to the other end of
the room, stopping frequently to greet this bartender, that performer, or
another 'working girl' or 'date'. Everyone knew Dianna by name — another
source of pride on my part, mixed with a touch of awe.
She guided me directly into the performer's dressing room without so much
as a knock on the door. Eight or ten gorgeous 'girls' were in various
stages of dress, from fully costumed to not at all. Dianna paid no mind to
their modesty — or complete lack thereof — any more than they seemed to
mind my presence. Of course, everyone had to drool over my lover's dress,
shoes, jewelry, and especially her fabulous fur coat. They guessed the
source of her newfound beneficence and turned to me appreciatively.
"He's cute," one girl opined, giving me an appreciative once-over. "Sharp
dresser, too, although it doesn't seem to fit him very well. What's his
name, Honey?"
"His name is Taken," my sweetheart replied cattily.
"Is he your latest husband, Dianna?"
"Not for long, Sugar," Dianna responded sweetly. "Girls, meet Lisa Layne.
She is about to become my latest wife. Ladies, a little help, please."
The shrieks and catcalls came fast and furiously. Fully a half-dozen pairs
of hands whisked my coat, shirt, tie, shoes, and pants off in the blink of
an eye, leaving me in my lingerie, standing in the middle of a hen party.
"Not bad, Dianna," another girl clucked. "No wonder the suit didn't fit.
You've already got her in drag. She's got some shape to her."
The girl squeezed one of my fake boobies playfully.
"Oh yeah, she's gonna be a cutie! How do you do it? If you can bottle it,
we'll all be rich!"
"In your dreams, Chantal," Dianna countered with a grin. "I just know how
to pick 'em. I don't chase everything and anything in pants — like some
people I know."
That drew another raucous round of catcalls.
"Now, help me get her dressed and out front," my lover bid them. "We have
to start teaching her the ropes."
"Wait a minute!" I exclaimed.
Dianna turned to me, smiling.
"Wait what, Sweetheart?" she trilled.
"Don't I get to say something about this?"
The seductive siren wrapped her arms around my neck and nuzzled my nose
with hers.
"But Baby, you already did," she pouted. "You told me you didn't want to
stop. You haven't changed your mind already, have you? I would be so
disappointed."
"It's just... I mean..."
Open mouth, insert foot, Bud. It's a little too late to claim you didn't
think she was serious. This isn't the sort of thing Dianna would kid
about, anyway.
"... I would be embarrassed to death if someone recognized me," I
squeaked.
My lover just shook her head back and forth. Her smile was not to be
denied; nor was her gentle kiss on my lips.
"You are so silly!" she proclaimed. "I doubt that would be a problem here,
but your wish is my command. We will just have to make sure no one can.
Who would know more about that than us?"
"What is she gonna wear, Dianna?"
My sweetheart grinned and reached into her shoulder bag.
"This little number right here," she crowed, whipping out her semi-sheer
blouse, suede suit and mules. "She loved it on me this afternoon. Now,
let's see how it looks on her!"
In less time than it took to describe it, I was in Dianna's outfit from
earlier that day. It might not have looked quite as good on me as it had
on her, but I was surprised how good it did look — pleasantly surprised.
Aside from my lack of makeup and hair, I didn't look like a man in a
dress, which I had fully expected. Those previously-mentioned shortcomings
did not last for long.
I was shepherded into a reclining salon-style chair and dropped almost to
horizontal. A salon apron was draped over my body, covering everything
from the neckline down and protecting my clothing from whatever was to
come. Then, they really went to work on me. The cast of 'makeup artists'
changed constantly as girls came and went for their respective sets on
stage. My eyebrows were attacked simultaneously with four or five pairs of
tweezers. Individual hairs were ripped out without mercy or so much as a
by-your-leave. When, at last, they were satisfied, they examined my
complexion for imperfections.
"You are amazing, Sweetie," one girl told me. "Your face is as soft and
smooth as a baby's bottom. I just about need a magnifying glass to see
your pores. No dark circles or blemishes — I can't even find a trace of a
beard!"
"I hate shaving," I revealed, "body hair, too. It trapped sweat and
bacteria and made me smell really nasty after a long run — not to mention
it just felt... creepy to me. I had it all removed by laser as soon as I
started making money."
"And you've never dressed before?" Chantal asked incredulously. "What a
waste!"
That last bit was spoken playfully. They were beginning to warm to me —
and I to them. This whole experience seemed so surreal. Barely a week
before, I had had only a passing awareness of this world. Now, I was being
drawn into it. There were no illusions on my part; had I been by myself,
my good looks, slender physique and charm would have amounted to exactly
squat to them. My connection to my beautiful lover, whom they obviously
held in high esteem, had everything to do with their acceptance of me.
One girl applied a sheer makeup base to give my skin a little color. She
blended it carefully with a fine-pored makeup sponge, then set it with
powder and brush. Blush was added to the hollows of my cheekbones, at my
temples, and under my jawline. Another drew careful strokes on my forehead
above each eye with a soft pencil. My first thought was she might be
accentuating my eyebrows, but it felt she was working well above my
browline.
They took a good, long time on my eyes, starting with thick showgirl
lashes above and below. Shadow came next; a lot of it, judging by the time
it took them to apply it. Liquid eyeliner was painted above and below,
too. My lips felt like they were being outlined by yet another pencil.
Then, they were filled in with a brush dipped repeatedly in what I saw to
be a deep-red lipstick. Once the first coat was smoothed out, a second was
applied. Then came a coat of clear gloss. It was so bizarre to feel, know
what they were doing, but not be able to see it.
"Are you gonna get these cock mittens pumped, Dianna?" Chantal questioned
as she painted my lips.
"Uh-huh," my 'drag mother' intoned. "Cheekbones too — as well as other
parts of her anatomy. All in good time."
Meanwhile, other pairs of hands had pinned my wrists to the padded
armrests. Something was carefully applied to my fingertips. After a few
minutes, several coats of what I suspected was nail polish (once you smell
that smell, you never forget it) was brushed on my fingertips. At the same
time, my stockings had been removed. My toenails were receiving similar
attention.
"We need something for her ears," Dianna pronounced. "Cheráe, are you
packing tonight?"
A tall, attractive Black girl rummaged through her own shoulder bag and
came up with a pistol-like device.
"Always," Cheráe proclaimed. "Have gun, will travel. Mild or wild?"
"Wild!" echoed a chorus of voices.
Dianna smiled with amusement, gazing into my face.
"You heard the ladies," she pronounced. "Go to town. I want the best for
my wife. In this case, the baddest is the best. I want her so her own
mother won't recognize her."
In the next twenty minutes, each ear was stung repeatedly by what felt
like a swarm of silent bees. Several pairs of hands were swiping at the
pinpricks with cotton swabs dipped in peroxide. Then something was applied
repeatedly to my ears that added more and more weight to them.
"She needs hair. Who's got hair?"
The cry was echoed around the room.
"I doooooo," chirped a voice clattering down the stairs from the stage
door. "I guess I'm just in time to add the crowning touch. Happy to help."
"You are a doll, Mimi," Dianna complemented gratefully. "I owe you big
time. Knowing how you are about hair, it's got to be special."
"It's special, all right," Mimi crowed. "Showgirl Deluxe, in 'Bleach Bunny
Blonde'. With those Baby Blues of hers, she's gonna be fabulous!"
The chair was pivoted, then tilted upright. I was now facing away from the
mirror. My longish hair was brushed back, then tucked into a tight-fitting
mesh cap. A long blonde wig was fitted over that, then anchored to my head
with a series of bobby pins that were wound around and around locks of my
own hair before being slid into place. A final sharp tug jerked my head
back, but the hair remained firmly in position.
Some kind of choker was wrapped around my neck and fastened in back. It
was tall, and held my head up. A ton of bangles went on each wrist. Rings
were positioned on multiple fingers and toes. My stockings were once again
rolled up my hairless legs. Then, I was helped out of the chair. Two pairs
of palms smoothed out the stocking on each leg, adjusting it just so, then
re-attaching the garters. I felt a single chain double-wrapped around my
left ankle and clipped into place. Each foot was lifted in turn, and
Dianna's fabulous lavender suede mules were positioned on my feet. Even
with all my experience running, it was a real trip to balance precariously
on the balls of my feet, as those high-heeled slippers forced me to do. As
a final touch, I was spritzed liberally with a perfume Cheráe identified
as Obsession. I had smelled it before on girls I had encountered in the
clubs. Its name was totally appropriate for the reaction it elicited in
the male of the species.
The appreciative oohs and ahhs were thick enough to cut with a knife.
"Done!" Dianna pronounced triumphantly. "Make that: 'done with a Capital
D'. Are you ready for the debut of your extreme makeover, Sweetie?"
With that, she placed her hands gently on my shoulders and turned me
around to face the mirror for the first time. She had been successful in
at least one respect; my own mother would not have recognized the
fantastic, overdone bimbo that stared back at me, red-lipped mouth agape.
I say 'overdone' in the context of the women I saw at work and on the
streets every day. My showgirl stage makeup blended perfectly with the
smiling, happy faces surrounding me at that moment.
My initial impression of the brow work had been correct. The thick,
shapeless brows that had formerly closed in my eyes were gone completely,
replaced by razor-thin, high, penciled-in arches. My eyelids were dark,
heavy-lidded and mysterious, shadowed above and below and blending beyond
the corners. They were heavy-lidded due to the combined weight of the
long, thick, enormously-full lashes that now framed my Baby Blue orbs. An
equally-thick slash of ebony liner defined each upper and lower lid,
extending into sharp points well past the corners of my eyes.
My lips had been outlined in a dark claret shade, intentionally outside
the natural lipline to make them appear fuller. Then, they were filled in
with deep red ('Raven Red' Chantal called it). The final coat of gloss
made them shine like dark cherry ice. My cheekbones appeared fuller and
higher, thanks to the combination of heavy shading below the bone, plus
highlighter above. The same heavy shading at my temples and below my jaw
re-contoured the natural shape of my face, making it appear almost
heart-shaped and fabulously alluring. The whole of it was framed by a mass
of big, loose, blonde curls, so pale as to be almost white, cascading down
my back almost to my waist.
My fingernails were almost obscenely long, square-cut with
slightly-rounded corners, gently curving downward, the same Raven Red as
my lips, and glistening with gold nail art. My equally-perfect
red-and-gold toenails extended outward a bit from the tips of my toes as
well. Chantal called them 'sculptured toenails' and pronounced them all
the rage — perfect for open-toed shoes like the ones I was wearing.
The choker around my neck was eight tiers of tightly-spaced gold chains.
In harmony, there were eight new piercings in each of my ears; a gold ball
stud at the very top of each ear, with a wide gold ear clip at the outside
corner. Four smallish gold rings were clustered in a cascade below the
midline of the outer edge. Finally, each lobe was double-pierced, with a
one-inch loop in the upper piercing and a huge four-inch hoop in the
lower. Gold rings flashed on each of my long, slender, taloned fingers.
There were golden toe rings on two toes of each foot, plus a slender gold
chain double-wrapped around my trim left ankle.
I had never before in my life been so close to cumming from visual
stimulus alone. All right I admit it. As far back as childhood, I had
always wondered: What if I had been a girl, instead of a boy? I had
secretly experimented a little with my mother's and sister's lingerie, but
never taken it further than that; I had never had the nerve to do more.
Now, here I was in full drag — and felt like I had just stepped into a new
plane of existence. If I was turning me on, what effect would I have on
the men in the club? Dianna read my mind.
"The boys will be falling all over themselves to get at you, Girlfriend,"
she exclaimed. "You will even give me a run for the money."
I seriously doubted that. She had 'freshened' her own makeup while her
girlfriends were doing mine. Our faces could have been cast from the same
libidinous mold. With her looks, body, and blatant sex appeal, she could
make a man cum just by blowing him a kiss.
I received a crash course (almost literally so) in how to strut in a
sensual, sure-footed manner in those towering heels. Apparently, Dianna
thought I was a quick learner. After fifteen minutes or so, she handed me
her lavender suede clutch, now containing my cash, but neither ID nor
credit cards ("No one would believe it's you, Sugar."). There were also my
lipstick and gloss, lip brush, compact and powder brush, breath mints,
perfume spritzer — plus a single-use tube of K-Y and condoms!
"I carry those wherever I go," she observed with a wink. "A girl can never
be too prepared."
I looked down at the makeup table next to us and observed the suit, shirt,
and tie I had worn since the day before. My wallet - with credit cards,
driver's license, and all other forms of identification - would be nestled
in the hip pocket of my pants, as always.
"What do we do with that?" I questioned, pointing at it. "Do you think we
can come up with a garment bag, or something similar?"
"A garment bag?" my lover intoned with a smile. "Sure; no problem."
She hefted the coat and examined the label inside.
"Men's Wearhouse, right?"
"Yeahhhhh," I responded cautiously.
"Perfect!" she chirped. "One garment bag, coming right up."
She gathered the pile together, wadded it up into a compact ball, then
stuffed it in her now-empty Capezio bag.
"They'll press it for free," she purred. Then, with a smirk: "I guarantee
it."
She carried the bag in one hand and her red sequined evening clutch in the
other. She slipped the latter arm through mine. She glanced down at the
larger bag, containing my compacted clothes, then back at me, smiling.
"Ritchie will keep this behind the bar for us until it's time to leave. It
will be safer there than in here among the vultures. Now, it's time for
'Lisa Layne' to meet her Brave New World, and vice-versa."
I had never been so completely terrified in my life as Dianna and I
slinked arm-in-arm through the dressing room door and into the main
lounge. I felt a pale imitation of a woman, compared to the one on my arm.
Aside from the Annie Lennox number Dana was lip-synching to on stage, you
could have heard a pin drop as the crowd beheld us. Then again, I will
swear I heard the sound of a few male jaws hitting the floor. The place
had gotten crowded in the interim, as Dianna had told me it always did on
a Saturday night. Surprisingly, there were a goodly number of genetic
females in the audience; in pairs or small clusters, even a larger group
gathered around a couple of pushed-together tables.
"The GG's like to see us, too," Dianna revealed. "They eat up the
performances and how flawless we look — as long as we don't compete for
their men. That larger group is either a birthday or bachelorette party.
From here, they will most likely work their way uptown to see a men's
strip show."
"Do they ever... " I began haltingly.
"Date?" Dianna finished, smiling bemusedly. "Sometimes. A few are closet
lesbians who convince themselves they aren't really making it with another
woman because the girl is hung. Some are just into chicks with dicks, like
the guys who come in here."
"Have you ever dated any of them?" I inquired, out of genuine fascination.
"Sure," my girlfriend chirped enthusiastically. "Their money is as good as
any man's. Besides..."
She massaged my tight, now-shapely tush.
"... I like girls; the sexier, more feminine, the better. I thought you
understood that by now."
I waggled my tush under her hand.
"Am I sexy enough for you?" I asked coyly.
"Oh, Honey," she murmured in my ear, "if you only knew."
With that kind of positive reinforcement, I could really get into this.
I was astonished to spy two empty bar stools, side-by-side, along the
front side of the bar. As we approached, I saw why they stood unoccupied.
In the middle of each was a white placard which read: Reserved in flowing
script. Dianna approached one stool, picked up the placard, draped her fur
over the seat and back rest, then perched regally, like a queen on her
throne. She removed the placard from the other stool and motioned me to
sit. She handed the placards to the bartender and placed the Capezio bag
on the bar.
"Thanks, Ritchie," she intoned with her most sincere smile. "Please take
care of my bag for me, won't you? And do you think you could scrounge up
something special in honor of my girlfriend's coming out?"
I surreptitiously removed two bills from my purse and reached behind me,
holding my hand so only Ritchie could see. He discreetly accepted the
proffered bills, noting Ben Franklin's portrait on both, and winked.
"We have a bottle of Taittinger Blanc de Blanc we save for special
occasions," he informed us. "I think this qualifies, Miss...."
"Lisa," I purred in genuine gratitude. "Lisa Layne. That would be lovely,
Ritchie. Thank you."
"It's an honor to serve you, Miss Lisa."
I turned to face him, placed my hand lightly on his, and flashed him the
most dazzling smile I could muster.
"It's a pleasure to be served by you, Ritchie."
He blushed crimson, stared at his shoes, mumbled his sincerest thanks,
then hurried off in search of the champagne. My lover smiled at me in
admiration.
"You handled that very well," she cooed, "although you still have to learn
not to spend your money. Men will be buying us drinks all night; wait and
see. By the way, you should take Ritchie literally on that 'honor to serve
you' bit. He's very submissive and obviously smitten with you. I think you
just made your first conquest. Have you considered what you might do with
your very own little slave boy?"
I was stunned at the thought. I hadn't really done anything. It couldn't
be that easy, could it? As a male, getting a woman interested in me was
like pulling teeth with a pair of rusty pliers. Were all men as easily
manipulated by a beautiful woman? And just when did I begin thinking of
myself as a 'beautiful woman'?
The Taittinger was as excellent as ever. Even Dianna, a novice with fine
wine, gave it her stamp of approval. It was so nice to find an
establishment that kept such a delicate vintage in the refrigerator,
rather than on top of it. We sipped the bubbly, watched the show - and
drew stares like flies to honey. I lost count of the number of times I
scanned the room and caught eyes darting away guiltily. When I caught a
gaze that didn't turn away, I gave him the once-over. If I thought him
hot, I flashed him what I hoped was a seductive smile. Even a week before,
'Lance' would never, ever have flirted with a man this way. Now, as
'Lisa'... well, I guess Dianna had broadened my horizons.
Men began approaching us not long after we sat down. Dianna deftly fielded
most of their advances. My lover was uncannily accurate at sizing men up,
gracefully dismissing the clumsy come-ons and zeroing in on the ones that
had real potential. I graciously acknowledged interest when it was
directed at me, but generally watched, listened, and learned from my more
experienced girlfriend.
One man in particular carried on a lengthy murmured conversation with my
girlfriend. That she gave him that much time indicated she had sized him
up as U.S. Prime. One look at his freshly-pressed Armani suit, broadcloth
shirt, silk tie and Tissot wristwatch confirmed that. I knew what was
coming and readied myself for it. Dianna stood and turned to me.
"Baby," she offered carefully, "do you remember what we talked about over
dinner?"
I nodded bravely and forced a smile.
"Good," she responded. "Ken and I are going to go next door for a bit and
get... better acquainted. Will you be okay here by yourself?"
She and I both knew what she meant was: would I be okay with her going out
to fuck this man? We had discussed it; at dinner and again in the car. She
had been open and honest about it, pointing out this was what she was and
she wasn't going to change. She had also assured me that no matter how
much or how big a cock she got, she would always come home to me - and
share the details of the men she had had. Susan hadn't done that; instead,
she had snuck around behind my back with one man in particular, then
(finally) come home, pretending nothing had happened. I had professed to
Dianna I would rather be with her than Susan, knowing Dianna would be with
men, sometimes several nights a week. Now, I had to step up and take
myself at my word.
Something else occurred to me. Once again, I was thinking in terms of
Dianna fucking men, not other men. What was happening to my self-image? I
had only to look in the mirror behind the bar to answer that question. I
gazed at the reflection — my reflection - dressed all in lavender suede
and sheer black blouse with a full, fluffy head of blonde hair and
overdone makeup. It wasn't like I had gone down kicking and screaming,
either. How could I possibly still think of myself as a man?
Just let go....
I squeezed her hand reassuringly, even if I didn't feel it myself. My
smile was a bit less forced.
"I'll watch your coat," I said.
It was difficult to read the jumble of emotions in her face. There was
nothing difficult to understand about the silently-mouthed words "Thank
you" she formed with her lips. I thought it had been difficult to accept
Susan was cheating on me. I thought it had been next to impossible to pack
my belongings, walk out that door, leave eight years of mostly happy
memories behind. It was nothing compared to watching my 'Barbie' walk out
that door, alone, followed discreetly a few minutes later by her 'Ken'. I
had to remind myself again she wasn't cheating on me; she had been honest
and up-front about who and what she was and I had accepted her on that
basis. For that matter, we weren't even married yet.
Yet? What are you thinking, Lisa?
I sat there, lost in my thoughts, absent-mindedly stroking Dianna's
fabulous fur. I hadn't really realized just how exquisite a sensation it
was. I switched stools, surrounding myself with the soft, fluffy pelt,
wrapping myself up in it, luxuriating in the sublime sensations. I began
to wonder why I had denied myself this pleasure for so very long? When I
realized the answer, I had to smile. Perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to
change my perspective after all. I just needed the right... stimulation.
"Hi Cutie! Would you like some company?"
I looked up. This time, my smile was warm and genuine.
"Hi Chantal! I would love some."
I turned to Ritchie. He read my mind, instantly producing a third flute. I
poured my new friend the last of the Taittinger, then proposed a toast.
"To... new beginnings," I murmured.
"Here, here," she responded, clinking her glass softly against mine, then
taking a sip.
"Oh my! You have excellent taste... " Chantal exclaimed.
She glanced at the sinfully-expensive fur wrapped luxuriantly around my
body.
"... in so many things," she finished.
I nodded slowly.
"Thank you," I replied in a subdued voice.
"Where is Dianna?" she asked, turning her head from side to side, looking
for my lover.
"A date," I stated simply.
Perhaps it was the way my body tensed, or the inflection in my voice. My
new girlfriend knew immediately.
"Oh, my," she stated quietly. "I know where this is going. Can you talk
about it yet? Do you want to?"
I nodded my head slowly.
"It would probably do me good to get it out, rather than bottling it up,"
I responded. "She and I have already talked about it. I know this is what
she is and she won't change. I accepted that. It's my problem, not hers. I
have no right to play the 'jealous husband' with her."
"I'll say, Girlfriend," my ebony companion snorted. "Have you looked at
yourself in the mirror lately?"
I chuckled.
"I've already been there," I concurred. "I can't believe it myself. It's
not like I was unwilling; at least, not after tonight, and all of you
taking the time to help me."
Chantal squeezed my hand.
"Thank you, Baby," she interjected. "It's sweet of you to say so."
"It just all happened so fast," I continued. "I need time to let my head
to catch up with the rest of me."
The attractive T-girl took both my hands in hers and gazed at me
earnestly.
"Girrrl," she advised, "what you need is to get laid — by the biggest cock
you can find. Not Dianna; you need a man. You can wring your hands and
rationalize and soul-search all you want. Until you get some stud to fuck
you, and find out just how easy it is to find one, you will never get past
where your head is at right now.
"As you said, Dianna is what she is and won't change. I know her, know the
way she thinks, about as well as anyone. She loves to fuck; the hotter,
rougher, nastier, throw-me-up-against-the-wall-and-do-me-right-now, the
better. But that is just sex. When it comes to love, Miss Dianna is a
hard-core lipstick lesbian. She will bring trade home if she has to,
providing she knows she can get rid of him right away. She doesn't want
some guy underfoot all weekend, leaving his dirty, smelly clothes strewn
all over or drinking beer and watching sports on TV all day.
"For what it's worth, Dianna has been bending our ears all week, telling
us about this wonderful, caring, sensitive guy she met — and how hard he
makes her cum. That girl is crazy for you, Sweetie! We've all been saying
'yeah, yeah, we've seen it all before and experienced it ourselves. He's
all lovey-dovey, sensitive and caring in the beginning. Then, the freak
grows fur and fangs at the full moon and rips your head off.'
"When we met you tonight, watched you two make eyes at each other, saw how
you pamper her, and what an exquisitely-beautiful girl you made on the
first attempt, we knew you are exactly the kind of lover Dianna falls hard
for. I don't normally go for feminine men, but I wouldn't mind putting a
move on you myself.
"I once had a manager who told me: 'Chantal, if you can't change the
facts, change your attitude.' So, you will have to change your perception
of your relationship and who you are as a person. You started down this
path, whether of your own free will or Dianna's siren song. Believe me; I
know how persuasive she can be. Now, you have to make a choice: either see
it through to its logical conclusion or get outta Dodge. I know without
asking Dianna is hoping, praying for the former. So are the rest of us.
We've already gotten attached to you, Girl. We want you to stick around.
Believe me; that doesn't happen often around this place."
Chantal glanced at the clock on the bar.
"I have to go get ready for my next set," she announced. "Did any of this
help?"
I hugged her for all I was worth.
"More than you can possibly know," I replied.
She flashed a dazzling smile, showing off about a thousand perfect teeth.
"Good!" she exclaimed. "I meant what I said. We really want to see you
around more often. We want you and Dianna to be happy together, too. All
right, I lied. I hope she will make you miserable and you will dump her
big round butt cold — and I will be right there, waiting to catch you as
you fall. See you later!"
My new confidant made her way back to the dressing room. I mulled over her
words carefully. When Dianna returned from her date, I moved back to my
own stool and allowed her to reclaim hers. Her smile was genuine, but her
eyes were tinged with caution.
"Keeping it warm for me?" she asked.
"And then some," I replied.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I shook my head and squeezed her hand.
"Later," I demurred. "Tonight, at home, in bed — with you inside me. That
will be the right time."
She leaned over, placed one hand on my cheek, and planted a warm, gentle
kiss on my lips, in front of God and everyone.
"You really do know how to push all the right buttons," she murmured in my
ear, above the din. "I am so in love with you, I could burst!"
***
I couldn't ignore him. He was tall, attractive, and built like a Greek
god. He had been giving me the eye all evening; one of those that didn't
turn away when my gaze met his. I had winked and smiled at him a bit
earlier. Apparently, he had taken that as an invitation. As he drew near,
Dianna had done her best to divert him to herself, but he was having none
of it. He made straight for my stool and engaged me in conversation. One
thing led to another.
"I was wondering," he intoned thoughtfully. "What would it take to get a
girl like you someplace more... private? I would really like to get better
acquainted.
Time to shit or get off the pot, Girl!
"What did you have in mind, Sugar?" I inquired.
He carefully held my chin between his thumb and forefinger, then leaned
over and whispered directly into my ear.
"You have such beautiful lips," he intoned, gently tracing their outline
with his other forefinger, careful not to smear my lipstick. "I was just
wondering how much it would cost to see them wrapped around a nice, juicy
tube steak?"
Clear, concise, and to the point. I had listened to Dianna field such
requests for the better part of two hours. She had quoted them a steep
price to cull out the wannabes who were just living out their hooker
fantasy without actually planning to go through with it. Real players
would negotiate — and not be deterred by a highball figure.
"Funny you should bring that up, Sugar," I intoned. I've been craving a
tube steak sandwich all night. I know a quiet little spot not far from
here where they serve up good ones for...Seventy-Five?
"Seventy-five?" he voiced in mock surprise. "They would have to be very
good."
"What's your name, Lover?" I inquired.
"Daniel."
I sighed, expanding my chest to show off my boobs, then licked my lips
suggestively.
"You tell me, Daniel," I spoke breathily. "Do you think it's worth it?"
He gave me another once-over, then smiled.
"Oh yeah," he replied. "I definitely think you are worth it. Where do we
go from here?"
Thanks to Dianna, I had my response down pat.
"You are going to be a good boy and go back to your table. I will be
leaving as soon as you do. For obvious reasons, it would not be a good
idea for us to be seen leaving the club together. Wait ten minutes, then
come to the office building next door. Ring the buzzer marked
Two-Seventeen, identify yourself, and ask for Lisa. I'll buzz you in.
Remember: the tube steak special goes for seventy-five up front; no
exceptions. Got it?"
"Oh, yeah, Sweet Thing; I got it."
As Daniel returned to his table, I smiled at Dianna coyly. I had trouble
reading her emotions.
"My big girl is growing up really, really fast," she observed, with
unexpected distance in her voice. "You were taking baby steps only a
couple of hours ago. Now, you are going to have your first date with a
man. Remember everything I taught you and play nice with the big boys.
Jim, the owner, makes the room available to us girls. He owns the whole
building, as well as this club. Be sure to tip him like I told you. If you
are good to him, fair to him, he will be your biggest fan. Now, go — and
be sure to wear a condom."
"I'm just giving him a blowjob, Baby," I assured her. "I'm not fucking
him."
"You wear a condom anyway," Dianna intoned more insistently. "You will
thank me later."
Jim was playing host at the front door, meeting and greeting guests as
they arrived. We had never actually met. The first time I was here, he had
said hello, but pretty much ignored me, as he did with all obviously
straight males. Dianna had told me about him. He was a short, rotund Gay
boy who had a penchant for dressing. In the beginning, he had performed on
his own stage. He had a reputation for sometimes being a tyrant towards
those who worked for him. In truth, he worshipped the girls who performed
on his stage or 'worked the crowd', secretly wishing he could look as good
as they did.
He took one look at me and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull.
"Well, hello, Blondie," he gushed. "Shame on you for sneaking in earlier!
I'm certain I would remember seeing you come through my door."
I held out my hand.
"Lisa Layne," I pronounced. "I'm a friend of Dianna's."
He took my hand and kissed it.
"Well of course you are!" Jim enthused. "Leave it to Dianna to know all
the good ones. I remember her coming in tonight. I'm sorry; I still don't
remember you."
"You would have had no reason to," I admitted. "I was en drab at the time.
This is my first time out. Actually, you could say I was 'born' in your
dressing room a couple of hours ago."
I had no idea how emotional Jim could actually be. He was literally
running around in circles, not knowing what to do.
"Oh my God," he exclaimed, "oh, my goodness gracious. This is your first
time out? And you already look like THAT? And I'm the proud papa? Oh, be
still, my heart. Oh, oh, I'm going to have a coronary. Somebody fetch me
an aspirin! I have to nip this sucker in the bud right now! Dear, sweet
lady, can you dance? Can you sing? Can you at least lip-sync? Can you
roller skate and twirl a baton? I've got to get you up on my stage! Oh,
I'm so excited, I'm beside myself."
"Well, pull yourself together or we'll have to charge you a second cover,"
I jibed gleefully.
The poor dear laughed until he had tears in his eyes.
"Dear girl, will you share a drink with me? This is one of those truly
special moments that must be commemorated."
"Jimmy, I would love to," I responded with all the charm I had in me.
"Could we do it a bit later? To tell the truth, I was just about to step
next door to the employee lounge for a... coffee break."
That was the code phrase Dianna taught me to use. He knew exactly what I
meant.
"YOU GO, GIRL! This is your first night out, and you are already driving
the little boys wild? You are going to be a star, just like Dianna!"
He grasped both my hands in his and held them tightly. I took the
opportunity to transfer the twenty-dollar bill from my palm to his — a
little grease to prime the business pump. He felt the bill change hands
and cranked his smile up another notch.
"Oh, you are definitely a keeper! Go do your date, Girlfriend — and use
protection. I'll buzz you through from here. When you get back, we'll have
that drink. Oh, if I was only twenty years younger — and attracted to
women!
***
Nervous? Who, me? What would I have to be nervous about? Ten days before,
I had been a happily-married, strictly-hetero commodities trader, amateur
athlete, and (I thought) all-around nice guy. Now, I was a maxed-out
blonde bimbo, pacing back and forth across the 'employee lounge',
anxiously awaiting the arrival of her first 'date', wondering for the
umpteenth time that evening what I had gotten myself into. Acquiescing to
Dianna's instructions, I had managed to slip a condom over my raging
hard-on with trembling hands. Getting my 'clit' back into my panties,
tucked back between my thighs, had been nearly impossible.
It wasn't like Dianna had stuck a gun to my head and told me: "you have to
date." If anything, she had spent the last few hours deflecting that kind
of attention away from me — towards herself. Yet, when the choice was
made, she had done nothing to dissuade me, other than acting put-off by my
initiative. Perhaps that was the entire issue; choice. She had never
forced anything on me. She had merely presented a series of options — and
let me choose which way I wanted to go. What was it Chantal had said?
Believe me, I know how persuasive she can be. Was my lover that good, that
she could manipulate me into doing what she wanted without saying the
words? A few minutes ago, I had left with the impression she didn't want
me to go on this date at all. The chime of the intercom almost made me
jump out of my skin.
"Yes?"
"Lisa? It's Daniel. Are you ready for me?"
Upon arrival in the New World, Cortez ordered his ships burned to the
waterline. As the flames lit the night sky, his men knew there would be no
turning back.
I pressed the button.
"It's open. C'mon up."
Burn, Baby, Burn!
Daniel was impressive in more than looks. He was cool about taking care of
commerce right away, freeing us up for some serious pleasure. I think he
liked the way I pushed him down on the bed, then undid his belt and zipper
and yanked down his pants. I was impressed again when I saw the size of
his 'package'. I felt positively girlish in comparison — under the
circumstances, a good thing.
During the course of my marriage, I had learned oral skills that had kept
Susan in orgasmic bliss for hours. With Dianna, I had refined those
skills, learning how to apply them in the way a woman pleases a man.
Daniel was now receiving the benefit of my 'education'. I began with a
long, slow slathering of my tongue on the underside of his penis, from his
scrotal sac all the way to the tip. I gave him little flicks of my tongue
all over, covering ever square centimeter with my lingual attention. I
kissed the tip lightly; barely more than a touch with my pursed lips.
Then, I split my lips, allowing them to just engulf the head of his cock.
I went to work again with my tongue, this time while slipping my lips up
and down his shaft, further and further.
I did not even attempt to make him cum within some arbitrary time limit.
This was a new and wondrous adventure for me. Perhaps it was not one I had
ever envisioned for myself, but I was here, he was here, and I was
determined to see it through. As much as I was enjoying this, I couldn't
help but wonder how much better it might be if that wonderful cock were
fucking my pussy instead of my mouth. My ministrations were obviously
having the desired effect. His breathing became rapid and shallow. His
body began to thrash back and forth. He had grabbed hold of my head with
both hands and was fucking his cock with my face.
Then, he thrust me away forcefully.
"Stop," he gasped. "I changed my mind."
I had really been getting into it. To say I was disappointed would be
putting it mildly.
"Changed your mind?" I retorted, peeved. "Honey, we don't do refunds."
"That's not what I meant," he panted. "I want, need to finish inside you.
How much for that?"
My whole body twitched at the delectable thought. Chantal's words came
back to me:
Girrrl, what you need is to get laid — by the biggest cock you can find.
"Lover, with credit for what you have already paid, that little 'extra'
will cost you an additional hundred-twenty-five."
"If I make it one-fifty, can we go bareback?"
My eyes glazed over at the prospect of being filled to the brim with his
spunk. Just as quickly, my head regained control.
"Baby, I don't know you from Adam yet. My life is worth more to me than an
additional twenty-five dollars. Tonight, we play protected or we don't
play at all."
He slipped me the additional cash. I slipped the jumbo-sized lubricated
condom over his manhood, wet him in my mouth with a dozen or so sucks,
then hiked up my skirt and slipped out of my panties. The entire contents
of the K-Y tube were hurriedly deposited inside my puckered hole. At his
request, I bent over the edge of the bed, holding myself up on my hands.
His spit-slick cock parted my nether lips and slipped into me easily. My
eyes glazed over for real. If Dianna was big; Daniel was huge by
comparison. He worked me like a pro, plowing my field with animal
intensity.
It didn't take long — for either of us. I could feel him tense, feel his
cock grow rigid. The Adonis grabbed my hips and thrust my body back onto
his bar of steel. I was dimly aware of a girl's screams of "Fuck me,
Daddy. Use your slut. Cum inside your ho'. She's nothing but a cheap cum
catcher, a receptacle for your spunk. You know she's been begging for it
all night. Give it to her. Harder. Harder!" I felt his rod begin to gush
like a firehose through the thin latex membrane. That did it for me. My
world shattered into a million pieces and fell away. A thunderous roar
filled my ears. My whole body spasmed from head to toe.
It took a long, long while to pull my fragmented psyche back together, bit
by bit. Some of it, I knew, would never be the same again. I lay there
panting, quivering, unable to move, even as I heard Daniel get up, zip his
pants, express his thanks and leave. As my faculties returned, I realized
that girl's voice exhorting Daniel to use her, fuck her, had been mine.
So, too, had been the primal lust her words had given voice to. Her words,
her lust, were mine. What did that make me?
As usual, Dianna had been right to have me wear a condom. Mine was not
quite as full as the one Daniel had casually discarded, but at the time,
it felt like it should have been. Aside from the obvious, the saving grace
of sex with condoms is the relative ease of cleanup. I snatched up his in
a paper towel and deposited it in the wastebasket, followed by my own.
After checking myself and the bedclothes for spotting (none, thank God), I
rearranged my disheveled clothing, repaired my makeup, then tidied up the
bedspread and pillows for later use. I cast my eyes around the room one
more time, bidding a final farewell to this last vestige of Virginity,
then turned and strutted saucily out the door.
There was a profoundly more exaggerated wiggle to my walk as I slinked
past the patrons to resume my seat next to my Goddess. Part was necessity;
I felt I might walk bow-legged for a week. The other part was pure Drama.
Although Daniel's condom had done its job, the residual slickness of all
that lubricating jelly made me feel he had cum inside me in quarts. I felt
really wicked, returning to my lover with a man's 'cum' filling my love
nest. Baby, I played it for all it was worth for the benefit of the crowd.
I sat a bit gingerly, crossing one leg over the other with the subtle rasp
of stocking-on-stocking that was more felt than heard over the din of the
sound system. I leaned close to her, nuzzled her cheek with my nose, then
whispered in her ear.
"Did you miss me?"
I gently stroked her thigh through her dress to punctuate my implied
intention. Dianna jerked her head around to meet my gaze. Her eyes were
ablaze with emotions I had trouble interpreting.
"Did you have a good time?" she spoke carefully.
"Uh-huh!" I gushed. "Chantal was right. She said I needed a big cock to
put things in the right perspective."
"He fucked you, didn't he?" she spat.
I nodded, beaming.
"Did he ever!" I exclaimed emphatically. "Aren't you proud of me?"
"We're leaving," she hissed with grim determination.
Her coat was on in a flash. Ritchie had taken the cue; the Capezio bag was
on the bar a moment later. Dianna seemed not to notice it at all. She
seized my wrist firmly and propelled herself onto her feet. Thank goodness
my clutch was in that hand. I just managed to grab the bag off the bar
with my free hand before I was yanked off my chair. We made our way to the
door as quickly as the crowd allowed. I stayed our departure long enough
to express my thanks to Jimmy and beg for a rain check on his previous
offer.
We reached the parking lot in record time. The Mercedes was near the end,
immersed in shadow. Dianna unceremoniously threw me face-forward over the
trunk of the car, then stepped behind me, spreading my thighs with her
own. My skirt was bunched up around my waist and my panties at my knees
before I knew it. There was nothing tender in the way she took me.
"Is this good for you too, slut?" she barked, as she pummeled my love nest
with her 'clit'. "Is it as good as he was? Far be it from me to complain
about 'sloppy seconds'. If you want to let some guy — or two or three —
loosen you up for me, that's just fine."
Dianna thrust hard into me in tempo with her words. I had no idea what I
had done to invoke her rage, but that was exactly the right word to
describe her emotion. Her fiery determination almost made up for the
evening chill — almost. Between her adrenaline rush and the full-length
fur she wore, I was sure Dianna was toasty. I had only the thin suede
jacket to ward off the cold — that and the ferocity of Dianna's attack. It
wasn't like she was hurting me physically. Her words had been accurate;
Daniel had loosened me up. Her assault was emotional — and hit its mark.
After my experience with Daniel, and now this, I did feel like a slut. The
truly scary part was, I liked it.
It was that thought that made me cum a second time that evening, even
harder than the first. Dianna came too, flooding my tush with her creamy
spunk. We stood there dazed, sprawled over the trunk of the car, slowly
collecting our senses.
"Why?" I managed to gasp at last. "I did everything you asked. You wanted
to 'show me the ropes', as you put it, and I learned that, too. Why this?
What did I do wrong?"
My attacker pulled out of me, then pulled me up to face her. I could still
read the intense emotion in her expression as we each rearranged our
clothing. It was no longer fury that filled her eyes. She was still angry,
but I somehow sensed it was not at me.
"Drive the car," she said at last.
"But, what..."
"Just drive!"
I fished through the Capezio bag for the car keys, then opened her door
for her. She avoided my gaze as she settled into sumptuous leather
upholstery. After closing her door, I hurried around to my side, got in,
and started the engine. The five-liter V-8 roared to life, settling
quickly to a silky-smooth purr. We were half-way home before Dianna broke
the silence.
"Nothing," she murmured, staring out the passenger window.
"What?" I replied quizzically.
She turned to meet my gaze.
"You did nothing wrong," my companion avowed. "In fact, you did everything
right — more so than I could ever have imagined... or hoped. The problem
isn't you; it's me. I watched you go off with that guy, then return,
looking like the cat that just ate the canary. I was...."
It was a good thing we were both buckled in. I slammed on the brakes hard
enough to put us both through the windshield.
"Jealous?" I gasped incredulously. "YOU?"
"Don't take that tone with me, Missy," she intoned. "I'm human as much as
the next girl. In fact, I'm just now discovering how much. I've never been
in this situation before."
"You've never watched a girlfriend go off on a date with a guy?" I
queried, mystified.
"Not one I really cared about, no!" she huffed. "It's different this time.
You are different. I guess what I'm really trying to say is, the way I
feel about you is different. I saw you with that guy and... I didn't like
it."
First, I did the sensible thing — if you can call shifting a car into park
in the middle of Illinois Street at one AM on a frigid Sunday morning in
February 'sensible'. I unbuckled my seat belt and managed to maneuver my
body across the seat and onto Dianna's lap, throwing my arms around her
neck and nuzzling her nose with mine. All the while, I thanked my good
sense at purchasing the sedan instead of the SL coupe.
"Baby," I purred, "do you have any idea how utterly absurd that sounds,
coming from you?"
"So, it's 'absurd' I've fallen for you like a ton of bricks and I'm not
afraid to admit it?" she snapped indignantly.
"Nooooo," I re-grouped quickly, "it's absurd you think you have anything
to worry about. Daniel was just a guy with a dick. It was a really nice
dick, to be sure, but it was just a dick. You are the one I want, the one
I want to come home to — and haven't we had this conversation already?"
"Don't play word games with me, Bitch," my lover growled. "You know this
is different."
"Different?" I mused coyly. "How? Because we're talking about me, instead
of you?"
"Would you rather we make it about you and Susan?" she sniped.
That hurt.
"That was a low blow, Dianna," I muttered. This is different. Words count,
remember? That fact that we are here, having this conversation, makes us
different. Susan never afforded me that consideration; she just ran off
and did it."
"And if she came to you tomorrow," Dianna inquired, "and said to you the
same things we said tonight, what then? Better late than never."
I stared through those beseeching brown eyes, focused on that scenario in
my head. Then, I closed my eyes and slowly shook my head.
"We've already covered that ground, too," I professed. "That ship has
already sailed. It was quits when I found out about them. Here, together
with you like this, it's doubly so. Over the past ten days — especially
the last sixteen hours — I have had to undergo one continuous,
industrial-strength suspension of disbelief to get to this point. You know
what? It's working. I have jumped down the rabbit hole and am in no hurry
to find my way back — as long as you are here with me. My place is just
down the street and Monday morning is a whole world away. Now, can we put
an end to this insanity, go home, and enjoy the rest of our weekend?"
To emphasize my point, I lightly touched my lips to hers while grinding my
tush into her lap. I guess that was one more 'right button' to push.
"Just drive," she murmured — this time with a twinkle in her eyes.
We were silent as I pulled into the parking garage in the basement of my
building. We rode the elevator up to my floor in continued silence. The
pensive mood was broken as I opened the door to my place and admitted her.
She was captivated by the opulence — opulent to her — of my place. She was
further enchanted by the breathtaking view of the boat basin below and the
lake beyond. A short distance away, cars whizzed across the elevated
bridge where Lake Shore Drive passed over the locks separating the Chicago
River from Lake Michigan.
"This is nice," she offered, staring out into the night. "Very, very
nice."
The words sounded sincere, but there was that touch of distance again, as
there had been before we went to Ringers. I turned her to face me.
"It is," I agreed, "now that you are here. You are the first woman I have
brought here and the only one I want."
"I won't always be here," she corrected. "I told you that."
"Yes you will," I countered, "where it matters most. You will always be
here..."
I pointed to my head.
"...and here...."
I pointed to my heart. Dianna sighed expressively and held me close,
resting her head against my chest once more. I felt tears welling up in
her eyes.
"I don't deserve you, Lisa," she murmured, "but I am going to make it my
business to change that. Count on it."
She slipped out of her fur coat, shrugging off my offer to take it for
her. I thought she was still enamored with the feel of it and wanted to
hold it as long as possible. She located the hall closet, selected a heavy
wooden hanger, draped the coat over it, then hung it with care and gently
closed the door.
"Don't forget to take it with you when you go," I prompted her.
She smiled and shook her head.
"No way. The jewels stay here, too. If I took them back to my place, who
knows what freak or so-called 'friend' would rip them off when my back was
turned? No Honey; they stay right here. That way, I will always have
them..."
She kissed me tenderly.
"...and you to come home to. I will have you to come home to, won't I?"
I kissed her back, passionately.
"You can count on that," I replied, "and thank you."
"For?" she questioned.
"For considering this 'home'. It feels like one, with you here."
She threw me back on the couch and climbed atop me, hiking up my skirt and
unbuttoning my blouse.
"What do you say we have a little 'housewarming party'? Just the two of
us?" she purred. "We have so much to talk about."
