Repercussions : Part Eight  (A continuation of ‘The Bet’)Eleonora hissed

Repercussions : Part Eight  (A continuation of ‘The Bet’)

Eleonora hissed as she again looked down at her fading cell phone. The passing streetlights cast their glaring light into the backseat of the taxi in sudden bursts that left her softly cursing in the total blackness between them. Once again there was no reply from her missing husband despite a dozen pleading texts and his phone still went straight to voicemail each time she called. Neither the police nor the hospital nor his useless fucking friends had any word of him. At first, she had thought he was simply working late, perhaps in some back-woods area what had terrible phone service, but it was nearly ten. He should have called her by now if only to let her know he was alive. Franco knew what an important night this was for her. William, the bull of her dreams, was waiting for her at the club. Even now he was probably being surrounded by a dozen young whores, each fawning over him with their tight fresh bodies. None of which could handle him the way she could. Give him what only her body could give him. Need him as she did. She closed her eyes, taking in a breath, as she remembered having him between her thighs. She had never orgasmed so hard, screamed so loud, been driven so far towards the absolute bliss of complete sensual ruination. 

Her thighs began to spread, the moist heat between them growing impossible to contain. She bit her bottom lip hard, forcing her sudden need to subside even as her skin grew hot with the flooding memories. Eleonora groaned softly, wanting more than anything to reach down; to slide her fingers into that terrible ache and find relief in a quick self-inflicted orgasm… or two… or three! It would be so easy. Her throbbing pussy was already primed and eager. A few quick strokes were all it would take. Just a.. few… quick… flicking.. strokes….

Eleonora let loose a cleansing breath. There would be time for that later, she thought. The last thing she wanted was to deny William the chance to give her that first delicious orgasm of the evening. Besides, the back seat of a taxi with the driver as witness was nowhere near the appropriate place for such things. She might have been on her way to take on and fuck the most powerful stud she had ever dreamed of; draining him of every drop of his cum and every ounce of his sexual power, but she was still a lady after all. And ladies certainly did not play with themselves in the backseat of a taxicab, moaning and groaning for the entertainment of a stranger. Not that the driver would have minded, she smiled. She had caught the man looking several times. And why not? She had taken pains to look her best tonight. Her dark blue dress hugged every lush curve of her body, its color bringing out the brightness of her eyes. Her bright blond curls flowed across her bare shoulders, framing a face designed for seduction, red painted lips designed for kissing. 

She let the hem of her dress rise along her smooth legs as she saw the driver steal a glimpse of her in the rear-view mirror. His eyes went wide from lustful appreciation at the glimpse of her bare thighs, then disappointment as she let the hem drop once more, denying him any further view. She found that she liked playing such games with men. If only her husband Franco were here to enjoy it too, she thought, once again seething with anger at the man’s disappearance on this, what could be the most important night of her life. She would have to have a long talk with him when she got back. He would have to be punished for his lack of appreciation. Perhaps denying him the use of her body would teach him a lesson. She smiled, feeling another lovely twinge between her thighs, as she thought of Franco on his knees, begging to add his own sex to her pussy after William had finished with her. The thought of him desperately pounding his sadly average manhood into her as William’s thick seed still flowed hot and thick in her belly excited her beyond measure. Eleonora found herself digging her red nails painfully into her palms simply to resist the sudden urge to stroke herself to a screaming orgasm then and there. And to hell with the taxi driver.

Thankfully she was saved from that nearly overwhelming need as the taxi slid in towards the curb in front of the club. The place was obviously packed, with the pounding beat of the latest dance music blaring loud each time the red leather doors were opened to the street. Three large men kept guard at the front, each dressed in uniform black blazers, white Armani shirts open at the neck, and dark sunglasses to hide their eyes. Despite the darkness of the hour, the front of the club was lit brightly, casting the line of hopeful entrants in an unforgiving glare that showed each one’s desperate eagerness to be the next ones the bouncers allowed in. As always, single girls were let inside first. The shorter their skirts and deeper their cleavage the better. Any single men, let alone groups of single men, might as well have gone home. Unless they added generously to the thick rolls of euros the bouncers regularly took out of their stuffed pockets to slowly count. A reminder of how things worked here. Eleonora stepped out of the taxi, her smooth legs on display for the view of the three vary large, very muscular, and very exciting men at the door. She had always wondered about seducing them. One or all three. Feeling herself trapped helpless between them as they used her body as they wished; their hands and lips and hard cocks sending her soaring towards the sky as they each moaned her name. She made sure to give them each a perfect view of her ass as she leaned into the taxi’s front window to pay the driver. The fare came to most of what she had in her purse, but it would be worth every euro if William was inside. Snapping her purse shut, Eleonora watched as the taxi pulled slowly away, disappearing around the corner of the shadowed street. Summoning up her best smile and checking her face one last time in her mirror, she turned and strode confidently past the red velvet ropes towards the front door.

“Excuse me, miss. Where do you think you’re going?”

Eleonora was stopped dead before the massive chest of one of the three huge bouncers. The man towered over her and it had felt like walking straight into a brick wall as the man’s bulk filled her vision. He looked down upon her with an unfaltering gaze hidden by glasses so very black that they did not even gleam in the blazing lights that surrounded them. Like points of dead, empty space where his eyes should have been. She knew this one. The one that said yes or no, the one that ruled the long line of club-goers with a simple nod or uncaring glare. But never had they spoken, and never had he stood in her way. Eleonora stood back from him, confused.

“I… what do you mean? I’m going inside.”, she said quietly, somehow lost and unsure in the darkness of his eyes, “Just as I always do.”

“Where is your husband?” the dark eyes asked, the tenor of his voice like stones grating slowly along the pavement.

“I… I don’t think… he might be coming later on. I’m not sure.” Eleonora replied, her eyebrows knitting in her confusion. “What difference does it make? You’ve never stopped me from entering before.”

A nearly unnoticeable smirk appeared on the giant’s face. His lips were tight lines, barely there, marred by the slightest scar. A remembrance of a knife fight he had survived when he first started working the front door in his teens. The scar was barely detectable now, but still lent an unpleasant and sinister look to his smile to those who first saw it. As Eleonora did now.

“Your husband usually pays us the entrance fee when you show up.” He informed her, his gravely voice tinged with a slight amusement.

“What are you talking about? What entrance fee?” she bristled, “There is no entrance fee to the club!”

Turning his block-like head only slightly, the man directed her gaze to the long line of party-goers lined up past the red velvet rope. The line stretched half-way down the block. Young men and women lingered, some leaning against the cold stone of the building, others tapping out their tenth cigarette, each stretching their necks to watch and even giggle at Eleonora’s confusion.

Eleonora’s eyes grew wide. She turned away from them all, her cheeks flushing red with her growing embarrassment, “We always walk right in. I… Franco never told me about an entrance fee. I never saw him pay…”

The bouncer gave her a single barking laugh, “You’re usually dancing halfway down the corridor by the time he pays off the taxi. Of course, you never saw.”

Eleonora looked up at the bouncer’s stone face, her eyes flickering to and from the line of giggling young men and women waiting in line. She imagined each of them staring at her, laughing at her, not being able to wait until she were gone to begin talking about her among themselves. Making her the butt of their cruel jokes. She bit her lip sharply, breaking herself out of the quicksand of her thoughts, “How… how much does he usually pay?” she asked.

The bouncer, the human wall of grizzled muscle that stood in her way, gave that grunting laugh of his again, casting his eyes to the other two. When he looked down at her again his face and voice were both deathly still and deathly serious once more. Eleonora felt a bit of fear crawling along her spine as she looked up at him. Staring straight ahead her view barely touched his bull-like neck and her body seemed to shrink even further before him as the giant crossed his tree-trunk arms in consideration. She could almost see the wheels turning behind his void-dark eyes, though his thoughts remained a mystery to her. Finally, after a lifetime of nervously trembling under his gaze, she was snapped back into reality by his gravely voice.

“Hmmff. Normally he hands us a fifty when he shows.” he replied, expectantly.

“Fifty.” Eleonora whispered quietly in return. She unsnapped her purse, shame blossoming down her neck and into her cleavage as she removed nearly the last of her cash from the depths of the silken lining. For a brief moment she thought of protesting, of asking a favor, but she knew it would fall on deaf ears. And the thought of leaving, of returning home with her mission unfulfilled, or standing in line with the murmuring crowd… was unthinkable. She had to get in. To see her William. To realize her dream. Once she were with him, once his body was once again pressing heavily upon her own, all of this would be worth it. She would worry about what came later when the time came. Her heart pounding madly in her chest, Eleonora surrendered the euros to this man that held her from her fate and waited with patient dread to see if he would indeed let her pass. Her gaze fell to the man’s finely polished shoes as she stood awaiting the answer.

To her relief the velvet rope parted, the slightest ring of metal on metal easing her pulse and allowing her to release a breath she had no idea she was holding. Eleonora practically ran in through the opened doors, nearly tripping over a heel as she rushed in, desperate to escape her embarrassment and the laughing eyes of the people on the line outside.

She squinted in pain from the angry pounding noise that seemed to blast from every corner of the frantically shifting room; the newest and loudest of the day’s senseless musical tastes. A throbbing beat that roared from the club’s speakers like a runaway heartbeat, loud enough to drive any conscious thoughts from her aching head. Instead she simply concentrated on finding William. Finding him, seducing him, and spending the next few hours of the evening convincing him that she was the only woman who could possibly make him, and his beautiful body, happily her own.

The crowd was thick tonight, the place packed with people clashing back and forth a dizzying mass of shapes and colors. People were packed shoulder to shoulder on the dance floor and the neon-lit bar was four-deep with laughter as the bartenders struggled to keep up with their thirsty, half-drunk patrons. The lights overhead thrummed with the beat of the music, casting the noisy room into further confusion as darkness then light blinded her view of the crowd. Standing alone at the top of the stairs she found herself jostled back and forth, pushed and shoved by the couples coming and going, nearly knocked to the floor on several occasions as she stood up on tiptoes fighting to get a better vantage, searching for any face in the pulsing , twisting mass of humanity that was spread out before her eyes.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally spotted him. His massive frame dwarfing the men around him, his bald head shining under the light of a neon Guinness sign someone had nailed into the wall near the bar. He was smiling, laughing, the center of a knot of men and women that hung about him like an admiring flock marveling at their earthly god. She watched his mouth, imagining his roars of laughter as he threw his head back in appreciation of some unheard joke. His friends stood around him, drinking and laughing with him, some with their arms around a girl, others scanning the dance floor for a likely companion for the evening. Not that they had to look very hard. The place was packed with unattached women, each one casting their own eyes about for some handsome, well-built stud to cling to. Eleonora had never been part of that scene when she was younger, and she was not intending to be part of it now. Unlike those young and flighty whores bouncing up and down in their most scandalous mini-skirts and bra-less frocks, she knew exactly who she was after and would waste no time on any other. All she had to do now is figure out how to get herself through the packed crowd of drunken party animals to get to him without being trampled.

Digging deep to summon up her courage, Eleonora prepared herself to dive into the swelling mob. That moment came and went, however, as a slight tap on her shoulder nearly had her jumping out of her skin. She turned sharply, her startled eyes finally lighting on a doughy, pale-faced girl with far too much jewelry pinned into her face. She was not much too look upon; dead brown eyes nearly hidden under a careless mop of unruly hair, her skin looking ghost-white under the cruel lights flashing around them. She wasn’t dressed for fun, that was for sure. Her faded AC/DC fan-shirt and ripped jeans marked her as merely a waitress here, even thought Eleonora took a moment to notice the empty tray pressed under her arm, staining her worn-out shirt with spilled liquor. Yet, even though the girl might look familiar, Eleonora never gave much thought to the waitresses here,  being much more interested in the attractive men who worked behind the bar. Still, there was something about the girl’s soft round face that she vaguely remembered.

“Sorry to bother you,” the waitress yelled over the infuriating noise, “just wondering if Franco is going to be here. I’ve been keeping his table open.”

“Table? What table?”, Eleanora had to yell back.

“His table. You know. The one he always sits at as he watches you, you know? I’ve been keeping it open for him. You guys are usually here by now. He okay?”

“He’s fine.” Eleonora replied, suddenly unsure of what to say. She never did think of it much, Franco watching her as she… enjoyed herself. Sitting at a table alone. For a brief moment, Eleonora felt something in the girl’s dead eyes. If not actually a spark of life, then some kind of dark judgement. “I… I just don’t think he will be coming tonight is all. It is very nice of you to be concerned.”

The little bitch actually turned and walked away without saying a word, expertly maneuvering through the crowd as she disappeared from view. Eleonora wanted to call out to her. To say what, she had no idea. She had just gotten sick of the utter rudeness of the place, of the people here. It hadn’t been like this before. The snide looks and the constant shoving, the crippling doubt, the nervousness creeping up through her stomach. Franco had always guided her through the brutal swarm, held her hand, made her feel like a shining goddess with his very presence. She cursed under her breath, damning him once more for abandoning her so callously on such an important night.

Screwing up her courage once more, she held her head high and drove herself into the milling throng. A confused milling mass of humanity blocked her path, tossing her slim body back and forth as she fought her way through with her purse dangling comically over her head. A small knot at her left broke out in laughter, pressing her into another group that was pulling back pints of ale in a frothing spray of cheap beer that stained her dress. Someone to the left burped. Others laughed. Still more pushed past her on their way back to the crowded bar or towards the packed dance floor. Several times she lost her way, dizzy from the unending nightmare as the flashing lights and raucous noise drove her to mad screams in an effort to keep hold of her fragile sanity.

Finally, she had cut though the bulk of the insane human mass and found herself pressed into William’s small circle of friends. She knew a few of the young men standing there. She had taken each to bed at one time or another. Felt each of them cursing and thrusting like mad beasts between her thighs. Each one had adored her, worshiped her with their mouths and strong young bodies. Fabrizio with his messy blonde hair. Angelo with his wide devil’s smile. Giovanni with his scratchy growth of beard. Each one had made love to her, gifted her with nights filled with passion and the wondrous feeling of their proud sex surrendering to her own, filling her belly with their soft heat, her delirious mind spinning with the power of their virile seed. They stood there, each with a young worshipful slut under their arms. Young desperately pretty girls, none of them old enough or experienced enough to give their men the nights of passion only she herself could give them. Eleonora looked into the faces of each of these smiling young bulls, remembering fondly their strong naked bodies and delicious energy.

Each one of them would be a prize worth having, but tonight she had eyes for William and none else.

He stood there as if alone. A tall statue of shining black marble, his shirt open to the waist revealing miles of solid muscle which only whispered at the power of his sex. His Lacoste shirt was short-sleeved and stretched tight around upper arms built of corded steel. Eleonora shuddered with happy memories of those strong arms gripping her, holding her, pinning her to his powerful chest as he took her… Oh, dear God, took her and sent her spirit flying in blissful agony as he sated his endless need on her shaking body. Eleonora stepped towards him, pleased beyond measure as he returned her smile with his own. She could feel the manly heat radiating from him as she moved even closer. The heady scent of him; his sweat, his cologne, the sheer maleness of him. She had forgotten how tall he was. Looming over her like some titan out of mythology. Her tall, dark-skinned Roman god of lust. Her hand reached out to touch his chest and  her eyes closed as she bit her lip in anticipation of that first blistering touch of the divine. She took in a final nervous gasp of breath just as her fingertips brushed the smoothness of his chest.

Eleonora opened her eyes in fright as her wrist was grabbed and twisted aside, nearly pulling her to the floor in a sudden yelp of pain. Sharp red nails sliced into her flesh as she fought to pull away, nearly tripping across the sticky filth of the floor. All around her, couples burst out in laughter. Their heartless faces turned in to cruel masks, fingers pointing gleefully at her anguish. Her boys, her men, and her lovers being chief among them. Each had either doubled over in laughter or stood leaning on the young girls who laughed besides them in intimate, familiar hugs. William too was laughing – his deep Caribbean voice booming out over the rest - even more when Eleonora winced in agony once more, her pale arms twisted and bent as she was shoved back into the circle of curious onlookers that had suddenly appeared. Eleonora righted herself, spitting fury, nursing her burning wrist as she shook the hair from her eyes. Her teeth were gnashed in a fearsome snarl as she looked up to confront the unlucky bitch that had dared to touch her; to embarrass her in front of her man.

Chiara stood there, her arms crossed and with the most wickedly evil of sneers marring her otherwise lovely face. Like Eleonora, she too had come to the club dressed to kill. Her merlot-colored dress hugged every inch of her curves, gliding across her slim hips to stop short along her thighs to reveal just enough of her toned legs to attract the eye of every man she had passed. Her raven dark hair flowed across bare shoulders, neatly covering the hinted curve of her cleavage. Small, hard nipples pressed against the front of her dress, her firm young tits standing bra-lessly proudly before her like sensual weapons brought boldly to bear. Patiently waiting, she stood between Eleonora and William, her killer heels giving her enough height to easily match her reeling opponent.

Eleonora found her feet, but her head was spinning, What the hell was going on? What the fuck was Chiara doing here? And what the fuck was she doing here dressed like that and standing between her and her William? Eleonora turned left and right seeking answers, only to cringe back from the frightening laughter of the surrounding crowd. A crowd that included the men that she had, until a moment ago, thought adored her. Yet of all of them, William’s laugh was the most cruel. He laughed at her plight, caring nothing of her embarrassment or anguish, even as he slid his hand across Chiara’s flat belly, pulling her back into him as if more than proud of his new pet. Chiara slid her own hands across his covetous arm, reveling in his affections, even as she leaned back into him. She looked like a child compared to his powerful height, but she still managed to stare down at Eleonora like the hellish demon she was.

Eleonora could not find any words, her heart was caught firmly in her throat. Her skin burned in pure hatred for the bitch, yet her mind was too shocked, her pride too hurt, to clearly think. For some reason all she could see was Chiara’s hair draping across William’s bare chest. Of all the hurtful sights and sounds that surrounded her, that was what struck her the hardest. The pure intimacy of her fucking hair pressed along William’s chest as the man continued laughing. At long last, and with all her reason still fled, Eleonora managed to finally speak, although perhaps not loud enough to compete with the pack of hyenas which had surrounded them.

“What… what the fuck are you doing here, you fucking bitch!?” she cried as her face turned red with hateful rage.

“Why I thought it would be obvious even to a stupid cow like you. You wanted to take my job? Well, I’m taking your life. Piece by piece, bit by bit. Starting with your fucking shit-righteous holier-than thou goddamned pride.”, Chiara smiled, her own form cold and contained as she spoke. She leaned back, nestling in William’s one-armed embrace. She slid one slim, bare leg sensually up along William’s, loving the way it made Eleonora’s face twitch just watching her taking possession of his lustful attentions. Just to make Eleonora seethe even deeper in her anger, Chiara slid one hand behind her, gripping William’ eternally hard cock and running her ass up and down along his cum-heavy balls. She did not turn around, but by the look of consternation on Eleonora’s face, William must have been enjoying it immensely. “Fuck, I can’t wait to get this monster of his stuck deep inside me. I won’t rest until I’ve drained this beast dry. Something William here tells me your tender ass couldn’t come near to doing for him. He tells me you had to be carried off stone-dead before he was halfway near done. Poor boy even had to do all the work. Well, he won’t have that problem with me. Unlike you I can do more than just talk about making a man happy.”

For a moment, Eleonora was thinking of just rushing the bitch. Scratching her fucking face off in front of everyone. She was mad enough to do it, her heart pounding frantically in her chest.Her hands were already bared like claws and all it would take was one tiny bit of effort for her to be all over the little whore. Maybe once Chiara was on the floor begging for her fucking life that smug face of hers would be less offensive to look at. Maybe then the sound of the crowd’s laughter and the filthy looks would fade away and these fucking people would all go away… go the fuck away and leave her the fuck alone. But her William was watching. They all were watching. Laughing. Pointing. Making fun of her. Her own studs and lovers, looking at her and just… just… laughing! What the fuck was going on? How did she enter this nightmare?  And where the fuck was her Franco to pull her out of it? Fuck them all! She wasn’t some lewd spectacle! She was more than that, she decided. She was a fucking lady, more that this little cock-sucking dollar-a-yank whore ever was… and she was going to act like it!

Eleonora drew her hand back, settling on a very lady-like slap across the little bitch’s smug face. But just as she drew near, William’s hand shot out, pushing her backwards before she got within three feet of the slut. Eleonora stood there amazed, her hand still raised in the air, staring up at William’s smiling eyes. Her purse still dangled limply from her left hand as she settled back on her heels. The fucking son-of-a-bitch was protecting her, holding Chiara close while… while pushing her away! Laughing at her. After everything… after everything they had shared. All that she had done… suffered just to be here for him. To prove to him that… that…

“You fucking bitch! You… you… Fucking… Goddamned BITCH!!” she screamed, burying her face in her hands to hide her tears. “He was… they were… mine…”

“Fucking shit! Don’t you get it already? Are you really that fucking stupid? These assholes don’t like you!  You’re just some Milf slut for them to screw when their girlfriends aren’t around. You actually think that Wil-o-mine here likes you? That he sees you as anything but a convenient fuck?” Chiara had removed herself from William’s protective embrace, now standing face-to-face with Eleonora. Somehow standing over her as Eleonora winced back in her rising shame. Each of Chiara’s words were striking home. Each accusation lent an air of truth by the heartless eyes gathered around her and the harsh laughter they shared at her expense. “God! All it took for me to get the ugly bastard to fuck you over was the promise of my ass sliding down his cock! That’s all any of these jerks ever cared about! Not you and not your flabby old cunt!”

Eleonora screamed, her face turning into a mask of savage hate. She reached out with her hands, intent on strangling an apology from Chiara’s throat. Chiara fell backwards, now visibly frightened by the spiteful harpy that she herself had unleashed. She stumbled back into William’s arms even as Elenora’s fingers began to close around her neck. The crowd behind her was roaring now, shouts of “Fight! Fight!” being chanted by dozens of half-drunk patrons delighted for this night’s unexpected entertainment. Fuck them! Eleonora thought. Her blood was racing, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as hot tears ran down her face which burned red with anger. Fuck the crowd! Fuck the God-damned men and their God-damned bitches! Fuck William too for that matter! All that mattered now is killing this fucking slut! Killing her and shutting her fucking mouth forever!

She never got the chance.

Pain tore at the back of her skull as her blonde curls were nearly torn from their roots. Suddenly she was spinning around, tripping over her heels trying to stay upright as the world spun around her. In desperation she reached out, stumbling towards the bar as her attacker finally let go of her hair and sent her nearly face first into the brass railing. It was only by pure chance that she had been able to grab the thing and remain upright. Else she would have ended up a disheveled lump on the floor. She slid her hand into her hair as she turned, grateful not to have come way with her fingers covered in her blood; although the sharp pain searing through her scalp was bad enough. Once Eleonora was able to balance herself against the bar, she found herself once more surrounded. A crowd of strangers laughing at her, pointing and laughing, poking fun at the ragged tramp that had been tossed among them. As she turned, hiding her eyes from them, she managed to catch a glimpse of herself in the massive mirror that lined the wall behind the bar. What she saw made her heart drop in her chest. Her once beautiful face was flushed red and stained with mascara dragged down by her heavy tears, her proud golden hair a crow’s nest, her dress stained. She nearly cried out but could not find the air as her lungs let loose a silent scream in the shape of Franco’s name. Timidly she looked back up into the mirror to see her attacker standing close behind her, her hands balled into fists, her face twisted into a sneer of anger.

Vittoria Capaldi was indeed angry and was no stranger to a good fight. She’d kicked the asses of bitches way tougher than the skank she was looking at now and had the scars to prove it. Scars she was fucking damned proud of and made no effort to hide. Ones that her boyfriend, Lorenzo, thought were sexy as all get out as he was pounding away, hopelessly trapped between her legs. Unless of course he was busy fucking someone… something… else when she wasn’t around to keep his balls drained. When Vittoria first spotted Eleonora, or Tina… whatever, enter the club she was ready for a fight. She tied her long black hair in a short pony-tail that hung halfway down her back and she had taken off her favorite stiletto heels to switch to the flats she kept in her purse, stashing her jewelry there as well. She had handed the purse off to one of her friends, one of her many friends whose wayward boyfriends had all taken their turn fucking their cocks into this puta’s fucking hole!

“Come on, bitch! Come at me. Everyone’s fucking waiting.” Vittoria sneered out, “Let’s make this interesting.”

“Why are…? Who the hell are you?”, Eleonora gasped, her eyes burning with tears, lost in complete disbelief that this night was happening. God, what had she ever done to deserve this? Who were these people? God, why had they all turned on her? Why had Franco turned on her? Left her to this nightmare? Why, she screamed inside her feverish mind, Fucking why?

“Who am I? Let me tell you who I am”, Vittoria replied, rocking on her toes like a prize-fighter as she closed the distance between herself and her prey, “I’m one of the girl’s whose men you’ve been fucking behind our backs, that’s fucking who I am you fucking cow!”

Eleonora lifted herself up, bracing her hands on the bar rail behind her, trying to stretch herself up to her full height, trying to find something left of her shredded pride. She cast a quick and painful glance back to William and saw his arms still wrapped tight around a smiling Chiara. Heartbroken, Eleonora watched as he massaged one of her breasts with a possessive hand. One hand covering her mouth in laughter, Chiara still had her other behind her. Eleonora melted inside, crushed by the thought of Chiara stroking William’s massive cock; that insanely strong, pussy-stretching cock that she had been pining over all the week long, thinking foolishly to be her own. 

Now, alone, surrounded by enemies that up to this night she believed to be friends, she poured what dignity remaining into her reply.“Your boyfriends? Your  men? I never forced them. I never flaunted myself. They came to me.” She said proudly, “They all came to me because they wanted me. Because they wanted something you could never give them.”

“Hah! They came to you because we weren’t around, and you were an easy lay.” Vittoria shot back, her hands going to her firm curvy hips as she looked to the crowd, leading them all in a shared laugh. Eleonora’s spirit sank as she saw Lorenzo, once one of her favorite studs, come up behind Vittoria and give her ass a solid and loving spank. Smiling, Vittoria grabbed his crotch possessively to the amusement of the crowd. It was a simple and vulgar act, but it more than proved her point. “This is my cock, bitch. Get it? You were just lucky enough to keep it amused until I got back. Same for every other cock in this fucking place. You were just the lucky slut they chose to use while their women were away. Well, guess what? We’re all back now, bitch, so you can drag your fat ass home. Or you can stick around and maybe, just maybe be allowed to take our leftovers. If you beg for it nicely. Your fucking choice.”

Eleonora was struck dumb. Her whole world, her whole sense of self had been crushed and brought down around her ears in one heart-breaking moment. How could she have fooled herself? She cast her eyes around the room. The lights had all gone on. The music stopped. The whole club, everyone in it, strangers as well as those young men she had loved and foolishly thought she was loved by … they all stood around her snickering. Holding back their hateful laughter by the slimmest thread. Waiting for her to do… something. To fight. To crawl. To crack into a thousand shattered pieces before them. No. She would not give them the satisfaction. She still had that much pride left despite… despite it all. She slid her hand carefully along the bar, her entire body was shaking. The slightest misstep would be her undoing. Placing one foot slowly in front of the other she managed to get to the end of the bar. The snickering crowd parted before her; a taunting sea of ugly faces. From the bar she made her way slowly towards the stairs that led to the club’s bright crimson doors. The bouncers from before would be there. The line of curious onlookers, each destined to hear tales of this night. Of the shamed bitch that had made her way shamefully from their presence. Never to be seen again. Laughed at. Beaten. Disgraced. That foolish tramp who thought she was better than everyone else. Who staggered out with her face painted in tearful ribbons of black mascara.

Eleonora walked blindly past the front doors. She did not even see the three huge men, the line of club-hopping hopefuls that stared after her in curious wonder. When she had gotten perhaps two, perhaps three streets away she reached into her purse looking for her cell phone. She wanted to go home. She wanted a shower and sleep and her own bed. Only when she reached deep into the silk lining did she realize that she had spent almost all of her cash on the taxi ride here and the ‘fee’ to get into the club. A taxicab was out of the question now. She thought of trying Franco one last time. An idea that fell miserably from her mind as soon as she thought of it. With no other choice left to her, Eleonora walked through the night, under the uncaring light of a quarter moon, to take her seat on a lonely corner bench, and waited alone for the bus to arrive, with only her broken soul for company.

Within the club, laughter reigned for a while. The music was again blaring under the flashing club lights and the dance floor and bar were again packed thick with sweating and perfumed humanity. Chiara took in a deep breath, silently thanking her friend Paolo for his advice as she tried to come up with some simple, non-sexual way of rewarding him. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a pair of huge, manly hands circling her waist, gripping her breasts. She found herself pulled back, her ass pressing into a frighteningly large and sinfully hard slab of man-meat that could only have been William. She looked up, meeting his eyes far above her. The big black stud was smiling wide, his eyes blazing with thoughts of pure sex. She had seen those looks before. Hell, she had seen them every fucking day since she hit fifteen! But none as compelling, as powerful, as full of the promise of her own blessed destruction. For a moment she went weak in the knees, pressing her ass back long his throbbing shaft, feeling its ungodly weight as it slid between her ass-cheeks. She let out a slight gasp as she felt herself moisten as he smiled down at her, as she let herself imagine that first heavenly moment as the head of his enormous cock slid past her pussy-lips.

Chiara twisted around and pushed herself out of his grip. Firmly disgusted with herself she headed towards the front door not bothering to look left and right at the crowds of pathetic assholes and assholettes that got in her way. She got almost to the stairs and up to the front doors when he grabbed her. His hand encompassed nearly all of her upper arm, he was that big, from her shoulder nearly down to her elbow. She turned to look into those eyes of his again, this time finding his patented sexual ’smolder’ replaced by a look of anger, and no small amount of surprise.

“What gives with you, eh?” William demanded in his thick, barely understood island accent; half native-Creole and half barely-Italian, “We were going to go together. Have sex together. You said you would ride my cock dry, did you not? Now you come with me and see if you are any good for Wil, eh? Or just bullshit.”

“Fuck I’m just surrounded by idiots tonight, aren’t I?”, Chiara actually laughed in his face… well, up at his face… as she pulled her arm out of his grasping hand. “Are you fucking kidding me? You think I want to get raped by that stupid horse-cock of yours? I only told you all that bullshit to fuck that bitch over. What kind of sick slut do you think I am? If I want sex, I’ll have it with a guy who can make me cum, not make me scream for a fucking paramedic! Go find yourself a horse to fuck. I’m leaving.”

Chiara strode out of the club still grinning, leaving William standing there in complete confusion in her wake. Her quick footsteps matched the beat of the heavy rhythm thrumming behind her as she stepped through the bright leather doors and out onto the open street. Ignoring the bouncers and the crowds, she stretched her neck up on tiptoe searching for him, smiling as she spotted the old Volvo waiting patiently down along the shadowed street. Her Paolo was there, resting at the wheel, waiting for her patiently as he had been doing for hours now. Chiara waived to him wildly, rushing across the cobble-stoned street as fast as her heels would allow, singing out his name. The man woke with a start as she reached the door, planting a massive kiss on his cheek as she swung her arms around his shoulders, her face bright with a happy smile. Her smile was infectious and soon found a place on Paolo’s as well, decades of wear sliding from his face as his eyes lit bright at the sight of her own.

“I take it everything went well then, cara mio?” Paolo chuckled, noticeably not stealing a look down Chiara’s offered cleavage as she bent into the window. Chiara had such a beautiful smile, he thought, sighing inwardly. But he was far too middle-aged and fat for her. Chiara was young enough to be the daughter he never had, and he was happy enough to settle for her friendship. He opened the passenger door, unfolding a sweater to wrap around her shoulders, “Now get yourself in the car and tell me all about it. You know I love a good story.”