#repercussions

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

‘God, stop thinking!’ she told herself, with nothing but the sound of the radio humming softly in the living room to break her thoughts. She turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and dried herself briefly in a sinfully soft towel that she had stolen from a hotel in St. Thomas. ‘What do you really know about him? Yes, he’s good looking and sweet. His soul hurting like one of those lost sad-eyed puppies you can never ignore. Yes, he’s treated you decently. A true gentleman aside from the constant cigarette smoking. But for all you know he could be a terrible person. Like the rest of the men who have paraded through your life. All smiles and good manners until they’ve gotten whatever they wanted from you. Plus, he’s married you stupid idiot! And to your best friend as well!’

‘But I know he’s hurting. That he is loving and gentle and kind. I know it.’  She wrapped herself in a thick white robe and tied the belt, fanning her wet blonde curls across the back to dry in the air. ‘All this shit Eleonora is doing. She tells me he enjoys it but… how could the bitch be so damned blind?”

She read for a little while, sitting back in her bed among the cloud-soft pillows and losing herself in a book that she wasn’t particularly interested in. Eventually the exhaustion of the evening began to tell on her. When she caught her head drooping for the third or fourth time, she draped the bathrobe across the headboard, turned off the light and slid under the cool, crisp sheets of the bed. The feel of the clean cloth on her naked skin re-awakened her long-frustrated desires, seeding her thoughts. She turned over onto her stomach, one hand pressed against her breasts, the other stealing down her body to the junction of her thighs. She gasped, biting her lip softly as she discovered how slick and wet she had already become.

‘Oh shit! There! Right there!’ Her fingers parted her swelling lips and found the bud of her clit. As she softly stroked the pulsing nub with gentle fingers, she slowly ground her hips down into the bed, forcing her seeping warmth into the heel of her palm. She closed her eyes, fantasizing. In her mind’s eye, she peeled his suit away, revealing a glorious dream of a body. The two of them moved together as one, guided by instinct and need. Two sets of hands roamed and explored, knowing without asking how to bring the other to soaring heights of pleasure. Moving together almost weightlessly as he feasted on her quivering breasts while she held tight to the rock-solid globes of his ass.

Her orgasm came upon her like a freight train, thundering through her senses. She turned her head into the pillows to muffle a mad orgasmic scream as her body shuddered; convulsively filling her hand with a spray of hot cunt juices. Her thighs clamped around her hand, trapping it in the moist valley between her thighs. With a groan of pure release, she lay on her back spreading her legs wide as her head sank between the thick pillows. She parted her pussy lips with her fingers, freeing her scent. The fingers of her other hand slid along her slippery lips stroking her still-quivering clit in small gentle circles. She stroked it softly, knowing that she would not be able to stop until her imagination was fully sated. Until she had imagined every last way he might please her. Pamela let out a breathless moan as she felt the tears running down along her cheeks, her hips rising up to press into her stroking fingertips. She whispered his name into the darkness of her lonely bedroom and felt the orgasm rising again in her belly.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

Eleonora slumped painfully into her chair, angling her aching head to avoid the morning light seeping through the office window. The spa opened an hour later on Saturday mornings, which gave her the blessing of an extra hour’s sleep but despite the perfect summer day that leered at her from the tiny window, she was still finding it impossible to keep her eyes open. It had taken every ounce of energy she had to rise from bed. Her entire body ached, beaten mercilessly inside and out by William’s callous hands and brutal, inhuman lust. She still shuddered helplessly as she remembered his powerful sculpted body looming over her, his deep voice and bestial grunts, as he took her. Hour after hour, seemingly without end, he continued fucking the life out of her with that massive slab of meat rising between his powerful thighs. It was if he was fighting to find eternal life by beating every ounce of hate and aggression he had deep into her ruined body. For the life of her she could not remember how she had survived it. Her last memory was of her Franco lifting her broken body from the bed, whispering something unheard but soothing as he carried her gently from the motel room.

A breathless gasp escaped her lips as her body twinged in sweet agony as it remembered William’s last hard thrusts. She had screamed in pure anguish, her body and mind transported to another plane of unworldly pleasure as his massive shaft found yet another orgasm buried deep in the depths of her ass… or was it her cunt? She was so mindlessly fucked by that time he could have been fucking both holes at once for all she knew. When she woke up this morning, crawling into an ice-cold shower to gain her bearings, her body was still throbbing with what the man had done to her. She had cupped her aching mound gingerly in one palm to find it still gaping open and slavishly eager for his next violent, gut-busting thrust. All memory of the pain and violence of the night might have passed her, lost along with whatever part of her brain William had pounded out of her, but she still remembered her last thoughts before her world was crushed black. More.

The thunderous sound of a cup of hot coffee landing near to her head shocked her awake. She opened her eyes a crack, allowing a painful burst of light to send sparks of agony through her tired brain only to see Pamela standing above her with a smirk of pure amusement on her face.

Pamela tried to hide the slight snicker in her voice, failing miserably but still too amused by her friend’s enfeebled condition to care, “Late night?”

“Go to hell.” Elenora mumbled in a feeble response, even as she gingerly took the coffee to her lips. It was still warm, fresh from the tiny coffeemaker that took up an entire corner of their small office.

“I’m glad you decided to join us. For a while there I did not think you were going to make it in.” Pamela chided, “Its nearly ten. You used to come in early on Saturdays and share breakfast with me at the corner bistro. You’ve been coming in later and later these past few months and half dead at that. That’s not a good thing and you know it.”

Eleonora shook the cobwebs from her pounding head, letting the coffee do its work as the caffeine slammed into her system. The absolute last thing she needed right now was a nanny speech from the woman that left her high and dry last night. One moment Pamela was right beside her, dancing with some young man who looked so deliciously handsome and more than interested in Pamela’s oh-so-sexy little ass. The next moment Pamela was gone, run home like a scared virgin, and taking Franco with her as her personal chauffer. Eleonora could just imagine if William had taken them both to the motel! Between the two of them they might have been a match for the stud’s formidable libido. On the other hand, Eleonora was not quite sure she wanted to share William and his rock-hard pussy-slayer with anyone. Even Pamela.

“Let’s just say you should have been there.” Eleonora groaned as she lay back, pressing her head against the file cabinet which sat a bit too close behind her chair. Her head was still pounding and her body ached, but the warmth of the coffee began to take hold of her, easing both just enough for her to continue the conversation. “Where the hell did you get to anyhow? Poor Lorenzo was so disappointed that you left.”

Pamela’s face squished up in that cute, odd way when confusion reigned, “Ummm… Lorenzo?”

“Lorenzo.” Eleonora said with a sigh of remembrance. Images of the last time that particular stud had shared her bed flit through her mind fondly, “That rather good-looking young man who was dancing with you. Or don’t you remember?”

“Ah! You mean the rather good-looking young man with his hands all over my ass.” Pamela said as understanding lit up her face in a knowing smirk, “Not to mention my tits and everything else he could get his hands on. Sorry, Ellie, if I ever want to get groped by a child, I’ll let you know.”

“Child! Come on, Pam, its not like your gray and old. You are barely approaching your thirties!” Eleonora protested, unbelieving of her friend’s complete lack of adventure, or perhaps complete lack of desire. It was a thought that made her feel uneasy somehow. As if there was something very wrong with her friend… or with her, “Perhaps there is ten years of difference at most. Besides, it’s not like its meant to be something serious. Don’t you ever just feel the need to just…well… let go?”

Pamela wanted to come back with something sharp and witty, but the truth was, she was confused herself. She might have told Ellie how she had ‘Let go’ just last night but just the thought of it, and the subject of her foolish thoughts, made it impossible. Instead she slipped behind her desk, primly sliding her glasses over her nose and quietly opened the first file from her ‘In’ box. Still, she would not let her friend continue thinking of her as if she was some sexless prude straight from the nunnery.

“Ellie… I feel… the need, just like anyone else. It’s just that I’m more particular of who I share that need with. Alright? And Lorenzo and his ‘traveling hands’ just didn’t do it for me. I am assuming they did it for you though last night. Or am I wrong?”

Eleonora could not resist smiling as she thought back on her friend’s words. She had fully intended to keep her new bull and his incredible… talents… a close secret.  Bad enough it was all she could think about since she awoke this morning, but sharing it? Letting that living fantasy play out again on her lips? Fill her wanton imagination once more? She could already feel the warmth growing in her cheeks, her thighs quivering, her still-aching womanhood pulsing with need as she began forming the words on her lips. She gripped the coffee mug tight, thinking back to the first moment she had taken him in her hands, his ridiculous girth filing her hands with masculine heat. She closed her eyes, leaning her head back into the cold steel of the file cabinet as the wickedest of smiles crossed her face.

“Mmmmm…. Oh better, Pamela. So much better than sweet little Lorenzo. Last night I met a god. Big and broad and so very forceful. And so much different than the boys I am used to. I can still feel him, Pam, feel his weight and his strength; the way his arms and legs felt like corded steel in my hands. And his burning hunger! Oh Fuck, his fiery need! Burning me up from the inside out! It is a wonder how I ever could have survived it!”

Pamela watched as her friend spoke, stretching her limbs catlike, her chest rising and falling with the very excitement of the memory. Despite herself, she found her own face turning red, her own pulse racing as Eleonora described in detail his dark skin, his perfect physique, not to mention the callous manner in which he had reduced her to a shuddering, boneless wretch screaming breathlessly through endless agonizing orgasms. Without excusing herself she headed for the office bathroom, slamming the finger-thick door behind her. She cast her eyes towards the mirror which hung precariously over the sink. The gaze that she met in that mirror was glassy and wide, frightened yet alive. Reflexively she slid her sweater off over her head, heedlessly letting it drop to the floor. Her breasts were full, held painfully still by her bra, red lines digging into her flesh. They shone with sweat, yearning to be set free. Yearning for strong hands to tear them free. With a quiet gasp of horror, she felt that familiar moistness gathering between her thighs. She found herself thinking of Eleonora’s words. Of a man’s hands, a man’s arms, a man’s lust driving all those endless orgasms from her body. The only difference was the shape of the man in question.

“I tell you, Pam,” Eleonora continued, her eyes still closed as her hands pressed tight around the warmth of her coffee mug. If she had noticed her friend leave the room, it was not at all evident in her fluttering breath and words half-moaned rising from her lips, “I plan to find him again. Perhaps tonight if I can. All I can think about is how I failed to satisfy his worst instincts. My body not giving him what he so desired. Its just… Its just I’ve never been taken like that before. So brutally. So primally. So very savagely. Far beyond what I’ve ever felt. I am going to do it, though. I’m going to see him again. Let him take me. Give him… everything. Be perfect for him! So very perfect!”

Without even realizing it, Eleonora’s hand had fallen between her thighs, softly caressing herself even as she spoke to the empty room. She knew deep inside that there was something wrong with her. Her body shivering a bit too much, her panties already soaked as she ran her fingers up along her pulsing mound, her thoughts a bit too vivid as she took her lip between her teeth and remembered with bliss the absolute agony of his last grunting thrusts.

“I’m going to find him again. Be what he wants. Not fail him again.” She stuttered through panting breaths, her pounding heart racing in her chest, “Get Franco to take me. Find him again. Feel him again. Giving him this time, what my weak, stupid body did not give him before. Oh, Pam if only you might have seen him…. Pam?  Pam? Where did you go?”

Pamela had stopped listening to her friend long ago as she slapped cold water onto her face as fast as she could in the little sink. Taking in heavy breaths she felt the cool water dribble down her neck and between her breasts to run ever southward, pooling finally along her belly button. The feeling was cooling although painfully erotic. She cast her eyes down at her fallen sweater, knowing for certain she could not put it back on. Her skin was already far too warm, and she would burn herself alive if she tried. She closed her eyes tight, willing her thoughts to leave her alone. Knowing it was far too late. Instead they grew and coalesced, one leading into another sinfully without effort. She could hear Ellie calling for her now, suddenly confused by her absence.

She looked one last time in the mirror, seeing her own eyes again, now clear and with a hint of brightness. She had to help Ellie. For her own sake as well as her friend’s. Her own cure lay hand in hand with Eleonora’s and she would have to act for both of their sakes, least of all her own. Like a fresh breeze clearing away the haze she remembered that she kept a light shirt in one of the cabinets, there in case of an accidental coffee-spill or toner-emergency. Taking a minute to compose herself, she pictured herself walking out of the bathroom blaming an accidental coffee spill for her nakedness. She would casually slide on the Depeche Mode t-shirt, which she ruefully remembered Ellie buying for her, and quietly get back to work. Then she would figure out just how best to help her best friend with this madness. Before she left the toilet, Pamela slid the straps of the bra down from her shoulders. As supportive as the damned thing was, it was growing to be quite too painful to wear all day long. She would have to go shopping later. She needed something lighter. Perhaps something prettier as well.

As Pamela slid back behind her desk, Dave Gahan’s face squarely placed across her chest, Eleonora fell into her own duties for the office day. However, she did not stop reminding Pamela of her lost chances with Lorenzo and her own desire to get her young godling back into bed once again. Pamela smiled, giggling and blushing on queue but not paying a bit of attention to her friend’s sermon on the joys of carnal sin. As a matter of fact, she tuned herself out as best as possible, hardly bothering to listen as she allowed her own half-thought plans to dance and clash back and forth in her head.

The person who was listening however, was standing out in the hallway just beyond the paper-thin walls of the tiny office. She also felt her body growing warm at her touch, a wide and wicked smile passing over her face as Eleonora went on about the hard-cocked bull that had filled her with such whorish thoughts. Chiara knew that club, and the type of men that frequented it. Which is why she always stayed away from meat-markets like that. Places filled with blaring noise that pretended to be music and lust-dominated boys that pretended to be men. She spent her mis-spent youth frequenting those places. She still remembered her and her girlfriends competing for the hottest, roughest, horniest men. Bragging about their nightly conquests even as they saw one then the other of their number fall to pregnancy or disease… or worse. Chiara always counted it as her most blessed day, when she said ‘no’ and let her so-called friends go on without her. Seeing them finally as what they were; sluts to be used, addicted to the abuse as each rushed headlong over the dark-shrouded cliffs of ruined bodies and reputations until no man worth the name would bother looking at them.

Chiara had saved herself from that life. But it was more than obvious that the fat-assed bitch in the office was buried head long in it. Her mind skittered over different ways to use this new information, to leverage it into a tool of hot vengeance that would destroy the bitch forever. She entered the grungy massage room to greet her first appointment of the day. Paolo was a middle-aged man just starting to show gray around the temples and a small gut that disguised the hard muscles of his stomach. She had seen him around the neighborhood working on his sanitation truck for the city. He always waved to her when he saw her. A nice enough man although he always had the underlying sickly-sweet scent of garbage about him even after the hottest of showers. Chiara slid off her robe, revealing her perfect fuck-doll body and oiled up her hands. She always loved the way men looked at her, a sinful little indulgence she thought. The middle-aged men especially. Most, like Paolo, were married to wives who had already given up on their bodies; their stomachs falling like pale dough over their pussies and their asses spreading by the day. It was why men like Paolo came here to her. To see what their lusts were made for and to cast their eyes again on their youthful dreams. In some ways it was what kept them young.

“You seem distracted today, Chiara. Your hands not sure as they normally are.” Paolo commented, trying to think beyond the pleasant hardness growing along his thigh. It was a relief to him that he could still get hard after a week away. A week spent with his sexless wife and her equally sexless sisters.

“I’m sorry Paolo-dear.” she said with a true apology. Paolo was one of the better ones. Unlike most of the others, he actually came in for a massage and cast only a few shyly discreet looks at her heart-shaped ass and smooth firm legs. Despite his smell he was funny as well and a good listener with actual wisdom to his years. “It’s just that I have a lot on my mind right now, I suppose. Long story. I don’t want to bore you.”

“Bore me! Please!” he responded with a chuckle in his voice. “As long as it is not about the price of fish at the market or how the door still creaks after I’ve oiled it a dozen times.”

Feeling somehow free with Paolo, his eyes a fatherly brown and actually meeting her own rather than falling between her tits, Chiara felt weirdly free to tell her tale. Paolo lay on his side, looking almost comical with a single towel covering his middle, listening intently and nodding in quiet understanding. At the end he gave her a bit of advice which the two of them reshaped into an idea and then into a plan, working out the details as she sat on the massage table child-like with her legs crossed beneath her.

When they were done, Paolo invited her to meet her for coffee later on to discuss the details of her plan. Chiara smiled, knowing that with Paolo coffee meant coffee! He had given her a kernel of an idea, one that would be perhaps a bit difficult to work out but would lead to her enemy’s utter destruction if they could pull it off. In gratitude she gave the man a small kiss on the lips, watching him turn beet red as a small embarrassed smile appeared on his rough face. Then for what remined of their scheduled time together she determined to give the man the best massage of his fucking life.

Unsure of what was happening, frozen in place, Paolo watched her siding up onto the massage bed to straddle his stomach. His cock strained hard against the cheap fabric of the towel as she bent down over his legs, giving him a heart-stopping view of her tight, juicy ass.

“Relax,” Chiara whispered, as she ran her hands up and down his legs as if simply continuing the massage. Paolo shivered with anticipation, his body shuddering under her touch. Her hands ran soft circles around is thighs, slowly inching up with each teasing circle as she lifted the towel further and further up his hips. She pulled her body back, her ass pressing firmly into his stomach. He could feel the hardness of her cheeks settle on him and his hands shook fiercely with a terrible need to grab her.

Paolo groaned aloud as Chiara slid her left hand along the outline of his fully erect cock, stroking it up and down so very slowly. Her right hand moved beneath to grasp his balls, circling around them to massage them in the palm of her small but incredibly warm hand.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” she asked. She pulled the towel completely off of him, giving her full access to his throbbing meat. Chiara mewled pleasantly, feeling how heavy his balls were. The man had obviously not shot a load in a very long time. Nervous and not believing what was happening, Paolo wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. He started to slide them up and down along her hips and waist nearly afraid to touch her lest she disappear into mist.

“Don’t worry, my Paolo-dear,” she offered, “Just enjoy this.”

Her hand started to move up and down from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip, with just enough pressure so that he could feel each movement as his cock danced in her hand. She bent over lithely and gave the tip a fleeting kiss that sent a shot of pleasure slicing through him. He let out a deep moan from his chest and Chiara smiled, working his cock slowly to give him maximum pleasure.

“That’s right, it feels good. It feels so good,” she said softly as her hand trailed up slowly from the base to the tip, twisting gently as it rose and fell. Paolo could feel his balls tighten. His hips started to thrust a bit as he came closer and closer to orgasm.

“Oh fuck, I’m going to cum soon,” he warned her, moaning again under her expert fingers.

“That’s right, you’re going to cum for me. I’m going to make you cum,“ she whispered, her lips bare inches from the tip of his purplish cock-head. Her hand moved faster and faster along his cock as he felt his balls tighten. ”Cum for me, Paolo. Cum for me now.”

Lightning throbbed out of the head of his cock, growing and growing towards a shattering crescendo. “Ah… ahh… ah fuck, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, ah, fuck, ahh… AHHH!”

Chiara kept stroking as his orgasm burst, flooding his body with pleasure. She had to laugh, amazed at the powerful load that shot, and kept on shooting, into the towel before finally slowing down to dribble out onto her hand.

“My God, Paolo! That’s a good boy,” Chiara smiled as she dutifully used a spare towel to wipe his cock and her own hands clean of spunk. Paolo lay amazed under her, his own face a happy mix of wonder and delight that made her smile with pride. With that she slid from his body and gave him a small and innocent peck on his cheek, “Now it’s time for my next appointment. I will see you later tonight. Although maybe you should shower first?”

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

The line to the club still stretched far along the gleaming wet streets as Franco stepped out of the Audi. By some miracle he had actually found a parking space nearby barely large enough for the small auto and he cheerfully ignored the half dozen car horns blaring angrily behind him as he slid gently into the tiny space. The weather had turned on the way back from Pamela’s apartment. A fine mist of rain now covered the slick roads. It was that light, refreshing rain that Franco always loved. It carried with it the scents of the sea and was just cold enough to invigorate his spirits without soaking his clothes or prevent him from lighting yet another precious American cigarette taken from the little silver case in his jacket. The walk and the rain also gave him a few minutes to himself. Enough time to think and to try to sort out the dozens of emotions that were tearing at his soul; like a dozen savage, shrieking demon fighting to see which of them would bring him weeping to his knees first.

Franco cursed himself for his problems. No one else. He would not stoop so low as to say this was anyone’s fault than his own. He was raised better than that. It was not Simone’s fault. Although Franco still wanted to throw the little fuck out of his apartment window, an apartment he was staying in free of rent due to their ill-fated and hell-spawned bet. He could not blame Johnny for being so young and strong, nor for using his sexual power to dominate and to seed any woman of his choosing. Johnny was a young bull and that’s what all young bulls did. It was his very nature. Just as one could not blame the sun from setting or the winds from blowing. He could and would never blame his beloved Eleonora. She was who she was, wanted what she wanted, and for the longest time he had both known it and stupidly enough forced himself to ignore the truth and believe otherwise. To believe she could put aside all she craved and desired for his sake. Franco took a long drag on his cigarette, cursing himself again for a fool.

It was his own fault. He had accepted that long ago. His own weakness. His own blindness. His own dream of having something that fate would forever deny him. The only problem was what to do now. A lifetime spent as he had spent the past few months was unthinkable. It would break him in the end. He knew that. He would end up in the madhouse or prison or both. Alone in any case. Yet a life without his Eleonora would prove far colder and far more miserable. A life lived with his head bent low in the cold rain, hiding his tears in the torrent. He was doomed in either case. Lost and alone in his thoughts forever at the mercy of those cruel demons that resided in his broken heart.

Franco walked past the line of people waiting to get into the club. Most were either eager to get in out of the chill or nervously discussing the possibility that the bouncers would never let them in. Just as all the better dance clubs worked you had to be on the ‘cool’ list, a hot and barely legal female, or ready to pay the bouncers the appropriate amount of euro to get through the door. Otherwise you would face a few hours of standing outside in the freezing rain biting back the anguish in your 5” stilettos and sluttiest mini-dress. Franco did not bother with the line. For good or ill, he and his wife were favorites here and for reasons known and obvious to all.

Every club wants the young men to come in. Young men spent money. And the only reason for a young man to frequent a club was the thought of easy pussy. As he passed through the doors, Franco could not help but to notice the stares. Jealous looks from those who would be stuck waiting on the line, none cool or sexy enough to enter. And those looks from the bouncers at the door. Looks accompanied by knowing smirks of derision, followed by not-so quiet whispers shared of the pathetic cuck whose wife had banged every cock in this hole and twice as he paid the check. Franco hung his head, his ears burning red as he passed through those doors, eager to lose himself in the teeming crowd and the pounding base rising from the club’s speakers. He crushed what was left of his cigarette in his hand and tossed it on the floor in disgust, a tiny act of defiance and revenge. His table was still empty. His forgotten drink still there and covered by a fresh coaster. The waitress must have known he would be back eventually and took the care to make sure no one else took his spot. He was quite frankly amazed. The thought of that doughy faced and seemingly calloused girl even noticing that he had left surprised the hell out of him.

He slipped the coaster from the top of the glass and knocked back the bourbon in one gulp. The ice had already melted but it still ran cold and the sensation as the alcohol hit his system was utterly priceless. Along with the effects of the tobacco; calming and focusing while sharpening his senses at the same time. He cast searching eyes across the dance floor, across the long and crowded bar, looking for his wife. Searching for the small knot of young bulls that would be gathered around her. Searching for the waitress as his glass lay once again empty in his hand. He squinted his eyes, scanning the club again and again, his worry growing as the sight of his wife continued to elude him. She must be here he thought. Maybe she had gone to the women’s lounge? Or maybe he just hadn’t yet looked hard enough into the thrashing, bobbing mass of people overcrowding the shadowed dance floor.

“She left about a half an hour ago.”

Franco nearly jumped out of his skin as the waitress suddenly appeared behind him. He turned to look straight into her tired brown eyes. She was pushed close to him by the movement of the passing crowds, her soft breasts pressing along his shoulder, her pale face bare inches away from his own. For once noticing the small metallic stud that pierced her small pink lips and the way her white skin practically shone in the dark shadows of her surroundings. For just a fleeting moment he found himself wondering what her lips might feel like or how it might be if her young, soft body were pressed even closer. But then the weight of her words shocked him back to reality.

“Wait. Wait!”, Franco said fighting down the frightened wonder evident in his voice, “What do you mean she left? She left the club?  Without… ? I mean…”

For a moment, Franco could swear that he saw life spark in the girl’s eternally dead eyes. Life and a sense of humanity, although to his utter shame it revealed itself more akin to pity. The girl’s own voice was barely heard over the noise that surrounded them but each one stabbed deep into Franco’s heart. “Yeah. She left with this guy. He’s new here. Never seen him before. Big black fella with a thick Caribbean accent. I think he just joined to soccer club since he hangs out with that crowd. She kinda looked for you for a minute but he led her out. They were practically… well… it looked like they were heading somewhere.”

The demons playing in Franco’s chest let out a long wail of laughter that brought a roaring burst of pain crashing through his mind. Frantically he checked his cell phone for messages. Nothing. She had never… she had… Eleonora had never left like this! Not without telling him. Having him with her. That she had simply left without even knowing where he had gone, or if he would be back? She had left with some new bull. Some big black bull who would most likely be with her right now… on top of her… inside of her. Having her. Fucking her. Without him there. Not waiting. Not calling him. Not caring.

“Are you gonna be alright?”, Franco felt the waitress’ gentle fingers brushing his shoulder. Her eyes softened, showing not just the expected pity that he not only feared but expected, but actual concern. A concern that showed not only in the way she looked at him but in the way her fingers lay softly upon his arm, and in the gentle tenor of her voice. The club was loud and confused and her pink lips had to move very near to his in order to be heard. “You look… you look really worried. Would you like another drink? My shift is nearly over; would you like a drink someplace else, maybe?”

Franco felt confused even more by her question. His head was already spinning with his wife’s actions and his eyebrows grew close as he tried to adjust to this new wonder.

“You want to have a drink with me? Someplace else?”, he marveled, “Why?”

The waitress, whose name turned out to be Dora, bit her lip, casting her eyes across the room in an effort to hide whatever was in her eyes. “Look. I see you here, okay? You don’t want to be here. You’re miserable here. And your wife… well, she’s busy having the time of her fucking life not seeing what a blind bitch could see a mile away. The place is filled with whores just waiting to be picked up and you haven’t even looked at any of them. You’ve just stayed here at this table night after night looking miserable. I’m an actress, you know? I can sense these things. I watch people. I know they have stories and… and I’m interested in yours. I know it’s purely selfish on my part but maybe we can share some stories together. Maybe even make some stories.”

Franco’s breath caught in his throat as he felt her fingertips slide down his shirt, brushing along his tie, to rest along his crotch. Dora smirked triumphantly as she felt the stirring of his cock under her feather touch, confirming how right she was about him. She had indeed watched him for months now. Watched as the man practically died each night, his wife acting like a whore on the dance floor while he tried to hide his own need. She had watched him on those nights, his cock growing hard along his thigh, his eyes growing hot, coming so very close to shattering his glass in a shaking hand. She smiled, her teeth white along her lips, biting the tip of her tongue sensually between them, loving the sensuous feel of their sharpness against her own tender flesh. She had him, she thought, all his stories and delicious desires so very close to be added to her inventory of people and experiences. Any one of which might earn her acclaim on stage one day.  An actress is nothing without her experiences after all. Seeing Franco’s eyes opened wide with surprise, seemingly helpless before her, she ran her fingertips down to the tip of his expanding cock. Not the biggest she’d have, Dora thought with a smile. Yet with the right motivation, the right blend of anger and righteous rage, here was a man who needed to fuck some willing and lucky cunt straight into the fucking wall.

But to her surprise, Franco simply stood up, this body tense as he moved away from her. He still had that look of frightened confusion in his eyes, though. In the most gentlemanly of fashions he took her hand, the one that was until a moment ago was so happily stroking his growing cock and kissed her fingers sweetly. It was a gesture that sent an instant rush of warmth down between her legs, as it would for any woman, if men were ever smart enough to realize it. Dora actually felt a pang of disappointment as he stepped away, thanking her again and again for - well, for everything – and headed to the door like a bullet. She noticed, although maybe he didn’t, the eyes that followed him, and the cruel laughter, as the rest of the young men (assholes every one of them) watched him bolt for the club’s entrance. Dora sighed. There was one more story she might never know heading out into the night and she was a feeling it might have been a good one. With a casual resignation she cleaned off the table and headed back into the crowd to hawk for the night’s tips.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

Eleonora lay across the motel bed, her body gloriously naked after treating Wil to her best strip tease, deliberately taking her time to expose one inch of horny female flesh to him after another as he sat in the chair smiling like a devil. She had treated that monster growing between his thighs to every touch of her warm  breasts and ass, licking its length sensuously through his straining trousers and stroking it off rhythmically to the music coming from the tiny motel radio. The bastard remained unaffected, smiling that delightfully terrifying smile as his cock grew and grew down his pant-leg like it would never ever stop. She lay there trying to control her nervous breathing, her legs opened invitingly, watching as he peeled off his shirt.

Dear fucking shit, the man was ripped. Not in that steroid body builder sort of way but that strong tapered male body with obviously well exercised muscles. The man was completely devoid of any fat. His sleek, dark body shining with health. As he dropped his pants, the sight was even more impressive. Eleonora was not sure what they were called, but there was one of those pronounced muscular creases that ran in a ‘V’ down his stomach to disappear down into the waistband of his overstretched boxer-briefs. She could not resist peeking down at that massive bulge hidden between his legs. And fuck if there wasn’t a lot to want to peek down at. The briefs were so tight that they looked as if they were spray painted on; really low waisted and really tight fitting which showed, let’s say, a lot of detail. And it was an enormous bulge; much bigger than anything Eleonora had ever seen before now, starting just under the tightly stretched waistband and finishing with the deep hang of his ball sack which seemed to challenge the elastic of the seams to keep it contained.

He stood there smiling proudly, his hands on his hips, just looking so damned sexy and so powerfully masculine. Then in the deepest, sexist and most pussy-churning voice he ordered Eleonora to face the headboard, her ass high in the air, legs wide to present him with what was now his. Biting her lip, shivering with need, Eleonora had no choice but to obey. She buried her head in the pillows, reaching back to spread herself wide, putting herself in the position that all of her young bulls preferred. Fuck, she could already feel her pussy throbbing, dripping wetly as she heard him approach the bed, one heavy step at a time.

Eleonora’s brain blew up. She writhed on the bed, unable to believe that such incredible pleasure was possible. William’s cock had stuffed her to the breaking point, splitting her open, tearing her in half with each driving thrust as he tired to get every last inch of his monstrous cock buried deep inside of her. She found herself screaming through hot tears, beating at the pillows wildly to the sound of his laughter. Despite all the young men she had known, all the hot rock-solid cocks she had felt spreading her pussy-walls to their limits, she had never felt anything that came close to the complete sexual agony he was inflicting on her struggling cunt. Each brutal stroke tore past her cervix, invading her womb. The pain was so sharp and deep she barely felt the hard slaps of his hands as he proceeded to turn her thick white ass a dozen colors of crimson. Laughing, all the while laughing, he continued to murder her pussy one stabbing thrust at a time without the slightest thought for her agonized screams. 

In a flash of pure terror, Eleonora realized that the brute was not even wearing a condom. The very thought of his beastly load finally bursting within her cunt was absolutely terrifying and sent her spiraling helplessly into a blinding orgasm as William proceeded to fuck her eyes into the back of her head. Her hands flailed back, slapping at his legs and hips as she struggled to find a spare breath to beg for mercy between grief-stricken wails. William laughed all the harder, grabbing both of her wrists in one meaty hand and pinning them behind her back. She felt his heavy, cum-filled balls slapping against her pussy lips, beating them raw with each heartless assault. She prayed that he would finish. That that savage beast of a cock would finally release its load and that he would leave her broken and trembling on that bed to seek fresher prey.

Eleonora got her wish, an eternity of pain later, as she felt his cock finally still within her, his muscled body shaking in that wonderful sexy way just before a man gave up his load. Just as she feared, the bull had no intention of pulling out. Instead she found herself screaming, cumming again in mind-twisting ecstasy as William flooded her body to overflowing with a gallon of his pudding-thick sperm. She felt his beast throbbing within her as heavy flows of spunk dripped along her sex-beaten clit. Somehow, she was laying on her back, long streams of his cum blasting across her body, her face, her breasts. Her rolling eyes offered her slim glances up at this laughing godling. His smile shone wide as he continued to stroke thick ropes of his thick cum across her trembling body in a never ending cumshot, slathering her in hot spunk as he joyfully emptied his balls across his latest conquest.

As she came down from her orgasm, a lifetime later, Eleonora simply lay there waiting for her trembling to subside and thanking heaven that her ordeal was done. No more, she promised, no more, no more, no more… But William had other ideas. In a shock, she found herself on her face again, her ass pulled high into the air, her wrists pinned once again behind her back. She felt him, his cock sliding still iron-hard between her ass-cheeks.

“No….no more…please no more.” she begged piteously, her voice quivering through her tears.Another fuck would finish her.Franco would find her spread across this bed, her trembling body cold, dead, and plastered in cum, “My pussy can’t take it. Please. Oh holy fuck, pleeeease…!”

The godling laughed deeply, his skin shining with sweat, each muscle defined in its glory as he set his feet wide and prepared for his new assault. William took a deep breath, steadying Eleonora on the very edge of the bed. When he spoke, his voice was deep and strong, thick with his Island accent, amused more than aroused. It’s power Impossible to refuse or to ignore. Eleonora found herself on the cusp of another orgasm just hearing his words, feeling the tip of his massive cock sliding down along her asshole.

“No. No my little bitch. Not your pussy. Wil has had that.” He said, his voice punctuated by a low chuckle, “Ruined that but good. Buried his babies deep in that place so you will grow fat for him. Now Wil wants something else indeed. Something tighter to please him.”

Eleonora wailed screaming to shake the very walls as she felt the head of his massive cock pierce her asshole. He was tearing her apart, grunting heavily to drive in one more inch. He was going in raw and dry, more than simply enjoying the hellish pain that he was inflicting upon her thrashing body. William’s strong fingers sank deep into her thighs, pinning her in place as he drove white-hot lances of agony straight up her spine.

“Nooooo! Please! Fuucckkkkkkk!” Eleonora screamed at the top of her strained  lungs, her fingers clawing savage rents in the bedding as William forced himself deeper and deeper into her burning ass. “I…  I can’t take it! STOP! Its too much! It hurts! Oh, fuck it hurts! I can’t take it there! I can’t take it!”

“You will take everything Wil chooses to give you, bitch! Your ass will be mine same as your cunt! Scream all you want but you will be taking my cock and my load deep in your ass by the time we are done. I… will… not… be…DENIED!”

William grunted hard through clenched teeth as he fought to jam more of his thick cock-meat up her pain-stricken asshole. The woman was impossibly tight, screaming and clawing the bedsheets as inch after inch of his massive shaft was jammed in deep. He could feel a trickle of sweat slipping down along his temple as he buried his fingers into the slut’s lush hips, straining as hard as he ever did to conquer this whore’s ass as he had done so many others before her. No slut young or old had ever refused him his desires, and none ever would. Ignoring her pleas and cries for mercy, William instead slammed her down into the bed and went to work, pounding in ever harder to the sound of her breathless wails.

………………………………………………………………………………………..

Just outside the door of the motel room, Franco sat on the floor, his back to the opposite wall. He held his face in his hands, gnashing his teeth around a quiet scream as he listened to his wife’s wails of agony just beyond the motel door. Part of him wanted to burst in, to find some kind of weapon to beat the man off. To save his wife from the terrible agony she was suffering as he forced his cock deeper and deeper into her ass. He could hear her begging pleas through the door. Hell, so could everyone in the damned motel. None of them would come out to investigate, he knew. Each one of them was here in this sleazy fucking motel for the same reasons after all. Some to cheat on their spouses, to get away from prying eyes, to give in to their most carnal sins hidden from the view of God and man. Instead he sat there, pounding his shaking fists frantically into his forehead, ignoring the pain as he shook in impotent anger. This is what she had wanted after all. A big, Alpha-cocked bull to fuck her without mercy. To ruin her with each savage thrust of his hips. Isn’t that what Eleonora always said? Dreamed about? Panted between sensual moans each time he tried and failed to give her the fucking she wanted with his own less-then-impressive cock?

He heard Eleonora scream again, responding helplessly as he dragged his nails across his scalp in heart-rent anguish. His own pain matched her own, exceeded it even, as the demons in his chest laughed and played, tearing bloody slices out of his soul. Throughout it all, through each scream-filled moment of his wife’s destruction, he realized he could do nothing to stop it. Nothing but wait and pick up the pieces afterwards. As he had done time after time before. But he could not help but feel that things were somewhat different this time. Gone was any feeling of arousal on his own part, any sense of wonder. Now there was only the heart-breaking pain that sliced through him with each throaty grunt of the young stranger’s mad thrusts and each wail of agony from his wife’s torn throat. As he ground the balls of his palms into his tearing eyes, Franco knew that this strange madness had to end. It had to. One way or the other.

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

Franco pulled the Audi up in front of the restaurant as the sound of the gravel crunched slowly under the tires. He took a brief moment to breathe, looking at his tired eyes staring back at him in the rear-view mirror. It had been a long day. Several houses shown and two apartments inspected, all in different towns, all that had failed to impress either his cash-strapped clients or himself. Half of them had been well into the country, private communities built around ancient churches. Each quaint village ruined by ugly steel security fences built to keep away gypsies and nosy neighbors whose peering eyes cast instantly damning judgement on any newcomers who dared to look at one of the many empty villas that surrounded them.

The rear of the car was filled with the chatter of the women. Eleonora, his wife, and her work-friend Pamela had been talking excitedly since they had picked up the woman at her apartment. Eleonora had barely introduced him before they both squeezed into the back seat of the little car. He had thought about turning on the radio to drown out their non-stop yapping, but he would have to turn the volume up to maximum and they would be sure to notice. Instead of this, he lit a cigarette and kept his eyes on the road, praying that the night would end quickly. It was a useless prayer. He knew how the night would end. And he wondered for the tenth time how he was going to handle watching not just his wife but both of them seduce some more-than-willing young bull into their bed. Eleonora had even suggested that he might have the chance to fuck Pamela as well when it was all over. Suggesting it as she was on her knees sucking his cock and balls to a long, drawn out orgasm that had left his head spinning and with only the word ‘yes’ left in his lust-hazed brain. He used the mirror to take another look into the Audi’s backseat. Her friend was pretty enough, and her shape was nice, hugged closely as it was by her tight black pantsuit. With her blonde hair and smooth white skin, the two of them could be sisters. Most men would jump at the chance. But the last thing Franco wanted was another cum-fucked slut to fuck at the end of the evening. He rarely even fucked his wife afterwards now. Although, God-damn him, he still found the sight and smells and sounds so damned erotic, assuring not only his hard-on but his own need to shoot his seed all over his slut wife’s sex-bruised body or face. But that had become less about her and more… more about what, he wondered?

The valet opened the car door and took his keys with a smile and a light bow. He was a young man in his early twenties with a full head of hair and that dark look that Eleonora loved so much. Franco cut the man off as he reached for the back door, blocking his view as much as possible as Eleonora slid her bare legs from the back seat. His wife had gone beyond herself tonight. A new hairstyle swept her curly blonde hair across her shoulders and her short mini-dress, shimmering metallic gold, brought out her smiling eyes like bright stars over her smiling red lips. There was a time when he would just have turned the car around, taken her home, and torn her clothes off; taking her like the animal he thought she loved. But that decision was not his anymore and the animal he was paled meekly in comparison to the animal she dreamed of. She did not even bother to kiss his cheek as she exited the car, her eyes far too busy exploring the scene; taking in the sights of the new restaurant and the young waiters waiting eagerly to cater to their desires. He saw them looking at her, how could he not? Yet once again he kept his mouth closed and made to take her arm possessively. Only for a brief moment forgetting to extend that same arm to Pamela as she herself exited the back seat of the Audi. Unlike his wife she paused to thank him, looking at his face with a question in her eyes as he closed the door behind her.

The restaurant itself was beautiful, brightly lit with pure white walls and blue trim in the Greek style. Waiters and staff slid deftly between tables and groups of people just sitting down or just about to leave. The wide windows were open to the Adriatic breeze which somehow made the dining room larger than it was and far more livelier. Franco had already spotted the table he had requested freshly prepared and waiting for them patiently in a far corner by one of the broader windows. The maître-de was friendly and efficient, bringing them over to the table with a professional sharpness that Franco more than appreciated. The wine-steward as well knew his business and soon enough was pouring out a Spanish white that eased Franco into his seat and took his mind off the furtive stares his wife’s legs and loud pleasant laughter were attracting from the men around the room, especially from the younger ones whose eyes were always searching for the next set of legs to slide between.

The night began as it always did; with Eleonora casually flaunting her body for all to see as she sipped at her wine and picked at her meal. Yet this time her conversation was not directed at himself. In fact, for all he was involved with the table, he might have well been left outside taking a nap in the Audi which, to be completely truthful, he would have well preferred. Instead what conversation there was remained between Eleonora and Pamela. At first, Franco had tried to keep up with it all but then gave up completely for lack of interest. They talked about work, about their boss at work, about the workers at work, this bitch or that bitch at work. They talked about movies they’d like to see and the handsome men in those movies. They talked about stores and clothes and hairdressers; which ones were more or less expensive, and which had the bitchiest, ugliest saleswomen. They talked about their favorite reality shows and which wife of which city had their breasts or ass or lips fixed. Throughout it all, Franco just started out the open window at the boats sailing off into the darkness of the bay. He tapped a cigarette out of its box, sighing as he took that first long drag of sweetly addictive poison. As he sat there dreaming of a new life for himself an Eleonora – out there someplace across the sea - a few words of their laughing conversation began to interest him.

“Okay then.” Eleonora urged, “How about the one standing over the table over there talking to the little boy? He seems sweet enough. And look at his ass! Wouldn’t you want to feel an ass like that pressing between your thighs?”

Pamela could not help but to laugh, quickly hiding her smile behind her napkin rather than losing a mouthful of Alaskan salmon. This was not the first young man her friend had pointed out, although her tastes had gotten a bit more spot on. The young man in question seemed well-mannered and kind as he spoke with the child, making the youngster and his parents laugh with some odd joke. His dark hair was cut sharply and, unlike most of the wait-staff, his eyes weren’t constantly seeking out the nearest set of cleavage as he worked his tables. But still, he was a boy, probably still in university by the looks of him. Hardly come into his beard; and, oh, how she loved a beard on a man. There was something about the way a man’s stubble scratched across her cheek that made her shiver all over. Even now, just thinking of it, she felt a pleasant tingling up and down her arms. But Eleonora liked them a bit younger, going on about how the young man in the crisp waiter’s uniform would be just the thing to put a smile on her face.

“Really, Ellie. Alright, I admit that he’s cute.” Pamela admitted. “But he could hardly be over twenty or so. Not to mention that he is most likely not making enough income as a waiter to be good boyfriend material. He probably still lives with his mother for pity’s sake!”

Eleonora scoffed at her friend’s naive innocence, trying once again to force the idea into her thick head. “Pam, who is saying anything about having him as a ‘boyfriend’? We are not looking for your ‘one true love’ tonight. Just something to loosen you up a bit while your dream man decides to finally appear.”

“I’m loose enough thank you. And I don’t plan to get any looser.” Pamela replied, somewhat distracted by the cigarette smoke now making its way across the table. Normally she detested the scent. Especially at dinner. But Franco’s filthy habit at least provided some distraction from Eleonora’s constant boy-watching. “Besides, you might be satisfied with a young man with a … you know… that can make you happy for a night, but I just want a grown man who can just keep me… well, happy. Is that so hard to understand?”

Isabelle just laughed, waiving her friend away as she accepted another glass of wine from the porter. The night went on and at last dinner was cleared from the table. Franco was on his second cigarette as the deserts came. Pamela and Eleonora split something impossibly chocolate and impossibly decadent while Franco knocked back a triple espresso and a glass of Sambuca. The entire time, Eleonora had not stopped watching the young men pass by, stretching out her bare legs for them to see, smiling like a girl as she noticed them looking her way. At the beginning of the night it seemed simply silly flirtation. Now hours later, it was frankly embarrassing. Pamela kept glancing towards Franco, watching each time he turned away to look over the dark waters of the bay. His eyes seemed… sad. His demeanor more irritated than encouraging. She thought back to all that Eleonora had told her of their relationship. Of the way Franco had just adored watching her with other men. Had even inspired her to do so. Now, watching the man chew through his cigarette, she wondered if it was all true. Or if Eleonora was simply failing to see. Perhaps not wanting to see.

They left the restaurant soon after but, and to her chagrin, they did not drive directly home but to a small club that Eleonora insisted they visit first. Once again Franco sat up front, sliding the Audi towards the waiting valet, and once again helped both women from the car. Pamela could not hear herself speak with the sound of the heavy base being blasted through the club’s doors as they opened wide for them. One little hour, Eleonora said, and if she was not happily dancing up a storm then they would leave and forget the entire idea completely. Pamela let herself be pulled in by her friend, both hands held in hers, unable to stop herself from laughing along with Eleonora as the silliness of the situation grabbed hold of her.

The ended up at the bar and somehow Pamela had wound up with a drink in her hand. Something vodka. Something very, very vodka. They had also ended up surrounded by young men. All of whom somehow knew ‘Tina’ very well and all of whom were very interested in her new friend. It was not very long at all until both of them were surrounded, buried behind a wall of leering smiles, lean powerful muscles, and hardening cocks. Welcome to heaven, Eleonora joked, as she leaned back glowing in their attentions and made a game of deciding which of the young men she would dance with first. Eleonora gave them her name as ‘Aria’ and was soon pulling her onto the packed dance floor, pressing her into the arms of one of them. The finest bull in the place, Eleonora half-whispered, half-yelled into her ear. And Pamela could see just what she meant. The young man was ridiculously handsome and had a body of solid muscle; a blonde and virile Adonis whose very smile was deadly. And his eyes! Dark and dangerous and insanely sexy. Unable to resist Pamela let him take her into his steel-cabled arms and she very nearly swooned as she felt his insanely massive cock press hard along her inner thigh.

Franco sat in his usual corner, ordering his usual drink from the usual waitress. Her face was blank and uncaring, a fleshy ball of raw dough that had seen and heard too much to care about most anything. Franco liked her. Liked those eyes too dead to care or to pass judgement. She brought him his drink, watered down whiskey, and then went on her way not saying a word. He slid into his usual seat as the two girls headed over to the bar. He knew what would happen. The crowd of young men. Each eager not only to find his wife again but to discover who the new woman was. Predators scenting fresh prey. He stared into his glass and waited patiently. Sometimes it was just a few minutes. Other times it was hours. Soon enough his wife would call to him and he would go outside to get the car from the valet. To do the dance again. To play the fool, the cuckold, the pathetic ass with the hot wife who needed so much more than he could ever give. This time it would be worse though. Worse with two of them. He found himself calling for another drink far too quickly, trying desperately to forget what lay before him. The waitress laid another lonely drink before him. He watched a moment as the cold drops of water slid down the sides of the amber filled glass, mesmerized for a second by that simple motion. Then, letting out an ugly curse, Franco grabbed the glass intending to knock the thing back in one shot and call for yet another, and another, and another until his mind was too fucking numb to think more.

Her hand stopped him. He looked up to see Pamela’s face in front of him. She was here, nervous and distraught. Perhaps more than a little frightened.

“Franco. I…  look I know you are here with your wife but… would you just mind driving me to the nearest bus?” she asked, her voice quivering and on the edge of tears, “I just want to leave. If it’s too much of an imposition I will just call for a cab, but from here to home… the bus will be fine. Please, if it’s not too much trouble? I’m sorry to bother you.”

Franco was confused, “But I thought you and Eleonora were both having fun? Dancing and… all?”

“Please Franco, please? Just too the bus? I won’t bother you after that.” Pamela replied with a pleading look in her eyes, “You can come back. Its only a few minutes drive. Please? I know its an imposition.”

“No. No. It’s not an imposition.” he responded, still somewhat taken with shock. He reached for the glass of whiskey reflexively thinking to drain it down but then, upon seeing Pamela’s tearing eyes, thought better of it and left the glass to linger where it sat, “Let’s go. I’ll summon the valet.”

Franco did not drive her to the bus but slid the Audi onto the highway and drove her all the way to her front door. He would never leave a woman alone at night to wait for a bus that might never come knowing the system as he did. It would be a crime. He could imagine his parents rising from the very grave to strike at him for such a brutish and unmannered thing. Such things just were not done by a gentleman, after all! So instead he silently made the decision to drive the thirty or so minutes in order to satisfy his own sense of chivalry and to set his sainted parents peacefully at their rest. The fact that it would also drag him away from the club for a good hour was also in his mind. An hour where he could keep his mind centered on the road instead of the way his wife looked, smiling gaily as a half-dozen horny strangers gathered in about her. Each with only one thing on his disgusting mind. Each one…

“You should really stop smoking, you know.”

“What?”Franco mumbled, suddenly broken from his thoughts.

“Smoking.”Pamela replied from the light-streaked shadows of the passenger seat, “It’s bad for your lungs. For your body. Its unhealthy. And it makes your breath stink.”

“I’ve been smoking all my life!”, Franco shot back, a bit too much anger in his voice. Anger he instantly regretted showing. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been smoking all my life. Since I was a kid.”

“And all your life it’s been bad for you.” Pamela answered slowly. “You shouldn’t do things that are bad for you. That make you sick. You’ll end up killing yourself. And then where will you be?”

Franco stared at her, noticing through the streaking overhead highways lights that the woman was actually smirking at him. And then where would he be? For the first time in too long he laughed, and even if it was just for those few silly moments, he felt normal again. As the minutes dragged by he felt himself getting serious again though.

“Tell me. Why did you want to leave the club? I thought you and… and Eleonora were having a good time.”

Pamela started out the window of the car as the buildings and streets passed by in far too much of a rush. Her words were a whisper, half stolen by the wind, “Ellie was. Me? I don’t know. All those men. So young and… may I say, shallow in their intentions? The one I was dancing with…. his hands were all over me. I wasn’t ready for that yet. Not with…  Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Ellie’s right and I’m just a prudish frump.”

“I don’t think you are a frump.” Franco replied, his own voice nearly too quiet to hear. “This is your place isn’t it?.”

Pamela got out of the car saying a quick but truthfully meant ‘Thank you’ and headed up her front path. Franco sat in the car watching her walk up to her door, watched as she fished her keys out of her purse and disappeared through her front door with a final wave and a grateful smile. He stood there a moment, the engine of the car still running as the car trembled beneath him. By his habit he fished his cigarette pack from his jacket, his other hand fumbling in his side pocket for the lighter. The night was quiet and by some miracle there was not another car on the road. He would have to go back he knew.  Back to that club. Back to his wife. Back to whatever nightmare the night held for him. With a last doomed sigh, he slid the pack of cigarettes unopened into his jacket pocket and slid the car back onto the highway unwilling but resigned to his fate.

Eleonora had never been so alive. The music was pumping hard, the vodka and soda were coursing happily through her veins, and the hands and attentions of so many young men had taken her, touched her, whispered their hot thoughts into her ear as she reached down to stroke their powerful hard-ons through their pants. The flickering lights and confusion of the packed dance floor hid well her grasping hands and flushed cheeks even as it hid the many hands gripping her ass and fondling her breasts. She could have any of them, she thought, all of them! She saw their faces, so strong and hungry, imagining one then the other staring down inches from her face as he pounded her in half with the savage aggression of a lover. Throughout the night she felt the warmth build between her thighs. She bit her lip playfully, as she felt them pressing along her trembling body. The time for dancing was through, she thought. It was now time to choose. Pamela had already disappeared. She was probably already being fucked blind and stupid by one of these amorous godlings. She could picture it. Sweet, and so proper Pamela being driven to heaven and back with each thrust of a hungry cock. Eleonora could feel the first trickle of moistness grow along her thigh. It was time to join her.

His hands gripped her shoulders hard as he pulled her back into him. Her initial wide-eyed shock grew into an even wider smile as she felt his shaft pressing against her ass and its hardened tip reaching up towards her spine. She looked back to find him smiling down at her with his shining black face split wide by the whitest of smiles. Like a lion so very sure of his prey. He began thrusting up and down between her ass-cheeks, making her gasp in lust-filled surprise at his impossible length. It was like someone was sliding a hot iron bar up and down her ass and he knew before she did that she was his. All the other men slid away from them now, each realizing what was going on as Eleonora began moving her ass up and down along his slowly thrusting shaft. With his hands firmly set on her shoulders they were moving to the music, the steady bass of the beat clouding her head with only the thought of what he was doing to her with his monster still trapped helplessly in his trousers. She had to let that monster out, she thought. She had to feel it feed.

“What’s your name?” she pleaded in a small whisper, trying to control her panting breaths.

“My name is William.” He replied, his thick island accent only making his voice, a rich baritone, even sexier as he wrapped his long, powerful arms around her heaving chest. “You can call me Will… and you will come with me tonight. Won’t you, my little girl?”

“Yes. Yes. Will… I will… Yes.” she stumbled in her response, his words as well as his perfectly chiseled body far too commanding to ignore. For a moment she thought of calling Franco, of telling him to get the car, of the motel where he tipped the man fifty euro, of Franco’s hot eyes as he watched. But then William descended on her with those dark, smiling eyes and those heavy lips, his tongue sliding along her own… and whatever was left of her could think of nothing else.

Repercussions :

Part Seven  (A continuation of ‘The Bet’)

Simone lay back on his bed, gently cradling the phone against his ear. Gazing out of the open patio window, he watched the shimmering waters of the Adriatic crash in with the evening tide. The sky had been a clear cerulean blue since morning and along the shore hundreds of people lay upon the beach, taking full advantage as the chariot of Apollo made its way across the heavens. It had been a good day for him altogether, which meant that he had not once needed to stir from his apartment into the bothersome world below. An apartment he lived in rent free due to his recent triumph over his cousin’s misplaced faith in his wife’s faulty devotion. Most of the good fortune in his life was based off the failures of others. Of their foolish assumptions of loyalty and commitment. How many had he seen fall to the lusts between their legs or the careless kiss of a stranger’s lips. Simone had known since his earliest days that love was a conditional thing. That a man’s yearnings or a woman’s carefully hidden lusts were never ruled by simple feelings of affection to one lover or to one spouse. Ture love was a lie he always said, raised up to truth by poets, artists, and jewelry stores. He had learned that lesson well in high school as he watched one couple after the other break up in angry spectacles as the truth of their infidelities came inevitably to light. Some of them driven into the light by himself as he looked on in near giddy delight at love’s ignoble fall.

He remembered the first time he had truly profited on his amusement, sacrificing his professor’s marriage vows for a passing grade as one teen-aged stud after the other took her on her own desk with her screaming in whorish ecstasy. True, it had led to an unwanted pregnancy, a quick divorce, and the ruin of her teaching career. But it had also guaranteed him a passing “A+” in her physics class. A grade he would never have been able to attain on his own without a good deal of work. And, as he always said between self-satisfied puffs of his expensive British cigarettes, work was for fools and idiots - not for Simone.

He was quietly smoking one of those prized cigarettes when the phone had rung. Johnny, one of his most precious weapons in his war on unnecessary labor, was returning his call from the morning. The young man shared his love of matrimonial destruction and was eager for his next lovely target. Simone only provided the best. No fat sluts or sloppy housewives for him. Only those quietly disenchanted and under-sexed lovers and wives whose long legs and tight bodies would give rise to Johnny’s near-insatiable lusts. All of them so very beautiful and all so very devoted to their naïve and far-too-trusting men. Johnny had just returned from a short trip to Piedmont and his libido was eager for another warm and willing victim. Luckily it just so happened that Simone was in dire need of a new auto and he knew the perfect little wife for Johnny to seduce. She was a hot little brunette, all curves and supple ass-cheeks, suffering hours at the gym to maintain her appeal to an indifferent husband. A husband who cared more for his Fiat dealership than to his wife’s unmet womanly needs. A few pictures, a word dropped here and there, and Simone would find himself cruising the coast in his new auto within the week. A red one perhaps. He always looked good in red. It was almost too easy, he thought, smiling to himself as his body convulsed under a short coughing laugh.

Simone kicked off his loafers as he filled Johnny in on the details. They ‘thunked’ to the floor, one then the other as he read the details carefully from a small black notebook which he usually kept locked securely in his desk drawer. The young wife in question happened to frequent a particular gym at a particular hour. She enjoyed shopping at a particular shop. She enjoyed particular compliments. He could almost hear Johnny taking mental notes as he went on, planning various strategies of conquest even as he listened. Johnny could already feel the woman in his arms, eagerly surrendering herself and her wifely virtue to his will and begging in pleading tones to feel his dangerous seed flooding her belly… as they all did.

“I will meet her tomorrow, Simone.At her gym.” Johnny said confidently, “By tomorrow night she will be in my bed. By the end of the week she will be with my child. After that…”

“Ahhhhh, Johnny! Please, eh? After that you can do whatever you like.” Simone replied with lewd amusement in his voice, “Fuck her, keep her, toss her away, marry her and have a hundred babies… I care not. You do what makes you happy, eh? That is all life allows us in any case. Just work your magic on this one as you do, and both of us will benefit nicely.”

“Ha! You are a pig, Simone! Truly and happily!” Johnny laughed at the other end of the phone line, “and that is why we get alone so famously. You know I care nothing for your ‘benefits’ and you care nothing for mine.”

Simone laughed, coughing around his cigarette in loud barks of amusement. The thought of him pursuing the same amusements as Johnny made him almost burst. Johnny was a man who could not seem to think past acquiring a steady stream of sexually deprived and horny women to feed to his young, lusty cock. To go about gleefully breeding other men’s wives at his leisure. He himself would have none of that. Simone well knew his limitations as a man. Short of stature, given to softness, possessing neither the equipment nor the will to work that hard, Simone left that sort of thing to those who might enjoy them. Once per week or so he might call a former ‘victim’ up to his room. Her compliance in his bed enough to keep her life from falling to pieces with the drop of a quiet word. Otherwise he would make himself a fool for no one. Especially a woman, false as they were.

“Yes, Johnny my friend. We have the perfect relationship do we not? As the Americans say, I set them up and you, what? Knock them up?”

Johnny broke out in laughter as he bid his goodbyes. He had his work to attend to, having opened up a small car garage just a few weeks past, and now had a campaign to plan out. Simone hung up the phone, easing it carefully onto its cradle with two plump fingers, smiling in sure confidence that the woman was already conquered… and the new red Fiat already his.

He lay back onto the bed to take a quick nap to while away what was left of the afternoon and was just drifting off to sleep when there came a knock at his door. The knock was sudden and insistent. Annoyed, he tried to ignore it at first. But on the tenth or twelfth heavy-fisted knock, Simone knew there was no way he was going to be able to settle himself in for his afternoon nap. He rose from the bed clumsily donning his wayward shoes as the hammering at the door grew harder and louder. Instantly a flash of fear tore through him. Perhaps it was no normal visitor, he thought. Perhaps it was not simply a friendly neighbor or some delivery-boy bearing a package. Heaven k new he had made his share of enemies. Most were kept well in check by the secrets he kept. But what if…?

The knocking on the door rose even higher as Simone fumbled through his nightstand, pulling out the small .32 revolver that fit neatly into his pudgy grasp. It was useless calling the police. Even if they arrived within the hour, whatever transpired would be public record, and he avoided such attentions strenuously. Finding comfort in the pistol’s weight, Simone moved quietly towards the door, timidly, as if it would burst open if he moved too fast or an inch too close. Screwing up his courage, he reached for the doorknob.

The door exploded inwards just as Simone’s fingers brushed the doorknob. The little man was cast back onto the floor in a heap, the pistol sliding from his grasp, in a storm of shattered wood. He landed badly, searching out with one hand blinded in agony as his left arm twisted painfully under his belly. A short, woman-like hiss escaped his lips as the heel of a boot slammed down upon his hand, smashing several bones as it did. The boot continued crunching down, sending stabs of agony through Simone’s brain as his fingers fractured and cracked under its weight. His squeals of pain were cut short as that same boot drove into his teeth, splattering his blood across the carpet as his lips split and burst. The hand came next, a hard fist gripping him by his hair, pulling him roughly up to his knees. It was followed by a thunderous slap across his face, one that shook his teeth loose in his gums and forced his eyes open wide.

Franco stood above him, the man’s clothes stained and wrinkled from lack of sleep. Hie eyes were hard gray stones[JG1] [JG2] [JG3]  bearing down through narrow slits. Simone watched in mute horror as his hand rose up once more, crashing down with painful force, nearly blinding him in the left eye as it blasted across his face. Franco did not say a word after that. He simply stood over Simone’s ragged body taking in deep, labored breaths. Blood raced through his veins, his heart pounding in his chest, vision clear and bright; exhausted but at the same time exhilarated. He had been walking all night and most of the day, his mind seething through clouds of self-pity and hate. His body trembling between the effects of a night filled with whiskey and a day filled with ups of the darkest espresso. Lost in a fog, he had somehow ended up here, at Simone’s very doorstep. At the home of the man, the pig, the fucking bastard that had ruined his life. The rest… walking the three flights up to the apartment, knocking at the door, smashing at the door in tear-stained madness… it all came to him as if in a dream. A nightmare. A nightmare that was very near its end.

The neighbors had locked their doors at the noise, not wanting or downright fearful to become involved in the scene beyond their doorsteps. Only the bravest, or those in need of the latest gossip, dared look out of their peepholes. Those that did bore witness to their neighbor, that quiet neighbor from upstairs with the polite manners and friendly smile getting dragged down the marble staircase. They would have witnessed some disheveled madman gripping the fellow by the collar and tossing brutally, ending up in a moaning clump at the bottom of each staircase. The madman showed no concern as Simone (yes, that was his name!) complained with a whining voice of how his wrist or ankle had broken or that his spine was bursting in fiery agony when he landed badly across several steps. Simone’s blood was splattered across the landing as the madmen cursed and spit in some unknown rage, kicking and slapping the smaller man towards and out the front door of the building. Simone ran and kept on running, staggering through the evening streets on unsure legs, blood staining his shirt, crying out pitifully for help. And though there were people on the streets, plenty of people - friends and neighbors and curious bystanders – none moved to help him, none truly cared. They simply stood, watching as the odd curiosity passed them by into the distance, and then turned and went their way.

Franco walked heavily back up to the apartment, closing what was left of the apartment door behind him as he found his breath. Discarded on the floor lay a small pistol. Without thinking, for he was beyond thought at this moment, he reached down and picked it up to slide it into his coat pocket. He had no idea why. Looking down at his clothing he realized for the first time that day what an utter mess he was. His cream-colored suit was stained with grime and blood as, as he ran his hand along his chin, he felt only raw stubble which scratched at his palm. Franco made his way to the bathroom. He needed a shave… and a shower as well. And sleep. Yes, he desperately needed sleep. His hands shook dangerously as he lifted a small razor from the medicine cabinet. It was impossible. Sleep was what he needed now. Eleonora as still at work and would be for a few more hours. He had time, he thought. A quick nap. A quick shower. And then the next step to consider. He had removed one cancer from his belly. It was time to cut out another.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Eleonora rushed into the apartment, her purse still hanging open from her arm after paying the taxicab downstairs. She was confused, worried, and so terribly late. It was nearly nine and Franco had not answered his phone nor picked her up from work as he usually did each evening after work. She had left a half-dozen messages, called several of his useless friends, even thought to call the police. There was no trace of him. She had not seen him since last night in fact. He had left early for work, probably needing to show some stupid house hours away in the morning traffic. Eleonora was growing frantic. The sun was nearly down over their small town and she needed to be ready for tonight. Somewhere out there her tall black godling was waiting for her. Waiting for her while surrounded by a horde of undeserving sluts who could never satisfy him like she could. She tore through her closet, cursing at the clock and her wayward husband, looking for the perfect thing to wear for him. Something ladylike, yes, but with a powerful overtone of sexuality. Something that would draw his attentions instantly.

She chose a tight blue pencil-dress which would hug her curves nicely, a gleaming black leather belt, and finally the perfect heels to go with them. Franco had always loved this dress on her. She remembered the first time she had worn it. He had turned instantly into an aroused animal as she sat and crossed her legs, showing off a few inches more of bare thigh as it crept up her legs. She bit her lip with a little smile, remembering Franco grabbing her from behind, puling the skirt up her ass as he pressed her down across their bed, ripping her panties down her legs and fucking her like a crazed beast. He had come so hard that night, shaking as his cock lay throbbing within her while she milked his balls for every last drop of his seed. She shuddered happily, praying it would have the same effect on William.

She finished showering, dressing, preparing herself… and still no word from Franco. The man had just disappeared. She could picture him hard at work somewhere doing whatever it was he actually did. Forgetting all about her. A taxi was her only option but that would cost most of her carried cash. She considered calling a friend but there was no one to call, no one she would dare trust this part of her life with… except one. Pamela had left early from work, a personal thing suddenly coming up. But maybe she was done by now and free to give her a lift? Eleonora bit her lip nervously. She had told Pamela all about her plans this morning, but she did not want to get her friend this involved. Yet she had no choice. Calling Pamela would be embarrassing… but not going? Missing her chance to prove herself. Thinking of her William with another woman, some pathetic whore from that club who could not give the lusty stud anything near what she could bring to him? Perhaps even losing him forever? Her entire body shivered at the fearsome thought. Without another moment’s hesitation she picked up the phone and started dialing.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Pamela looked across the bed with a frown on her carefully painted face. She had just returned from the spa, a real spa and not the cesspit she worked at, and her limbs still stung from being shaved and plucked and waxed. She had spent the last hour up to her neck in a soothing bath of mud and perfumed herself ever so carefully to rid herself of the reddish blush and scent of nearly three hours of self-inflicted torture that no man could have survived. When she had arrived home to her small and depressingly empty apartment, she had stood naked in front of the mirror critically studying every cruel flaw her body would present her with. Her skin practically glowed with heath, although she might do with a bit more sun, and there was hardly an ounce of fat to be seen on her firm, round ass and no noticeable sag to her breasts, Her nipples stood rose-red, high and proud, eager to be teased and suckled by the right lover. She let her mind drift for a moment, thinking of his fingers, his lips, the slight stubble of his cheek as she slid her own fingers over her nipples. She had to reach out and quickly grab the edge of the vanity, her knees turning to rubber beneath her as her body shivered with need.

Cursing her own weakness, she sat her ass down in the chair and started running a brush through her blonde curls. She studied the woman on the cover of the fashion magazine that she kept on the table, wishing for the millionth time for those eyes, those lips, those bright teeth. Silently she counted to one hundred brush strokes. Then one hundred again on the other side. When she was done, she looked into the mirror in despair. Not even close. Still, not that bad. With a quick shake of her head and a silent curse at the one strand that refused to stay in formation, and she pronounced herself ‘good enough’. But tonight ‘good enough’ was not what she needed. Tonight, she needed ‘absolute drop-dead sexy’. If only she had another hour to prepare. Or another month!

Which bought her to the bed. She had rummaged through her entire closet. Every skirt, every dress, every outfit she owned, every bra, every set of forbidden lingerie she had never actually had the courage to wear was lying across the bed looking just… just ugly. Frumpy, off-color, too bright, not bright enough, last year’s styles, other’s that she could picture her mother wearing. It was useless. She glanced at the clock. There was no time to go shopping now. Whatever she had scattered across the bed was what she was stuck with. Sighing in defeat, she chose a daringly short skirt and a white satin blouse she had never worn before. The cloth was thin enough to be practically sheer and her breasts would press provocatively through the silk-soft material. Which was just what she wanted, wasn’t it? Lastly, she chose the lacy white underthings that she had bought on a whim just last weekend. Using her teeth in a very unladylike manner to rip open the plastic package, she was amazed at how the delicate white stockings drifted gossamer-like to the bed sheets.

One by one she slid on each item. First the perilously delicate panties and bra, then the stockings that felt so incredibly feminine sliding up along her legs. Skirt. Blouse. The barest jewelry. What was she forgetting? Shoes! She slid her feet into a pair of black heels then walked over the mirror to give herself one last chance at misery. She admired herself for a moment. Noting her flat belly and curvy figure, her firm legs that seemed to go on for miles. Okay, she thought, we’ve at least gotten past ‘good enough’. As for ‘absolute drop-dead sexy’ only time, and his reaction would tell.

On the way to the door, she grabbed her purse and clicked off the light. Her hands were shaking terribly. She could stop now, she thought. Just stop, forget about this madness, and go back to a comfortable life in her small and empty apartment. But she knew she would only have one chance at this. Eleonora, Ellie, her best friend in this world… would be out of the house the entire night. That she knew from the rather insane phone call that prompted her own mad rush. She absolutely hated lying to the woman but compared with what she was about to do…?

Lifting up her chin defiantly, she switched off the light, locked the door solidly behind her and strode down to the waiting taxi. This was her chance. Her one chance. It was time.

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.”

o-1968:

Selena, one of the blonde twins at Roissy, lay on the bed in the small room she shared with her twin, Apryl. She said, “One of the valets told me that the old man named Cyril has asked for me tonight. I find him disgusting. He is fat and over half the time he can’t even get it up. I think tonight when he tells me to undress, I’ll just tell him, ‘Why, you old fucker. You won’t be able to do anything.”

Apryl replied, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. There could be reprecussions.”