Electric Weekend
Music filled Heather's senses, a smooth sensual groove that twisted around her body and caressed her neck and ears. She walked through the crowded club, glancing at the patrons as they sat at their tables. Their attention was turned to the stage and the lithe creature that danced to the sultry music. She was thin, far more so than Heather thought possible for a woman. She twisted her body as she stood, feet shoulder width apart, wearing a short red skirt that flared at her thighs. Her torso was bare, save for a single ring piercing at her navel. She wore a sport bra of the same deep red as her skirt that covered her slight breasts. She tossed her short black hair back and forth as she moved her head in time to the music. She wore no shoes, and as she lifted her left leg, Heather could see how delicate and perfectly formed her foot was. The dancer pulled her foot down and up behind her back, leaned forward over her right leg, and slowly brought her back and left leg parallel to the stage.
Heather could not take her eyes off the dancer. The woman seemed to notice and glanced at Heather, giving her a quick wink before pulling her left foot forward. She brought her foot down onto the stage floor and planted her hands on the stage, bringing her right leg back and twisting her legs around into the air, allowing the skirt to fall to her waist and reveal the bare pink lips of her pussy. Heather's instinct to look away was quelled as the dancer brought her legs out to either side in a side split and arched her back, offering her and the patrons a clear view of the pink lips that twitched slightly as she flexed her pelvic muscles. She brought her head up and met Heather's gaze once again. The dancer blew her a small kiss and brought both feet down in front of her shoulders and onto the stage. Slowly, fluidly, pulled her arms back, bringing her body up in one smooth, effortless motion, until she stood erect once more.
Heather felt her breath shallow and quicken, and wished she had a chair to sit in. She felt the fluttering sensation at her belly button that signaled intrigue and arousal. Around her, the tables were filled with patrons, strange faces she did not feel comfortable approaching, especially as aroused as she felt. She felt a flush move through her body as the dancer pulled one arm between her legs, her body following as she raised her left leg into the air, once again revealing those pink lips that twitched in time to the music.
With effort, Heather broke her gaze away from the dancer and looked around her. The dance floor was empty, but clear of places to sit as well. Along one wall, plush couches and chairs created a lounge for the dance floor, but a young man and his entourage of women occupied these. Across the club, the tables were filled with patrons all the way to the stairway that led up to the darkened balcony. Heather had been warned that this was off limits to visitors of the club, roped off and guarded by two bouncers.
Except tonight, it seemed.
Tonight, the velvet rope hung limply to one side of the stair way and the foretold bouncers were gone. Heather made her way between the tables, ignored by the patrons who still watched the dancer with the same intensity she felt. Heather stopped at the entrance to the stairway and looked around. She had been told that the balcony was solely for the use of the club's owner, an elusive Domme who rarely graced the club floor with her presence. Heather touched the mahogany handrail and frowned. She supposed her friend could have made it up, perhaps dreaming up the entire thing to explain a temporary closure of the area. That Heather had been abandoned in this club was enough to call any story about it into question.
"I'll meet you at the club at ten," Olivia had told her as they walked to their respective vehicles after work. "I'll meet you in the front lounge." Olivia had handed Heather an invitation, a simple business card with the silhouette of a dancing woman on once side and "Haven" in bold black lettering on the other. No address. No website. The recipient of this invitation was expected to know where to go.
When Heather arrived, she found a line of people wrapping around the building and into the side alley. She was relieved when the bouncer recognized the invitation and ushered her in. She also did not miss the glares she received from those waiting outside. Many of them, she learned, stood in line for every weekend, waiting in vain for a chance invitation. This was Heather's first time.
Olivia was no where to be found. Heather had waited in the front lounge for a half an hour before deciding to explore the club for herself. She did not want to imagine the glares or jeers if she dared to leave so soon.
Heather glanced around one more time to see if anyone took notice of her at the balcony entrance. The bouncer on this side of the club floor, who moved his head in a slow, steady motion from left to right, then right to left, took no note of her. No patrons offered her polite warning glances. Satisfied at this tacit permission, she walked slowly up the dark stairway to the balcony above.
A plush maroon seat lined the wall to her left and wrapped around into the dark corner ahead of her. The lighting here was very dim, but it did not appear that anyone else was up here. To her right, short cocktail tables lined the balcony railing, affording her a small pathway to walk. Heather noticed that from here, she could see over the entire club and its patrons and had a perfect view of the dance stage and its contortionist performer.
Heather walked forward slowly, looking for a good place to sit, unnoticed by the patrons below but with a good view of the stage. As she walked, she reached out her left hand to touch the plush backing of the seat. The satin velveteen material was inviting, and she stopped to press her hand into it, relishing the cool surface and warm softness.
"It's about time you came up," a woman's voice, smooth, light, and stern, spoke from the darkness of the corner.
Heather gasped and withdrew her hand, as if slapped. She turned and peered into the shadowed corner head of her, trying to pull a form from the darkness there. Slowly the thin silhouette of a woman formed and walked forward. She was fair skinned with long black hair draped over one shoulder. Dark eyes, set above thin, rounded cheekbones, gazed back at Heather with amusement and something else, something that made Heather's stomach tighten in anticipation. The woman wore a tight black sleeveless dress that hugged her ample breasts and thin torso and flared out as it trailed to the floor. The front was slit open, revealing her thin legs and long, black, thigh-high boots. Heather followed the boots up, but she walked with small steps, one foot in front of the other, and kept the skirt from opening above the meeting of her thighs.
Heather looked back to the face of the woman as she stopped a couple of feet in front of her. The dark eyes continued to study Heather, tracing the shape of her face and body. Finally, the woman smiled.
"Olivia said you were shy, but not terrified. Do you think I'm going to bite you?"
Heather traced the curves of the woman's thin lips and let out a small sigh. If God is good, she thought to herself.
"I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be up here," Heather said.
The woman shrugged her shoulders and held up one slender hand. "If I didn't want you here, I would have left the stairs roped off. Come."
Heather placed her hand on the one that was offered to her. The woman's soft fingers closed over Heather's and pulled lightly, indicating for her to follow. She led Heather to the darkened corner and guided her to sit on the plush couch. Heather closed her eyes a moment, unable to resist the warm and inviting couch. It folded around her body like velveteen hands.
"I'm glad you approve."
Heather smiled and opened her eyes. The woman watched her intently. Heather could see the curiosity in the dark eyes and wondered what about her could be so enticing to someone like this.
"I don't know yet, but I'm interested in finding out," the woman said. Heather blushed, not realizing how much she was projecting her own insecurity.
"You're Mistress Victoria."
The woman nodded her head. "My reputation precedes me. Good, I hope."
"The only thing Olivia told me was that you were the owner," Heather said as she shrugged her shoulders. "And that you hardly go down into the club."
"I suppose that makes you special then." The frank and level way the Mistress spoke, with no condescension or hint of mockery made Heather flush and her stomach flutter nervously. She started to cross her legs, feeling the urgency between them. Mistress Victoria placed her hand on the knee and pulled it gently back down, and slightly apart from the other. "There is no need for that."
Mistress Victoria moved from the couch to kneel on the floor in front of Heather. She slid her hands to the bottom of Heather's skirt and slowly moved her hands upward, letting her fingers dance lightly on Heather's skin and making her shiver slightly. Heather caught her breath as the Mistress' gaze stopped on her black panties and she felt her torso tighten. Her mind turned to the un-roped stairway. What if a curious patron made their way up?
She looked down at Mistress Victoria, whose eyes were still focused between her legs, and no longer cared about the stairway, or the rest of the club. Let them walk up, or make a show of it for that matter. The idea of it made her twitch her pelvic muscles. Music floated through her mind, soft and sensual, as the Mistress reached her hands up to Heather's hips. Heather lifted slightly as the Mistress wrapped her fingers through her panties and pulled them down. Heather brought her knees together for a moment as the smooth cloth passed over them, and let them fall part once more when the cloth passed over her ankles. She did not see where they were discarded to, but suspected that she had seen the last of them.
Slowly, Mistress Victoria moved forward, touching her lips gently to the ones hidden under Heather's skirt and slowly began moving her tongue between the folds of those lips. Heather sighed and felt the flutter of her stomach overtake the tensing muscles until her body felt fluid. She eased her body forward and was rewarded by a gentle bite on her outer labia that made her gasp. The Mistress moved her tongue through the folds of skin, sucking and letting her teeth linger lightly. Heather inched forward again and felt two fingers begin to explore, tracing a circle before pushing slowly into her as Mistress Victoria continued to dance her tongue along Heather's vulva and suck eagerly at her. Heather threw her head back and moaned loudly. Fingers pushed into her deeply, pressing into her as lips pulled the folds of her pussy and teeth teased skin that flared ever more to life. Inside, fingers twisted and wriggled, beckoning. Heather cried out as she felt the first waves of warm pleasure move up through her body. Her Mistress pressed more intently, letting her teeth nibble a little harder as she ran her tongue up, then down, then back up along her pussy. Waves passed through her body again and Heather cried out louder, her moan lingering, up and down in time with her Mistress' tongue and pressing fingers. The waves moved up through her body again, wrapping her in pleasure like velveteen on her skin.
Around them time seemed to float, marked only by the shifting of song, one tune of sensual longing to the next. Heather's mind floated with the music as pleasure coursed through her body. As one wave crested, her Mistress continued her careful attentions, unhindered, unceasing.
Copyright 2014 Holle Dolce