Though she spent the next hour mingling with her guests and making sure everyone
was having a good time, Grace couldn’t help but keep one eye on Mike Nottingham.
She expected him to approach her. He hadn’t yet. He’d gone to the
bar for a drink, spent some time talking to the bartender and a few of the staff,
then hung out and chatted with some members. Not once had he sought her out or
bothered her in any way.
For some odd reason, she was irritated by his seeming lack of interest. She
knew he was interested in her—her instincts were never wrong, dammit. He
was simply playing it cool and waiting for the right moment to pounce.
She continued to perform her normal routine—stopping at tables to visit
her regulars, answering a question or two from those who stopped her, even dancing
with men or women who asked. As owner and hostess, she made herself available
to her clientele, within reason of course. Anyone who came here on a routine basis
knew her sexual boundaries. She did the choosing, and in that she was very particular.
Partaking of the club’s activities was a rare occurrence. Typically she
liked to keep her own sexuality private, her partners anonymous.
But periodically she’d dally at the club. It was good for business. Patrons
liked to see her taking part in the club’s amenities. It fueled their fantasies
of her. She knew it, the staff knew it, they all played it up.
She wasn’t going to dally with Mike Nottingham, though. Mainly because
it’s what he wanted. And she never catered to men. They catered to her.
It was part of her mystique. She did the choosing. She smiled at that.
“You have a beautiful smile.”
She didn’t jerk in surprise at the sound of Mike Nottingham’s voice
behind her. She knew he’d come around.
“Like a cat who just ate a bowl of cream.”
Her smile didn’t die. In fact, she kept it on when she turned to face
him. Like it or not, he was a client. “Thank you. Are you having a good
time?”
“Yes. You’ve created a hell of a niche market here.”
“We stay busy.”
“I can imagine.”
He wasn’t crowding her or invading her personal space. She liked that.
Most men targeting her invaded her space and she hated feeling cornered. He kept
a respectable distance, one hand holding his glass, the other resting on the bar.
“Find anything to your liking yet?” she asked.
He laughed. “Grace, everything here is to my liking. I love sex. That’s
why I’m here.”
“Ah. Honesty. That’s refreshing.” His southern drawl was
sexy. Rolling off his deep, husky voice, it singed her nerve endings. How long
had it been since she’d played? Too long.
“But I like to take my time before I choose. I don’t like to rush
into anything.”
“Really.”
He nodded. “I might just want to look around tonight. I’m in no
hurry.”
Also different than a lot of the men who came here, usually with a hard on
before they came through the door, their cocks out before they moved from the
bar to the playrooms. They’d have their dick in the first willing woman
before Grace could blink.
Maybe Mike got laid often. Though she got the idea he wasn’t just after
pussy, that he had more adventurous tastes.
“Any particular play you have in mind? Can I help you with something?”
He slanted a half-lidded gaze at her that admittedly got her panties wet. Practiced?
Maybe. But either way, it worked.
“I haven’t been to the playrooms yet, so I can’t really say.
I’ll have to take a look around and see if anything gets me hard. But thank
you for the offer.”
The man smoldered. What was wrong with a little one on one with him. He was
damn fine looking and her pussy was quivering. She made no apologies to anyone
for her sexuality, so what was holding her back? When she found a guy she wanted
to fuck and she was in the mood, she went for it.
“Let me show you around.”
His brows arched and he dipped his chin to look down at her. “Sure.”
He held his arm out and she took it, guiding him through the double doors from
the main room into the playrooms, cognizant of how tall he was. She wasn’t
short by any stretch of the imagination, but Mike made her feel…petite.
His body was warm and he smelled…God he smelled great. Like a fresh shower,
not like those men who doused themselves in sickening cologne that gave her a
headache. Mike smelled like soap. She breathed him in as they strolled down the
hallway.
“Each room is marked so you know what it is before going in,” she
explained, pointing to the door marked “Masturbation”.
“Do you enjoy touching yourself?” he asked, his voice dropping
down an octave.
Her nipples tightened. “Very much. Do you?”
“Every chance I get.”
Verbal foreplay had always excited her. She paused and turned, tilting her
head back so she could look at his eyes. “How do you do it? Only at home,
or elsewhere?”
His lips curled in a knowing smile that made her want to climb on top of him
and kiss him. “Like I said, every chance I get. At home, in the car, at
work, outside…anywhere I get the urge as long as I don’t get caught.”
She nodded and inhaled, her mind filled with visuals of him jacking off in
his car on the freeway. “Me too. Sometimes I’ll do it four or five
times a day. Here at work, in the car when I’m driving somewhere. I even
did it in my doctor’s office one day. They make you wait so long in those
exam rooms, though it really doesn’t take me long to get myself off.”
“Everyone knows their own body well. It’s easy to make yourself
come.”
“True enough.”
“I’d love to watch you give yourself an orgasm.”
“I might like showing you.”
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