Message-ID: <25366asstr$964001402@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: pami1968@aol.com (Pami1968) X-Original-Message-ID: <20000718170032.14593.00000214@ng-da1.aol.com> Subject: {ASSM} NEW "The Club" Pt. 1 by Pami (M/F) Date: Wed, 19 Jul 2000 06:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: newsman, dennyw This story contains sexual words, themes, and actions. If you are under 21, go away. If you don't like this sort of thing, or think its too bizarre, go away. If, on the other hand, you are legal, and you kinda, sorta dig this type of story... Read on! :) This is the first new story I have written in a while. Real life has sucked beyond belief for the past eight months or so, but I have moved again, and I am feeling happy and those creative juices are flowing again. Hopefully, I will have more time to write from now on. :) For those of you who have never read a Pami story, lemme tell ya... I try to write some really hot sex! This particular story is written strictly from a male perspective, and being a woman... that is a challenge. SO.... if I hit it on the head, write me. If you think I am way off base, write me. In fact, what the hell... JUST WRITE ME! :) Oh... and check out my website, courtesy of Rui Jorge, at ASSTR. http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Pami/www There's lots of stories there. :) Done rambling... on with the show! The Club by Pami (M/F, rom?) Part 1 She pulled over and parked the car in a spot conveniently located just a couple of doors down from "The Club". He looked over at her and smiled. "I guess this is the place, eh?" she asked him as they got out of the car. He was in town on business, and had taken a chance that she might be able to meet him for a quick drink and maybe a snack sometime after she finished work. He had read a personal ad online that she had placed, and looked at her posted picture, and he was, quite frankly, intrigued. The ad text had posed a challenge of being able to keep up with her in bed. Her former lovers were "dried out husks of men" by the time she finished with them, she had written. She was looking for open-minded, virile men, who would enjoy being with an imaginative, uninhibited woman. NOT a one night stand, though. Oh, and she wrote, she was voluptuously curvy, and wanted EVERY inch of her taken care of. When he had read the ad, he found himself smiling as he imagined the smirk on the author's face. He clicked on the photo icon, and was stunned at her innocent loveliness. Undeniably round cheeks, with a delicate flush on the fair skin, long curling brown hair, a pouty lower lip curved in a smile, and the eyes that hinted of mischief. A VERY attractive woman. She was NOT what he had envisioned from the ad at all! He sent her an email on a whim, knowing that she might not answer at all. It seemed that every female online was just looking to play around, and not actually meet anyone. He typed a brief note, indicating his interest, his vitals, and that he might be doing business in her city for the next few months. He extended an invite for a no pressure drink, just to see what her reaction would be. He was pleased to see an answer in his email box the following day. He opened her response and was intrigued. She was intelligent. Her spelling was good. Nice sentence structure. A sense of humor wafted through the screen at him, punctuated by frequent emoticons of smileys and winks. He dashed off an answer, indicating that he was willing to meet at her convenience, and telling her more about him. A few more email exchanges, and the meeting was set. It wasn't until 10:30 pm, because she worked until late. She had sent him a borderline hostile email when he had told her he didn't have a picture of himself, and he thought she was going to cancel. But he heard nothing back. He took a taxi to the restaurant they set to meet at, and waited. At about 10:25, he saw her burst through the doors. It wasn't a busy night, and he would have recognized that hair and those eyes anyway. He smiled. She was wearing a long floral dress that skimmed all of her curves, and she definitely had them. The scoop neckline exposed at least half of the upper curves of her ample breasts, and then the fabric molded down her waist and flared out again over her hips. She was indeed voluptuous, and his mouth watered at the thought of licking every inch of her. Still, he wanted to see how their conversation would go. She sat down next to him, apparently unaware that it was him. She smiled generically at him, and ordered a wine cooler from the bartender, who asked her for I.D. She chuckled and made a flippant remark about how the bartender was her favorite person in the whole wide world, but pulled out her wallet and showed it to him. The man glanced at the birth date, blinked a few times in disbelief, and got her the drink. After thanking him, she took a long sip, settled back into her seat, and looked at the television above the bar. "They lost AGAIN, didn't they?" she asked in a disgusted tone of voice. He glanced up at the screen and saw the highlights of the local hockey team being shown. He wasn't a hockey fan, and since he wasn't from this city, he really couldn't have cared less. Nonetheless, he figured that was as good a way as any to start conversation. So he smiled at her, and said something about he thought they had lost in overtime. She laughed lightly. "I'm not really a HUGE fan, but you can't live in this town and not follow hockey. Especially with the playoffs around the corner." He smiled at her and introduced himself. She looked taken aback, but recovered quickly and said the usual "nice to meet you" comments that are spoken thousands of times a day. He sighed, thinking that this might turn out to be a dead end. Meeting people off the Internet was NOT a good idea, he reminded himself. It seemed to be common that the people who sounded most intriguing through a computer screen were dead bores when you talked to them "live". He asked how her day at work had been, and she sighed and launched into a description of minutiae that probably should have bored him, but the animation in her voice and on her face kept him listening. He even found himself chuckling at some small anecdotes that she told. Her brown eyes sparkled as she described poking fun at a couple of employees and their responses back to her. He made some suggestive remark about how it must be great to work under her, and he was delighted to note that she picked up on the subtext and giggled. Not an annoyed giggle, like teenaged girls have, but a throaty giggle, the type which made the listener smile along with her. And, he confessed to himself, wonder if he could make her laugh again. He bought himself another beer, and offered her another wine cooler. She smiled and he could have sworn she winked at him as she answered. "Not tonight, thanks. I'd like to keep all of my senses fully aware." There was a long pause, and she asked him, "You know, you look awfully young, how old are you, REALLY?" He smiled at her, confident in his appearance. He was a good-looking man, and he knew it. The only thing that was a drawback was that he also knew he looked about 22. "30. For real. Here, let me show you," and he pulled out his small wire-rimmed glasses and perched them on his nose. "I don't need glasses, but I wear these so my clients take me seriously." She squinted a little bit at him, with a very serious look on her face. "Oh my yes, with those on, you look at least 25!" she commented and burst into that infectious laugh again. He laughed a little bit with her, and then added his own statement of fact. "Well, you certainly don't look 35." "Face lift. Works every time," she deadpanned with a sparkle of humor in her eyes. He smiled and made a suggestive remark about how he would love to find out if her skin was really tight all over. He almost dropped his beer when she shot back her response. "So what are we waiting for? Your place, or mine?" They both looked at each other for a minute, and he knew he had a dumbstruck look on his face. Not that he didn't want to take her up on her challenge, but he wasn't used to a woman being the first to suggest it. She smiled a small smile and opened her mouth to add, "I know I said that I am not really into one-nighters. And I'm not. But let me be honest here," and she leaned close to him to whisper into his ear. "I have spent the last ten minutes wondering what it will feel like to have you up behind me, fucking me until I scream. Or what it will be like to be on my knees before you, licking your cock like an ice cream cone." He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His cock was semi-hard already, just from hearing her words. In the past half-hour, she had established herself as one of the most fascinating women he had ever met, and he couldn't wait to see if she was as insatiable as she had said in her ad. "My place. The company has me staying in the Edgeworth Club downtown. Ever been there?" he asked. "Nope. I don't even know where it is. You'll have to give me directions," she said as they got up off their bar stools and he left a tip for the bartender. They walked over to her small, sporty car. It looked like a car she would drive, he thought. Sleek lines, a sunroof, a flirty teal color. They climbed in, and away they went. Conversation was at a minimum. He wasn't sure what to say anymore. He wanted her badly, and he knew that she wanted him, but he didn't want to blow it by saying anything she might think was stupid or too forward. Although how he could say anything too forward after what she had said to him at the bar, he didn't really know. Still, he confined himself to giving directions, and running his eyes over every inch of her face and body. The Edgeworth Club was a members' only mostly- gentleman's club in the posh business section of the city. The marble stairs rose to an unassuming cherry- wood door with only a gold plaque next to it, embedded in the wall, proclaiming this to be the entrance to its hallowed halls. He knocked. Since it was past midnight, the door was locked, and a doorman was required to admit guests. He gave a brief introduction of her to the doorman as his girlfriend and they walked down the hall. She looked around, wide-eyed. "It looks like the club in 'Trading Places'. You know, the one that Dan Ackroyd belongs to before he gets booted onto the streets," she whispered as she peered into the darkness of one of the side rooms. He smiled, holding her hand, as he pulled her into one of the libraries. The entire main floor was deserted, it seemed, and he wanted to impress her. The small walnut of the built-in bookshelves gleamed in the light of a single lamp, and the furniture was limited to a few round marble tables and some inviting high- backed leather guest chairs. Landscapes and portraits decorated the walls, and he wondered if there was a security camera system. Then he just decided he didn't care. "I can't wait anymore," he said to her as he pushed her up against one of the walls and bent his head to kiss her roughly. She tasted vaguely of the drink she had at the bar, and the underlying scent of vanilla wafted into his nostrils. He pressed his entire body against hers, feeling her breasts push against his chest. His hands wrapped themselves through her long hair and he pulled on it. He licked and nibbled and bit and sucked and kissed and did it over and over to every inch of her neck as she moaned and squirmed and told him how good it felt. When he felt her hand slide down the front of his body and press against his confined cock, he pulled away. They were both panting and breathing heavily, and he suggested that they take it upstairs to his room, before he got thrown out of the club. She acquiesced, and as he took her by the hand, she stopped suddenly and stood on tiptoe. "Think you can keep up with me, big boy?" she huskily whispered as she flicked her tongue lightly around his ear. He moaned at the sensation. Or her words. Or both. It didn't matter. "I am going to make you beg me to stop, sweetness," he told her, as he leaned down for another kiss. They made it to the elevator, and she squealed as she pointed at the large marble ashtray between the two elevator doors. "Look, they even imprint their seal in the sand in the ashtray. Can you imagine having that job?" He was amazed. All he could do was think about getting naked and fucking until they were both screaming, and here she was, commenting on ashtrays. It was a humbling thought. (Continued in part 2. Yep.. that's where the hot sex is. but you'll appreciate it more now!) -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+