Loading...“Have you been to the new club?” Pauline whispered her weekend plans to her friend in the next cubicle at work. “I want to go there, so bad, this weekend. I heard it’s awesome. Do you want to go?”
Here we go thought Amanda listening to the two airheaded young women discussing what and who they did over the weekend and who and what they want to do next weekend.
“Yeah. Don’t bother going,” said Lisa standing to talk to Pauline over her cubicle. “I went there a couple of weeks ago and didn’t like it. Trust me, you’re not going to like it either,” said Lisa with a little laugh.
“Why?”
“I dunno,” said Lisa with a shrug of her pretty shoulders, “I just thought it was weird.”
“In what way was it weird? I heard it was great place to meet someone,” said Pauline suddenly looking disappointed.
“Yeah, for sure, it’s great place to meet someone, if you’re lesbian. There’s no men. Men aren’t allowed inside,” said Lisa laughing.
“No men! Really? How can they have a club without men?”
“It’s for women only,” said Lisa with a laugh. “Duh? Get it? The name of the club is For Women Only,” said Lisa laughing at her friend’s ignorance.
“Really? That’s the name of it?” Pauline looked at her friend with surprise.
“That’s the name of it,” said Flora from the next cubicle. “For Women Only. Indeed, I heard it is the place to go,” she said with a pause, “if you’re lesbian.”
“Have you been there, Flora?” Pauline stood to look over in Flora’s cubicle.
Suddenly feeling embarrassed for Flora, Amanda couldn’t believe the stupidity of Pauline’s question. A woman with an obvious physical disability, the last place she’d frequent is a crowded club, never mind a lesbian club. The stupidity of her young co-workers never ceased to amaze her. Even when she was their age, she wasn’t as dumb.
“Me? At a lesbian club? No,” said Flora looking up at Pauline with a laugh. “Even if I was a lesbian, for obvious reasons, I don’t go to clubs anymore. Those days are over for me,” she said with some sadness.
“Sorry,” said Pauline suddenly looking uncomfortably embarrassed.
After overhearing Pauline and Lisa talk about the For Women Only club, reconsidering her plans for this weekend of doing nothing but sitting in front of a television with her cat, Miles, and muting commercials, Amanda was suddenly excited about checking out the new club. Afraid of how she’d be perceived in her work environment, no one knew she was lesbian. Yet, now that she knows that she won’t run into her silly co-workers, the coast was clear for her to possibly meet a woman at a club that was designed for women only, women who were just like her.
“Instead of naming the club For Women Only, in my case, they should have named the club, For Women Lonely,” she said to herself with a sad, little laugh.
* * * * *
Having just walked in the door, the thump, thump, thumping sound of the body humping beat of the too loud bass assaulted her senses, as if it was a continual explosive echo of a pile driver laying the steel beam foundation of a skyscraper. Feeling as if her head would explode, the music in the club was so loud that Amanda already had a headache. With wall to wall women talking at the same time in a magnified state of continual, high frequency, static distortion of female voices, impossible to have a meaningful conversation, even with herself, she wondered how she could meet anyone here. Looking around at the mob of women, the place was just too crowded and too noisy to be any fun, and she was already set to leave.
Giving it another chance and hoping to spot someone within the crowd, someone who interested her, she took a slow second look around the huge room. This time she looked more closely at all those who made up the mass of loud women, before relenting to stay and taking a seat at the bar to order a drink. Turned off by seeing so many woman, too many women, women who looked too much like her, made up, dressed up, fed up, and desperately looking for love, feeling like another one of the herd, she realized she had made a mistake coming here. The packed house was filled with lonely and unfulfilled women hoping to make the same romantic connection that she hoped to make and, seeing and sensing the hopefully expectant look on their faces staring back at her, a reflection of her own sadness, was like looking in the mirror. Here for the same physical and emotional reasons that everyone else was, instead of feeling excited by the huge selection of women from which to choose, she was just another fish in a big bowl. She felt pathetic. Even though she was one within a crowd, she felt lonely.
Difficult to single out one woman, when there was so many of them, thinking she was unique, the sight of so very many women just like her, alone and lonely, was depressing. No doubt, she’d have a better chance at winning the lottery than making her love match here. Desperate to find someone, she didn’t want to go home alone and be so alone for another night. What she did, so long ago in her college dorm room with her roommate was fun but, having gone so far beyond that since then, she didn’t want another uncommitted relationship of empty sex again. She didn’t want another relationship of wondering where and who her lover was with that night. She wanted to be in a committed relationship. She wanted a monogamous partner. She wanted love.
After college her fling with lesbianism ended. Rejecting the notion that she was lesbian and trying her best to prove otherwise, she lost herself in alcohol and drugs, and traded her self-respect for promiscuity, until she realized that it wasn’t a man she wanted but a woman. Yet, more than wanting just any woman, she wanted one special woman. Someone there at night to cuddle with on the couch, while watching a movie, she wanted someone she could call during the day, when at work. Not having one now, she wanted a reason to look forward to coming home. She wanted love.
After experiencing this For Women Only club for the first time, not believing that she could find love here, whenever she thought of love, she thought of violins, roses, and candlelight and not a few hundred women dancing to heavy metal and rock ‘n’ roll with an outdated disco ball in the middle of the ceiling. Wanting to run out of the club screaming, suddenly wishing she followed the path of least resistance that her mother and grandmother had taken, wishing she had a life like her friends, filled with husbands and babies, suddenly, she couldn’t think. Having an anxiety attack, she couldn’t breathe. Suffocating with remorse and regret that her life was so empty, except for her cat, Miles, for the choices she made early in her life, clubs like this never worked for her. As if on a timed game show of musical chairs, clubs like this made her feel so pressured to find someone, before the buzzer buzzed, the music stopped, the lights came on, and she was out on the sideward and declared a loser, when the club closed and she walked home alone.
Clubs like this gave her a headache. Instead of feeling excitedly hopeful of finding her special someone, clubs like this magnified her depression and loneliness with hopelessness. Clubs like this made her feel that she’d never find anyone. Clubs like this made her feel that there was something wrong with her, a woman looking for another woman to love, especially when it was so much easier to find a man. For sure, in the sexy way she looked with her long, blonde hair, big, blue eyes, and shapely figure, she’d have an easier time finding a man to fuck her, love her, and support her than to make a real love connection with a faceless woman from this huge crowd of noisy females.
Overwhelmed by the music and by din of everyone talking at the same time, it was difficult for her to see the crowd of women as individuals, instead of as an entire mass of self-centered, chattering females. With the music a mask to make everyone think they’re having a good time, she spotted dozens of women just like her, sitting alone and pretending to have fun, while sipping their drinks and waiting for someone to approach them. She wished she had confidence enough to approach other women, instead of hiding out by the bar with her back to the crowd. For sure, if she was more outgoing, she’d approach those women sitting alone. Only, seeing herself in them, when even she wouldn’t approach them, why would anyone approach her? Trying her best to act perky, instead of slouching, she sat up on her barstool, while trying to appear fun loving, lively, and happy. Bobbing her head to the beat of the music, when she’d much rather bang her head on the bar, this place wasn’t for her. Yet, not even giving this club a chance, wanting to go as soon as she arrived, she decided to leave, as soon as she finished her drink.
Thinking that she should try one of those online dating sites, by using the crowd of faces as her photo gallery, she tried to formulate her ideal woman, tall, short, fat, or thin, by scanning the crowd. With the outside appearance no longer mattering as much to her as the inside beauty now did, unless the woman looked Godly and piously saintly or slutty and trashy, she was unable to see the beauty within from a mere look. Feeling so much like a lesbian bachelorette in a skewed, never to be seen on TV, dating game, with so very many woman from which to choose, what physical features she liked about one woman, she rejected on another. Besides, speed dating at its fastest by just a look, just as they can’t possibly know who she is by a glimpse, how can she possibly know the real person by just looking at them for a second within a crowd?
Now thinking more of online dating than wasting any more of her time at this club, she could write a profile that highlighted her professional accomplishments. She could describe herself and the type of woman she’s looking for at length. Then, thinking more with her pussy than with her head, she thought of the sexy photos she had of herself that she could post to her ad to attract her perfect mate. There was the one taken of her in Mexico in her barely there bikini, she liked that one. Tanned and thin, she looked hot. Then, giving mixed signals, mixing sex with inner beauty, suddenly she felt sad that she was no better in treating other women than how men have treated her, as a sex object. For someone so smart and educated, wishing someone would somehow find her, instead of wasting any more of her life alone, while trying to find someone, she had no idea how to cut through all the bullshit to find her perfect partner.
A hopeless romantic, who was now more interested in the small pool of water that collected on the bar beneath her glass than the hundreds of loud, pretty, and obnoxious female patrons that jammed the place, even if she was, she didn’t believe that her little Miss Perfect was here. Preferring a natural blonde with big, natural tits, and a tight, little ass, with one hot blonde looking like all the other hot blondes, if her perfect match was here, how would she ever find her? Without even giving this club a chance, being that she was already here as her only concession to stay, if she gave up and left now, she’d never find anyone. She’d go home alone to flip stations, while eating ice cream and having a drink. Boring.
She surveyed the crowd of women again with hopeless despair and anxious desperation, while wishing and so wanting to spot someone who interested her. Destined, no doubt, to leave alone and be alone for the rest of her sad, little life, but determined not to be, she suddenly realized that she’ll never find her one and only, at least, not here, anyway. Believing more in fate, destiny, and in kismet, than in clubs, blind dates, and online dating sites, this huge gathering of mostly lesbian and bi-sexual women felt too forced and too desperate to work for her. Preferring to meet someone in a random elevator, on the subway, in a supermarket, or at the library, she didn’t want any part of being like the collective mass of women here, alone, lonely, and frantic for love, but she was.
Then, as if there was a grizzly bear breathing down her neck, she felt a heavy presence, an unmovable force behind and beside her to her right. The tall, plus sized woman standing next to her barstool invaded her space and rudely leaned into her, as if trying to reach over her to get the attention of the bartender to order a drink. Amanda tried leaning out of her way but, with the three rowed, shoulder to shoulder crowd at the bar, that was just as dense as the crowd on the dance floor, there was no place for her to go. Hoping she’d just get her drink and leave, she was stuck between the bar and this discourteous person that smelled…oh, so good.
What is that fragrance, she wondered? It smells vaguely familiar. Not wanting to call attention to herself, playing it cool, as the diva she imagined herself to be, she hoped that the woman would just order her drink and leave. Knowing just by the imagined weight of her what the woman looked like without even having to turn to see her, she wouldn’t be interested in a BBW woman. Acting as rudely disinterested in her as the woman was rudely obnoxious for leaning into her, she didn’t even turn her head to acknowledge the woman.
“I noticed you the moment you walked in the club. I knew then that I had to have you,” whispered the woman in her ear in the way that she imagined a female Barry White would personally recite a love song to her. “As if you were a timid deer, I could hear the trepidation in your little footsteps descending down the entrance stairs. Better than any decadent desert, sweeter than any ice cream, and wanting to lick you and lap you all up, you smell so sexually delicious. I can only imagine what it must feel like to be with you, to hold you, to touch you, to feel you, and to kiss you.”
Transfixed on the barstool, mesmerized and listening to her every word, as if lying in bed and receiving pillow talk from her lover, she was as shocked as she was excited, by all that the woman said. Wishing that someone would approach her, while not expecting that anyone would, she was surprised that she was immediately chosen. Noticed from such a huge crowd of women, as soon as she entered the club, she was excited that someone finally wanted her enough to come up to her and whisper her lustful thoughts in her ear. So glad she didn’t leave the club, maybe something good would come from this.
Suddenly giddy with sexual excitement by the sheer thought of getting lucky and being lapped up by her, Amanda imagined the woman whispering in her ear everything she’d like to do to her in her deep whiskey voice, while stripping her naked. Instead of turning to respond in kind, delaying her response by playing it cool and hard to get, not even turning to look at her, not wanting to be surprised, she tried imagining what she’d look like first, before turning to see if she was right. Unfortunately unable to make the physical connection enough to see her in her mind’s eye, unable to put her sultry voice with a face, she couldn’t envision what she’d look like. All that she could tell was that she was a big woman.
She had a husky, albeit sexy, upscale and, no doubt, educated, upstate New York voice. Reminiscent of the raspy voice her friends have from smoking, she had the type of voice that Amanda gets, when she awakens in the morning, after licking her lover too long the night before and her mouth and tongue gets too dry. Having not had sex in a long while, saving herself for the right woman, so very horny, the mere tickle of the woman’s breath in her ear and the warmth of the her body pressed against the back and the side of her made her wish they were both in bed naked. From having been so horny for too long, as if the woman had hit her power on button, the sensation of her warm breath filled her mind with raw lustful emotion. In the way she surprised her by confessing to her that she had to have her, something she’s never done before in her protective aloofness and disinterested manner of a supermodel, Amanda suddenly wanted to step out of her box and turn to surprise the woman, with a long, soulful, wet kiss.
With the woman lingering her lips close enough to kiss her, Amanda refrained from returning her lust by turning her head in her direction to share her sexual excitement. Not taking no for an answer, if only by her silence, the woman continued breathing her desire in Amanda’s ear.
“Better looking than Faith Hill, you are the most beautiful woman in the room. Only, just like in Sammy Kershaw’s song, She Don’t Know She’s Beautiful, I don’t think you realize how beautiful you are,” she said pausing, as if waiting for Amanda to say something in return. “A slow seduction, I’d undress you with my teeth.”
With her mouth so close to her ear, after being undressed with her teeth, Amanda imagined her mouth being that close to her pussy. Always the submissive one, the one so afraid to show her real emotions for fear of embracing lesbianism, she quivered with the thought of a stranger, a powerful woman taking her, holding her, kissing her, undressing her, licking her, and making love to her, before telling her that she loved her. Always secretly wanting to be used and abused, pressured and forced, maybe even slapped around a little, spanked, and tied to the bed, at least once in her life, she swooned at the thought that someone noticed her, wanted her, and had to have her, in that sexy way. Then, as if she was sitting bareback in a fine, English leather, soft, handmade saddle, as if she was just claimed at auction and tattooed with a hot iron brand, she felt a big, warm hand plastered to her backside.
Had the woman been a man taking such aggressive liberty with her ass, she would have slapped his face, before kneeing him in the nuts and telling him to go fuck himself. It was then, when men so abused her that she was glad that she was a lesbian. Nonetheless, crossing the line, whether man or woman, how dare she grope me, thought Amanda? At first she was shocked by the feel of her hand on her ass. Immediately, she was angry that this woman dare touch her in such a sexual way. Then, feeling the stranger’s desire flow through the palm of her hand through to her buttocks, she felt excited.
Because her sexual assaulter was a woman, without even so much as a squirm or a word of protest, and unlike her not to take exception to being so manhandled or, in this case, woman-handled, she allowed the woman to be so familiar with her so soon. Then, when the woman’s hand didn’t move, just stayed there in place, she didn’t feel as violated, as she felt owned. As if the woman’s hand was a claim on her buttocks, as if Amanda’s ass belonged to her, she felt sexy to be so aggressively desired.
With the curve of her firm, shapely ass in the woman’s big palm, somehow the feel of her warm, powerful hand centered her soul, relaxed her being, soothed her loneliness, and made her feel safe from harm. With just the feel of her hand on her ass, with her mouth still so very close to her ear, and with the pressured sense of her shoulder that still leaned into her, she could feel the power of this woman. A force to be reckoned with, suddenly, it was intoxicatingly exhilarating to imagine making love with someone like her, instead of the little, skinny, selfishly self-centered, blonde bitches she’s used to bedding, who have personalities as phony as their big tits. Having placed appearance over substance for too long, maybe the reason she hasn’t found love is because she’s been looking for love with all the wrong women.
It was then that she realized, instead of all the powder puff, fluffy, empty headed blondes she’s always been attracted to that she needed someone like this, a real woman, someone who could take charge of her, take care of her, and protect her not only from harm but also from herself. Even though she had never been with one, always wondering what it would be like to be so controlled, suddenly she realized that she was a real sucker for a testosterone filled butch of a female. Something she missed without having a man in her life, tired of being alone, she didn’t want to be responsible for making all of her own decisions. Feeling pressured to decide and tired of making all the wrong decisions, she needed someone to help guide her through life.
When she finally turned in her seat to look at the woman, perhaps even kiss the woman, in an instant, the woman, along with her shoulder, her ear, and her hand were gone. Trying not to act as anxious and disappointed as she felt, casually turning to look one way and then the other, panicked that she lost an opportunity to find love, her secret, potential lover was gone without a trace. As if the woman was a Mongolian Monk, much in the way of blind Master Po in Kung Fu, no doubt, swallowed up within the dense crowd of women, she disappeared in thin air. She looked at the crowd trying to put a face to the voice, but there were just too many women.
Feeling as if she had imagined it all, was it not for the words she had whispered in her ear that now lingered in her mind and haunted her being, the feel of her hand on her ass was as if her touch never happened. Suddenly, feeling so alone, she felt lost. If only she had turned around sooner, she may have made a love connection. Perhaps, when she didn’t acknowledge the woman whispering in her ear and putting a hand on her ass, the woman may have incorrectly assumed her disinterest. How could she be such a fool? Was must she play that same silly game of being better than everyone else? Sick to her stomach in the way she gets, when her cat, Miles, goes missing, what was she thinking not to respond?
With a hand firmly holding her ass, as if supporting her sadness and turning it to happiness, the woman had made her intention known. No doubt, feeling rejected by her aloofness, silly girl, Amanda didn’t blame her for leaving. She wanted her and now losing her opportunity to meet someone to have sex with and, hopefully, to fall in love with, Amanda was saddened. As if she had just let go of her mother’s hand in a crowd, she was panicked that she’d never see this woman again. No longer thinking of any other woman here but her, she only thought of that one woman, whoever she was. Not even knowing what she looked like, she’ll never find her again. By not turning around to tell her that her perfume was intoxicating, by not telling her that she found her whiskey voice sexy and her words exciting, and by not telling her that she loved the feel of her hand on her ass, she had rejected the one that may have been the one. How could she be so stupid?
Wanting to cry, wanting to leave the club to get a breath of fresh, quiet air, hoping her mystery woman would keep sight of her and follow her out of the club, she finished the last sip of her drink and slid off the barstool, while trying to appear coolly desirable and terribly sexy. Hoping she was watching her, wishing she’d follow her, on her way out, thinking that every women she saw was the woman who whispered her lust in her ear, while knowing that none of them were, she was as heartbroken, as she imagined she’d be, if Miles suddenly died. Only, making her way through the dense crowd was worse than shopping at Macy’s at Christmas time, worse than the crowd of a soccer game in Liverpool, when playing Manchester United, and worse than the crowd at a free Adele concert. As if the crowd was a wave at riptide that took her further out to sea, instead of closer to shore and closer to the door, the crowd was so thick that it pushed her along and away from the exit. She wanted to go one way but, as if this flow of humanity was a preprogrammed part of her destiny, the crowd forced to go another.
Unable to fight the crowd, deciding it was much easier to go with the flow with the thoughts that there may be a back entrance, not knowing where she was going, she followed the crowd down a long, dark corridor and into a pitch, black room that was so dark that she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. What is this place? Even after her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she still couldn’t see anything. Even darker than in the haunted house tour she enjoyed taking at Halloween, much darker than in her bedroom at night with the shades and drapes drawn, as dark as if she was wearing a blindfold with a sack pulled tightly over her head, never has she been in a room as dark.
Away from the loud thundering beat of the music, except for the total darkness, this room was her salvation from the rest of the too busy and too noisy club. On the plus side, as if someone had turned down the volume, comparatively speaking, it was much quieter in the dark room. At least in here, she could think of that woman, whoever she was, leaning her warmth against her, whispering her sexy words in her ear, and holding her ass, as if she owned her. Still, as if standing there waiting for the lights to go on, after the power had gone out, being bumped and jostled with a random touch here and a groping hand there, too afraid to move and already feeling taken by her mystery woman to join in the touching fun, not knowing where she was, she waited to see what would happen next.
As excited as it was scary, had she been in this room with a crowd of men, instead of in a room with a crowd of woman, she may have been too frightened to stay. Definitely, she would have screamed her panic, until someone came to her rescue. If she was in the room with a bunch of men, she’d be afraid that someone would touch her, grope her, feel her, strip her, and force her to her knees to suck their cock. Instead, in a room with a bunch of woman, she relaxed to enjoy the moment of total darkness, along with the free feels of so many hands fondling her tits and feeling her ass. Somehow, as if it was all a surreal dream and she was floating through sexual space, with it being so darkly quiet, being one within the crowd was as comforting as she imagined astronauts feel, when in drifting through deep space.
“Are you aware that you’re in the touching room?”
She found her. How did she find her in total darkness? As if her voice was plugged in her head, with just a husky whisper in her ear, there was that remarkably sexy voice again. As if she was an erotic disk jockey whispering her sexy dreams and desires on the radio, dripping with liquor spiked honey, her voice was pure erotica. Without even a touch, she felt the familiar, strong presence and smelled the intoxicating scent of her perfume. Having bought it for herself and rejecting it, she recognized it now as Donna Karen’s Cashmere. What never smelled right on her smelled wonderful on this woman and she’d love to bury her nose deep within her naked moist folds of soft, wet skin, while lapping up all of her sweet juices. The woman was so close to her that she was surprised that she didn’t step on her.
“Touching room? It’s so dark, I didn’t know where I was.”
“I prefer the darkness,” said the woman with a little laugh. “So much more revealing, when everyone else is on a level playing field but for me, all that I can’t see in the light of day, I’ve learned to see in the dark of night.”
“What’s a touching room?”
Now willing to play her sexy game for fear that she’d leave again, but not knowing where to direct her question, unable to see, Amanda spoke, as if she was speaking to an Alien or to God. As soon as she asked her question, she felt the woman’s magical hand on her breast and, even though the woman wasn’t moving her hand and not fingering her nipple, wanting to be touched, her nipple responded and pushed against the palm of the woman’s big hand. Just as with the mere touch of her ass, the mere touch of her breast made her feel so wanted, desired, sexy, and horny. Just as she didn’t move her hand, when it was placed on her ass, the woman didn’t move her hand now, when it was placed on her breast, even though Amanda wished she would.
So erotically sensual in her touch, Amanda wished the woman would fondle her breast, before fingering her nipple through her blouse and through her bra, while kissing her. She wished she’d put her other hand to her other breast and do the same. Without even knowing what the woman looked like, without even knowing her name, her bold touch was so very sensually erotic. With the total darkness of the room adding to her sensory deprivation of never knowing where and when she’d be touched, this phantom woman so excited her in more ways than when she was with her lover in the bright light of day. In the heightened desire she felt, if the woman unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her front snapping bra and she wished she would, she’d let her touch her naked breasts and finger her nipples, before sucking them.
“With you never being here before, I want to be sure that you know the rules,” she whispered so close to her ear that she thought the woman was going to stick her tongue in her ear and, when she didn’t, she was disappointed that the woman didn’t lick her ear.
“Rules? There’s rules for touching?” Fruitlessly trying to act as calm and as cool as the women, rules or not, so wanting to be touched, Amanda tried her best to see through the darkness but she couldn’t see any part of the her. “I don’t know the rules,” she said biting her lip with sexual anticipation. Afraid to ask, but wanting to show the woman that she was interested, she asked. “Will you tell me what they are?”
“Too boring to tell you what is allowed, I’d rather show you,” she said gently squeezing her breast, before lightly and slowly circling her nipple with her fingertip. Immediately Amanda’s nipple hardened. “Showing is so much more exciting than merely telling, don’t you think?” Amanda felt the woman’s hot breath in her ear, before she felt the woman’s tongue exploring her ear deeper, as deep as she wanted her to explore her pussy with her tongue and fingers.
Oh, my God. Instantly, she felt a familiar warm, wetness between her legs. As if experiencing a sexual fantasy in a dream state, never had she felt so manipulated and controlled and she liked the feeling.
“You may show me, if you’d like,” whispered Amanda with breathless trepidation, while figuring the woman was about to touch her in all the places she suddenly so wanted and needed to be touched. If only for the sake of showing her the rules, she couldn’t wait for the woman to show her what was allowed and not allowed to do in the touching room.
“If I make you uncomfortable, just say so and I’ll stop,” whispered the woman breathing her words in her ear, again, in the same way that she did at the bar. “Have you noticed,” she said running a slow finger down the length of her naked arm, “that the darkness in the room makes all of your senses heightened? After a while, once you get over your fear of the darkness, you won’t need a light to feel and to see.”
Then, the woman flicked out her tongue again and licked Amanda’s ear deeper and, twirling it around, as if fingering her pussy with her tongue, she licked it longer and deeper. Something she never liked before, a wet tongue in her ear, especially when in the backseat of a car with a man, now so very aroused, she loved having her ear licked.
“Yes, I understand,” said Amanda breathlessly, while quivering and quaking with sexual desire for the woman.
“Being touched under these circumstances, where you can’t see the one touching you, but can hear, smell, feel, and taste the one touching you is much more of an intensely sensual and sexually erotic experience,” she said whispering in her ear again to be heard over the loud music that played throughout the club, but that was muted in this dark, touching room. “Will you give me your permission to lick you?”
Lick me? Are you kidding me? She wants to lick me here and in public, albeit in the dark room? Oh, my God, I would so love to be licked by her. Thinking all of that, she didn’t say any of that. Sure, she thought, you may lick me. Yours for the taking, you may do whatever you want with me. There’s no way that I want to lose you again.
Amanda wanted to strip naked and scream yes. Already so very wet, she wanted to throw her arms around the woman’s neck and French kiss her and touch her in all the places that she’s been touching Amanda. She couldn’t wait for the woman fell to her knees, lifted up her short skirt, pull down her bikini panties, and fingered her, while licking her pussy and rubbing her clit. Eat me, she wanted to scream. She couldn’t wait to feel the woman’s tongue lapping up her wetness. She couldn’t wait to be so touched, fingered, and licked by a sexy stranger in the dark, touching room.
“Yes,” said Amanda in a desperate but controlled voice, followed by the only words she was able to utter. “You may lick me.”
I need to be licked, thought Amanda. I so want to be devoured by her tongue, while she fucks me with her fingers. Lick me, please, lick me. Stick your whole face in my pussy. Make me cum. I so need to cum. I can’t wait to feel your mouth on my pussy. Eat me. Eat me. Eat me.
Then, as if Amanda was a giant lollipop or a scoop of vanilla ice cream perched atop of a cone, as if the woman was a dairy cow, from her jawbone to her temple, she slowly and carefully licked the side of Amanda’s face.
“Mmm, you taste good,” said the woman with a lusty, little laugh. “I can only imagine what the rest of you taste like.”
“I can only imagine,” said Amanda disappointed, while wiping the woman’s saliva from the side of her face with the palm of her hand.
Even in a darkened room, feeling the hordes of other woman around her and never having had a sexual experience in such a public area, she was excited to continue playing this sensually sexual game. Wanting and hoping the woman would touch her, finger her, and lick her elsewhere, and not disappear in the crowd in the way that she did before, she waited with great expectation for the woman to whisper her words in her ear, before touching her again.
“Close your eyes,” said the woman.
“Close my eyes? Why? I can’t see with them open,” said Amanda with a laugh.
“Close your eyes,” said the woman again.
“What’s your name? What do you look like? Tell me. I need to know.”
As much as she wanted to know the woman’s name and description, Amanda wanted to tell the woman her name, just in case, they were separated again. Filled with so many questions, she was eager to know everything about her potential, new, secret lover.
“Close your eyes,” said the woman again, this time more forcefully.
“No. First tell me your name,” said Amanda.
“Shh,” said the woman. “Just relax and close your eyes,” she said in a soft, sultry voice that made Amanda obey.
“I’m Amanda,” she said, after having closed her eyes.
“I know who you are,” said the woman with lightness to her voice.
“You do? How do you know who I am?”
“Shh. Close your eyes.”
“Why should I close my eyes? I can’t see anyway,” said Amanda protesting again, but this time with a nervous laugh of sexual anticipation. Afraid to close her eyes for fear that she’d leave again, opening her eyes again, while trying to see something, but still unable to see anything, she waited for the woman to continue.
“Trust me, if you close your eyes the experience will be so much better,” she said with her soft, sexy voice.
“Please don’t leave,” she said as if a little girl asking her mother not to leave for work.
“I won’t leave,” said the woman with the assurance of a gentle hand to the side of her face.
“I want you,” said Amanda, when she tried to kiss her hand but missed.
“I want you, too, Amanda.”
Somehow knowing that Amanda’s eyes were still open, she lightly took her two fingers and closed Amanda’s eyes, in the way that a mortician or a family member does, when someone has just died. As if the woman could see in the dark, it was amazing that the woman was able to close her eyelids without poking her in the eyes. Then, she ran two, light, slow fingers down the length of each of Amanda’s arms.
“You’re giving me goose bumps,” said Amanda shivering with sexual delight, while rubbing her arms.
This time, Amanda obeyed her New York woman and kept her eyes closed. As soon as she closed her eyes, able to hear every sound and smell every scent, her senses heighted and, instead of feeling relaxed, her sexual anticipation increased and she felt even more anxious and horny.
Slowly, she turned Amanda around so that her back rested against the front of her. Amanda obeyed her direction, as if she was a model being manipulated by a fashion photographer. She felt the women’s big breasts pressed against her back and she was glad that the woman was busty. With Amanda barely only having B cup breasts, eager to touch them, feel them, fondle them, caress them, and suck them, she preferred a woman with big tits and she loved having the woman’s breasts pressed against her back in such a forceful way.
Using just one finger, as if sketching her to canvas, the woman proceeded to trace and outline every inch of Amanda’s body. Alternating from very soft to very firm, as if receiving a slow sexual massage from a sex therapist, she had the most sensual yet responsively and suggestively demanding touch she had ever felt. Going with the flow, Amanda allowed the woman’s free access to her body. As if she was a lifeless and willing puppet and the woman was her mistress puppeteer, never has she felt so vulnerably controlled. Wishing she knew the woman’s name, the woman lifted Amanda’s right arm and raised it above her head. Lightly and ever so slowly, making her hairs stand on edge, she touched her arm on the outside, before doing the same along the inside.
Expecting the woman to feel her breast through her blouse and finger her nipple through her bra, anticipating her touch, she stopped her hand just before reaching her breast. When she did that in that way, Amanda so wanted the woman to caress her breasts. As if cracking a pretend egg on the head of a sitting subject and ever so lightly running her hands over their hair, as if it’s the egg flowing down, the sensation of the touch made her feel, as if her breast had been felt. Then, when the woman picked up her left arm and repeated the process, Amanda was quivering with sexual desire. So erotically sensual, the feeling of being so lightly and slightly touched was as sexual as it was sensual and as exciting as it was pleasurable. Never has Amanda experienced such sexuality without even having her breasts felt, her nipples sucked, her clit fingered, and her pussy licked. If she was this good with her clothes on, Amanda could only imagine the lover this woman would be in bed, when naked.
Then, she felt the woman’s left arm around her waist. In a forceful, yet gentle way, she ever so slowly pulled her closer. She left just enough space between them so that she couldn’t feel their bodies touching, only imagining that they were. Again, the sensation of touching, as if by static electricity, was sensually exciting and erotically arousing. Only, Amanda found herself wanting more from her than just the sensation. Not wanting to ruin the game by rushing the game, especially when not yet knowing all the rules, Amanda was at a loss as to how to play the game to continue. Should she reach out and touch her, feel her, hold her, and manipulate her in the way that the woman had touched, felt, held, and manipulated her? When she decided that she’d reach out to feel the woman’s breast, it was as if the woman sensed Amanda wanting to touch her. As if even in the darkness she could somehow see Amanda’s hand reaching for her, she stepped back just out of the reach of her fingertips, and held her hands behind her back.
“Oh, so this is all your show,” said Amanda with frustration.
“How can you play the game,” said the woman with a sexy laugh, “when I haven’t finished showing you all the rules?”
Then, as if reading her mind, she stepped closer and took Amanda’s hand and placed it on her breast. Immediately, Amanda could tell the woman had natural breasts and she preferred that over what some male plastic surgeons believed that a woman’s breast should feel and look like. Holding her hand, she ever so slowly and gently outlined her nipple with Amanda’s finger. No doubt, just as excited as was Amanda, her nipples were erect, too. Then, she returned the favor and traced Amanda’s nipples with her fingertips. Never had Amanda felt such excitement by someone merely lightly touching her nipples through her clothes.
With painstaking slowness and sensitivity, only something received from a slow hand and a woman’s touch and not a man’s rushed, desperate grope, the woman’s hand expertly explored Amanda’s body again, only this time touching her in all the places that she wanted to be touched. Putting her hand to her buttocks again, she gently squeezed her ass, before feeling it more completely. Then, with all the anticipated excitement of a stage curtain going up to begin the first scene of a Broadway performance, she reached beneath her short skirt and lifted the hem to cup her pussy through her thin, bikini panty. Oh, my God, wishing she wasn’t wearing panties, with just the feel of her moist panty clad pussy in her hand, she thought she was going to have an orgasm. Not giving a care to where she was, in a dark room in a public place or a under the bright street lights on the city sidewalk, she was so ready to be fingered, licked, and fucked.
In the way she felt her erotic power, when the woman claimed her by putting a firm hand to her ass, Amanda could feel her desire. When she cupped her pussy and didn’t remove her hand, as if her hand was battery powered or plugged in a live socket, electrified with live current, Amanda felt her lust. Accustomed to being with an aggressively horny man, Amanda was hoping that she’d trace her vaginal slit with her index finger, before pushing her panty aside, to touch her deeper and bring her to orgasm with her fingers. Standing so stiffly still in the darkness, seeing nothing but feeling, smelling, and hearing everything, she could smell her own excitement. Waiting for the sensation of her touch and the taste of her first kiss, Amanda didn’t move, she didn’t breath, while feeling the woman’s fingers expertly move her panty aside. Finally, as if the sequence of events happened in slow motion, already dripping with sexual anticipation and orgasmic expectation, she felt her fingertips gently trace her slit, before dipping deeper inside to tease her clit.
Her fingers deftly but ever so gently explored her pussy deeper. Suddenly feeling as if she was Alice, as the woman’s fingers explored her so very private and personal wonderland, she hoped to God that the woman wouldn’t turn into the white rabbit, declare that she was late and leave. Deeper and deeper, the woman had two, long fingers inside of her now, and as if both of her fingers were vibrating, oscillating, and rotating dildos, she fucked her with her with one finger, while pressing down and rubbing on her bean with the other. Then, as if she was licking her pussy lips, she felt her tongue lick her mouth, before kissing her lips ever so lightly. Amanda wanted to bury her tongue in the woman’s mouth, but taking the lead from her, she followed her direction by obeying the rules of the touching room. Hopefully, the woman would give her a turn next.
Impatiently selfish, with every minute that past feeling like an hour, feeling as if she was being sexually tortured by the woman going so slow in making love to her, Amanda wanted everything that this stranger was going to give her now. She paused now and then to repeat a touch, and when she deftly discovered her left nipple, she placed the bud between her two fingers and squeezed it ever so gently, before pulling, turning, and twisting it. As much as Amanda tried not to give way and show her heightened excitement, she was well on her way to an orgasm. Heightened? Did she say heightened? An extreme understatement, she had never been touched like this before by any man or woman. Even with her eyes wide open, with the pitch-black room closing off her sense of vision, the mere sensation of not knowing where and when she was going to be touched was utterly and intoxicatingly exciting.
Wanting to know who was touching her, wanting to see her face, Amanda’s inner voice kept telling her to ask her to stop and leave the dark room with her but, not wanting to stop, wanting more, she loved how her body responded to be touched in the dark. Never having experienced being in someone’s control, the erotic sensual sensations felt so wonderful. She couldn’t believe that she was allowing a stranger, a woman that she didn’t know her name nor seen her face, touch her body in a For Women Only club in any way and in any place she wanted. Unable to stop, she was enjoying the erotic setting, the sensual stroking, and sexual excitement too much to say no. In the way her New York woman was merely touching her through her clothes, before reaching beneath her panty, the sensation of her touch felt a million times better than when any other man or woman had touched her naked body before. Maybe it was because her previous lovers, especially the men, had all been clumsy and so rushed to get to their own pleasure that they didn’t care enough to take the time to prepare her in the way that this woman was doing.
After she initially outlined the woman’s breast with her fingertips, she stopped Amanda from exploring her body further. Pulling her hands out from behind her back, she tried to reach out for her a couple of times, but as if psychically knowing when she was about to touch her, she stepped away and said, “I want this to be for your pleasure this time. Next time, you may touch me too.”
Amanda thought, did she just say next time? She didn’t plan on ever coming back here again. Even though she was enjoying the touch of this woman, this place was just too noisy and too weird for her. This woman was pretty sure of herself to take next time for granted and that made her angry, especially when she had no idea what she looked like and wouldn’t even tell give her name. Except for this time, there’d never been another time, so she may as well enjoy her one and only time with this woman. Not wanting anyone to know she was lesbian, she definitely wasn’t going to risk her reputation by being seen here again in a club for woman only. Bad enough that she was publically risking her professional reputation by allowing someone to discover that she’s lesbian, even though she’s been out of the closet for years, her sexuality is personally private and, other than her previous lovers, few people know her sexual preference.
Her touches continued with intermittent French kissing, but this time New York obviously decided that some adventure beneath the first layer of clothing would be pleasurable for both of them. While moving Amanda’s hands behind her back again, she raised her skirt above her hips and ever so gently placed her fingers on her inner thigh. Amanda let out a guttural gasp and thought she’d die if she didn’t get to touch and feel her in return. She so needed to be kissed again. She traced her inner thigh and when she reached her panties, she outlined her pussy with one finger. Amanda tried to break loose because she was going to cum, but she held her fast.
With her mind intermittently questioning why she didn’t tell her to stop, she was lost in the overwhelming heat and the erotic stimulation of her talented fingers. As if she already intimately knew her, she knew exactly what she enjoyed having done to her. Panting now, Amanda was making soft, groaning noises, when New York took her pointer finger and found her bean again beneath her panty and gently but forcefully rubbed it in the way she did before. She started manipulating her with a rhythmic motion and Amanda couldn’t hold back any longer. Forgetting she was in a public place, albeit in a pitch black room, her climax was explosive and the most intense she had ever experienced, even more intense than from her own hand. She tried wiggling around to get close to her body in any way possible but, as if a teacher with her student, the woman wouldn’t allow her access. She muted her voice as much as possible but, with her hands still held behind her back, without a free hand to cover her mouth, anyone nearby would have heard that she was having an orgasm. Not that it would have mattered, even if they heard her, as there were others having orgasms, too. This was the touching room, after all.
New York waited for a few seconds before lovingly fondling her, while holding her to bring her back to reality. Then freeing her hands of her, she kissed her on the forehead and without so much as a hug, with no thank you and no goodbye, just as she did before, she disappeared in the darkness without a word. Just as she did at the bar, with no trace of her but for the lingering fragrance of her perfume, the afterglow of the orgasm she just gave her, and her sexy voice still haunting her head, as if she were a ghost, she disappeared into the pitch-black room. Now, unable to find the door where she entered, bumping into women touching her and fondling her, while trying to make her stay to touch and fondle them, Amanda had no idea who this mystery woman was or where she was. She just wanted to leave this strange place to find her.
Self-conscious of her sexual excitement, still feeling the after effects of her orgasm, Amanda was trying to be as quiet as possible, when she just wanted to scream her sexual delight. Perspiring from the close contact of so many women, her pussy was so wet that her panties were sticking to her. Without so much as seeing her face, she couldn’t believe that the forbidden touching of a stranger could be so erotically exciting and so sexually fulfilling. Emotionally drained but physically satisfied and sexually sated by a female stranger, someone who didn’t need or want Amanda to return the favor, her erotic whispers still haunted her.
Her body was pleased, but the rest of her was filled with total frustration. Even though she obviously knew who she was, when she told her that she knew her name, it wasn’t fair that Amanda didn’t even know her name. Now, if she can’t find her, when she dreams of her tonight, she won’t know what to call her. Who was she and how can she find her again? Would she have to return to the club and wait at the bar, until she whispered in her ear again?
Following the growing loudness of the music, she put her arms out in front of herself and tried to feel her way to a door. Bumping into women touching her, feeling her, groping her, and fondling her, as if she was a pinball in Roger Daltrey of the Who’s arcade game, the Pinball Wizard, and with the woman being the Pinball Wizard in making her feel all that she felt in such a dark room, she couldn’t flee the club fast enough. She needed to collect herself to figure out how this all happened. Disorientated and finally asking someone for help, an unknown woman took her by the arm and showed her the way out of the room. As if emerging from a darkened solitary confinement prison cell, it took a couple of minutes for her eyes to adjust to the club beyond the touching room. Still reveling in the afterglow of her orgasm and thinking more about her mystery woman, the loud music didn’t bother her in the way that it did, when she first entered the club.
Having never had sex in a public place before, embarrassed if anyone knew, Amanda hoped that the women she passed, as she walked towards the door, couldn’t tell that she just had an orgasm. Wondering who her mystery woman was, she wondered what she looked like. Leaving the club sexually sated with a spent body and an empty heart, she would have preferred walking out and going home with her mystery woman. Then, realistically, she thought, maybe the woman is married. Maybe, the reason why she preferred the darkness, the woman hasn’t emerged from her protective closet, yet, and doesn’t want anyone to know that she’s lesbian.
All she gathered from her experience was that she just had the best lover giving her the best orgasm she ever had. She wondered if she’d ever get to see her again and know her better. For sure, she would have loved to return the pleasure that she gave her. She claimed her coat from the coat check counter and put up her collar against the cold chill of winter. Heading out the door, hoping to find her there waiting for her, while smoking a cigarette or talking on their cell phone, hoping one of them was her, she eyed every the women standing outside smoking and/or talking on their cell phone. With none of them appearing to fit her voice, she was alone. Already a busy night, barely 10pm, most times she never entered a club before 10pm, never mind leaving one for home before 10pm. Sadly not to be, heading home to feed her cat, she thought how exciting her life could be with her New York woman by her side.
Immediately feeling so alone and lonely again, feeling as if she won the lottery but lost her lottery ticket, Amanda pushed the signal button to cross the street. With her hands as deep in her coat pockets as her mind was lost in thought, when she looked up, she recognized Flora standing at the corner waiting for the light to change. Taking a step back, deciding to let her go ahead of her, not wanting her to suspect that she had just emerged from the For Women Only club, she didn’t want anyone to know that she was lesbian, especially her co-worker. With the street jammed with cars and some cars continuing through the yellow and red light, imagining the worst case scenario of Flora being hit by a car, she relented and put a gentle hand to the Flora’s arm, when she stepped out into the crosswalk with her cane.
Feeling sorry for herself before, a blind, black, big, beautiful woman alone in New York, she felt bad for Flora. There go I before God. Here I am trying to find my perfect mate and this poor woman can’t even see to cross the street. The poor thing. Sort of like feeling bad because when you’re poor and can’t afford shoes, there are people who don’t have any feet. Shame on me, I should have a problem, she thought.
“Careful, Flora,” she said. “There’s cars going through the light.”
“Amanda? Is that you?”
“Yes,” she said trying to think of an excuse why she was on this side of town and relieved, when she didn’t ask. Nonetheless, expecting Flora to ask her in work tomorrow, what she was doing on her side of town, she’ll make an excuse tomorrow.
Flora accepted her help and Amanda deposited her on the other side of the street, before leaving her there.
“Thank you, Amanda,” said Flora with a soft smile and in the same New York whisky voice that she used to disguise her voice in the club.
“It’s you!” Afraid she’d flee again, Amanda took her by the arm again and hugged her, before kissing her. “That was you in the club, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t live far from her, Amanda,” she said with a big smile. “If you’d do me the pleasure of coming home with me, I’d like for you to return the sexual favor that I gave you.”
“I’d like that very much, Flora,” said Amanda happy that she had finally found her special someone.
THE END