~ erotica ~
A beautiful woman and a handsome man, both dressed to the nines, entered the bar.
The air was smokey, filled with the hew of cigars and the ting of a few naysayers who still insisted on their cigarettes.
The couple found a table, their table, in a corner in the back, just to the left of the smoking circle, a ring of tall chairs often occupied by various groups of work colleagues.
The couple had been coming to The Smoking Lounge every Thursday since I'd started working there. I knew what he liked (Scotch neat) and what she liked (champagne, the most expensive we had). And I also knew he liked it when she got up and walked to the bar to pickup their drinks.
As per always, I approached their table, greeted them warmly, asked, "The usual?" He reply, "Of course," with a little head nod and the slightest of smiles.
I'd slink away, wondering if either or both noticed the extra bit of sway in my hips or enjoyed the clack of my heels as I walked. I wore my tightest black skirt on Thursdays, my stocking seams straight a ruler, guiding the eye all the way up.
I loved serving them, loved watching them. I often wondered if they noticed me watching.
The Smoking Lounge attracted a certain clientele. Coats were made of finer fabrics. Skirts were short, but never completely revealing. Men wore suits. Only certain women wore pants. No cigar we sold was cheap. The ones they brought for themselves always cost more. The women who walked through our doors generally fell into two types: the partner or the player. The men: old or older.
But these two, these two were different. The woman, though obviously in some soft of relationship with the man, had a stare that bore through me when our eyes met. And the man, I couldn't peg his age. He couldn't have been past forty-five, yet there was something about him that looked wise, knowing, as if he had a secret he wasn't telling.
Every night, after they left, I went home and thought of the two of them as I writhed on my bed exploring my body. Thought of their hands on me, thought of their bodies, their lips.
In their corner, when no one else watched, I saw them. I saw the pinch on the back of her neck. The grab of her hip. The hand that at first massaged her scalp before lightly tugging on her hair. And the ash which he put in his palm before his finger explored her strands.
I saw how he'd ask her for something, something he haphazardly dropped on the floor just to the left of her. And she'd stand, and bend over, trying to find it, her ass always towards him and away from any other gaze. I never, ever, saw a pantie line under her skirt.
Him throwing his arm over her shoulder. Her leaning into his chest, licking his hand, the same hand that had had his ash. Her picking up a menu, though they never ordered any food, shielding their bodies, her face, as magically the head of ash on his cigar would disappear before she'd put the menu down.
Whispering into her ear, and then the slightest of jumps from her body. Her right arm which always disappeared under the table.
Every Thursday night, without fail, they came, bringing an air of lust as intoxicating to me as any of our brews.
Every Thursday night they ordered Scotch neat and champagne and nothing else, sitting in their corner for an hour, disappearing into the anonymity of the smokey room.
And every Thursday night I went home, thinking about them, fantasizing about them, counting down the hours til next week.
I initially saw them in the hallway just outside of the Dungeon.
A Submissive, A Switch, and A Dominant.
The Domme was female bodied, standing back from the Sub and Switch, wearing black Carhart pants, a black t-shirt, and black leather boots. The male bodied Switch wore a leather thong and a leather chest piece with a chain attached on the back. The chain connected to the leather straight jacket worn by the female bodied Submissive. She had no choice but to walk behind him.
It was by pure luck that I had encountered the Trio. As Amethyst, Devi, and I made our way back towards our shared hotel room, I happened to gaze upon the group in an intense exchange against a wall.
"Can we pause for a moment?"
I leaned against the opposite side about fifteen feet down the hall.
The Domme watched as the Switch held the Sub against the wall. The Sub's mouth was covered with black tape. He held her neck while kissing her lips through the barrier. There was just something about that moment, about that chemistry, that caught me.
Devi and Amethyst could see my interest. They said they were going to head back to the room and, if I wanted, I could meet them at the Burlesque show at midnight, in about an hour and a half.
As they walked away, I turned back to the Trio. The Switch now massaged the Sub's crotch through her skirt. Still, the Domme just stood back and calmly watched. A breath later, the Domme stepped forward, pulled back the Sub's hair, and spoke something to the Switch. It was too noisy and I was too far away to hear them.
Releasing the Sub from against the wall, the Trio moved. I stayed where I was, not wanting to disrupt their dynamic. And I didn't want to seem like a stalker. I watched as they progressed down the hall and into the Dungeon.
And that was the moment; that was the choice. Go back to the room or follow them?
I eased into the Dungeon, seeing an all-to-familiar scene: the last night of a convention, a room full of people, play happening everywhere. I glanced around, and through the ordered chaos I saw the Trio slowly slinking about.
Instead of following them, I sought out an already in-progress scene. Almost at once, my eyes locked on a simple impact scenario. A man was kicking a woman on all fours in her ass. I smiled, knowing the delicious feeling, and re-positioned myself for a better view.
As their scene intensified, his kicks grew harder, rocking her body on the ground, to the point of occasionally splaying her form across the floor. In a flash, she would pull herself back up. I knew that need, that desire to take the pain, to be the good little bottom for your top. I watched them play til they finished.
As fate would have it, as they began to wrap up, the Trio again came into my sight line. They had finally found an open piece of play equipment, a mere twenty feet to my left. As they set up, I took a moment to slowly turn around, taking in the rest of the scenes in the room. I noted some amazing rope work on the main suspension rig, two spanking bench scenes, some wax play, and other various happenings.
As I slowly rotated, a woman sitting on the floor looked up at me and commented on how much she loved my boots. The man sitting with her gave equal compliment to my leather. I thanked them.
Slipping into a conversation, we chatted about the scenes surrounding us. The gentleman stepped away for a moment, returning with two chairs.
"Would you like a seat?"
I explained that I don't really sit in chairs in a Dungeon, with my constant looking all around at the sights to see.
"Oh, so you perch?"
Indeed, with the chair he gave me, I rested a knee in the seat while leaning my body against the back. Catching bits and pieces of multiple scenes, my eyes drifted first to the Trio. The Sub was restrained to a chair similar to those used for massages. Her skirt and straight jacket removed, her arms were secured as the Switch and Domme worked her back and backside with impact toys.
Next I saw a new rough body play scene had started on the opposite side of the Dungeon. A Top and Bottom fought, wrestling on the ground until the Bottom submitted. The Top and Bottom would then stand, the Top transitioning to using impact implements as the Bottom leaned against a cross.
Also, nearer to the Trio, a whip scene had begun, the thrower kissing strikes across the receiver's back and ass.
Finally, with a suspension rig close at hand, there was also a steady stream of turnover as waiting rope duos prepped on the side while the current two-some flew.
Surprising to me, I found my eyes going back to the rough body play most often. The power dynamic between the Top and Bottom sizzled even as I watched fifty feet away.
The Trio's play, though interesting, seemed monotonous. Lots of flogging, but little obvious variety. It was not until they broke out in a quite sexy threesome on the floor that they held my attention for more than a minute.
When all my viewing eventually died down, I thought I might try to catch the end of the Burlesque show or possibly go to bed early. But, as I grabbed my things, I looked up and saw Itonia and Vlad, who I had met the night before. We had initially connected as friends of friends, messaging on Fet before the event.
With smiles exchanged, I went over to say hi.
Rope Camp Memories continued...
I am a voyeur, have been for as long as I can remember. As such, I get to see a lot of cool shit. One such scene happened on the NYR Cabin front lawn.
On the cabin porch, while Lochai gave me a brief tutorial on different ways to tie a single column cuff, Gray practiced a harness for his Fetish Performance class on his demo bottom, Slut. The idea was he would be able to remove the harness with one long pull.
Lochai, after he was comfortable that I had the cuff, asked Gray to show him the harness as well. The group moved down to the lawn while I sat on the porch practicing my tie. Once Lochai was satisfied that he could recreate the harness, he left.
Gray and Slut then seamlessly transitioned into a scene. He tied a chest harness on her and began fingering her.
If you ever get a chance, watch Slut play. Her facial expressions are well worth the price of admission. She falls into a state of ecstasy one can only hope to attain.
Gray got her to the ground, fingering her still more. He put her over his knee and spanked her. He brought her mouth to his cock and began fucking her face.
And all the while I sat, elbows on my knees, head in my hands, leaning forward, watching. I didn't dare move; I didn't dare breathe. My eyes were locked on their scene.
I still remember distinct moments from their play. The sway of his hips, his hand on the back of her head, as he thrust his cock into her mouth. The look on her face, her head tilted back, her body collapsed as she felt every twitch of his finger. And a moment, a perfect fucking moment, when he glanced up, saw me watching, and smirked.
