World's Worst

(Taking a break from the drama for a little bit of silliness ...)

Chantal was on hostess duty at Haven, and the joint was jumpin’. In fact, tables were at a premium tonight. Word of Rupert’s inventive desserts had gotten around. Just the thing to aid in post-scene cooldowns.

At the moment they only had one couple in the lobby, waiting for the next available table. Chantal hadn’t been paying much attention to them, until she heard …

“Oh, Lars. Lars.”

“Deanna! Deanna!”

“I’ll love you until the universe falls into the sun.”

“I’ll love you until God crumples up creation and tosses it into the cosmic waste basket.”

“Let me lash my tongue all over your rippling biceps.”

“I want to bury my nose in your muff.”

“Then nuzzle me, you magnificent beast!”

“Fondle my thighs, you wanton temptress!”

“Suckle my nipples, you towering titan!”

“Polish my lance, you voluptuous vixen!”

“Drink from my cup, lusty stallion!”

“Sip from my straw, perky penguin!”

“Jump me, you kinky kangaroo!”

“Roll with me, you amorous Amazonian alligator!”

“Hey, that’s two adjectives. No fair.”

By now an intrigued and slightly nervous Chantal had left the desk to investigate. She found the “passionate lovers” demurely seated on the couch in the lobby, fully clothed and giggling up a storm. “Are you two okay?” she asked carefully.

“Oh yeah,” the woman managed to get out. She pounded her man on the back; he’d started to hiccup. “Is our table ready?”

“Not yet.” Chantal dashed back to the desk and poured a glass of water. She offered this to the gasping man. He gulped it down gratefully, gave one final hiccup, and smiled. “You mind me asking … ?” Chantal said.

“No, it’s fine,” the woman said. “We were getting bored waiting for a table, so we decided to play ‘World’s Worst.’ You know, that game from Whose Line is it Anyway? So we went for the world’s worst seduction scene.”

“Dialogue only, of course,” the man added. “We know the rules. No getting it on in the lobby.” He grinned down at his partner and winked. “Y’know, I don’t think we even need the club tonight. Why don’t we just go back to my place? We can grab takeout on the way.”

“You still have the pool table?”

He twirled an imaginary moustache. “But of course.”

She took his hand. “Then lead on, my feisty ferret.”

He stood, and guided her to her feet. “As you command, my precocious panda.” Hand in hand, they scurried out the door.

“Table for two,” one of the waiters called from inside the club proper.

“Never mind,” Chantal said. The waiter shrugged and withdrew.

She trudged back to the desk. Great. Not only had they lost a couple of customers, now she was horny. She sat with her thighs pressed tightly together. It was going to be a long evening.

Along for the Ride...

Reetha stood outside of Haven, the newest club to come to Talbot’s Peak.  That it was owned by Penelope, the town Domme, and newcomer Whit was an added benefit.  This town was long overdue for a gay bar and private club for those with wider sexual tastes.  With those wider sexual tastes in mind, she thought of him.

Rafe.  Damn that man.  He’d promised to spank her, quite publicly, if she showed up without him, her Dom, at her side.  The thought of that should piss her alpha wolf off, but instead she was so wet she considered changing into the spare set of panties she’d brought along.

Public spanking, hell public anything really wasn’t her thing unless she was watching, but no way would Rafe let her just watch if he caught her here.  Good thing she’d found out his schedule for this week.  He was out of town and here she was, ready to get her freak on.

Stepping inside the door she turned over her $10 cover charge and made her way to the bar.  She’d make her way back to the private club, but first she needed a drink and to expend some excess energy dancing. 

The room was filled with mostly men, and a few women.  Prince was playing over the loud speakers and Reetha was in heaven.  She loved getting her dance freak on to some classic music from The Purple One.  Currently playing was one of her favorites from the Batman album, Electric Chair.  Sliding onto the floor, between two like-minded fans, she raised her arms and the all slid close together to make like a wave on the floor.  Back and forth they moved to the funky lyrics like “…E major(flat) with a G in the bass…”

The song continued and her partners were fabulous, lithe and flexible, they clearly a couple.  One moved up and the other went down while she moved in place.  Their hands were all over her: legs, ass, tits, and neck. The song spurring the three of them into a sexy, on the floor, fully clothed ménage.   It had been far too long since she’d felt this free.

When the song ended, she kissed both her partners on the cheek, thanking them for the dance, and moved to the bar.  “Pina Colada,” she told the bartender—an island drink with her favorite fruits and a jaunty umbrella for her hair.  What could be better?

Another Prince song came on, one of her favorites, but then there were very few she disliked.  She was tempted to get back out on the floor, but then what of her drink?

“You made it,” Mistress P purred next to her ear.
Reetha turned her way and smiled.  “I did!  Finally, I might add. Sorry it took me so long.”

“No worries, my dear, I understand the trials and time it takes to open a bar.” Mistress P reached out and slid a hand down her cheek.  “I’ve yet to make it out to your place.”

“Come when you can, I’ll be there.”  Reetha’s smile suddenly felt hollow and it wasn’t because of the dear friend sitting near.

“You’ve shut down, Reetha,” Penelope said, reaching out to touch Reetha’s forearm. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.  Something’s missing.”  She knew what it was, too.  Damn that man, she thought as guilt filled her veins.  She wanted to be here with him, not alone.  Rafe’s words had wormed their way into her soul and now going upstairs and playing with her mate was all she could think about.

“How long has it been?” Penelope asked, in her Domme voice.

“Since New Year’s,” Reetha admitted.

“No, that was fucking, Reeth, but damn too long sister.  What I meant was how long as it been since you’ve played?”    

“Shoot, probably over a year.”

“That’s it, grab your drink and let's head up.  You need a release…”

“I need Rafe.” She said, frustrated by that truth.

“Rafe’s not here, love, but I am.  Trust me, you’ll feel better and so will I.” Penelope traced her fingers alongside Reetha’s breasts, easing her thumbs lightly over the straining nipples.  “It’s been far too long since I worked on another woman.”

“You’re missing one key component that I need, Mistress.”

Penelope looked over at her and smiled.  Reetha wondered what she’d gotten herself into.

“Oh, honey, I have plenty of insertables and even a few prevertables as well.  Trust me, you won’t be missing a thing.”

Not true, she’d still be missing Rafe, but she followed along, her submissive was calling the shots and it was sometimes just easier for her alpha wolf to follow and enjoy the ride.

~~~

Sorry about the rawness of the piece today.  I'm working on getting back to writing after my long semester of Math,  :)

Have a great weekend!

Serena

Just Dessert

(Taking a break today. The serial story will continue next week.)

“We’re almost there,” Whit said. “Keep your eyes closed. No peeking.”

“I’m not peeking,” Penelope lied. Not that she could see a thing with his hand clamped over her eyes. “Is this a good surprise or a bad surprise?”

“It’s the best. Oops. Stop right here.” He kept his palm over her face. She heard the scrape of a chair being pulled back and guessed he’d brought her to one of Haven’s intimate private cubbies . “I suppose you’d better look now. If you fall on your ass, you’ll kick mine.”

“Damn right I will.” Penelope opened her eyes, which immediately widened when she saw what awaited her.

Sitting on the table before her was a banana split, in all its sweet, chocolate and caramel, calorie-laden goodness. The two mounds of vanilla ice cream had been carefully sculpted to resemble giant boobs. The cherries that topped the mounds wore nipple clamps.

“Happy opening night,” Whit said. He handed her a spoon. “Happy successful opening night. Dig in.”

Penelope seated herself at the table and accepted the spoon. “This is not at all what I was expecting to wrap my lips around after a long night at work. This is better.” She scooped up banana and ice cream and thrust it into her mouth, then shut her eyes to savor the sugar meltdown on her tongue. “Whole worlds of better. Did you make this?”

“Not on my best day. I’m better with fruit. Rupert outdid himself. From my specifications, of course.”

She inspected one of the clamps with a tentative finger. “Are these … pretzels?”

“They are indeed. When the salt hits the sugar—”

But Penelope had already snapped off the end of a “clamp” and dipped it into a vanilla boob to see for herself. She moaned. “Absolute heaven. You naughty boy. How did you ever come up with this?”

Whit took a seat. “I wish I could lie and tell you it was all my idea. Alas, no. While traveling this marvelous country of yours, I made an extended stop in New Jersey. I fell in with a flock of seagulls with, shall we say, sophisticated tastes. One of their number ran an ice cream and candy shop on the boardwalk. He had quite the sense of humor.”

“And quite the dirty mind, I see.”

“Not in the shop, of course. The Jersey Shore is far too family-oriented. He had a side business on the internet. He was always in demand for the better birthday parties.”

“I’ll just bet.” Having demolished the pretzel clamps, Penelope attacked the banana portion. “I can’t believe you talked Rupert into this. I had him pegged as vanilla.”

“Shows what you know. A little gingerbread and powdered sugar and he turns into a wild man.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Did this gull friend of yours have any other goodies?”

“He managed to make a flogger with a chocolate handle and tails made from salt water taffy.” Whit made a face. “I suppose that’s all the taffy’s good for. I don’t imagine anyone actually eats it.”

“Not that I’ve ever heard of.” Penelope lapped whipped cream off her spoon. “I like the idea, though. If we could make the tails out of caramel … ”

“And stud the handle with chopped-up nuts … ”

“With a peanut-butter center … ”

“Oh Gawd.” Whit fanned himself with his hand. “If Rupert can create something like that, I’ll marry him.”

“Get in line. We may have to consider adding a dessert cart. Let’s see how shakedown week pans out.”

At that moment Rupert himself appeared. He kept his hands behind his back. “Sir. Mistress. Was dessert to your liking?”

“Very much so, Rupert, thank you. You’re talented in ways I never expected. Keep up the good work.”

Rupert blushed. “Thank you, Mistress.” He brought out the plate he’d been concealing. “Your dessert, Sir. As specified.”

Penelope hadn’t thought her eyes could get any wider. Whit’s banana split was mostly banana, planted upright in a sea of fudge, with a head of cream at its tip and two small scoops of ice cream at its base. It looked exactly like a—

Whit accepted the plate with a beaming smile. “Perfect. Thank you, Rupert.” Rupert flushed a darker red and hastily withdrew.

Penelope stared in fascination at Whit’s dessert. Her mouth watered. “Want to switch?”

“Sweetie, I’ll never switch. But if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you lick the spoon.”