The Stud Palace Page 2

  I almost fall over in my seat. I blink, surprised at what I’m hearing. “You what?”

  “You heard me, girl. Dante and I have an open relationship. Or at least I thought we did.” She pauses, then sucks her teeth. “This nigga is always doing some extra shit behind my damn back, like I’m not gonna eventually find out about it. Niggas are so fucking stupid.”

  I’m not going to lie. I feel a tinge of jealousy flash through me hearing that she and Dante have what I want with Kareem—an uninhibited relationship. But at least I don’t have to worry about Kareem cheating on me like Dante does on her. Before I can open my mouth to question her more about what she’s just told me, I hear Dante in the background saying something to her and she starts going off. “Dante, get the fuck out of my face, nigga! I’m not playing with you. We ain’t got shit else to talk about until you tell me who that bitch is you were fucking and why the fuck you couldn’t bring her home! Your greedy ass always gotta be sneaky about shit . . .!”

  He says something else, but I can’t make out what it is. I clutch the phone, pressing it tightly against my ear, straining to hear him. But all I hear is a bunch of scuffling around and shit smashing and doors slamming. I try to get Sheena to calm down before she ends up getting arrested and I end up being the one having to bail her out, again. “Sheena! Sheena!”

  When she gets like this, wild and crazy, I never hang up on her ’cause I know if I do she’s liable to do anything. She always says loving Dante makes her ass crazy—and she means that literally. “Sheena! Sheena! Girl, get a damn grip! You’re going to end up going to jail if you don’t get it together. It’s not worth it.”

  It takes me almost ten damn minutes to get her to finally stop yelling and throwing things at him. “Girl, I’ve had my moment,” she finally says, trying to catch her breath. “Now I’m over it. Well, not really. But I’m not going to jail over his lying ass tonight; that’s for damn sure. He can deny it all he wants, but I know his ass is lying. And he knows it too. So fuck him.” I ask her if he’s still there with her. “Yeah, his black ass is still here. He’s probably upstairs somewhere looking stupid, which is how I know he’s lying. But, anyway, enough about him. You feel like going out and having a drink? I need to get out of this house and unwind for a while.” Although I’m really not in the mood for going out, I agree to go. “Okay. Let me go freshen up. I’ll be at your place in an hour,” she says, quickly disconnecting the call before I decide to change my mind. I shake my head, placing my cell on the nightstand.

  An hour-and-forty-five minutes later, Sheena and I are perched up on barstools at the Martini Bar, a chic cocktail lounge located in one of the nearby hotels. I’m on my third Lemon Drop, and she’s already on her fourth Cosmo. Thus far, we’ve kept the conversation light. But my mind is still stuck on what she told me earlier. And I want to know more about this open-relationship she and Dante have. So I ask.

  She takes a slow, deliberate sip of her drink, then sits her glass up on the bar. “Girl, it’s no biggie. I’ve always known Dante likes fucking other women and I can’t stop him from doing it so I thought, maybe, if I bring other women home to him and let him fuck, that at least I can monitor what the fuck he’s doing, and who he’s doing it with.”

  I blink, placing my glass to my lips.

  “Truth is, girrrrrl,” she adds as she leans in real close, “I get turned on watching Dante fuck.”

  I almost choke on my drink. “You whaaaat?! You like watching him fuck other women?”

  “Girl, lower your voice. Damn. Like I want the whole bar hearing my business. But yes. I enjoy watching my man’s dick going in and out of another woman’s pussy or her sucking on his dick. Or me sucking his dick from the back while he’s between her legs eating her pussy out. That shit’s so fucking hot. And I love it even more when he feeds me his dick and it’s soaked in another woman’s pussy and I’m tasting her juices on him.”

  I clutch my neck, shocked and surprisingly turned on at the same time. “You’ve been with a woman.” I make the statement knowing it sounds more like a question.

  She looks around the bar, steadies her gaze on me, then slowly licks her lips. “Let’s just say I love pussy almost as much as I love dick.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This is a side of her I’ve not seen. Sheena and I have known each other for over ten years and have shared some very personal things with one another. But we’ve never really talked openly about what either of us does or doesn’t do sexually behind closed doors with our men, so I’m surprised that she’s sharing all of this. I almost feel guilty having this tingling between my legs. But I want, no, need to hear more. I tightly squeeze my legs together.

  “O-M-G! I’ve done heard it all.”

  She laughs, then tosses back her drink. “Girl, please. I’m a freak. And so is my man, which is why it pisses me off when he lies about shit. He knows I have very few limitations when it comes to sex, and pleasing him.”

  I take a long sip of my drink, swallowing down my envy. Before I can stop myself, I ask, “What’s it like?”

  “What, eating pussy?”

  I feel myself getting flustered as juices slowly seep from my own neglected slit. “No. I mean, yes.”

  She rolls her eyes up in the back of her head, then shudders for effect. “Like heaven, girl; especially when Dante is fucking me from the back and my face is buried between her legs, and my tongue slithering in and out of her wet, warm pussy.” She fans herself. “Girl, I can’t get enough of it.”

  She finishes off her drink, flags the bartender down for another round, then goes on to share her first experience with another woman. Four years ago. She and Dante were vacationing in Jamaica when she suggested they have a threesome. One thing led to another and she found herself sucking at her breasts, leaving her nipples tight and wet. Slowly her tongue and mouth glided down the rest of their lover’s body, feasting on her, nipping and sucking all over her until Sheena found her mouth on this woman’s pussy, pulling her pussy lips into her mouth while Dante eased in back of her and slid his dick deep into her soppy-wet pussy. She tells me that was the first time she had multiple orgasms, and squirted.

  My breath catches in my throat as she recounts the lusty details of her tryst in Jamaica. She pauses when the bartender returns with our drinks. We both eye him as he sets a fresh napkin down in front of us, then places our drinks down on the bar. He walks off and she continues, “We fucked her the whole weekend, then came back to the states with our relationship renewed, refreshed, and stronger than ever. Or so I thought.” She rolls her eyes. “Every time I think about them damn condoms and Dante fucking behind my back it pisses—”

  I cut her off, needing to know more about her lesbian experience. “So are you bisexual?”

  She sips her drink, eyeing me over the rim of her glass. “I’m enjoying sexual freedom, boo. And I’m living my life without any regrets. And I’m fortunate enough to have a man who is also very open-minded and willing to try almost anything once, even if the nigga is a sneaky-ass liar at times.”

  I don’t want to admit it, but listening to her has me pissed the hell off. I’m mad at Kareem’s ass for not being as open as Dante. And I’m even madder that I’m sitting here with a wet, horny pussy and will have to eventually go home to Kareem rolling on top of me in the middle of the night, ramming his dick into me, humping and pumping me fast and hard a few times, then rolling off after he finishes shooting his nut inside of me, then falling back to sleep. I remind myself, again, that he’s a good man. But that knowing does nothing for my pulsing cunt and throbbing clit.

  I imagine Sheena between the legs of some busty vixen—her hands roaming all over her body, only stopping once she finds her hungry pussy, spread open and ready for lips, tongue, fingers—as Dante plunges his dick nonstop into Sheena’s juicy snatch. I can almost hear her juices splashing out of her. My heartbeat quickens a
t the delicious thought. I take another sip of my drink, then decide to gulp the rest of it back. I swallow, hard.

  Sheena laughs. “You all right, girl? You seem a little flustered.”

  “I am,” I admit, running my fingertips along my neck, then through the nape of my neck. Subconsciously, I slip a hand between my legs and squeeze. I want my pussy ate. Want to know what it’s like to taste a pussy. Its scent stained into my tongue. I lean in, then whisper, “I’m so jealous. I wanna know what it’s like to be made love to by a woman. It’s one of my fantasies.”

  “Does Kareem know?”

  I shake my head. “Girl, he’d lose his mind if I told him some shit like that.”

  She gives me one of those “you poor thing” looks, then shakes her head. “So what are you going to do about it?”

  I shrug. “Keep my fantasies to myself, I guess.”

  I need another drink. I catch the eye of the bartender, signaling for another martini.

  A sly smile forms across her pouty lips as she glances down at her watch. She eyes me. “It’s almost eleven. If you really wanna take a walk over on the other side, and are willing to toss your inhibitions to the wind, I know just the place where you can go to indulge your fantasy. And the one thing you must know is this, what’s done there, stays there.” She flicks up an eyebrow.

  “Trust me,” I say as the bartender places my drink in front of me, then serves Sheena another cosmo. “My lips are sealed.”

  She lifts her glass to her lips, eyeing me. “So does that mean you’re ready to experience a night of uninhibited freakiness?”

  I inhale a deep breath, then take a slow sip of my drink. My head is spinning, my heart is racing. I am nervous and excited at the thought of finally indulging my deepest desire. I guzzle down my drink, dab the corners of my mouth with my napkin, then say. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Then, girlfriend, buckle up and prepare yourself for a night you will soon never forget.” I nervously ask her where she’s taking me. Her response is, “To Paradise, a place like no other.”

  ***

  To my surprise, Paradise, as Sheena calls it, happens to be an exclusive woman’s club called The Stud Palace housed in what looks like an abandoned warehouse building on Hubert Street in the city. And, truthfully, the outside looks like shit. But once you walk through the metal door you are in a whole other world. The inside is a four-floored fantasy-freaks playground. The walls drip with lust. The music pumps out seduction. Sex fills the air. And you are surrounded by a sea of feminine women from all walks of life, looking to toss caution to the wind for a night of unadulterated pleasure with other women. Females who are not so feminine; studs, women who have the swagger of a man—some donned in boxers, wife beaters, fitted hats, and Timbs with strap-ons on; some more masculine than others with shaved heads and dreads and low-cut fades; others with ponytails and long, flowing hair. They all work at the club. All here to cater to your every sexual whim, eager to please you, tease you and suck and fuck you to ecstasy.

  I glance around the room, taking in everything. The first floor has purple walls trimmed in gold with splashes of pink. There’s a huge oval bar in the center of the room and smack in the center of the bar is an elevated stage where scantily-clad dancers flex their beautifully-sculpted, oiled and tatted up bodies. There are two smaller stages on each side of the room. Pale pink and purple spotlights bathe each stage as strippers hump and gyrate their bodies to the music, stroking themselves to orgasms, thrusting their hips and pelvises at on-lookers as they drool and make it rain on them. There are also four large go-go cages sitting atop massive speakers with naked women dancing inside, each woman covered in colorful body paint. And in the far back of the bar there are numerous booths with plush pink leather seats for those who prefer a lap dance. Sheer curtains can be drawn for those who desire a little more privacy. The music is instrumental, sexual and very sensual. The lit candles and wall torches only add to the ambiance.

  Some of the patrons boldly prance around in skintight camisoles and bikini bottoms wearing strappy heels; others are topless wearing colorful thongs. While the more daring flaunt Mother Nature’s gift, bearing their nakedness for all to see, save the heels on their feet.

  I am overwhelmed as Sheena and I maneuver our way through the club, holding our drinks. I’m drinking a Clit Teaser—a mixture of 1800 Tequila, Bombay gin, Grey Goose vodka and splashes of pineapple and cranberry juice shaken, then poured over ice. It’s strong as hell. And I’m already starting to feel it course through my body. Sheena is playing it safe, sipping on another Cosmo.

  “So girrrrl,” Sheena says as we climb the stairs to the next level, “what do you think?”

  “It’s like nothing I’ve ever imagined. How did you hear about this place?”

  She grins. “Girl, this is one of New York’s best-kept secrets. So if I tell you. I’ll have to kill you. Just know, that whatever, or should I say, whoever you decide to do tonight, you will be in good hands. Trust me. And when you leave up out of here, nothing about you will ever be the same.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of. I sip my drink and follow behind her as we get to the next level. The second floor is painted all black with splashes of red. It has a huge dance room with wall-to-wall mirrors, red strobe lights, and plays strictly house and club music for those who are simply looking to get their dance on before, or after, venturing off to one of the many lounges where the imagination can be stretched beyond its limits. Watching naked women dance with each other, grinding their pussies and asses into one another causes a flash of heat to shoot through me. It singes my clit, then shoots out of my cunt. My red lace panties have seeped up my ass and barely cover my wet pussy. I am dripping with excitement from the drink and all of the sightings.

  “Girl, it’s kind of quiet down here. Let’s go up to the third floor,” Sheena says, lightly tugging me in the direction of the stairs. The third floor is divided into four huge lounge areas with 60-inch flat-screen TVs playing all types of lesbian porn. There are plush sofas and chaises scattered about in each room. And further down is another hallway that leads to three large rooms reserved for private parties, each with its own full-service bar. I am in awe.

  As we head back toward the stairs, I gasp as we walk by one of the lounges and I spot a woman with her legs up over a dreaded stud’s shoulders getting fucked, her stud’s muscled-ass flexing with each thrust. Then, over on the other side, I count six more women being fucked out in the open, or having their pussies eaten. The smell of hot sex floats all around us. There are threesomes and foursomes going on. Everywhere I look, there is sucking and fucking. And everyone seems caught up in the sexual energy, including Sheena who whispers in my ear, “Excuse me for a minute while I go . . . unwind.”

  She doesn’t even wait for me to respond before she is quickly being whisked off by a cocoa-brown skinned woman who looks so much like a man that I have to do a double-take because he . . . I mean, she’s so damn fine. I bring my attention back to the lounge. I feel like a Peeping Tom watching these women get off. I feel my nipples starting to stiffen. My clit twitches. I lick my moist lips.

  “This is nothing compared to some of the other lounges,” a raspy voice says in back of me. “You should check out the S & M lounge.” Without even turning around to look at the owner of the voice, I am instantly turned on. I can feel her steamy breath in my ear as she inches up closer. Then she whispers, “I’ve been checkin’ you out from the minute you walked through the door with your . . .”

  “Friend,” I finish for her, finally glancing over my shoulder into the eyes of the most handsome-pretty face. She looks young, very young. Her dark coffee-colored complexion is smooth. Underneath a NY fitted hat, her hair hangs past her shoulders, bone-straight. Her eyes are dark brown, with long, dark lashes. She’s dressed in a white wife beater, a pair of baggy jeans, and boots. Despite her dominate mannerisms h
er feminine qualities make her even more alluring. I can tell she’d be a beautiful girl if she wore makeup and slipped into a dress and heels. But she’s still very sexy as she is. For a split second, I feel as if she is undressing me with her eyes the way that I am her with mine. Her arms are well-defined, her stomach flat, her breasts small, but a nice mouthful. I wonder what she’d look like naked, her body pressed up against mine.

  I swallow again.

  “Well, maybe I can become your friend, too.” She winks at me. And I’m not going to lie either. I feel a jolt of electricity shoot through my entire body. “Let me take you somewhere so we can, you know . . . talk. Get better acquainted.” She strokes the side of my face and I think I’m going to faint.

  I blink. “Umm, how old are you?”

  “Twenty-seven, why?” I tell her she looks like she’s barely legal. That I’m forty, old enough to be her mother. She grins. “It’s all good, baby. I like my woman well-seasoned.”

  Instantly, my pussy drools. And I’m not sure if it’s because she’s called me baby, or if it’s the way she’s looking at me, or licking them sexy, pussy-eating lips that I shamelessly imagine all over my cunt that have me feeling light-headed. Her eyes travel to my breasts, my erect nipples poking through the sheer fabric of my blouse. She licks her lips again. “Damn, I can tell you have some pretty titties. And them nipples . . . mmmph . . . I’m a nipples girl. I love some big nipples, ma. I bet you taste real good, too. All of you.”

  Caught off-guard, I blush, blinking back my embarrassment, and excitement. Boldly, she starts caressing my breasts with both of her hands. I tense, then relax. “Damn, your titties feel nice.”

  “Uh, um, listen, I-I,” I stammer as I try to step back from her reach. My back hits up against the wall, and she steps up in my space. She’s slightly taller than me—I’m five-nine in my six-inch heels.

  “You, what, have a girl at home?” I shake my head. “A man?”