Holding a Mai Tai for Elena and a scotch and soda on the rocks for him, Eric passed through Club Caliente's instructional room designated for the month as the art photography gallery. He tried act like he was ignorant of comments being made by people clustering around the displays, but he was nervous. Photography had been a hobby for years. More recently, though, he had begun focusing on more sensual and erotic subjects, and some of his pieces were on display tonight.
Couples gravitated toward the artistic or partial nudes and photos with boudoir settings. A few had recognized his primary subject: his wife Elena, even if she was wearing a mask in all the images, or only visible from the throat down. He and Elena had been members at Caliente for five years and had sex with a wide variety of people.
He hesitated when he saw a single woman studying his photo display. She was alone, quiet, head tilted with clearly deep interest. She wore a slightly ill-fitting black suit - the shoulders a little too wide and the hem a little too long on her body. She had the jacket pulled back, which revealed a crisp white Oxford dress shirt also slightly mis-sized. The woman's blond hair, which looked like it might be quite long, had been knotted and secured at the back of her head with a claw clip. It was messy, but indescribably enhanced her attractiveness.
His artist's eye was intrigued to find out how deep her attractiveness went.
The closer he drew to her, the more he thought maybe the suit was a loaner from an indulgent boyfriend, who liked the more androgynous appearance of a woman in men's clothing. But the next detail he noted suggested she was not on a date, but undoubtedly alone. She carried herself defensively, her hands in her pockets, her shoulders a little hunched, weaving a bit as if to keep her surroundings in perspective at all times.
Despite the music layered through the space from both the dancefloor and the private club beyond the gallery walls, his footsteps echoed on the parquet. Her expression when she turned on him was that of a deer in headlights. But he kept moving forward. She wasn't just pretty; she was breathtaking. He had to meet her.
Her face was carved and thin, shaped by broad arching brows. High curved cheekbones swept down to where her jaw angled into a pointed chin. It was the most heart-shaped face he thought he had ever seen. She could have modeled for classicly illustrated European fairy tales.
Her hair was pale gold, and her skin cream. Her lips were a natural pink, and unpainted, not even wearing a lip gloss. Crystal-clear green eyes darted between his while she tried to discern his motives.
Eric cleared his throat and asked, "Do you like photography?" He nodded toward the photograph in front of her.
The blond woman turned away without immediately answering. She returned to studying the photograph and Eric's fascination with her grew. She was young, possibly only in her early twenties, but her gaze was so serious he briefly wondered if she was also a photographer.
Finally she spoke. "They're…not what I expected. The…This one is so… romantic." Her tone was hesitant, as though she carefully considered each word before voicing it. Okay, so she wasn't a photographer, but she was deeply affected by the work.
Eric's body tightened in surprising anticipation, not necessarily of sex, but being turned on by the woman's intelligence; her body was merely a bonus. His grin was a bit preening, but he let it come anyway. "Thank you. That photo is one of mine. I'm Eric."
She looked at a few nearby photographs and seemed to make a connection in her head. "Your model is very beautiful. Exotic."
Eric smiled again. "El is…well, she's… one of a kind."
The blonde gazed back at the photograph again. Her gazed traced Elena's body. His wife had posed on her left side, head against her upraised hand, eyes just a touch downward, enough so that she looked through her lashes at the camera. Come here, she seemed to say from slightly parted lips.
When he turned back to take in the blonde's reaction he noticed the pulse in the blonde woman's throat throbbed and her left hand opened wide and closed slowly. Oh, he realized, she's attracted to Elena. That was a delightful discovery.
He spoke again. "I'm glad the photograph interests you. It's for sale, tonight's gallery is fundraising for the local domestic abuse center."
"Sale? I…" The blonde shook her head. "I…I couldn't buy it. It's just…really pretty."
Eric tried a soft-pitch line, hoping he wouldn't come off like a creeper. He'd at least like to know her name. "So are you. What's your name? Would you like to pose sometime?"
"Me? Posing?" The blonde again was surprised. "I'm not… Why would you waste film on me when…she is…"
"It's a lot of fun with the camera these days. No film. If we don't like it, it's just bytes to delete." Eric wished he had a card to give her. The more he looked at this woman, the more he wanted to photograph her. Would she enjoy posing for him, or posing with Elena?
Eric pleasantly stiffened at the images his mind conjured. He added, "You could meet Elena at least? She'd love to meet you."
"I could…" He read her expression, briefly mid-distant, as thinking it over. She looked at him more directly after a moment and seemed to be judging him. "How long has she been modeling for you?"
He reflected on his wife with a widening smile. "Just a couple years." He gestured to the photograph and recalled the session: "She planned out this whole shoot." Elena had played out a seductive scene while he snapped away, crossing the mattress with the sinewy grace of a cat, only to lay back, part her legs and give him a perfect view of her fingers sliding in and out of herself. Above the frame of his camera, her eyes had darkened almost black and she whispered "fuck me" repeatedly, until he turned off the auto-snap and buried his face between her thighs to lick up all that creamy and luscious cum.
He came back from his vision to find the blonde studying him curiously. "I got very lucky."
"Seems like you did." The blonde's thoughts were so clearly telegraphed that Eric was unsurprised by her words when they did come: "I would like to meet El...Elena."
"She's here tonight," Eric said easily. "We came for the opening of the gallery."
"So that's why you have two drinks," the blonde said and her gaze drifting downward from his.
He blinked and chuckled upon looking to his own hands, indeed still holding drinks. The ice in his scotch was mostly melted. Wow, he'd been talking a long time. "I'm going to have to get these replaced."
"I can do that for you."
"Oh, no, actually, could I buy you a drink?"
"No drinking for me, I'm tending bar. Well, I'm Gus's back up anyway," she said.
Eric smiled wider; he'd learned something. "Hey, all right, so you work for the club. That's interesting. What's your name?"
"I...my name's Jess."
Eric smiled. "Very nice to meet you, Jess."
Jess moved quickly, trying not to put her head down - she wasn't bulling her way through a crowd. She glanced back once to see Eric still followed her. The man was quite handsome, blond hair mixed with strands of brown. She didn't think he colored it, since his mustache was similar. It was also well-trimmed and he wore his suit comfortably, a clue that he was used to wearing good clothes. He had looked her over pretty thoroughly when she'd turned to his voice in the art gallery.
Though aware his words were an attempt to pick her up, Jess hadn't felt awkward. He had a polite manner. He hadn't come off as shallow or desperate. This Elena, his model, seemed to be a real person, and he was quite taken with her. Jess thought this made him nothing more than he appeared: a photographer with genuine interest in her posing for him. She wouldn't be averse to other, more intimate activities. He might make a nice nightcap after last call and she closed the bar.
If the nightcap could include his model, Jess thought she'd really enjoy that. The sensuality and hunger in the model's dark brown eyes had been pulling Jess in and making her feel a need for contact ever since she first laid eyes on the photographs. She was very open to the idea of sex without strings.
Then Eric had gotten that distant memory-filled look when he talked about his model. The way it seemed, from both the words and the photographs, he really knew the brunette, not only as sexy flesh, but as a person.
Such a man didn't seem like he'd treat women like objects in bed and Jess's imaginings went from just sexy times with Elena to including Eric.
When she had stepped behind the bar Jess took the glasses from Eric's hands. "Have you and Elena come to the club often?" She was dumping the glasses out, waiting for his response when she realized she hadn't asked him what the drinks were. Her question came out over his own response to her first one:
"Elena and I have been members for about five years."
"What were you drinking?"
Eric chuckled, the sound throaty and bemused. "Elena had a Mai Tai. And I had a scotch and soda on the rocks." He leaned on the bar. Jess felt warmed by his interested study of her work.
"Here you are!"
Jess looked up at the female voice just as a woman reached the bar. She caught her breath. There was no mistaking that face, even unmasked the lines of her bow-like lips and the tawny tan of her Latina skin was unmistakable: Elena. Jess's pulse sped up as she regarded the brunette. Dazed, she placed the two completed drinks on the bartop.
"Of course," the brunette continued speaking to Eric, but she was looked directly at Jess. "You're chatting up a beautiful woman."
Elena leaned one elbow on the bar and glanced from Jess to Eric now, her smile bright. The angle of her arm tipped Jess to the fact that Elena was of similar height to Jess. "Introduce us?"
"Jess," Eric said, "was just refreshing our drinks."
"He's an incredible photographer," Elena said. Jess was deeply affected by the woman's lightly accented tones, and the full bow lips curling into a secret smile as she held Jess's gaze. "It isn't just the camera that gets so deep inside you," she added.
Elena's fingers drifted across the bartop. Tingles erupted up Jess's arm on contact and flowed into her chest. Stifling a moan, Jess rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. "Perhaps I might still have a chance?" Elena said, eyes, it seemed, only for Jess. "Making out is hot, but sometimes I do love to fuck." The last word was so bare, spoken huskily. Seductive.
More tingles - Elena's fingers still stroked Jess's - flooded into Jess's groin. She shifted and dislodged Elena's touch.
"I-yeah." Jess's body was in chaos. She had seen a cat with catnip once a long time ago. Her body felt like that now: writhing, wanting to wrap herself around something or someone; too warm. Drunk. "Me too."
Elena's smile came closer, her brown gaze captivating Jess. The brunette lifted her body partially over the bar and leaned forward. Jess got a brief view down the deep V of Elena's cinnamon red cocktail dress to see modest breasts cupped in black lace. Then soft lips drifted against Jess's cheek and she could only close her eyes to absorb the pure sensuality of the contact.
"Thank you," Elena murmured against the shell of Jess's ear, "for the drinks."
Jess's heart hammered in her chest; Elena slid back off the bar, brown gaze holding Jess captive. Then the brunette smiled and pulled Eric away from the bar. Jess watched as Elena took the Mai Tai from Eric. She tucked the straw between her dark lips and half the liquid in the glass disappeared as if the brunette had been parched.
Watching the couple walk away, Jess reached for a water for her suddenly dry throat. Unfortunately, the glass she grabbed held soda water, bitter and flat. She wrinkled her nose and spat it back, then dumped the glass's contents in the disposal.
When she looked up again, a balding patron had approached and held out an empty glass. "Horse's neck, please."
Jess smiled and poured the ingredients together. Done, she nudged the glass toward him on the bartop and quoted him the price for a single-alcohol mixed drink. She collected his cash and separated the couple dollars of tip to her own pocket while he walked away.
The remainder of the evening passed uneventfully for Jess. She filled drink requests, cashed out tabs, and politely deflected passes. Nearing last call, Jess spotted the photographer, Eric, again. He and his brunette model, Elena, were walking with another couple.
Elena walked holding the hand of a bald thick-bodied Hispanic male who appeared to be around fifty years old. A willow-thin blonde woman held Eric's arm. From the crow's feet and tight throat, Jess guessed the woman's age to be also around fifty.
The foursome exited through a doorway at the far end of the gallery room. A small placard posted on the wall beside the door announced the group's destination: Playrooms.
She recalled then that both Eric and Elena had flirted with her. The opportunity to get together with Eric and Elena was slipping away. She wished briefly for another break, so she could find them and let them know she was interested.
"It's almost last call."
Jess turned from studying the now-closed playroom door to see Gus walking toward the bar. An older man with a closely trimmed salt-n-pepper beard and mustache, Gustav, or simply "Gus," was the club's head bartender. He had been circulating since midnight, checking the supplies at various water and refreshment stations and accounting in the stockroom, which had left her alone as the primary bartender for most of the last two hours.
She smiled at him, not pausing in wiping down the bartop with a clean damp rag. "Receipts have been good," she said. "I even made some tips."
"Beautiful woman bartenders always makes men tipsy." He was smiling and his tone was teasing. He quickly crouched to account the bar's open bottles. "Any trouble?"
Jess shook her head. She had watered down very few drinks. The men who came by had been polite, usually buying drinks for themselves and someone else. The few who bought single drinks were chatty, usually enough for her to tell whether they had too much to drink. But they were all complimentary of her, not crass in their flirting, or rude. "No, no trouble. Everyone's being very nice. They probably don't want to scare 'the new girl' away."
"Did you enjoy your break earlier tonight?"
Jess nodded. "I felt a little underdressed, but I enjoyed the gallery art."
"The photography?" Gus asked, standing again, seemingly satisfied. Jess worked next to him, efficiently clearing traps, and setting glassware, mixing cups and jiggers into a bussing basin for transport to the club kitchen for full cleaning.
"Yeah, I always thought a crowd like this would prefer," she paused, searching for the right word. She finally settled on the most basic description: "porn." Gus pulled a towel from his shoulder and started to wipe down the bar. She went on, sharing her surprise. "But it was really…nice. Sexy. Very erotic, but really… romantic."
"I met one of the photographers." Jess lifted the now-full dish basin and stepped back from the bar. After locking the bar's cabinets, Gus followed her to the club's kitchen, holding open the service door for her.
"One of the swingers here?"
"Yeah, I guess. He and his model, Elena, were through a few times."
"His model? Not his wife?"
"They didn't wear rings," Jess said.
"Not everyone does," Gus replied.
"I didn't know that."
"Genevieve and I wore our rings as necklaces," he said, pulling out the chain from under the collar of his button up shirt.
"Genevieve? I didn't know you're married."
"Genevieve and I were married more than forty-five years."
Jess winced. She was soon to turn 25. She thought of Eric and Elena, who had looked to be in their thirties, and the couple in their fifties whom the two were obviously playing with. "So you were swingers to make your marriage more fun?"
"Isn't it just wife swapping? Singles don't swing, right?" She tried to recall if she had seen any single people heading for the playrooms.
"Single men are often discouraged by the entry pricing. At most places, like here, it is very high. Attendance policies at clubs are strict for singles, too, but I've seen some single men and women pay entry to clubs as a 'couple' and then spend most of the night playing with others. And single women are very popular with the couples."
"Do you still…play?" she asked.
"No. Why? Are you looking for a date?" He grinned.
She shook her head. "No," she said, "just wondering." Methodically she dried glasses before putting each one away into the cabinet above the stove. "Did you enjoy watching Genevieve play with other men?"
"We swapped with other couples, yes, but she was more interested in unicorns."
Curious at the term, Jess lost focus and accidentally clinked one glass against another when putting it away. Closing that cabinet, she glanced over her shoulder at Gus. "Unicorns?"
"A single female playing on her own. Very rare, hard to catch. Just like the mythical unicorn."
"Oh." Jess felt her thoughts spinning. There was a tingle in her stomach that whispered what she wanted to do with all the new information. Resolutely though she bit her lip and finished her job.
In the early hours of the morning after Gus escorted her to her assigned hotel room as a club employee, Jess carefully hung the borrowed suit and shirt to air. She washed her bra and socks in the sink, spreading the socks out to dry on the room's air control unit and hung the bra on the showerhead. Finally she dug out her tank top and boy shorts and crawled onto the single bed. She twisted and turned until the sheets wrapped around her legs. Her eyes drifted closed with the cool feel of the ceiling fan's breeze on her face and chest. She wondered if Elena was a unicorn. She wondered how formally attached Elena and Eric were. She wondered if she could have sex with one of them, or both of them. She wondered if she could be a unicorn, too.
Sex with men or women littered her past as one-night stands. She had always become involved with only one person at a time and remembered having an argument once that being attracted to both men and women did not equate to needing orgies or threesomes. The idea had simply never turned her on.
However, the interactions tonight with Eric and Elena tonight had Jess vividly imagining scenarios where all three of them were satisfying entangled. She put her hands between her thighs and sifted through ideas as she teased her own folds.
Eric was a quiet personality, maybe even introverted. The artist within was definitely a primary aspect of his personality. He'd been thoughtful when they talked; interested in her, but also, just as clearly, he respected Jess. Physically, too, he was her type: not beanpole lean nor overly chunky. He was a little more refined than most of the men she'd slept with and older than most of them, too.
Then there had been the whirlwind that was Elena. The Latina had a bold, extroverted personality enticing to Jess like a moth to a flame. Jess could easily imagine the many hours of pulse-pounding sex to be shared with the brunette.
As she came on her own fingers, Jess decided, if Eric or Elena came to the club again, she would make it clear she was interested in more than a photo shoot.
Elena pulled the cocktail dress offer her arms and down her front. She made a long study of her body in the full-length mirror of the master bedroom. Thirty-five, she thought, judging the soft plain of her stomach curving down into her pelvis, and the sleek muscles of her runner's thighs. Not bad.
She heard the shower shut off and then the sounds of Eric moving aside the curtain and stepping out of the bathtub. Elena smiled at her reflection, and started to peel out of her lacy bra and stockings.
Still running warm after the night's activities; Elena relived their night at the club. It had been a while, since Eric's work schedule had become erratic. Carl was a satisfying fuck and lasted long enough that Elena had managed two nice orgasms before he pulled out and she sucked him off. They'd lain back together on the king-size mattress in the semi-private room where Carl and his wife, along with she and Eric, had come to play. Mutually stroking and considering another go, they watched Eric get sucked and then watched as he fucked Betty, bouncing reverse cowgirl, to a screamer. Elena hadn't been interested in more sex at the time, but now she was ready for Round Two.
Elena was bending over and rolling her stockings off her toes, her garter still on, when she felt Eric's slightly damp and warm hands spread over her exposed ass. She knew her vulva was easily visible between her legs, and Eric's sliding fingers massaged lower and lower until they dipped between her labia. She leaned forward, spreading out on the bed, and spread her feet to open herself more. Eric's one finger became two.
Her cunt throbbed. Eric added a third finger, then the thumb of his other hand curved underneath and stroked her clit. She demanded "more" with a moan.
"Flirting with that blonde bartender and fucking Carl wasn't enough tonight, huh?" he murmured. He leaned between her thighs and his soft cock rubbed between her ass cheeks.
She shook her head. "Finger me," she said.
"Did you like watching Betty suck my cock?" Eric asked. "Did you imagine teaching the bartender how I like it done?"
An image of Jess, the bartender Eric had introduced, flashed through Elena's mind's eye. The woman was shedding her suit and unbuttoning her shirt. A vision. Would Jess have just handful-sized tits or bountiful boobs? Elena had seen women in suits with both when it was uncovered; some liked to hide in androgyny, but some liked to flaunt the lines between male and female by wearing men's clothes but keep a feminine styling. She couldn't decide which type Jess might be. But the images were making her stomach quiver and her cunt hungry.
"Fuck me," Elena demanded breathlessly.
Eric now had three fingers pumping inside her. His thumb stroked just at the sides of her labia. "I think Jess could be interested," he murmured.
Eric knew how much she used her imagination in sex and he was still priming her. "Did you like seeing Betty rocking on my cock? Would you want to see me make Jess's breasts bounce? Or would you demand to fuck her first?"
Elena felt her passion rocket higher; Damn. Eric was hitting all her buttons now.
"Fuck, yes," she said, breathing hard. Her heart rapidly pounded; she moaned. Her imagination was fully charged. The memory of sweat glistening on Betty's skin made her nostrils flare as if she was filling her lungs once again with the scents of sex and sweat. Then the older blonde's face contorting in orgasmic pleasure morphed into Jess's face.
Eric now had four fingers in Elena and the sound and feel of the heel of his palm slapping her mound fed her desire even more.
"Loved the way she moved," Elena said, breathlessly. "Wanted to see her breasts so bad."
"Would you want to suck them?" he asked.
She licked her lips and squeezed her inner muscles on Eric's fingers. "Mmm hmm." When his fingers left her, she whimpered, incoherent and needy.
Eric replaced his fingers with his cock. Elena pushed up to her palms and straightened her arms. She pushed back with her hips and his penetrations deepened.
"Fuck," she growled. "Fuck me."
Wrapping his arms around her waist, Eric's forearms pressed up under her breasts. His hips slapped into her ass with each drive of his cock. Deeply and repeatedly he slammed full-length into her pulsing pussy.
"Eric," she breathed, mind spiraling on a sea of sensations.
"El." His moans joined hers. Then they both were coming. With staccato grunts, Eric held Elena still, Her muscles squeezed him and his cock released his ball's load.
Grinding back, Elena demanded more.
Eric continued moving in her, even while his cock softened. The irregular motion sent aftershocks through her quivering body. When the frantic feelings waned, her limbs became limp and her body heavy. Eric picked up Elena and settled her into the middle of the bed. She curled up, inhaling and exhaling when her overheated body came in contact with the cool cotton sheets.
Eric slid on the bed and spooned her before pulling the bedsheet over them both.
Before sleep completely took her brain offline, Elena wondered when they might go back to the club and gauge Jess's level of interest in spending some sexy time together.