Page 16 of Vengeance of Childhood Proportions (Till Death Do Us Part #7)
Chapter Six
Mal
Since the club wasn’t open yet, I had not expected the glory hole to be occupied when I went into the men’s room to take a piss prior to departing.
The latch was down indicating someone was inside the stall.
After draining the lizard, I walked with my dick out over to the stall.
I needed something impersonal right then, something that would get that sexy little owl out of my head.
There weren’t rules about gender in the bathroom glory holes.
That was a bit of the point. It was a mouth.
All of the subs inside were collared or had a Dom overseeing them.
An uncollared sub was not allowed to enter into the stalls because there were no cameras in the bathrooms. That was why the stalls were designed with a latch.
Someone couldn’t enter and latch themselves in.
Some of the Doms or Dommes got off putting their subs inside to suck strangers off. Others did it as a punishment. I didn’t care. They were a mouth, and I needed to release some tension.
I customarily tapped twice on the edge of the hole with my finger before inserting my cock. I was only half hard.
Immediately a wet heat consumed my dick.
I leaned into the stall wall, raising a hand over my head to balance myself.
I let out a small sigh, letting the person on the other side work their tongue and lips over the mushroom head of my cock.
The stiffness in my neck nearly evaporated at the contact.
The sub on the other side of the wall knew what they were doing, too.
I’d had a lot of blowjobs in my life, and despite popular belief amongst teenage boys, there was such a thing as a bad blowjob.
This was a very good blowjob…and yet I wasn’t getting harder.
They took me all the way into their mouth, hollowing their cheeks as they sucked. The tip of my cock hit the back of their throat until they changed their angle to take me further. And still…I didn’t get harder.
I dropped my other hand to my balls, massaging them through my pants since I hadn’t dropped trou. I closed my eyes but immediately saw the little owl on the dance pole.
She’d been wearing a black corset, accentuating her lean waist. It had clearly been designed for her.
I loved how the ribbons and laces held it together instead of clips.
The intricacies of the bodice made it look like she had minuscule feathers all over her chest and torso.
Her boots made her look taller than she had been, but there was a reason I called her ‘Little Owl’ inside my head. She was petite, yet muscled.
It took a lot of upper body strength to work the pole as she had been with such precision.
She hadn’t just been gyrating around it or making obscene gestures to get guys off and extra tips.
The way she moved, lost in the music, made me believe that she’d barely even noticed her audience.
She hadn’t been dancing for them, but for herself.
She’d moved with such grace and poise, using the entire height of the pole.
I wanted to see her dance again. This time, though, I wanted her dancing for me . I wanted her eyes on me .
The black thong she’d been wearing revealed her succulent ass—and, fuck, the things I wanted to do to that ass. I wanted to see it red, wanted to see it bounce as I fucked her tight puckered hole, wanted to see it striped with a tattoo of my name…
Holy fuck!
The orgasm came out of nowhere. I’d completely forgotten about the anonymous mouth around my dick or where I was.
The fantasy had me mindlessly rocking my hips into the hole.
The heat was all-encompassing as they licked the underside of my cock as I jizzed down the back of their throat.
My eyes rolled back in my head, my knees almost giving out.
My clammy palm on the wall offered no support as my balls tightened up.
They milked me dry, pulling off slowly and then taking me back inside.
I was a shaky, sweaty mess—and it had absolutely nothing to do with the mouth currently engulfed around my dick.
I leaned my forehead on the wall next to my hand. What the fuck was that ?
I’d had a lot of fantasies over the years. Most involved a specific scene or setting, but the sub was generally faceless. I’d never been attached to a woman before. I was thirty-seven fucking years old and, what, I was experiencing my first crush ?
It was so pathetic and not like me in the slightest.
I was the guy who walked away. Always.
Never looked back, never did a double take, never felt nostalgic. So what the fuck was it about that little owl that had me so twisted inside?
I pulled my limp dick from the hole. It was coated in spit, dripping with it actually.
Thankfully, there was a sink right next to the stall.
Next to the soap and paper towel dispensers was an additional one with toilet paper.
My dick appreciated Valentino’s foresight about not wiping down with rough paper towels.
Once cleaned up, I zipped up my pants. My black slacks hid any wet spots I’d missed, though I was pretty sure it was all saliva because the sub had swallowed everything else.
Then I washed and wiped my hands. I couldn’t shake that unbalanced feeling. I’d gone to the glory hole to relieve some stress and perhaps fuck the little owl out of my head. But it was almost like the action had cemented her there. I wanted to find her now more than ever.
I was better off going home. I didn’t have any open contracts right now, but I still had women I could call to help get the sexy owl out of my system. Whatever this was, it wasn’t healthy and I couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Something was going on in Atelihai Valley, and I had a feeling it was just getting started.
Two DBs in two weeks, both obviously staged?
Yeah, something major was going on over there.
Mira and I were due in Anchorage in the morning for a different case.
I really should go home, just call up one of the women I knew wouldn’t say no to me, and use her as I’d used the sub inside that glory hole.
Fuck, I really was an asshole. Because why would I expect fucking another woman tonight would have a different result when clearly the sub I’d just mouth-fucked hadn’t done the trick? Wasn’t that Einstein’s exact definition of insanity?
I stormed out of the restroom. Despite my orgasm, I was even more stressed than when I’d gone in there to take a piss.
I needed a fucking drink. That’s what I really needed. I wasn’t planning on fucking, so Valentino’s single-drink rule did not apply to me. I did have to drive home because I needed my car in the morning, but two drinks wouldn’t put me on my ass.
The main room of Snow Chains was roughly eight hundred square feet.
The four massive support beams helped create visual sections, as did the stages that surrounded the edges.
The stage with the burlesque pole was glaringly empty.
Liam had finished setting up the chairs towards the stage with the frame that now housed a gyno chair.
I offhandedly wondered why the frame and the chair were there, but honestly didn’t care that much to seek out the answer.
Two drinks, then home. If I got drunk enough once inside my house and ended up calling one of the subs in my contacts then it wouldn’t be the worst decision I’d ever made in my lifetime.
Fuck, I was turning into a whining idiot and I wasn’t even drunk yet. What the fuck was wrong with me? If Master David could see inside my head right now, he’d be laughing his fucking ass off.
A woman was at the bar talking to Joey, leaning over the top to talk with him.
My eyes landed on her jean-clad ass and my eyebrows raised in appreciation.
I certainly was not upset about that view.
The green mesh shirt revealed a toned, lean frame.
Her wavy blonde hair was cropped around her ears and there was something black sticking out from the side of her face that I couldn’t make out because her back was to me. Or, should I say, her ass was to me.
Joey caught my eye as I approached and he gave a pointed look down at the woman. The bartender was holding up a bottle of vodka. From my distance, I couldn’t tell what drink he was making.
I sat down at the bar with a seat between the woman and me. Joey gave me another pointed look, but my eyes were locked on a reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator behind the bar.
The reflection of an owl mask.