Club Fantasy (16 page)

Read Club Fantasy Online

Authors: Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

“Not quite?” Toby said, his eyebrows rising to meet the hair that fell across his forehead. “What does that mean?”
How was she going to say it? “I've sort of gotten into a business that takes up a lot of my evenings.”
“That's great. I hope it's helping your finances.” She'd once mentioned her money worries to Toby.
“Oh, it certainly has.”
Toby leaned forward on his elbows and said, “So tell me about it.”
Still stalling for time, she opened a packet of sugar and dumped the contents in her coffee, then added cream. “Chloe and I are doing some entertaining?”
“You mean like parties?”
“Not quite. We're entertaining men.” She stirred her coffee.
“Entertaining how?”
She could see the wheels turning in Toby's head. “The obvious way, I guess.”
Toby leaned further forward and hissed, “You can't mean that the way I'm thinking.”
“I guess I do.”
“You've become a prostitute?”
“I don't think of it that way,” she said, watching his body tighten and his elbows draw closer to his sides. “We're providing a much-needed service.” It sounded suddenly hollow.
“A service. Right.” He was now talking through gritted teeth. “You told me Chloe was a free spirit so I guess she suckered you into something. You should really pick your friends better.”
Jenna was annoyed at his characterization of her best friend. “Chloe didn't sucker me into anything,” she said, her face tightening. “We're doing this together and I'm enjoying it.”
“Enjoying it?” he said, his voice now bitter. “You've got to be kidding.”
“Toby,” she said, reaching across the table and placing her hands over his clenched fists. “It's not as bad as you think. These are nice men who need—”
“A whore,” he spat. “And you're it.”
“I didn't have to tell you but I wanted to share with you what's become a large part of my life.”
He pulled his hands away. With a rueful smile, he said, “I thought we had something going for us.”
“We did—do.”
She watched as he stood, his back rigid, and dropped several bills on the table. “No, we don't.” He turned on his heel and stalked out of the restaurant.
Jenna watched his back disappear through the front door. Could she blame him? If she were being honest, she didn't. Not really. What if the situations had been reversed? How would she have felt if he'd told her he entertained women for money? Now she might understand, but three months ago? Before any of this had started? She probably would have walked out the same way Toby had.
Well,
she thought, as she gathered up her purse and sweater,
that certainly means I'm not going to tell Marcy.
If that was how Toby reacted, she wouldn't risk telling her sister. She might hate subterfuge, but she'd hate this kind of reaction from her sister so very much more.
Deeply saddened, and resigned to her silence, she headed home.
 
Most of the evenings at Club Fantasy were pretty routine. The motel room was still the most popular location for acting out erotic dreams, but the Western room appealed to several men when it was suggested. They had a call for something unusual a few days later and they didn't have to create a new room for it.
Jeff Marcus had always dreamt about women and water. He'd bought X-rated films in which large-breasted women stood under waterfalls, in heavy rain, or played with hoses. His favorites, however, were movies in which women showered, lathering their bodies until they were slick with soap, and then sluicing water over their naked breasts, bellies and legs. He wasn't obsessed, but it was close. He thought about finding a way to peek into women's bathrooms but he wouldn't have dared. Then he heard about Club Fantasy from a business associate. “I was flabbergasted,” his friend Mark had said. “They had a room all set up like a Western sheriff's office and this sweet Western woman thanked me in every way possible for killing the man who'd shot her father. And I do mean every way possible.”
“That's sounds interesting,” Jeff responded, trying not to sound too eager. “How did it all work?”
“First, over coffee with this really understanding woman, I talked about what I wanted, and she set it all up. She said they can do lots of different fantasies. It's pretty pricey but it's really worth it. You thinking of doing it?”
Jeff quickly jumped in. “Not a chance. It's an interesting concept, though. A fantasy brothel.”
That was when it took root in his mind. His own fantasy. He began to embellish it, only minimally concerned that he was building it up so much that it could never live up to his expectations. Who cared? The long-term creation was the pleasure, the acting out only the momentary interlude.
Once he'd decided on the details he used the phone number he'd gotten from his friend's address book and called. “My friend Mark Hoskins recommended you folks,” he said to the friendly voice on the other end of the phone. “Could we meet and talk about things?” He had no doubts, no hesitation. He knew what he wanted and hoped that Club Fantasy could get it for him.
 
Jenna listened, clearly remembering Mark and their hours in the Western room. She'd initially checked Mark up in Erika's database and found him listed as a valued client with enough money to afford whatever he wanted. He was now in Jenna's PDA with a similar code.
Chloe met with Jeff at a small bar in the East Fifties and later related the conversation to Jenna.
“I want to watch a woman shower through a clear shower curtain. Actually, without a curtain would be even better,” he'd said to Chloe, who'd introduced herself as Melissa Mallory, her business name. “She should be medium height with brown hair and big breasts.”
“As you can imagine it's difficult to satisfy physical requirements, especially since you've created someone so specific. We can provide a woman who meets your general requirements, but she might not be exactly the woman you're dreaming of.”
“Is she built? I want someone who's built.”
“Jeff, you've obviously given this a lot of thought and I worry that we won't be able to create a fantasy that will live up to what you've already imagined.”
“Of course,” he snapped. “I understand all that. I want you to come as close as you can.”
“We give you a money-back guarantee up to a point but you understand that we can't be responsible for making everything live up to your very high expectations.”
He paused, then seemed to relax. “I guess I seem pretty sure of myself and in ways I am. I thought it would impress you that I knew exactly what I wanted. Frankly, I'm a little nervous about all this as well.” His small smile made him much more likeable. “I know you have limitations and I know too that you'll do your best. You really do come highly recommended.”
“With that understood,” Chloe said, opening a personal digital assistant and tapping a few spots with the stylus, “how's next Thursday at seven.”
“That would be fine.”
“So it seems you've got a client Thursday evening,” she said to Jenna. “It will certainly be the cleanest encounter you've had.” The two women laughed.
 
At seven, Chloe ushered Jeff in and led him upstairs. She showed him into the upstairs bathroom and guided him to a canvas director's chair they'd set up beside the beige plastic, molded shower stall with its clear plastic shower curtain. She watched him settle in, kick off his shoes, and wait for the show to begin. She slipped out and closed the door behind her.
It was only a few moments until Jenna walked in, dressed in a tight, black, cropped shirt and skin-tight jeans. She watched him look her over and, from his expression, knew that he admired her flat stomach and lightly tanned skin. He grinned when his gaze settled on her bare feet. “Hi,” she said. “I'm Hillary. I'm ready for a nice long shower.”
“Right,” he said, but it came out more like a grunt.
While he watched, Hillary began to remove her clothes. Since he had such a clear idea of what he wanted, she asked, “Shirt first?”
“Please.”
Revealing her skin only an inch at a time, she sensuously raised her top. She had great tits, spilling out over the tops of her bra cups. The bra was a medley of bright red lace and black flowers, the flowers carefully arranged so that her nipples were hidden. He squirmed waiting for them to be revealed.
“Which would you like next?” Jenna asked. “Jeans or this,” she said, stroking the sides of her bra.
He cleared his throat. “Jeans,” he said, and she pulled them off. Color rose in his cheeks. “Panties,” he said. As Jenna pulled the tiny wisp of lace and flowers down her long legs, she had an idea. She handed the panties to Jeff. “You can keep them.” She loved the way he trembled as he cradled the silk in his hands.
Before removing the last of her clothing Jenna reached into the shower and turned on the water, carefully adjusting the temperature. Then she reached behind her and unclipped her bra, allowing her generous breasts to spill out. “I love to use one of those scrunchy bath things. Is that okay with you?”
“Fine,” he managed to say, running the panties through his fingers.
Jenna pulled the curtain to one side and climbed inside. She poured bath gel onto a pure white bath latherer and started to soap her body. She thought that the white of the scrubby would contrast wonderfully with her tanned skin. She threw her head back and lathered her chest, swirling around her size-C tits and now erect nipples. Water poured down her body, running into all the sexy places as he watched.
“Wash your cunt,” he said.
“Of course,” Jenna said, and slid the scrunchy between her thighs.
“More.” She washed again and again. “Use your hands on your tits and your cunt.”
Suddenly he leaped to his feet. He ripped of his clothes, pulled back the curtain, climbed into the shower, and knelt between Jenna's thighs. Her bush was just at the height of his mouth and he dove in, licking and sucking, water pouring over both of them. Jenna leaned against the shower wall and braced Jeff's head with her hands as he licked.
Without stopping his tongue and lips he reached down, wrapped his hand around his cock and, with only one or two strokes, came. He continued to suck until he got hard again and then came a second time, sliding down the wall until he was sitting on the shower floor.
Jenna turned off the water, climbed out of the shower, handed him a thick white bath towel, and dropped several more in the puddles on the floor. With Jenna now wrapped in a large bath sheet, Jeff dried and dressed. In a sort of daze, he walked down the stairs and out of the building.
 
Suddenly, as if flood gates had opened, Club Fantasy had more clients than they could manage. Friends of previous customers were calling and Erika was suggesting their services to many of her customers. Several of her employees were using the rooms as well and giving part of their fees to Club Fantasy. Men were arriving and departing at all hours and, since Jenna had more time during the day, she was doing a lot of the leg work, finding props and costumes for the fantasies they were acting out. In addition to the motel room, a very popular spot for hooker fantasies, they also used that room for the “burglar and victim” and for several superhero playlets. The tax fund was now bulging and they decided that each woman would keep half, then quickly changed it to three quarters, of the money she received.
Chloe was popular with men who wanted to play with a tiny, cuddly woman. She played Southern belle and virginal bride. Jenna, on the other hand, played the sophisticated neighbor's wife, the strong business woman who conducted erotic “job interviews,” and the society matron picked up in a bar. Many of the encounters were filmed, for a hefty, extra fee.
By mid-November, Jenna and Chloe found they had little time for their own dates. They had decided that they would never be alone in the house with a client, just in case, so one of them let the man in and guided him to the appropriate room, then just stayed around or, on rare occasions, had their own client. It soon became both necessary and possible to carve time out for themselves, so they made a house rule that Mondays and Tuesdays were off-limits so that they had a few evenings for themselves.
Club Fantasy had become a thriving business.
Chapter
9
A
few weeks before Thanksgiving, Erika called and asked to pay a visit to the brownstone. “I'm dying of curiosity to see your place and I've got someone I want you to meet. What time would be good for you two?”
At five the following afternoon the doorbell rang. Chloe had gotten out of work early and, when she opened the door, Erika walked in, clutching her heavy, black coat around herself to keep out the freezing drizzle that had begun several hours earlier. As Jenna leaned forward to buss Erika's cheek, a man filled the doorway. He was well over six feet tall, with a completely shaved head and heavy, angular features that would have looked ridiculous on a smaller man but made him, if not exactly handsome, arrestingly masculine. Although his skin was dark, his eyes were piercing blue, and his lips were full and sensual. A large diamond stud winked in his right ear. He was wearing a heavy, black trench coat and Jenna thought he'd look right at home in a James Bond movie. She wasn't sure which side he'd be working for.
“This is Martin Rockford—his friends call him Rock. He's someone I want you two to get to know and I'll explain why later.” She turned to the huge man and said, “Rock, this is Jenna and Chloe.”
“It's nice to meet you two,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft, with a slight Southern accent, a strange contrast to his hard features. Jenna took his coat and, as he stuffed his gloves and knit hat in the pocket, she noticed that his hands were wide-palmed with long, blunt fingers. He looked like a professional wrestler, a look compounded by the form-fitting, long-sleeved, black sweater and black slacks he wore. Below his left sleeve he wore a watch that had more dials than the cockpit of a 747, and encircling the other wrist she saw the tattoo of a thick-linked chain. Jenna thought that should have made him look like a gang member or a high-level mafioso, but it all looked somehow proper on Rock.
“Nice to meet you too.”
“Now show me around,” Erika said, dropping her coat on a living-room chair. “I'm so envious of you, having a place like this for entertaining. Everything Courtesans, Inc., does is either in a small apartment I have on the West Side or in someone's hotel room. This is so fabulous.”
For the next half-hour, the four wandered around the brownstone. Jenna and Chloe showed off the sheriff's office, the motel room which, she explained, with a few changes could become a bridal suite, a European hotel during World War II where spies hid, or the recently added British drawing room where the master of the house was entertained by the chambermaid.
They climbed to the top floor and entered a new addition, a desert retreat. Chloe and Jenna had covered the floor with heavy plastic sheeting and poured a hundred pounds of sand over it. They had draped the ceiling and walls with canvas and hung ropes here and there, all rigged up to look like a Bedouin's tent. They'd added satin fringe, attached a few poles to the walls with one central one, well braced and anchored to the floor. They'd covered everything with the sand, then topped it with a small carpet and added lots of pillows from the attic.
As she looked at the room, Jenna remembered her interview with the man who inspired the desert room.
Jenna had met with Leo Martin, a man recommended by Chloe's old boyfriend Frank. She assumed that at least the Martin part was a pseudonym since he'd stumbled over it when he'd introduced himself. Many of Club Fantasy's clients, she realized early on, gave phony names but good references. Leo was of medium height and build with a head full of short, tight-blond curls.
How many women,
Jenna wondered,
would give how much money to have hair like that?
He was in his early thirties, with soft hazel eyes and very white skin. He had a slight gap between his two front teeth that showed when he spoke about his desire to ravish a woman.
At first, Jenna had wondered whether being the one to talk to the customer at their first meeting and then being the central character in a fantasy would interfere with a man's ability to lose himself in the moment, but she quickly found out that it didn't matter to most customers.
When she asked Leo whether he minded if she played in his fantasy, he said he didn't mind at all. He actually looked flushed and delighted, as if having Jenna play with him was a stroke of luck. He did, however, mention at one point that he wanted his woman to have long blond hair but that was easily handled. She'd just have to find a good theatrical-wig store. If Dolly Parton could do all her on-stage gymnastics in the fantastic wigs she wore, Jenna could certainly manage.
Jenna and Leo talked for an hour as he explained his desires. He wanted to be a sheik from a desert clan who'd just captured a beautiful woman from a neighboring tribe. It quickly became obvious to Jenna that she'd be playing her first submissive fantasy. From all the reading she'd done she knew that many men fantasized about being in complete charge of lovemaking, so she wasn't surprised by Leo's request. She was confident that she could trust him and setting up for his fantasy should be fun. Every new dream gave her fresh outlets for creativity in the construction of the scene and increased depths of understanding of the way men's minds worked. She also learned more about herself with every encounter.
As she set up the sheik's tent, she included a wooden post, well anchored to the floor, for her to be tied to. She scattered lots of scarfs and silk cords around the room for binding if Leo wanted, but it sounded like he wanted his force of will to subdue her. Something new was being added to her repertoire of sexual activities and she was eager to see how she'd react to being controlled. Of course, Leo would never know whether she really enjoyed their scene or not, since Jenna would be sure he was completely satisfied.
She entered MG Props and Costumes the morning of the appointment. Manny greeted her like an old friend. “Jenna, it's so good to see you. You're becoming my best customer.”
She extended her hand and found it enclosed in both of Manny's. Manny Grossman was the stereotypical small Jewish man with a hooked nose, and a full beard and moustache. “It's nice to see you again, Manny.”
“What do you need today? And don't tell me it's for a surprise for your boyfriend. You can't be surprising him that often.”
“Let's not talk about why. I need a harem outfit for me with lots of bangles and a sheik sort of thing for my husband.” She maintained the illusion that she was partying in private.
Manny shook his head. “Come on, Jenna, this can't be for partying with your husband. You must be running some kind of theatrical business to be here so often, but you just keep most of my stuff for a few days. A repertory company?”
As good a cover story as any. “You guessed it,” Jenna said, trying not to giggle. “It's a private sort of thing. Can I just go in the back and see what I can find?”
“Of course. You know your way around here almost as well as I do. Help yourself.”
When she returned to the front of the warehouse with the items she needed, Manny stroked his beard and said, “If you ever need a little Jewish guy for your company, let me know.”
Jenna couldn't help laughing. “I'll certainly keep you in mind.” She leaned across the counter and kissed him on the cheek. “I think you'd be perfect.”
Just before Leo arrived, Jenna sat down on one of the pillows beneath the tent. She had dressed in Manny's gauzy, harem costume, a jeweled bolero top that ended just below her breasts and a pair of harem pants, held around her hips with a sequined girdle, that revealed more than it hid. She wore no jewelry and her feet were bare, her toes unpolished. The hair of her long, blond wig was straight and hung almost to her waist. She flipped it forward so it covered her breasts. When she finally heard footsteps, she slipped her arm into a circle of rope attached to the center pole, pulled it tight, lowered her head, and waited.
Chloe had showed Leo where to change into the costume Jenna had rented and, as he walked into the room, his desert robes swirled around his ankles. Jenna tightened her muscles so her body quivered and kept her head down. Playing a scene like this one brought out all her theatrical skills. As she did with every customer, she wanted to give Leo an experience as close to his dreams as she could, so she immersed herself in the scene. Maybe Manny wasn't far off. Club Fantasy was a repertory company of sorts.
“I see they dressed you and left you here for my pleasure,” Leo said as he strode around the room. Although his step was sure, his voice was trembling.
Jenna raised her head defiantly and thrust out her chin. “I don't belong to you.”
“You do now. You were trespassing on my kingdom,” he said. “I am the ruler of everything you see, as far as you can see. Since you intruded on my land you are now mine to do with as I choose.”
Jenna recognized the opening lines of a short script she'd written for Leo. He'd had a definite idea of what he wanted, but since he was unsure about how to begin she'd suggested that she write a few opening lines for him to use as a jumping-off point. She relaxed her body and lowered her head. “I'm sorry, sir,” she said, “I didn't know. If you'll just have one of your men set me on the right road, I'll never bother you again.”
“How do you happen to be out here alone?” he asked, his voice a bit steadier.
“I was foolish,” she said, “and ran away from my caravan when my father threatened to beat me.”
“Then no one knows where you are?”
“No, sir,” she said, her voice soft and timid.
She sensed his smile and the strengthening of his tone. “Then you are mine. If you please me, I might let you live.”
“Let me live?” She sounded shocked and indignant. “I have done nothing.” She pulled at the rope that bound her wrist to the center pole of the “tent.” “Let me go.”
“Silence!” he snapped, adjusting his stance so that his feet were spread, his hands resting on his hips.
Jenna smiled inwardly. He had reached the end of the lines Jenna had written and now seemed more confident. She wondered what he'd choose to do with her now.
He unfastened her wrist, then said, “Stand up and let me look at you.”
Slowly she got to her feet, her toes digging into the layer of sand on the floor and finding the carpet beneath. He used the crook of his index finger to raise her chin. “You're not too bad to look at,” he said, turning her face first right, then left. “I might enjoy you.”
Her voice quavered as she slipped more deeply into the part she was playing. “Enjoy me? What are you going to do?”
“You're a woman with a vivid imagination. I'm sure you can think of something to convince me not to just send you out into the desert to be food for the buzzards.”
When she remained silent, he barked, “Bare your breasts. I want to see what I've captured.” She deliberately didn't move so Leo snapped, “When I tell you to do something, do it immediately! This is the last time I will tell you to do something twice. Bare your breasts!”
With fumbling fingers she unhooked the top of her outfit and let it fall to the ground. Her shoulders remained hunched, her hair hiding her skin as she cowered before “her master.” She had covered an old beanbag chair with a length of red satin fabric and Leo now settled into it, stretching his legs in front of him. “Stand up straight!”
Slowly she straightened her spine. It wasn't unusual that, as they got deeper and deeper into a scenario, Jenna would lose more and more of herself to it. She actually felt trapped by this powerful desert prince.
“Dance for me.”
“Dance?” she said. “I don't know how.”
“Do you want me to tell you twice?” He slapped her lightly on her thigh. “Say, no, sir.”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Then dance, and you'd better please me.”
Awkwardly at first, then with increasing confidence, she undulated her body, closing her eyes and letting her long blond hair drape over her now bare breasts. She loved the tickling of the wig-hair over her swelling nipples. Hips swiveling, shoulders rising and falling, she danced for several minutes watching Leo's eyes as he watched her. Slowly a smile spread over his face. Feeling bold, she used her hands to lift her breasts and teasingly offer them to him, then she backed away.

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