Club Fantasy (28 page)

Read Club Fantasy Online

Authors: Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

“You met Rock?”
“Of course. You don't think he would have let just anyone be with you. I got here yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” She sounded like an idiot but it was all too much to absorb.
Glen told her about the previous twenty-four hours. “He was the one who suggested I become a customer to see what it was like for you.”
“Fuck him!” she exploded.
“It was the right thing to do, Jenna,” Glen said. “I might have just gone home yesterday and never spoken to you again and that wouldn't have solved anything. He said something about walking a mile in your shoes.” Glen paused. “Actually, he said I should walk a mile in your garter belt.”
Jenna chuckled through her tears. “That sounds like him.”
“Yeah. He's an unusual man. At first I thought he was your lover. The new boyfriend and all, and I was ready to hate his guts. He won me over.”
“He's really a truly special man.”
“I know.” He huffed out a breath. “Jenna, I don't know where we go from here.”
Jenna was stunned that they were having this conversation. He seemed so calm, so reasonable. Why wasn't he ranting about getting her out of this business? “Where can we go? Glen, let me be as honest as I can. I care for you. A lot. That's why I've allowed my feelings to overrule my better judgement and continued to see you. But this—” She waved her arm around the room. “—This is very important to me too. I love what I do and I don't have the usual ugly feelings about it. I understand men's needs and I cater to them. I do lots of kinky stuff.”
“Do you enjoy it all?”
“Most of it. Sometimes I just do it because I give a man his money's worth and I love to see a man enjoying good sex.”
“I can understand that. Even when I thought it was all phony, I loved seeing the look of joy on your face.”
Touched, Jenna said, “I don't want to give it up. At least not right now.”
“I didn't ask you to.”
Not ask her to give it up? “I don't understand what you're saying.”
“This evening has taught me a lot. I love you and I want you to be happy. I'm suggesting that this will wear off eventually and I'm hoping you'll come back to Seneca Falls. Until that happens, if it happens, I would like to continue seeing you on vacations, both here at Club Fantasy and back home, and let's see how it goes.”
“You're not demanding that I give this up if we're going to be together?”
“Not right now. I don't know how I'll feel a month from now, but for the moment I'd like to just leave it the way it is, with the hope that eventually we can be together, and exclusive.”
“God, Glen, I love you, and I can't believe how understanding you're being.” She found she was crying harder. “It's so good between us. Damn, I'm getting all schmaltzy, but it's so good, so special.”
Glen smoothed the pad of his thumb over her cheeks and then kissed her lightly. “I love you when you're schmaltzy.”
Jenna smiled a watery smile. “I never thought of schmaltz as love words.”
“When you say them, they are. Pay careful attention to what I'm saying. What we have is special and it's worth fighting for. I can't let you go, and I'll deal with Club Fantasy as best I can.”
“We'll make it. I know we will.”
Marcy and Glen had both been more understanding than she could have imagined. She took off her robe and climbed back into bed beside Glen. As she drifted off, in Glen's arms, she knew that it would work.
 
Two years later, as she gazed at her three-month-old daughter, Isabel, resting contentedly in her husband Glen's arms, Jenna knew that she had it all.
Dear Reader,
 
I know you enjoyed meeting Jenna, Marcy, Chloe and Rock, and all the other folks involved in Club Fantasy, as much as I did. I loved the time I spent with them writing this book and wanted to stay longer, as I'm sure you do. I couldn't leave the club without telling you Marcy's story so look for it during the summer of 2005. You'll find a sneak peek at the end of this book. Oh, and if you're curious about Erika, her story, and it's an interesting and sexy one, is told in my earlier book,
The Price of Pleasure.
Please drop me a note and let me know how you enjoyed
Club Fantasy
. You can reach me by e-mail at Joan@Joan or by snail mail at Joan Lloyd, P.O. Box 221, Yorktown Heights, NY 10598. And for information about all my books, new erotic short stories, sexual advice, and letters from visitors on a myriad of topics, drop by my website at
www.JoanELloyd.com
. I look forward to your visit.
Please turn the page for a
sneak peek of
Joan Elizabeth Lloyd's
next erotic novel
coming in August 2005 from
Kensington Publishing!
 
 
 
“I
'm going to write a book,” Marcy Bryant said to her twin sister Jenna as they settled in the living room of their house in Seneca Falls, New York, after a leisurely Easter dinner. “About Club Fantasy.”
“You're going to what?” Jenna's shocked expression was priceless. Marcy had only found out about Club Fantasy several weeks earlier, and since then she'd been incredibly curious. Writing the stories would give her a reason to delve more deeply into the high-priced bordello dedicated to fulfilling gentlemen's sexual fantasies that Jenna and her friend Chloe had founded the previous summer. Maybe she'd even learn to understand her sister. And herself.
“Write a book.” Marcy popped a jelly bean into her mouth and chewed slowly, trying to sound confident. “I've been spending a lot of time in the bookstore looking over the erotic section. I've even read several books of short stories and erotic novels. I think Club Fantasy would make a wonderful setting.”
“You're nuts. You can't do that.”
“Not only can I, but I've already written a few short stories. I changed the name to the Eros Hotel. Isn't that a fabulous name?” She knew she sounded like a lunatic but this project had become important to her.
“Marcy, you don't know anything about what I do. You couldn't understand what it's like.”
“Why not?” Marcy said, working very hard at keeping her voice bright.
“You're, well, you're just you.”
Marcy's face darkened. “If by that you mean that I'm a repressed, thirty-two-year-old, dried up, old prune ...”
“Calm down. I don't think that at all. I just meant that you haven't got a lot of experience.”
“You don't have to have been an egg to make an omelet.” And she didn't have to be a sexual
femme fatale
involved in kinky sex to write about it. She sighed. “Okay. Mixed metaphor or something. But I'm a good writer and I've written professionally.”
“I know that. Just because you wrote a few short stories that got published doesn't mean you can write erotic stuff.”
Marcy grabbed a handful of pages from the end table. “Here. Read this and if you don't think it's a viable idea I'll abide by your decision.” She paused, tightening all the panicked muscles that wanted to snatch the story back and hug it against her more than ample bosom. “But I don't think it'll be necessary because I know you'll like it.”
Marcy handed the pages to her sister, wondering how she'd react and trying to still her stomach full of kangaroos. What the hell did she know about good sex? The story was about her, a woman who'd never had a real orgasm and didn't really know much except what she'd read in stories on the Internet.
Her sister was the one with the bordello. Her sister was the one with the incredibly active sex life and the wonderful boyfriend.
She looked at Jenna, so confident, so poised. Slender, shapely, such a contrast to her own soft, blobby body. They were twins, at least it said so on their birth certificates, but in so many ways they were worlds apart. Except for their gray eyes, changeable from steel to fog, and their hair, soft brown, they were so different. As Marcy looked at her sister, she realized that even her hair had changed, now highlighted with lighter streaks and cut in a stylish shape to her shoulders, curled to frame her face.
Marcy pulled the barrette from her long ponytail, combed it with her fingers, then refastened the metal tightly around her ponytail. She looked at her nails, bitten to the quick. No, she'd never be her sister, but she could dream, couldn't she? And what made erotic short stories good? Dreams. Club Fantasy was built around them and she knew dreams. Well.
She saw the trepidation on Jenna's face as she took the pages. They were pretty good, Marcy knew that. Jenna would like them, and then Marcy could do what she'd always wanted to do, write. And maybe even get paid for it. She watched Jenna curl up in her typical position, legs tucked beneath her, and begin to read.
 
The Eros Hotel
Room 104
Love Lessons
 
“So you guarantee that I'll have an orgasm,” Alissa said.
“I don't make guarantees,” the representative of Eros Hotel said. “What I said was that if you're not satisfied, you will be granted a refund.”
“Doesn't satisfied mean that I'll have an orgasm?”
The woman said, her voice soft and cultured, “Only you will be the judge of what that word means. We guarantee satisfaction to each of our customers for every visit.” She typed a few sentences on her computer, printed out a sheet of paper and handed it to Alissa. “Read that carefully and, if you're comfortable with all the terms, sign at the bottom.”
Alissa read. The agreement said very little, just that she was going to spend an hour with some man who would make every effort to see that she was “satisfied.” There was that word again.
Oh, well,
Alissa thought,
for a thousand dollars I'd better be, and if not, I'll get my money back.
The contract stated that in very clear language. She signed.
“I'll set up a time for you, at your convenience of course, and get in touch.”
As Alissa left the Eros Hotel, she considered what she had just done. She had just celebrated, if that was the right word, her thirtieth birthday, and had finally admitted to herself that she hadn't really climaxed in all that time. Oh, she'd had lovers all right. Quite a few. And they were talented in bed. But she seemed unable to climb over the edge, make the electricity, the fireworks. The earth hadn't moved. Ever.
This guy better be good,
she thought.
For a grand, he'd better be more than good.
At five minutes to eight on the arranged evening, Alissa arrived at the Eros Hotel and was escorted to Room 104 by the same woman she had met with several days earlier. She knocked and the door was opened by a tall, slender man with wire-rimmed glasses and a slight overbite. He had soft, sandy hair, hazel eyes, and slightly larger than necessary ears. Alissa was deeply disappointed. She had pictured some dark-haired, dark-eyed, Greek-god type with a gorgeous body and great, talented hands.
Well,
she thought, looking down,
his hands are really great.
Maybe that's all that matters.
“This is Justin,” the woman said, “and he's here for your pleasure.”
God,
Alissa thought,
he's a male prostitute.
She'd never really thought about that aspect of it all before. About the guy. He must service several women each week, maybe several in a night. Ugh. Maybe not!
“It's really all right,” Justin said, taking her hand. “It's really not as bad as all that. Since I'm engaged for you for as long as you want, we can just sit and talk for a while. Then you can get a refund and be on your way.” He pulled at her hand gently and guided her into the well-furnished room. The door closed and, as they settled on the sofa, Alissa felt very alone.
“I've been told about your desires and I'm only happy to try to help. I understand that you've never climaxed. A lovely woman like you should have had a bevy of lovers, all able to please you.”
His voice held such sincerity that Alissa relaxed a bit. “I've had lovers,” she admitted. “And they were all good. But I've never—”
“How do you know they were good lovers?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard the question,” Justin said, gazing into her eyes. “How do you know they were good lovers?”
“Well, because ... well, everyone said that ... well—”
“Did any of them ask you what you wanted?”
“No.”
“Did any of them play and tease and kiss?”
“Kiss? Of course we kissed.”
“Like this?” Justin slid his arms around Alissa's shoulders and lightly touched her lips with his. His tongue slowly licked the joining of her lips until her mouth opened. Alissa was surprised when he didn't push his tongue into her mouth. Instead, he nibbled at her lower lip, licked her upper one, then moved to her jaw. He placed a line of kisses along her jawline until he reached her earlobe. He nipped at the soft flesh until she almost cried out.
When he sat back, he asked, “Like that?”
“Well,” Alissa said, “not quite like that.”
“And did you ever tell them what you wanted?”
“Of course not.”
“Why not? Don't you know what you want?”
“Well, of course I do, but it's not my place to ask.”
Justin laughed. “Why in the world not? How are they supposed to know what you want unless you tell them?”
Alissa was speechless. How indeed? But this wasn't all her fault, was it? Men were just supposed to know.
“For example,” Justin said, his mouth now close to Alissa's ear, “what do you want right now?”
I want your hands all over me,
Alissa thought, but she couldn't say it. It just wasn't her place to say. “I don't know?”
“Of course you do,” Justin said. “You're like so many women, taught to be silent during lovemaking. Never ask. Well, now you'll have to tell me.” When she hesitated, he said, “I'll make it easy. Do you want me to kiss you?”
Her body was humming, needing. She'd worked herself into quite a state waiting for this evening, and she wanted him to get to it. She did want kissing, but more, she wanted his hands. And his body. She wanted to know, to stop worrying and wondering.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Please.”
“Good,” Justin said, sliding his hands up her arms. “I love touching beautiful women.”
Alissa's eyes flew open. “Let's get one thing straight here,” she said. “I'm not beautiful. I'm an ordinary-looking woman with quite a few extra pounds, and I don't want to be lied to.”
“You are such a silly woman,” Justin said as he opened her blouse and slipped it off her shoulders. “Every woman is beautiful. Are you a movie star? Of course not. A beauty queen? No. But you are warm and soft and anxious for loving. That's beauty, and anyone who doesn't think so is crazy.”
As Alissa started to protest, Justin's hands moved to her breasts. She had always been particularly sensitive there and her dates usually found that out quite quickly. A few pinches and sucks, then whammo. Not now, she cried silently. Not this time!
Slowly Justin tossed Alissa's blouse aside and unfastened and removed her bra. He lifted her ample breasts and played with her nipples. “Do you like what I'm doing?”
“Oh, yes,” she said.
“Would you like me to continue or do something else.”
She couldn't speak.
“Tell me.” He leaned down and took one hard nipple into his mouth. Gently he sucked it deeper, increasing the pressure until she thought she would explode. “I know what you like,” he said. “It's obvious to anyone who cares, but I want you to begin to control the lovemaking. Tell me what you want.”
“More.”
“Of what?”
Alissa swallowed hard. “Suck me like you did.”
“Good,” he growled, taking possession of her other nipple. As he sucked, he rhythmically squeezed the other. Alissa could feel the rhythm echoing through her body and deep between her legs.
For long minutes he played with her breasts, lightly biting, pinching, teasing, until Alissa felt hungry for more. “Tell me,” he whispered. “You will have to tell me.”
“I need more,” she whispered, barely recognizing the sound of her own voice.
“What do you need?”
Alissa almost cried. “I can't.”
“You can't tell me, yet,” he said, taking her hand. “So show me. Where do you want me to touch you?”
Again, Alissa swallowed. Then she took his hand and slid it down her belly and between her legs. “Good,” he said. “So good. I know that was hard for you, but you will see how much easier it will become to ask for what you want, what you need.”
He began to stroke her through her slacks. She was getting wetter and wetter, her legs opening wider of their own accord, her hips moving to increase the pressure of his fingers. Needing more direct contact, Alissa unbuttoned her slacks.
“I will do that,” Justin said, moving her hand away from her pants. “You have to ask.”

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