The Diamond Club (18 page)

“Then silence will be our song.” he said. “until next time.”

I’m sure he’ll be back to the Club for another show.

The Business Card

You know, I’ve always heard of his name. Heard the rumors. Michael Hunt, the Guy with the Golden Tongue. I’ve… always thought of rumors like that as bullshit. No man could ever live up to the legend, live up to the hype. Live up to the unsaid expectations that come along with all the buzz. But, walking into the Diamond Club, I saw… good friends. Good lovers. Amazing fucks. And as I sidled up to the bar, I saw it.

A stark white card, paper soft, the type bold and black. In big, “Michael Hunt”. Below that, “I want to fuck you.” Further below, a simple number. I’ve never thought a piece of paper could be so maddeningly arrogant, but… if you’re that bold just in paper form, I have to see what you are in the flesh.

It wasn’t until I thought that, until I realized that I’ve already dialed the number.
“This is Michael.”

“… Brianna Young? I found your—”

“— card in the Diamond Club.” I could hear the impish grin on his voice, almost imagine the taste of good scotch on his breath.

“… How did you…?”

“Drive to Central and 55th. Two hours from now. And dress nice for me, I want to see if you’re worthy of me.”

Click. His end, not mine. The silence on my handset told volumes, really.

Let’s see, how am I dressed right now? I mean, he must have guessed that I was at the Diamond Club, and as such, was already dressed to the nines. Slinky ruby dress, the kind of dark sultry red that only cherries really have. Absolutely clinging to my form, showing the curve of my waist, the flare of hips, a slit showing off one leg, bare save for the red pumps and simple black stocking. Breasts pushed up, absolutely on lavish display, the black bra performing that trick just barely visible under that crimson satin. Hell, I turn even me on. Probably one of the hottest pieces of ass in the club right right now. Fuck the special preparation. If he doesn’t like me as I am now, then he has to be fucking blind.

It’s about an half-hour commute from the Diamond Club to that little parking lot. He must have figured I’d take some time getting ready for him, the little scamp. But… I chickened out on the way, slid into a Walgreens, just to see how I looked in the mirror. By the stares and ogles I got all around me, well, I didn’t really make it to that bathroom. No real need to. So, as I parked that car… there was nothing. Hell, I could have imagined tumble weed drifting lazily across that blacktop, if I didn’t know better. It’s not like I could get a great look from that driver’s seat, so I got out, and walked around my car. Peering into the late evening scene, looking for anything. It wasn’t until I got to around the trunk of my car, before I could feel a presence slip up behind me.

“Brianna. How nice of you to come.”

I smirked, and tried to face him, but his strong hands went to pin mine to the trunk of my car. A slight grind of his body against my back, just chest and hips. His voice floated dark and mysterious, like rich chocolate, across the curve of my neck.

“You came well prepared…”

I could only really manage a stammer, a slight shiver through my body.

“But you didn’t dress up for me.”

Damn.

“It’s no matter, of course, you’re more than adequate for my services.”

Those hands slid up my arms slowly, almost deliberately, his lips reaching out to touch neck, to drift across softly, tongue flitting out to lap lazily at skin. I tried to speak.

“But how can I know what you look like?”

“Shush, girl. You really don’t need to know that.”

At that, those hands slid straight to breasts, an almost gentle cupping, a light grind of his center to my ass, chest pressed against back. My arms were free, but they only really seemed to want to press against car, push myself into that form. A soft moan accompanying that.

He chuckled slightly out, the kiss turning into a sharp little suckle at the side of neck, his hands sliding down to the sides of waist, touching, feeling how the satin clings to that sultry shape, his continuing grind slow, ultimately intimate, almost lingering on my form. I could feel him grow hard under his jeans, felt between my ass.

“Lay down. Face down, and spread wide.”

His voice continued to be soft and mysterious, but there was a firmness just underneath that, something that let me know that this was no mere request. So, my arms slowly grew slack, body laying across the simple sheen of car, ass raised provocatively, legs spread, long and elegant, braced to leave me free-standing, a canvas as to let him paint with that long-rumored tongue.

His actions remain almost gentle, almost loving, his form sliding down, those strong hands sliding down the outsides of my thighs, down, and under the dress. He simply slides under, the slit down leg giving that fabric a lot of freedom, those hands sliding back up to press against the orbs of ass, a very sultry squeeze, his nose moving to press against my center, through panties.

I let out a slight yelp of a moan, my form tensing slightly under that attention, blushing bright. There’s a car that drives down the street, that reminds me that I’m still in public. Kind of hard to remember that right now. Part of me hopes they don’t see this. Most of me simply doesn’t care.

His hands will simply go to pull down those panties, I help him by slightly stepping out of them, and he bursts forth to almost attack my pussy, licking lewdly, the back of his head rubbing against my license plate, both of his hands simply rubbing against the tops of my thighs, an utter caress to contrast with this tongue work. He’s building a rhythm, a masterful rhythm, applying pressure, and right when I start to really build up, tensed and ready for release, he lets up. Damn him! I’ve never really wanted to come more urgently in my life as much as I do right now. He’s lingering, and seemingly wanting this to last for months, his hand sliding up to press against my clit, a simple press, a rub, as if to challenge me. To dare me to come.

I don’t last a whole lot longer after that press to my bud, crying out in utter ecstasy, the sound echoing off of the for-lease strip-mall storefronts.
He’ll let out a throaty chuckle, despite him still licking, a sound I’ll remember to this day. But, after a few minutes of lingering on my hot cunt, he’ll move out, simply go to stand, and push up my dress just slightly.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

I can’t answer any other way, voice a little breathless.

“Fuck me, Mike. Fuck me.”

He chuckles again, with that impish grin still on his voice, as he pressed in close, his cock slipping into my hot and needful pussy, his lips moving back to the back of my neck, a simple bite, almost claiming me as his. But, the way my hips rise to meet his, the way I slightly rock on my car to aid in that rhythm, the slight whimpers and moans issuing from my ample chest… it’s quite clear that tonight? I’m clearly his, without reservation.

That hot fuck lasts for a few minutes still, starting off, as it always did with him, tender, ramping up to furious passion, his hand pressing back against my clit. Golden tongue may be true, but it’s that touch, the golden touch of his fingers against the top of my clit, that I will always treasure more. I come with a slight whimper, body shaking, walls tensing around his cock, which seems to be the trick to get him off too, plunging deep as he comes inside of me.

We both lay quiet for a couple of minutes, motionless and close, before he simply says. “Be at peace, Brianna Young.” He goes to push off at me, and goes to walk away.

I quaked at bit, getting up a slight challenge, a smoothing of dress down just in case someone catches me now. But, as I turned around to see that man, he was gone as soon as he arrived.

I never did see him. But as I got into my car, and saw that simple card looking back up at me… well, I had to stick that in my wallet. Keep it with me.

You never know when you’ll need it.

The Honeymoon

While in Yoga class, I received a text message on my smartphone from a number I didn’t recognize: Meat me at the Diamond Club at 6:00. Ive got a proposition for ya, thx. Who could this be? And why did this person want to meet me? I didn’t have time to clean up. As soon as class ended, I headed straight to the Diamond Club in my sweats.

When I arrived, the place was buzzing with people, an unusual amount of activity for a Thursday. I made my way inside through the crowd, and everyone was single-filed entering a side room filled with candlelit tables and a dark stage. I sat down at a table towards the back by myself. Suddenly, a voice came over the loudspeaker.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Craig Fondelier and Madame Carollo!”

The crowd broke into applause. Fondelier? Could he be related to Les Fondelier?

The lights above the stage came on as an older man with distinguished gray in his hair made his way to the stage with a small trunk. He laid it on the ground and opened it. Inside was a hideous ventriloquist dummy, with a rat’s nest of a black wig on its head and wearing a miniature dirty wedding dress. He sat in a chair and propped the puppet on his leg.

“Madame,” Craig said, “tell me how your day went.” Then Craig goes on to speak in a gravelly voice as Madame that I couldn’t make heads or tails of, but I think Madame was talking about peanut allergies. The wooden mouth chewed up and down.

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulders from the shadows. I turned to look. It was Les. He pulled up a chair and sat next to me.

“Hope I didn’t scare you,” he said.

“No, no you didn’t,” I replied.

“Did you get my text?”

“It was you?”

“I got your number off your website.”

“My website?”

“You know, Fullydateable.com. It’s listed under contacts.”

“Wow, I should really take that off.”

“Yes, you should.” He placed his hand on my thigh and rubbed me. A burst of laughter erupted from the audience. “That’s my pops on stage.”

“Your father?”

“Yeah, my pops. Good man. He’s a made man. When I turned eighteen he handed me over a cool five million in cash to make up for child support.”

I didn’t respond. I was stunned. Dia Monde was a wealthy lady, but I didn’t put two and two together.

Les continued to rub my inner thigh, and we sat back to watch the whole show, my seat becoming moist, thinking back to our tryst in the airport. I could feel the chair dripping down my leg.

Afterwards, when the audience filed out, Les took my hand and led me up a corridor that led to backstage. I followed, suspicious, but I was curious as to what this “proposition” was all about.

He opened a door shadowed in the dark to reveal a bright white dressing room. Craig stood in front of the vanity mirror picking his teeth. When we entered, he turned to see us standing there.

“Les! My boy!” he thrilled.

“Hey, Pops, this is the girl I told you about,” Les said.

I blushed and tried to hide my face with my hair. He really told his father about me? Out of all the other women Les banged?

“Sit, please sit, Brianna,” Craig instructed me. I found a place on the black leather couch in the back of the room, centering a throw pillow behind my back. The room was so white and bright, I could hardly see. But I did notice the trunk from the stage sitting in the corner. “Did you like the show, Brianna?”

“Oh, it was great. I hadn’t heard of your act before.”

“Really?” Craig asked. “We had our own show on the Comedy Channel a few years back. Really successful, too. I’ve got some DVDs we can watch.”

I felt embarrassed. “I’m not much of a television person. I’m more of a reader.” Craig sat close to me, almost too close. Les pulled up a stool from underneath the vanity and sat down himself.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Les said matter-of-factly. “I know why you’ve been flying all around. This club is my eyes and ears. Momma tells me everything I need to know. You need money. Well, I’ve got a proposition for you. My pops is a good man, but he’s currently bored in his relationship. I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars to marry my pops.”

“Forget this,” I said and tried to leave.

“Sit,” Les said. “Hear me out.”

“I’m not marrying your father, Les.”

Les and Craig looked at each other and laughed. “No, no, you don’t understand, Brianna,” Les said. “He doesn’t want to marry you. He wants to marry Madame. Will you officiate?”

My jaw dropped. What kind of nightmare is this? Who are these people? I wanted out of that room, and fast!

“We’ve been living in sin, Brianna,” Craig interjected. “We want you to officiate because we feel you won’t judge us.”

Everyone sat quiet, waiting for me to answer. How could I? Of all my encounters at the Diamond Club, this was perhaps the most bizarre. However, I stared into Craig’s eyes. He was sincere. I don’t know what came over me, but I said, “I’ll do it.”

Joy overtook both of their faces. Craig popped up from the couch and ran to the trunk.

“Did you hear the good news, Madame? It’s our lucky day!” Craig exclaimed, pulling Madame from her coffin. “God, I feel like I’m in love!” And he danced around the room with his wooden bride, her mouth agape and her thick unibrow dangling from her forehead.

Craig fastened a veil over Madame’s face, and Les picked up a Bible off the vanity and handed it to me. “What better time than the present?”

I opened up the Bible, not sure what I was looking for, but from memories of movies I had seen, I began the ceremony. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to wed Craig Fondelier and… Madame Carollo… in holy matrimony. Do you, Craig, take this…”

I paused. Craig was fondling the dummy and staring intently at my body.

“Do you, Craig take this woman to be your wife?”

“I do,” said Craig.

“And do you, Madame, take this lovely man to be your… husband?”

From the corner of Craig’s mouth, he said, “I do.”

“With the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man… and wife. You may kiss each other.”

Craig, with love in his eyes, lifted Madame’s veil. He caressed her solid cheek. Then, he kissed her, sliding his tongue deep in her mouth. I turned towards Les, who was standing in the open doorway.