Le Trapeze is skeezy. It is. It’s dark, it’s a place where lots of people fuck, and the only thing keeping people out of the place is the $110/couple entrance fee. I’ve been there a few times (five or six, would be my guess – I think you’ve probably read about every time I’ve been there if you’ve read this blog closely, but click here for every post that mentions the place).
On this particular evening, I met Jen around the corner, at a swanky bar. The same bar we met before the last party we went to together. You’ve read our text exchange leading up to the evening of, so you know that her submission reached its limit, and I didn’t get to dress her. But on the evening of, there was some flirty texting. I wanted to smell her pussy on her fingers when I arrived. She wanted to surprise me with her outfit. I wanted to pick her bra and panties.
She allowed me to select her panties (the black ones in the shot below) and her bra (the red one, second from the left), and she ended up dressing conservatively, as if headed to an interview, in pinstripe slacks and a white blouse, whose translucence allowed the red bra I’d selected to show through just a bit.
I walked in about five minutes late. Her finger smelled of her pussy, as I had asked. (She dragged it beneath my nose after we kissed hello). I almost hadn’t recognized her – her hair was up in a high bun, tightly wrapped, and the conservative outfit combined with that made her look very… different – almost unrecgonizable. She’s insanely hot, regardless of what she wears, of what look she’s sporting. Previously, I had seen her mostly in flowing skirts, her hair down. But anyway, her lips were painted bright red, sultry, luscious – that’s been a constant with her. Her breasts were drawing my eyes irresistibly. And her ass – round, full, was filling out her slacks.
On this night, the crowd at the bar was entirely different. It was quiet, serene. We talked about Le Trapeze (she had been to Checkmate, where I’ve not been yet; they’re only open Fridays and Saturdays, and those are hard nights for me, generally, as I tend to be family guy then). I helped her manage her expectations. (“Expect skeevy, lots of guys with women they’re paying, lots of unattractive people and maybe a few hot ones….”) We drank. I told her I wanted to fuck her face. “You’re gonna mess up my lipstick?” she asked, pouting. “Yes,” I said. “Yes I am.”
She had a gin & tonic, I had a Black Label on the rocks. Her hand caressed my leg as we drank. My cock grew hard in my jeans. (I was wearing jeans, a Batman t-shirt, and a brown corduroy blazer.) We finished our drinks and headed out. It was early, still – about 10:15 or 10:20. “Do you want to go somewhere else, first?” she asked. “There won’t be that many people there.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t need other people to have fun with you – we can get started without them.”
We walked the two or three blocks to the place, and entered. We paid our entrance fee, turned our phones off, and went through the door as the attendant buzzed us in. Jen looked around, and we headed back toward the locker room. On the way, I checked the doors of a couple of the private rooms. One was open – we went in. I closed the door, and locked it. The room was tiny – just big enough for a mattress. A fan blew, a red lightbulb barely illuminated it. I grabbed her head and kissed her hard, messing up her lipstick right away. “Lie down and play with yourself,” I said. (I forgot that she wasn’t so much submitting to me, and it didn’t seem to bother her: she lay down, and slid a hand between her legs, still wearing her pinstriped slacks.
I lay next to her and kissed her, while she stroked herself. I found the zipper on the side of her pants and removed them. The contrast of her pale white (milky, even) thighs and her black panties was yummy. I pressed a hand against her panties, feeling the moistness of her pussy through them. I kissed her some more, and lowered my mouth to her crotch. I licked around the panties, and lifted one edge of them, sliding my hand under the panties, but not pressing down on her cunt. She arched just a little, raising her pussy to meet me, but I raised my hand too. I pulled my hand out, and kissed the insides of her thighs gently, licking all the way around the edges of her panties.
I rolled over. “Stand up?” I asked.
She stood over me, her hips swaying almost automatically as she did.
“Take your top off?”
She lifted the white blouse over her head.
“And your bra.”
She unhooked the bra, and tossed it to the foot of the bed.
“Why don’t you drive for a bit?” I suggested.
She lowered herself to me. She rubbed my cock through my jeans. Fuck was I hard.
She unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned the jeans, and reached in, stroking my cock through my shorts. She pressed her mouth against the bulge in my shorts, and licked the head of my cock, but no more.
I don’t remember if she instigated it or I did, but next thing, she was on her back, and I was back down between her legs, smelling her pussy through her panties, pressing my face against the fabric. “Don’t give me what I want,” she said, “no matter how much I want it.”
“What if it’s what I want, too?” I asked.
“Then you can have it.”
Damn, that was hot.
More teasing, and I said, “Shall we see who else is here?”
I stood up. “Should I get dressed?” she asked.
“No need – we’ll just go straight to the locker room.”
We opened the door and walked down the short hallway to the locker room. The attendant gave us a locker (#49), and we stowed our clothes, her purse, my phone, in there. “Should I take my panties off or leave them on?” she asked.
“Either way,” I said. “But if you leave them on, you have to keep track of them.”
“Ok,” she said, tossing them into the locker.
We wrapped ourselves in towels, and went on a tour of the place.