Mountains Wanted (6 page)

This was Sarah’s first
time visiting this particular club, but she had been to others. Clubs
weren’t really her scene. She found them to be too loud to carry on an actual
conversation, which was usually the best way for her to gauge a connection with
a potential partner. Clubs also tended to be clique-y with regulars staking out
certain tables or rooms and being rather standoffish with newcomers. Despite
those negatives, Sarah found it refreshing to be in a fun, open atmosphere
where she could dance, flirt and imbibe amongst like-minded folks.  

She surveyed the crowd,
searching to see if anyone piqued her interest. For a Saturday night, it wasn’t
terribly crowded. She considered that it was only nine o’clock; the night was
still young. There was a table near the dance floor occupied by a group of fit,
gorgeous people in their early to mid-twenties who collectively emitted an
unapproachable vibe.
Ah, yes, the requisite clique
, Sarah identified
them.
Rachel would have dubbed that group
“The Golden Pussy Table,”
Sarah thought with a smirk. Near the bar there
were a few prototypical single men, trying to appear as though they weren’t
gawking at every woman in the place, but failing miserably. And of course there
were several couples of all shapes and sizes, young, old, and everything in
between. Even standing in foursomes or larger groups, Sarah could easily
discern who went with whom. Body language always gave it away.

She briefly studied a
few of the more attractive couples but her eyes couldn’t help but gravitate to
the fiery redhead dancing in the cage with a tall, slim African American woman. Her
pale skin glowed under the lights and her full breasts bounced playfully in her
black leather bustier as she grinded her ass into the other lady’s pelvis. Sarah
found redheaded women with luminescent skin rather alluring. If she had a
“type” for women, the redhead closely resembled it. She imagined raking her
fingernail over a pink nipple, then pinching it lightly before she traced the
outline of blue veins crisscrossing underneath the creamy flesh of her breasts.

Suddenly Sarah tried to
imagine what James would think if he was there taking in the scene beside her.
I’m
sure he’s way too conservative for me
, she thought, dismissing the idea of
ever seeing him darken the door of a venue like this one. Sarah’s mind
shot back to the present scene as the African American woman whipped the
redhead around and gripped her rear end, pushing her pelvis against her upper
thigh. Even in her heels, the redhead only came up to her chin. The taller
woman bent to kiss her. The contrast of their skin colors was lovely but
what titillated Sarah was the flash of tongue she witnessed darting between the
redhead’s full berry-pink lips. The dark hands pulled a creamy breast from the
black bustier and her tongue flicked the nipple Sarah had just imagined
touching.

Rachel noticed the scene
too. “Damn. That’s fucking hot,” she observed, always one to verbalize what
others were thinking. Mark had been rendered speechless by the display and
therefore had nothing to contribute to the conversation, although his eyes
spoke volumes about the impact it was having on him. Rachel moved closer to her
boyfriend and ran her fingers over his six pack abs through the thin material of
his black button-down shirt. “Either of you want to go dance?” she
offered, peering at both of them through smoky eyes.

Sarah slowly nodded,
still entranced by the scene in the cage. She managed to stumble only slightly
ungracefully out onto the parquet dance floor beside her friend while Mark
opted to observe from a nearby table. Sarah enjoyed watching her best friend in
her element. Rachel was the most social creature Sarah had ever met, maybe
even to the point of being co-dependent, she hated being alone so much. She was
petite with blonde, heavily highlighted hair, deep-set hazel eyes always rimmed
in thick black liner, and toned, shapely legs she loved to flaunt. She was a
bit top heavy, carrying most of her weight in her ample bosom and having a little
thickness around her waist. Tonight she was wearing a three tiered black
lace skirt, shiny patent leather platform sandals and a silky low-cut crimson
red spaghetti-strapped camisole. She moved with confidence and unapologetically
radiated what she called her “no bullshit” attitude. While she fully admitted
that not everyone “got her,” Sarah had discovered the sensitive, caring,
generous spirit carefully buried underneath all of her bluntness and
flamboyance.

Rachel was indeed responsible
in many ways for opening Sarah’s mind up to new possibilities in the way she
approached relationships. After they bonded through the birth of their sons,
Sarah began to spend a lot of time with Rachel and her now ex-husband since her
own husband was mostly absent and didn’t seem to care what Sarah did. The
couple frequented clubs such as this one and other gatherings of like-minded
folks and Sarah began to tag along, learning what fun it was to be a “unicorn”
even if she didn’t explore full participation for quite some time. It was hard
not to be drawn in by the energy and the freedom embraced by this group. It
was with Rachel that Sarah first began to explore her attraction to women. Throughout
the years, Sarah had experienced quite a few firsts with Rachel by her side.

Snapping out of her
thought coma, Sarah turned to see that Rachel had made a new friend, which was
not surprising at all. The redheaded woman from the cage had stepped out onto
the floor and Rachel was dancing close to her, mere inches separating their
torsos, their breasts barely brushing together, their hips shaking in time to
the beat. Sarah observed Mark conversing with a tall dark-haired man -
presumably
the redhead’s date?
- and pointing at the two ladies. She could almost feel
the wheels turning in their four brains, plotting the possibilities. Rachel
looked at Mark and winked, right before she ran a finger between the redhead’s
cleavage, which was again popping out from the bustier.

A few moments later,
starting to buzz from the second drink she’d gulped down, Sarah found herself
following the foursome down the hallway to the 70’s themed room. She stepped
onto the plush lime green shag carpeting and took a seat on the fuchsia pink
loveseat covered in furry green, pink, orange and yellow throw pillows. There
was a huge orange light fixture dangling from the middle of the room with its
amber glass-covered fixtures dimmed. The corner was occupied by an oval shaped
bed flanked by two nightstands with lava lamps, one oozing with teal lava, the
other purple. The doorway was obscured with a green and orange beaded curtain. A
corner cabinet held wipes, tissues, condoms and towels.

They’d invited Sarah to
participate but she preferred to observe, at least to start. Soon she became a
fixture in the room, part of the decor; the foursome had nearly forgotten she
was there. Rachel eased the redhead onto the oval-shaped bed and unhooked
the black leather bustier, exposing her glorious milky white breasts which
nearly glowed under the black lights over the bed. She had the most
delicate looking rosebud-hued nipples perched on top like cherries on a sundae.
The men sat on the bed on either side of her, patiently watching and waiting to
see what Rachel would do with this unwrapped gift stretched out before her. First
she kissed one nipple and then the other, eliciting a breathy moan from the
redhead’s lips. Rachel planted a soft kiss on top of the moan leaving Sarah to
wonder if the redhead’s lips were as sweet as they looked.

Rachel straddled the half-naked
woman, lifting her chin to her mouth to taste her, one hand tangled in her
auburn waves. Sarah noticed how their hips locked together as Rachel’s ravenous
tongue continued to explore the redhead’s mouth and neck. More moans. The
redhead stroked Rachel’s bottom, pushing her harder against her pelvis,
grinding up against her. The men looked eager, salivating at the scene
unfolding between them.

Finally the redhead’s
partner, a man in his mid-40’s with a tall, wiry build and a hint of salt and
pepper beginning to emerge in his goatee, stood and slid his partner’s skirt
down around her ankles and then over her high-heeled boots, letting it fall
onto the floor. Rachel took the hint, slipping her black lace skirt off and
pulling the red cami over her head. Both women were now completely nude save
for their footwear. Rachel knelt on the shag-carpeted floor, her hands
stroking down the redhead’s hips and thighs, parting them gently. Her mouth
watering, she was dying to taste the sweet pink flesh now exposed between her
legs.

Sarah noticed that a
small crowd had gathered behind the green and orange beads. The curtain being
drawn, they were not allowed to enter, but Sarah could sense their anticipation
and arousal. It was palpable. The whole scene: the shag carpeting, the amber
and black lights, the lava shape shifting in its plastic cylinders, the
rustling of the beads at the doorway...Sarah absorbed all of the dizzying
sights and sounds as Rachel buried her face in the redhead’s sex, spreading her
lips with one hand, the other reaching up to the creamy mounds with their
cherry pink nipples.

Sarah realized Mark had
focused his gaze on her and specifically her hand, which had absentmindedly
slipped between her legs. Suddenly she became aware of her own arousal, her
damp panties, her need to be touched. Mark’s eyes were dark and lustful. He’d
taken off his shirt, revealing his sculpted abs and sprawling tattoos. Sarah
had never really studied them before but now she recognized a tribal design and
something with a skull and flames...
and was that a Chinese symbol?
She
had been with Mark before...it would be so easy to offer herself to him, to
have her craving satisfied, but she resisted, not even bothering to analyze
why. She shook her head, almost imperceptibly, and turned her attention
back to the scene before her, hoping he’d take the rejection politely. He
turned away from her and bent down to taste the redhead’s breast.

The other man had taken
off his clothes and stood behind Rachel, stroking his erect cock and watching
his partner’s hips writhing under Rachel’s mouth as her moaning intensified. The
redhead continuously murmured, “Oh, fuck...ohhhhhh....fuuuuuuck....,” drawing
out the vowels as she grew closer and closer to climax. Sarah watched him unwrap
a condom and roll it on. He began to rub himself in the cleavage of
Rachel’s ass, then teased the head against the opening to her sex, slowing
working his way inside her, gripping her hips as he buried his cock to the
hilt, making Rachel gasp in delight. Mark had followed suit, removing his pants
and kneeling beside the redhead’s mouth, eventually quieting her moans by
stuffing his throbbing member down her throat, his hands laced through her
hair, guiding her head up and down his shaft.

Sarah closed her eyes
for a moment and breathed deeply. She realized she had been holding her breath this
whole time. She couldn’t help but think again of James and how he would
react to this scene.
Would he watch? Would he be turned on? Would he want to
fuck me while they watched?
All of her questions involved him and none of
them had answers. She couldn’t turn the James Channel off. It had
infiltrated her mind.

Late that night, she
crawled into bed, feeling the dull ache the scene she’d witnessed had produced
within her. She reached between her thighs, sliding a finger up her lips,
marveling at how wet she still was. She lightly touched her clit and felt the
tingle reverberate throughout her body, her need for release renewed. She took
her glass dildo from the drawer beside the bed, plunging its cold hardness into
her warm, readily yielding wetness.  

When she came, in her
mind it was around him instead of the glass toy.

***

She jolted into lucidity
after one of those dreams where it felt like she’d been awake all night instead
of asleep.
She yawned and stretched, grabbing her phone from the
nightstand to check her texts and emails.

One text from James:
How
was last night?

Sarah felt a bit
victorious as she swung her legs over the bed and onto the floor. She
carried her phone downstairs, glancing at the clock on the mantle from the
staircase. 
9:04
. The kids
wouldn’t be back from their friends’ respective houses till late afternoon. She
filled the coffee pot with water and considered how to reply to the text. She
checked again to see what time he’d sent it. 
Five in the morning? Holy
cow! Why so early? 
She turned on the coffeemaker and opened the French
doors to step out into the cool fall morning.

She studied two birds
flitting back and forth in the maple trees at the edge of the property. The
metaphor of their little dance was not lost on her. She stretched again,
another yoga pose, filling her lungs with the crisp air. She had a few
flashbacks from the club the night before and quickly decided to be purposely
vague with James about her evening. She didn’t want to scare him.
Will he cut and run if he finds out what a
freak I am?

Am I a freak?
It was a question she continuously struggled
with. She wasn’t a big fan of labeling herself, even though her job was
dependent on labeling others. That was, of course, due to the inherent
relativism in sexuality. There was a spectrum of bisexuality, of
kinkiness, of inhibitions. Compared to Rachel, she was rather inhibited, but
compared to the average prude, not so much. 
Is James the average prude?
She grabbed her phone and impulsively punched in an answer to his question:
I had fun. :)