2am.
Feverish, my head is spinning from the heavy bass of a simple yet effective song. I make my way through the overcrowded nightclub – it’s that time of the night.
I’m surrounded by faceless shadows all dressed to kill. Or to fuck, actually. Onyx isn’t dancing. She remains seated in the darkest booth, her eager brown eyes never leaving mine. I love the way she stares ardently, the one-off drinking has made her shamelessly horny – she never drinks. But the vodka in her system has turned her pupils into something wild, predatory even. I can feel my core throbbing from the bass.
I find myself pressed against the stage and that’s where I spot her. Cherry-tree’s eyes are like a black hole. Onyx has noticed her too, appreciating the porcelain skin, the thin wrists and the bare hips that the girl’s voluptuous dancing is now revealing.
My steps follow the slow beat of the music as I climb up the stage to get acquainted with Cherry-tree. I lay my hands on her bare hips and grind against her unambiguously. She goes with it, curiously consenting to my direct and audacious maneuver.
The music changes again with a mediocre transition into a faster, rougher rhythm. Cherry-tree follows my movements, anticipating them even, with the restraint of the inexperienced who feels the craving, nevertheless. The heavy air, the soused crowd, everything is becoming more and more oppressive as we move down the stage. The regulars are so numerous we find ourselves shoved over to the back wall, encircled by the restless flesh of the inebriated. She is still dancing, her black pools mid-closed, entranced with the riffs of a bad rock song.
“I dare you to stop me”
This is the only thing I whisper in her ear, loud enough to cover the music. I don’t even know her name. I quickly undo the button of her jeans and slide my hand inside it. She never stops her dancing when my fingers reach her wet pussy.
The clubbers surrounding us don’t see anything. They couldn’t possibly know that, only inches from them, I’m thrusting in and out of that girl who sways to the music with her iris darkening and her breathing erratic. Someone bumps into me and I’m startled, but she grips firmly my wrist to keep it steady. I interpret the gesture as a green light and proceed to slide two fingers inside of her, eliciting moans from her that blends well into the music. She soaks my hand. My fingers twirl inside her pussy, looking for her sensitive spot. They become more brutal as my movements grow harder and faster. I want her to come right there in the crowd, among these people who have no clue. I possess her completely in the palm of my hand, she’s now dancing on my tune. Her body pressed against mine, I feel her breathing shortening on my neck and I never stop my ministrations. Her back arches as her nails dig into my shoulders and her walls savagely clench my fingers, swallowing them whole.
I remove my hand abruptly and leave her there to go and sit half on top of Onyx who’s watched the entire scene from the darkness of the alcove booth in the club’s VIP lounge. From the sofa, the music is muffled and we can hardly see people come and go at the whim of their own desires. She’s kept a close eye on us and now she’s kissing me and biting my bottom lip as a useless reminder that I’m hers, and hers only.
A few minutes pass by, but I know she’ll come join us. It can’t be any other way. I know it, just as much as I know that this girl has never been touched by another girl before me. And indeed she’s come and is now standing here at the entrance of the small circular room dug in the back wall, entirely furnished with fancy cushioned sofa. Cherry-tree looks hesitant, bewildered even, when Onyx removes herself from under me and steps closer to the girl. I watch them sizing each other up. They are so different. Onyx pushes back a lock of her hair behind her ear. She looks so confident in her athletic body, sharpened like a blade. You could make out under the thin fabric of her shirt the shapes of a black raven tattooed on her biceps. It comes to live with every movement of her arm, like it’s alive. Cheery-tree almost looks fragile in comparison, way less self-assured. Onyx offers her place on the sofa, closing the paper-thin screen behind her, shutting us from the entire world.
As usual in our routine, I stay on the side for a moment, giving time for Onyx to undress Cherry-tree quickly and enjoying the strikingly arousing show of my girlfriend turning into a hungry beast who craves control and satisfaction. Her hand goes up and traces the lines of the cherry-tree tattooed from the girl’s left hip to her breast and kneels in front of her, diving between her legs. I grab Onyx’s short back hair. This is the kind of dancing where I let her take the lead, just like always. I love it, I trip on power by proxy, and take pleasure in pushing her head deeper into these frail thighs she spreads for the first time.
I know exactly what Onyx is doing to her just by observing the traits of Cherry-tree’s faces distorting with pleasure. I suppose she’s playing with her piercing on her clitoris, sucking on it with her hot lips, and penetrating her with firm and hard movements of her tongue like no man can. Cherry-tree shivers, blocking out the music and the people around us, and even the risk of being caught at any moment. The rest of the world was gone to us, swallowed in a black hole emanating from our cores. I recognize the lost gaze that stares in space, the ragged breathing that catches no air. And I know what’s missing. I take Onyx’s hand and wordlessly order her to possess that girl, to thrust into her fast and hard, with two fingers, then three, harder and harder. Cherry-tree’s hips rise when Onyx’s hand rummage through her warm cavity and starts circling on the same rhythm as her tongue. I intimate her to shut up with my hand covering her mouth when the girl can’t control herself any longer.
Her back arches at once, like a bow that has been drawn for too long, drenching the hand that governs her with lava.
How sweet is a little death.
Seconds stretching into an eternity.
So we sent her to a place in the middle of nowhere with a big black raven, and a cherry tree….
By Trinity
Translated from French by IMNXS
Picture by Cathy Peylan
