Club Velvet 4
Copyright© 2026 by Kynlas_DK
Chapter 20
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 20 - Frank Devon, his pack, his club and the people who come to his club for connection and entertainment, this is their story and this is book 4 of the series. I would suggest starting at book 1 to understand the background and the world this club resides in.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft mt/Fa Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Science Fiction Incest Brother Sister BDSM DomSub Light Bond Polygamy/Polyamory
Sara opened the door to her apartment, hung up her purse and took her jacket off. She then stood in her apartment for a minute, still processing what she had done with Andy.
She moved to her bathroom, untied her dress and shrugged it off then tossed it in the hamper. She looked at herself in the mirror, evaluating the woman in the mirror. She looked like the same person that woke up here this morning. Her body was the same, her breasts still high and firm on her chest. Her belly was still flat and toned, the same since the WE came alive and cleaned up her body and is helping to maintain her body mass at her current levels. Her legs were still lean and strong, her bottom was firm and no longer saggy, it was now firm and perky.
Everything looked the same, but deep in her heart she felt different. What am I feeling? I don’t understand this feeling.
Sara, the WE don’t have an answer for you. We can simply confirm that you had a very good intimate sexual encounter with a hired Pleasure Consultant at Club Velvet and according to our logs, you were in a continuous state of arousal for almost 120 minutes. We recorded several peaks in your aroused state while with the Pleasure Consultant. We are sorry that we don’t have a good answer for you.
Sara moved to the shower and stepped in once the temp was just right. She washed her face, her neck, and then the rest of her body. Memories of Andy touching her breasts, the way he kissed her skin on her neck and when she washed herself between her legs, a rush of emotions and memories made her stop.
‘He had been in here. His ... dick ... had been in me.’ she thought to herself. ‘I really did it. I made love, sex, with a real man... ‘ she thought to herself.
The memories of their coupling fresh in her mind, Sara moved to her bed after drying off and stretched out, her hands moving between her legs, finding herself sore from the work out, but she was still a little bit aroused and her gentle touch still sent waves of pleasure to her brain.
‘Do I love him? Did I bond with him just because of good sex?’ she wondered as her hand moved between her legs.
Your body did release several hormones while you were with Andy, and those hormones are known as both love hormones and bonding hormones, so it is not surprising that you are feeling like this. the WE said to her, better understanding what was happening inside of her head and body.
Sara rolled onto her stomach, resting her head on her arms, still thinking about what she had done, still understanding what the consequences are of her actions.
‘I guess I’ll have to visit him again, my body seems to want more of that.’ she thought to herself.
Her day ended with her still thinking about Andy and what they had done together.
Sara showed up at the club the next month, walking in with confidence. She now knew what happened here—and what they offered. She had forgone a heavy coat, choosing instead sweatpants, a hoodie, and a puffy jacket, all easy to slip off and back on again. More daringly, she had left off both panties and a bra, deliberately ignoring the need for them.
She stood by the bar, scanning the room for Andy, but he was nowhere in sight. With a small sigh, she slipped her coat from her shoulders and draped it neatly over her arm.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. Can I get you a table?” a waitress asked, stepping up with an easy smile.
“Yes, but I was hoping to see Andy. Is he here?” Sara replied as the waitress guided her toward a table.
“I thought he was. Let me check. In the meantime, can I get you a drink?”
“Yes, how about a Coke?”
“Sure thing, honey. Be right back.”
Sara eased into her seat and let her eyes wander across the club. On stage, the dancers were in motion—bodies bending, twisting, flowing with the music. They had the same arms, legs, and curves as she did, but somehow everything about them seemed heightened—more deliberate, more powerful, more graceful than anything she’d ever imagined herself doing.
She fixed her gaze on one performer, carefully studying every transition: the seamless shift from the floor to the pole, the way she arched her back and slid to her knees, the fluidity as she moved to hands and knees and rose again—all while locking eyes with the men around the stage. Sara found herself leaning forward, not with fear but with fascination. The dancer wasn’t just moving; she was communicating, reaching out with her body and her gaze, pulling people in, touching them without ever laying a hand. Sara wanted to understand that—wanted to learn how attention, movement, and presence could create such a powerful connection.
The Coke arrived while she was watching the dancer on stage and the waitress leaned over her shoulder, whispering to her, “He is occupied with a customer and not due to be done for another hour.”
“Oh darn. Do you have a second Pleasure Consultant working today?”
“Sure, Brad is working but is on break at the moment. Would you like me to send him over to you?”
“Sure, thank you.”
As the waitress walked away, Sara found herself admiring the natural grace in her step—the easy sway of her hips, the way confidence seemed stitched into every movement. Her outfit was nothing more than a pair of panties, a garter belt, and thigh-high stockings, yet she wore it with such ease that even her low-heeled shoes seemed effortlessly, almost casually, sexy.
Sara laughed a short snort of amazement and took a sip of her Coke.
Between dance sets, a dancer touched Sara’s arm lightly and slid onto the seat beside her.
“Hi, honey. Are you interested in a private dance?”
Sara flinched, then steadied herself. “I ... no, not really. I was hoping to hire Andy again.”
“Oh, Andy. Great guy.” The dancer grinned. “Is he any good in bed? I’ve never thought of hiring him, you know?”
Sara leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s amazing. I lost count of the orgasms. I think I walked out bowlegged that day.”
Both women burst into laughter.
“I’ve been there, done that,” the dancer said, still chuckling.
“Can I ask you something?” Sara ventured once they settled.
“Sure, go ahead.”
“How do you dancers learn to move like that?” Sara gestured toward the stage.
“I asked the WE for help. They showed me the mechanics—but they didn’t tell me how not to giggle while doing it.”
“No?”
“Oh yes. My first night, I’m doing my thing, and I catch this guy staring at me like I’m the second coming—mouth hanging open, eyes huge. It threw me so badly I started giggling, lost my rhythm, and nearly fell off the stage.” She shook her head, smiling. “Total disaster. Poor guy was mortified.”
“What did you do?”
“Gave him a private dance—with a discount—and made sure he left more than satisfied. He came three times before I let him go. I had to make it up to him.”
Sara laughed, then blushed when the dancer added with a wink, “Empty balls make it easier to forgive than full ones.”
The blush deepened when the dancer asked, “So ... was Andy your first?”
Sara stammered. “No. Yes. I don’t know.” She fiddled with her purse strap. “When the WE went live, I lost my virginity to a coworker. Then a few others that same day. Hormones—you remember. But after that, nothing. In high school, I thought I was gay. Dated girls, dated women in college too, but ... it never clicked. So I gave up. Just accepted spinsterhood.”
“Oh, honey. No one should be alone forever.”
“I know. But nothing ever stuck. No spark.”
“So what brought you here?”
Sara’s gaze sharpened. “Hormones.”
The dancer gave a knowing smile. “Oh, I get it.”
“Andy seemed nice enough, good-looking enough. I took a chance. And yes, he rocked my world. For two hours, I was the most important woman alive. I’ve never felt that before.” Her voice dropped. “I was hoping to feel it again.”
The dancer softened, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “Sara, I have to tell you something.”
Sara leaned in, hopeful.
“Andy’s job is to please you. To make it good enough so you come back. But it isn’t real.”
Sara blinked, startled. “What do you mean? He was there, I was there—his body was real. I touched him, I tasted him.”
The dancer smiled sadly. “Yes. All of that is real. But the emotions? They’re not. He cared about you—as a person, as a customer. But what happens here ... it’s entertainment. It’s not love.”
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