Chapter 33: Back on the prowl

Sue was agog with astonishment.

"HOW on earth could you and Doug split up? You're just so right for each other!"

"Yeah, well, not all is as it seems from the outside, I guess."

Sue had called Janelle up for a coffee and a chat about her progress with cuckolding Dave, and was surprised to learn of Janelle's change of address and the (to her) calamitous reason behind it. They were now sitting at a tiny dining table jammed in beside the art paraphernalia filling the living area of Janelle's newly-rented apartment.

"Are you just going to leave it at that? You're not going to try and patch things up?"

"Sue, it's over. He wanted to end it. He wanted-out of our love-slave agreement. I can't bend on a thing like that."

"Well, okay... suit yourself... but I think it a great pity."

"Let's drop it. How about you? What have you been up to lately? Have you been reamed by Fenton yet?"

Sue's cheeks flushed a little at this crudity, but she took it in her stride.

"Not yet. But it's all arranged. I've told Dave about it, and I have a date with Fenton for next Friday."

"How'd Dave take it?"

"Not happy at first. I mean, what man would be, when told by his wife that she wants to be fucked by a well-hung black man?

"But I carefully explained to him the reasons why, and told him to think about it for a couple of days before we talk about it again."

"So, what reasons did you give?"

"The same I gave to you when we last talked. That Fenton made me feel young and sexy again, and that I want Dave to try harder at making me feel the same way. That Fenton has something that Dave can never give me, to-whit, an enormous whanger. That just thinking about it makes me go weak at the knees. But that each time when Fenton has finished with me, I'll be needing tenderness and aftercare that only Dave can provide, because he is the man I love..."

"That's sweet. And what happened when you spoke to him again later?"

"Well, I told him that I still really wanted to go ahead with it, but if he felt there was any chance it would weaken our relationship then I wouldn't."

"Hoo-boy! How'd he respond?"

"He told me to go ahead."

"Shit! Who would'a thunk it?"

"I think I know his motivation."

"Yeah? What?"

"I reckon he's secretly pleased I'm so interested in sex nowadays. I suspect he's long fantasized about me getting screwed by another man, 'cos he hopes it might unlock the floodgates of my libido. That way, he can enjoy a spillover effect."

"Do you mean "spillover" figuratively, or literally?"

"Both, though I'll thank you not to be gross."

"Well, that was the carrot you were going to dangle, wasn't it? Lock him down for two weeks without cumming, then promise him release into a well-used pussy..."

"There you go again, you're still being gross!"

"I'm being matter-of-fact. But hey! Whatever works. Hopefully you'll be happy, and he'll be happy."

"Hopefully."

Janelle got up to fix a fresh batch of coffee.

Sue changed the subject.

"Hey, I've heard about an interesting club that supposed to cater for people like us!"

"People like what?"

"Y'know, "Take-Charge Women", and men too, who're on the prowl for new victims. It's a place to hang with like-minded people."

"How did you get to know about it?"

"The internet. There's a Yahoo Group dedicated to making contacts and setting up meets there."

"Far out! What's it called?"

"The Twilight Zone. Spooky, isn't it?"

This had Janelle intrigued. She'd been flying solo for a while now. Too long. She'd been wondering what she was going to do when next the urges struck her.

Sue could read her mind.

"Janelle, if you think you might want to indulge yourself, I'll be happy to come along and keep you company..."

"How 'bout tonight?"

"I'll call Dave and have him get my sluttiest outfit ready for me. He can bath me and dress me, and I'll drop by here to get you at about nine."

"It's a deal. See you at nine."

It was ten-past when Sue rapped on the door again. Her latex cat-suit was very tight, very black and very shiny, cutting a dramatic contrast to her pale complexion. It had a chrome zipper that started from her derriere, ran down between her legs and back up her front to its v-neckline. Her hair was pulled back severely in a simple pony-tail.

"Nice!" Janelle commented.

"You look great too."

In fact Janelle would look great even with a sugar-sack over her head, but tonight she looked even greater in black leather jeans and a leather bodice that might have been purloined from the set of Xena Warrior Princess. She'd taken out all her corn-row braids so that her hair, now all kinked from the braiding, could be pulled back into a big bunch at one side. She wore elegant boots with wicked heels.

"We're both in black. People will think we're twins!"

Sue laughed at the incongruity of that suggestion.

"The Glimmer Twins, a.k.a. Bitches from Hell!"

They pulled on coats and went out to hail a cab.

The club would not have been easy to spot unless you already knew about it. It must be patronized mainly by word-of-mouth, because management were clearly not looking very hard for walk-in trade. Past a doorman, and down a flight of steps into a basement that was dimly lit and divided into all kinds of grottoes and nooks. Of course there was music and dancing for those that wanted it, and one of Cher's gay-icon hits was thumping out its relentless beat as Sue and Janelle entered.

There were straight-looking people about, and some down-right weird. Other super-bitches like themselves, dressed like predators. And tight-singleted, tight-jeaned men in dog collars, or with handcuffs swinging from their belt, or even one with a ring through his nose and a short length of chain leading over his shoulder. Women of a similar stereotype were also present. It clearly took all sorts in this place.

Sue ordered G&Ts for them both, but before she could reach into her matching shiny black latex handbag for some cash, a twenty bill was suddenly snapped out toward the barman by a slender arm that reached between them.

They turned to find out who this knight errant could be.

Oh fuck, thought Janelle.

James.

Limply blond and blue-jeaned, the slender boy she had recently turned-on to bossy women now swayed before her in awe.

"My Goddess!"

"James?"

"Yes?"

"Fuck off."

Clearly he thought this to be a test of his devotion, or something, because he immediately melted away into the gloom.

"Who's he?" Sue wanted to know.

"Never mind", Janelle murmured, as she sipped her drink and leaned back to survey a room now blessedly James-less.

This was such a good idea of Sue's. This club-scene thing should so improve the chances of making the right connection. She could well mingle for days on end in straight society and not find anyone suitable. But tonight should see her exposed to a concentrated dose of them. Or rather, should see them revealed to her.

Who here tonight had potential?

Who could give her what she needed?

Her practiced eye could sort them out, tops from bottoms, doms from subs, by meeting their gaze and noting how they glanced back. Or whether they even looked back at all.

She was looking for that beautiful quiver. That bashful tremble. That disturbed, hunted look of quarry that knows it has probably just met its match.

Delicious fear. Reactions guaranteed to set her heart aflutter, and create a stirring in her loins.

But so far, was not really finding it.

Patience, Janelle. Can't expect results in the first five minutes!

James she had ruled out immediately. There'd be no challenge in it, and besides, she found him a little too pathetic.

Sue and Janelle decided to get out on the floor and dance with each other. Just to advertise their presence a little more. As if they needed advertising anyway, dressed they way they were. But who knew what else was out there in the gloom?

To find out, Janelle schlepped off to investigate some of the more shadowy places in the club.

And that was how she found Robert.

Dark-haired, slim, pretty normal-looking really. Around about her own age. Dressed for a normal night out at a club, nothing weird or kinky. Leaning against a pillar clutching a beer and watching the dance-floor action.

It was the way he caught her eye.

He just froze. Couldn't look away. Like a rat before a rattler. Transfixed.

Lovely.

Just how Janelle liked her men.

In awe of her right from the get-go.

She stood before him. He didn't move, and didn't break his eyes free of her gaze. His eyes simply grew rounder as she approached. Sure enough, her heart gave a little skip. His was probably in danger of busting out of his chest.

Janelle reached up and entwined her fingers into his hair. She pulled his head back to expose his throat, as if to cut it with a knife. He remained passive, and compliant to her manipulations.

With her other hand she gently traced his cheek with her fingers, caressing him.

He still hadn't taken his eyes away from hers. If eyes are windows to the soul, then his contained just the right mix of fright and anticipation.

Still gripping his hair so tightly it must surely hurt, Janelle next placed her thumb and forefinger either side of his mouth and squeezed possessively, forcing his mouth into a macabre pout.

He still hadn't uttered a sound. He didn't move. He just subjected himself to her will, yet managed to look incredibly nervous about it.

Just perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Janelle pulled his head forward and, still squeezing his jaw, kissed him. Full on the lips. Hungrily. Her tongue wormed its way between his pliant lips and invaded his mouth. He tasted fresh, and only slightly beery. A non-smoker, too. Good.

She led him to the floor, and they danced. Ball-room style, holding up her hand in his, with his other at her waist. She led. With her free hand she clutched his left tit, like talons. She was not gentle about it.