Chapter 19: Ravenous

"You look like a wild woman," Joe responded when Marta asked why he took pictures of her. "I never saw you so drunk and happy."

They'd arrived early to the rave, parking at an adjoining lot acquired when the boss acquired the warehouse building. Blackened windows kept the inner lights from leaking out, but the building thrummed with loud steady bass. It got a bit louder when Joe opened the outer door to the building for Margie and Marta, though not as loud as the space itself. The door opened into a hallway ending at a wide set of glass double doors. When those doors opened, the music became loud. Through them Tim awaited wearing a casual cool outfit of black jeans, a purple velvet jacket and a dark blue t-shirt with concentric white circles like a target that formed a gradient from pure white at the center to nearly dark blue at the outer circle, his hair more a blond stubble. Nearly as tall as Roger, his plumpness took up more space. His size might have been intimidating except for a goofy smile frequently on his face. He greeted the arrivals cheerfully, requesting the ten dollar admission.

"I'm Roger's brother," Joe informed him. "I should be on the guest list."

"I see the resemblance," smiled Tim. He handed them three tickets. "Free punch at the back right. There's leaded and unleaded. After the ticket it's two bucks. Ladies, you look great."

Joe couldn't have agreed more. Margie looked amazing in a slinky green form fitting dress of crushed velvet that set off her eyes. Marta's dress set off her eyes with its blue/green hue. It's satiny fabric caressed her bountiful blessings seductively. Tight at the abdomen, a light golden metallic belt at the waist setting off her hair, the upper portion gave room for her breasts and allowed them to be unrestrained. Cleavage looked soft and inviting in its plenitude. Joe didn't have anything specific for the event, but his light blue button down shirt, blue jeans, black cowboy boots and plain black leather jacket worked.

"Thanks," smiled Marta getting patted down by a large dyke. The bouncers at the door amused Joe. Normally it made sense for a man to pat down a man and a woman to do a woman, except the man looked like a flaming gay despite his intimidating immensity and the woman obviously liked women. They seemed to enjoy their work.

Cubbyholes contained contraband from the patting, including knives and bottles of alcohol and cameras but no guns. Numbered, with numbers matching coat hangers, a small card handed to the customer assured their return. The lady and gent handling coat check had the homosexual appearance as well, though both were much prettier than the bouncers. Lefty borrowed staff from his exclusive gay club.

The space lit darkly from incandescent bulbs hung high above heads in the twenty foot ceiling had additional brightness from two strobe lights working in counterpoint rhythms. Divided into three distinct regions, the largest part of the room contained the dance floor. At its center a light sculpture of transparent tubes flashed various colored Christmas bulbs of general groupings. Some were white chaser lights. Others blinked red, blue and yellow in groups and in the same tube as the chasers. The sculpture resembled an uprooted tree or a many armed and legged human, the trunk containing a chaser arrangement of colored larger bulbs moving in hue and intensity from dark to light. The head contained a spinning police light. George Junior designed it and he and Steve and a clever nerd from shop class built it.

Towards the entrance several tables of various types surrounded by various types of chairs had just enough separation to allow people to move between them. To the right, against the wall sat the small bar where people exchanged tickets and later paid cash for alcoholic or non-alcoholic punch, the alcohol being 151 rum.

Also being served were loose joints and dime packets of marijuana. The packets had two sizes, the smaller one containing the better bud and likewise the joints cost more for the better shit. Small plastic baggies containing two hits of Ecstasy cost ten bucks each.

Roger manned the bar with help from a couple of cute California blonde twins he hired off the street when he accosted them politely downtown and made it clear he was serious and not after their sensational asses, although each found him charming and attractive and on different occasions had invited him over for an afternoon of fucking and sucking while their boyfriends worked. One had even helped him christen the upstairs privacy lair earlier when he needed to relax and take the edge off for a half hour from the relentless set up of the event.

She followed him a couple minutes after he went up the industrial elevator and joined him in one of the rooms, sucking him off, letting him bring her to climax with his tongue and enjoying an energetic and climactic fuck. It definitely helped.

The twins wore matching low neck tight t-shirts with the club's logo, advertising selling the item, and impossibly tight black jeans. Roger matched them except the shirt rested much looser on his body as did the jeans.

Above the bar on a mezzanine, the dj and the lights operator bounced around to the music created.

The third area contained the chill-out space. Theatre seats arced in front of a screen in which a digital projector projected the zombie/vampire b-movie, "Ravenous." The music being loud, the audio couldn't be heard, but the images gave people something to stare at while they relaxed and zoned out.

Having drank two cups of potent punch, swallowed a couple Ecstasy pills and smoked a couple joints, all given gratis by his brother, Joe had quite the buzz going. He had never tried Ecstasy and the luminescence it seemed to cause and the eternal smile surprised him. The women doubled his intake of alcohol and became loose and shameless and wasted, especially Margie.

Eventually, after dancing frenetically with Marta and Joe for an hour or more and with strangers for several more minutes, Margie found herself stumbling more than walking. Joe led her to the chill-out section, gave her a kiss and told her to relax. She found a body beside her just as wasted and the two girls of equal age jawed incoherently, a conversation not to be remembered.

Marta's dancing became more and more sensual until it became sexual at first with Joe and then with boys around her when Joe took a breather. Never her hands, but her breasts tended to push and rub against backs and fronts and along thighs when she did a unique form of the swim and her thighs tended to envelope a partner's thighs and rub. Then her hands did touch between a man's thighs and Joe decided to move on.

It cost fifty dollars for a half hour and twice that for a full hour to ride the old elevator to the second floor privacy sanctuary. Among the youth, average age being 17, milled professional sex workers from an escort stable, one of the largest in Chicagoland, owned by the boss. Five of the younger and more beautiful women and two men found and brought dates up for two hundred dollar sucks and fucks, the fifty dollar ride included.

Rich kids filled the club, but few had that kind of cash on them. Some of the younger ones, 15 or 16, decided variously to pool their money and choose the lucky recipient either by short straws or the chosen one being the most popular or the least likely to get any otherwise. The gay boys used the opportunity to get sex with each other in a way they couldn't at home or pooled money and chose one to enjoy an older escort's skills.

Roger signaled the large elevator attendant to let Joe and Marta have a free ride. Marta resisted the change of scenery at first, but when they emerged into the makeshift privacy walls and the small offices already in the floor, her horniness altered her attitude. She pulled Joe into an office and molested him before he could close it and turn on the light.

Being wet and hot, she shrugged out of her dress and pealed down her panties, lying down on the cot, spreading her legs and demanded to be fucked immediately. When Joe lagged behind, she pulled down his pants and underpants, grabbed his cock and forced him between her thighs and inside.

They rocked the cot for over ten minutes, the intoxicants in their systems dulling their sense of feeling.

"Fuck your slut. Fuck me hard. Give me what I deserve. Show me who's your slut," repeated Marta.

"You're my fucking slut, bitch. Take what you deserve," Joe chanted.

"Yes. Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck your slut," Marta moaned in hyperventilating bursts.

Finally, getting rough with her nipples and getting pounded fast and hard and helping herself by rubbing her clit aggressively, Joe sent her over the pinnacle.

"Oh fuuuuck," she quivered, her body tightly convulsing, her vagina rippling as Joe pressed and held and felt her pleasure.

At last relaxed, Marta collapsed back, Joe's erection popping out like a fine champagne cork. He reached into his puddled pants pocket and extracted his cell phone and took pictures of the naked, blushing, gorgeous female he loved to distraction. Her well pleasured and drunken half grin on her amazing face, her hair a frenzied cascade framing it with strands caught along the edges, mostly at her sweaty forehead, she opened her eyes to see Joe's cell phone camera hovering near.