Chapter 5: Strange Feelings

Today she sipped her soda, sitting in one of the bay windows of the pink Salon. She was dressed in a thin, flowery wraparound top and a simple skirt. Her gaze travelled lazily around the room. Things were slow this afternoon, not many girls around, none of her friends. She saw some new faces, as always wondering how they might be — how they'd feel and taste.

She touched her lips with the pink tip of her tongue. By now she'd lost count of how many times she had let herself be taken upstairs, where the private rooms were. More often than not they'd been hasty fucks, steamy affairs that involved fingers and tongues. Sometimes there would be a third or even fourth partner. There would be vibes added, or a dildo to faster reach climax and lose no time to find the next lover.

She slowly sipped her coke, watching two skimpily dressed girls sitting on a pink sofa, kissing. She vaguely knew the blonde. The girl peeked over the brunette's shoulder, staring straight at her, winking while slowly running her tongue into her lover's ear. My God, were they all sluts, greedily looking for the next fuck while still seducing the first? And if they were, was she any different?

The girls suddenly jumped up and ran giggling out of the Salon, hand in hand to find the stairs and a free room. The blonde blew Alicia a kiss in passing. She remembered now who she was.

Seeing the girl's face and thinking how this Club reminded her of a warm, wonderful Jacuzzi, her memory took her back to another afternoon — and a huge bubble bath filled with foam and horny girls. It had been three days ago and among the girls were Amber and the blonde she just saw (what was her name again?) — and Kimmie.

The room had been steamed up. She remembered wet, slippery bodies chasing each other like pink phantoms in the mist. There was a storm of giggles and clouds of foam flying around like angel wings. Panting and gasping they at last fell down in a heap, wet hands groping, mouths kissing.

She remembered how Amber, another Bianca's girl, strong and tall, had taken her in her arms and kissed her, calling her silly names. Then they both took hands full of bubbles and plastered them to their head and faces, crying out that they were bubble monsters, chasing the others.

Kimmie had suddenly turned angry. She'd pushed them away as they wanted to adorn her with foam too and yelled at them to stop when they tried to involve her in the game. Then Amber topped Alicia's head with a sparkling mountain of foam and knelt before her, mockingly crowning her as the Empress Licia, queen of all Rome. They giggled at the silliness of it and dug up crazy plays on words. As part of the game they threw Christian slave girls to the lions and the Empress regally but cruelly turned her thumb down on them. The little blonde and Kimmie were supposed to be the slave girls, while Amber would be the lion.

Protesting loudly, Kimmie climbed out of the tub, wrapping a big towel around her slight, shivering body.

"You are stupid! Both of you!" she cried out, almost weeping. "I don't want this, you know? You make fun of me and you are both stupid!" And she ran away, her bare feet splattering in the spilled puddles of water on the floor.

"Stooooopid!!" Amber echoed with a deep monster voice. She made horns of her fingers and charged into Alicia, who fell back into the water, screaming with laughter. Amber picked her up and whispered:

"May your unworthy but very hungry little slave-lion eat from the sweet fountain of your abundance, oh Empress?" And she dove between Alicia's thighs to suck on her slippery pussy.

Back at the salon Alicia shifted in her seat. The images ignited feelings that made her tremble. She sure hoped her skirt wouldn't stain from her weeping pussy. She should have worn panties, shit, even a pad. She was always so damn wet in here. Just walking in, no, just anticipating going to the Club was enough to get her gushing. Yesterday night she made sweet love to Rita, tender, endless love. But, in order to come, she'd had to imagine the two of them being at the Club, watched by Gina, Tyana, Amber ... She smiled ruefully. Bringing Rita here would be unthinkable. She'd have a heart attack.

Alicia stealthily picked a paper napkin from the table. She stuffed it in her pussy and let her fingers linger — dreaming back. The first weeks at this new Club had been crazy. She met many new faces, found many new possibilities. As she looked back her memories were wrapped in one big pink cloud of excitement. She'd spent almost every night in here. The girls were scandalously open, some walking around naked, others coming on so strong they made her gasp and retire into the save embrace of her old friends and lovers.

Then there had been the woman in black leather with the slave girl on a leash, a week ago. My God, had the two of them been kinky — they were wrong of course, totally immoral — but so very sexy. She remembered how she'd longed to be that leashed and dominated girl, her face forced into her Mistress's crotch and everybody looking — everybody.

Back home she had downloaded videos and pictures on her computer, watching naked girls being bound, whipped and abused. Some of them were lead around on a chain at a party, with all the other guests fully clothed — forced to suck cocks and eat pussies. She had felt the humiliation as if she herself had been the girl, and it made her come hard in the safety of her room, while Rita was away. It had fueled her fantasies, both at the Club and in bed with her lover.

Later on, in the darkness of a sleepless night it had made her wonder about herself

She sighed, removing her fingers from under her skirt. She tried to inconspicuously smell their tips, wondering where to go with her horniness. As if on cue the woman of the leashed girl entered the Salon. She was alone this time, and not wearing a corset. In fact, she only wore a thin black lace top that had slipped off her left breast, plainly showing a dark nipple against the pale flesh. Below it was a tight, knee length pencil skirt. She obviously did not need a corset to have a perfect figure. Black classic nylons hugged her calves, ending in leather ankle boots. They were laced up through old-fashioned hooks and eyelets and had square, very high heels. Her face and exposed breast were a ghostly white; her hair was as black and her mouth as purple as they had been last week.

Alicia's eyes followed the woman walking gracefully past and around chairs, sofas and pillows, moving like a catwalk model — walking like a cat indeed. As she reached a corner, she sat down in the half shadows cast by an overhead balcony. There was a single candle on her table — its yellow flame dancing before her. It looked like a will-o'-the-whisp, Alicia mused, a little luring spirit. She wondered why she'd think that.

She also noticed she hadn't breathed for a while and let the air out of her lungs. Looking up she froze — the woman's eyes caught hers. They were dark and steady, arresting her thoughts. Knowing that her spying had been discovered, Alicia felt the heat of a blush rise up her throat. A sly smile lifted the corners of the woman's lips. Then a waitress eclipsed her, putting a large pot of tea and two china cups on the table. The woman whispered something to her. The waitress smiled, nodded and walked over to Alicia.

"The lady at the table below the balcony wonders if you'd like to have a cup of afternoon tea with her?"

She saw the woman at the table mouth the word "please". Very conscious of herself, Alicia rose from her chair, adjusting her creased skirt, checking it for dampness. Then she walked the few steps over, careful not to lose the napkin stuffed inside her. When she arrived, she noticed that the woman hadn't bothered to cover her breast. Alicia tried to keep her eyes away from it as she extended her hand.

"I am Alicia, pleased to meet you." The woman's hand was cool and there was strength below the soft skin — quite a bit of it too.

"Lovely name, Alicia. My name is Angique, so we share an A." She chuckled and lifted the teapot. "We might share some tea as well. Shall I pour you a cup, honey?"

Alicia nodded and watched the long fingered hands handle the pot with elegance. She noted that all the rings had vanished but for one that held a big emerald. Looking up she saw how its color matched the woman's eyes.

After pouring two cups Angique pointed out a chair.

"Please, sit down, honey. I bet you are not the cake or muffin type, are you? Should I ask for any?"

The repeated "honey" disturbed Alicia with its casual intimacy, while at the same time spreading a delicious warmth throughout her body. Every time they met, this woman seemed to stir conflicting emotions. Then, as if to confirm that thought, Angique surprised her with a loud, throaty laugh.

"Damn, girl! It's only me," she said. "Sit down and tell me how you are doing, for God's sake. I have seen you in here flitting around like a butterfly and having fun for three. Now don't you go and get shy on me!"

Alicia sat down, smiling. She felt the tea's heat inside the little nest of her hands.

"Sorry," she said. "But you were rather intimidating, last week. I'd think you would still be pretty mad at us." Angique looked up. The candlelight's reflection danced in her eyes.