Diosa Pt 1

Vitor smiled painfully. A vein over his right eye pulsed, betraying his irritation.

“When in doubt, restart!” Vitor recited rote, folding his glasses into his shirt pocket.

It was the third time that day that he had been called to solve a problem that boiled down to stupidity. But that was the nature of the occupation, and he was getting paid enough that he could suffer through several of these every day. If they wanted to waste their money, overpaying him to tell people to restart their computers, that was their prerogative. He peered down at his watch. Nearly six. Might as well wrap it up before anyone could catch him and wrangle him into righting some inane human error.

It was raining when he stepped into his car. He’d neglected to bring an umbrella. His worn leather jacket hung from his shoulders, slick with rain. The collar of his button down shirt was damp. He sighed, turning his keys to start the car. He began driving, his mind wandering from work, to Gianina, to how he would spend Saturday helping Ed build his porch. Suddenly he looked up and realized he was there. Without realizing where he was going, he’d wound up at Vixens. He frowned. He did not want this for himself, and yet, there was nothing he wanted more for himself. He opened his wallet to count his money, even though he already knew exactly how much he had on hand.

Earlier that day he had stopped by a bank to withdraw $3,000. He was not putting down money on a car or rental. He was clearly not going out for an extravagant lunch. It was all about the build up and planning, in a way. The anticipation of walking through those familiar doors and watching some of the most stunning women walk around completely nude. It didn’t feel coarse. There was a poetry to their bodies. The way a shoulder sloped or a breast hung, the sensation of warm skin and sweat, fragrant and slick. It was impossible to evade at length. And he missed her. Her intelligent eyes, plump lips, elegant hands, the way she strode up to him and assessed him the first time. Was this mortal man worthy of her attention? Of course not. In no world aside from here would she have considered getting close to him. She was young, and breathtaking. He was a man under the shadow of his own mortality. His life was self-denial for family, career, and status. He had always done the right thing. He had married his grad school sweetheart and together they had raised two well adjusted young men. He played on a community soccer team and hosted neighborhood functions. Of course those things gave him pleasure. He cherished his family. But he hadn’t made love to Gianina in years. It wasn’t intentional. There was something he needed that he couldn’t quite place. For years he’d blamed it on a lack of blowjobs. He wanted to see Gianina’s lips wrapped around his thick brown cock, but considering it more deeply, he realized it was more than that. Or maybe it was the lack of willingness to even venture there with him when he felt he had a lifetime of exploration left to do. But did the reasons matter?

Vitor took a seat, a familiar warmth traveling up between his legs. He spotted her almost immediately, draped across another customer, facing away from him. Vitor couldn’t see her face, only the face of the man enjoying her luxurious attention. The man appeared utterly spellbound by Camilla, as was often the case. No one seemed immune to her beguiling charm. Vitor knew this well enough, as he sat and watched, waiting for her to turn her magnetic attention to him. He would have waited for hours if it was what she had wanted. He would have handed her all of the money in his wallet simply for a kiss. But he would never tell her that. She knew her power already, perhaps not the lengths to which he would go for her, not how little she could be doing and still keep him on his knees, willing to give her anything.

Camilla turned, covertly checking the room in the midst of her conversation with the other man. Vitor knew her. He knew how keenly aware she was of the goings on behind her, even when she was turned away. She leaned in to whisper into the man’s ear. She was making her sale. Vitor imagined her humid breath against him, the melodic tone of her voice, the way she would run her fingers through his hair as she negotiated her rates with him. Was it a soft sell, or a hard sell? He was hard, she was made of the softest things.

Camilla stood and took the man’s hand. They went to the register and paid, then walked down the dimly lit hall to the champagne rooms. She briefly made eye contact with Vitor and winked. It happened so quickly, it was almost as if he had dreamed the wink. Had she really seen him? He waited patiently in his seat. Other dancers came and sat on his lap. He tipped them $20 for their time, but declined anything more.

Fifteen minutes went by before she emerged. Vitor didn’t realize he had been taking such shallow breaths. Camilla ducked into the dressing room. He began sweating. She was coming for him after, right? That was what the wink had signaled? Moments later, he spotted her across the room. She wore a sheer lavender robe with feather trim around the edges and a pair of white patent and leather boots that ended a precious few inches below the feather trim. He knew the feel of her inner thighs, her velvety soft skin, a bit of moisture as he inched his way up.

“Camilla on standby,” announced the DJ over the PA system. Camilla's eyes narrowed as she strode to the DJ booth. She hated when she was called on stage immediately after a champagne room. Vitor watched her sharp features contort in irritation. Vitor wished he could listen, a fly on the wall beside them. Her anger was an aphrodisiac. He was not a good man, and she knew precisely how to cut him down to the pathetic creature he was. She had that talent-- seeing through people, an incisiveness. Vitor watched the DJ raise his hands, “fine, you win” in a gesture. Camilla smiled broadly, revealing every one of her perfect teeth. She knew how to take up space. It was as if she could enliven every molecule around her. This was almost enough for him. In fact, it should have been enough for him, if he was a better man. But he was not a good man. Camilla turned sharply, honing in on him. Her gaze was almost too much. His eyes watered with effort not to blink. Not to blink, nor to blush. He reminded himself to breathe and began counting the seconds between breaths to calm himself. His mouth was suddenly dry. Terrible timing. Camilla began walking his way. What a curse: getting what he wanted.

“Welcome back.” She said, looking down as she arranged her purse on the table.

Camilla draped herself across his lap like a bored deity. She laid a hand upon his chest, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt and weaving her hand below the fabric, against his hairy breast. Vitor moved his own hands away, afraid of accidental contact. He did not want to offend her.

“Thank you.” he choked out.

“How’ve you been?” she asked, surreptitiously glancing around the club.

“Oh, you know. Same ole.” Vitor attempted, casually.

“Ah. Same ole.” She regarded him sideways as if reading a script tattooed across his face. “That bad?”

Vitor blinked. What did she know? How could she know? His eyes watered and his throat tightened.

“Yes.” He whispered.

“Don’t worry. I know you.”

Camilla traced her index fingers across the lines in his forehead, spreading his skin, pulling away the tightness with a different kind of tightness. She rubbed her knuckles under his cheek bones, around the contour of his jaw. She scratched her nails across his scalp. He felt like a harp, every touch a string plucked, vibrating warm tones.

In a low tone she asked, “What would you like tonight?”

He didn’t know the answer. Or, well, he knew an answer, but since what he wanted wasn’t an offering on her menu, he had to settle for what he could get.

“An hour? Then you can take a break if you need to.”

“Perfect,” she replied.

“She hates me,” he thought. He could feel it in her frigid politeness, or maybe he was reading too much into it. She stood and held out her hand. He stood too, gathering his jacket. Camilla picked up her purse and tucked her hand into his elbow crease. They walked together to the register.

“One hour in the Boudoir.” Camilla said, smiling at Vitor as she communicated with the dance room bouncer.

“Six hundred dollars. Will that be cash or credit?” The bouncer asked.

“Cash,” Vitor replied.

Vitor already had the money ready. He set it down on the counter. The bouncer marked each bill with a counterfeit detection marker and checked them under UV light. They were real, no doubt about that. If they were good enough for the bank, they were good enough for the strip club.

“Have fun, tip your lady.” The bouncer said in a warning tone.

Camilla flashed a brilliant smile at Vitor. Nothing made her smile more than money. They walked together to their favorite room upstairs overlooking the club. Camilla slid shut the door and closed the sheer red curtains around them so that they could see out, but nobody could see in. The Boudoir room was a large private room, with a daybed sizable enough to accommodate two people comfortably. There were pillows, a bar against the wall to hold onto for more adventurous dances; a pole with a mini stage in one corner, and a champagne bucket with a chilled bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes beside it. Vitor walked over to the champagne bottle and untwisted the metal ties. With a quiet pop, he opened it, and poured them each a glass. Camilla meanwhile unzipped her long boots. Underneath, she wore long white stockings. She gingerly peeled down her stockings and folded them together. She set the stockings and her shoes to the side with her purse beside them. She sprawled languidly across the daybed. Vitor walked over to her and handed her a glass of champagne.

“To us,” Camilla said, and clinked her glass against his.

“To us,” Vitor repeated, unsure of what she meant.

“I love being here, with you. The Boudoir is our special place.” Camilla said, gazing about the room.

She crawled over to Vitor and sat in his lap. She reached down between his legs and felt for his familiar form. He was so nervous, there was nothing to find, and yet she found him and rubbed between his legs as she sipped her champagne and continued talking to him.

“Champagne is always celebratory. When I drink it, I decide that I must be celebrating something. So, what are we celebrating together, cariño?” She asked.

“Ummm. I hadn’t considered it that way. I’d have to think.” Vitor replied.

“What is bringing you joy this week? It could be something as simple as making coffee in the morning. Don’t make it complicated.” Camilla pressed.

She continued running her fingers around the impression of his cock hidden in his pants. She fondled his head and stroked his shaft. She traced the outline of his balls. It was as much for him as it was for herself. She smiled coyly at him, hardly acknowledging what she was doing. She had him in the palm of her hand, quite literally. Vitor swallowed hard.

“If I had to pick… I would say, knowing I would see you today.” he replied finally.

“Perfect! You’re such a sweetheart, you know that? My precious V.”

Camilla downed the last of her champagne and reached behind her to set the glass on the side table. She turned back to him and took his glass. He had hardly touched his champagne, as was his custom, but she was correct, he had had all that he had wanted. She gently pushed him back onto the daybed and began unbuttoning his shirt. Her body draped over his, her breasts dangling like ripe fruit. He fought against his desire to gather her supple flesh into his mouth. She pinned his arms down and pressed her vulva against his exposed stomach. He shut his eyes, sensing every curve of her slick opening against him. He felt a breast against his cheek. Then his face was between her breasts. If he died in that moment, he would have died a happy man. He felt her nipple brush against his lips. She held it there, teasing his lips apart. He swelled as he opened his mouth and sucked her hard perfect nipple. He teased the apex, drawing circles around her areola with his tongue. He licked around her nipple and felt her grow wet as she sat straddled his stomach. She reached behind her, feeling for his cock, pushing against his constricting pants. She grabbed his shaft tightly, and sat back up, looking down at him. She reached between her legs and slid a finger into her vulva and pulled it out. Her finger glistened in the dim light. She licked her juices from her fingers. Vitor tried to lean forward, but Camilla pushed him back down. She reached inside of her again and poked a finger into his mouth. He moaned. She tasted so good. He wanted to feel her on his lips. He wanted to lap up her essence, her fountain of youth, her joy. He wanted to slide his tongue around her clitoris and dip inside of her. He wanted to wash himself clean within her.

She turned around, away from him and brought her beautiful taut bottom within inches of his face. She draped the back of her foot across his forehead, pinning him back. She knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself, that close to everything he wanted. He could only lean back and accept her control. She draped her chest against his lower belly and focused on his erection. It was a marvel, the way it stood so perfectly pointed within his pants. She began unbuckling his belt. She pulled his belt out from under him without any trouble. He felt her fumbling with his buttons, and finally unzipping his pants. She pushed his pants down, leaving nothing between them but his cotton boxer briefs. She laid her head against his right thigh, inches away from his penis as she continued fondling him. It was too much for Vitor. He felt precum sprouting from the head of his cock. He reached out and grabbed her ass. He pulled apart her cheeks. He spanked her gently at first, then harder. His hands began inching closer and closer to her glistening lips. He stopped himself.

“May I?” He asked, meekly.

“You may.” She replied.

His cock leapt in excitement. Gently, he began tracing his fingertips up and down her vulva. He drew circles around her clitoris. He played with different strokes to see how she would react. He tried slow deep strokes; switched to rapid shallow lateral strokes; sensing her tense and pull away, or open and sit back into him. The shorter rapid strokes got to her. He could hear Camilla’s breath quicken.

“Just like that.” She whispered, almost inaudibly.

He focused all of his effort to keep the rhythm and his effort was rewarded. Her vulva dripped a precious bead of wetness onto his lips. He licked himself clean. Camilla lifted herself and turned around once again to face him. She separated her lips and sat on him, her lips on either side of the shaft of his cock. Even from within his boxers he could feel how warm and moist she was around him. She rubbed herself back and forth, pressing against him. He grabbed for her thighs, wanting to hold onto her. Wanting every inch of contact with her. She dragged her sharp nails across his chest, for a moment leaving red trails across his body. In that moment he was scared. He couldn’t come home with scratch marks across his chest, yet he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to come home with a memento of her carved into his body. And besides that, he deserved to be found out. How long could he keep this secret? He gazed upon Camilla straddled atop him, backlit, a haloed glow around her dark curls. She pressed a hand against his chest for stability as she rocked against him, her breasts jiggled, her nipples still slick with his saliva. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Whether it was from exertion or arousal, he would never know. He began inching upward to sit.

“You should take a break.” He offered.

“You’re right.” She smiled sweetly and lifted herself off of his lap.

She sat beside him and reached for her glass of champagne.

“Shall we have another?” She proposed.

“Of course!”

He hopped up to grab the bottle and poured them each another glass.

“What do we celebrate now?” She asked.

“I chose last time. It’s your turn now.” Vitor replied.

“Fine, that’s fair. Hmm.”

She looked up, thoughtfully, then grinned mischievously.

“For pleasure and pain. Because neither could exist without the other.” She declared.

He didn’t know what she meant exactly. Did she want him to hurt her, or did she want to hurt him? Camilla sipped her champagne, ponderously, then suddenly sat up and turned around. She knelt beside him facing the back of the couch and leaned forward so that she was bent over, still with the champagne glass in hand. She spread her knees apart. With her other hand, she reached for her ass cheek and pulled them apart.

“I know what you want.” She said slyly.