The Club by Salome Fox Page A

of a small stage equipped with an unusu al black stool. On the stool si t s a small bu t powerful vibrator and a book containing the poems of John Wilmot. I plan to read to my audience, a nice little bedtime story, but first it’s time to strip. I press a button at the back of the stage and a mournful blues tunes comes on. There is a soft filtered spotlight on me, bathing my skin and my dress in an amber glow befitting the subdued luxury of our surroundings.
                  The room is completely silent , save for my sad music and the occasional crack of ice cubes melting and crackle from the fire. Making use of the slit in my gown, I place one of my stilettos on the top rung of the ladder and run my hands up the length of my inner thigh . I slow down as I reach the top of my leg , waiting for all the men to will my fingers closer to my cunt with their eyes . I move inch by inch, breathing heavily as if I cannot wait to tou ch myself. I swivel my hips a little, reacting to the music, letting it guide me. When I’m only a whisper away, I let my gown tumble back down to the floor and hear one of the men grown.
                  Good.
                  I will not be hurried. One man shuffles the cards, but his eyes stay on me. The poker game will wait.
                  I turn my back to the men and fi nd the small hook that keeps my gown fastened just above my ass. Very slowly, I unhook the clasp , unzip the fabric, and let the gown fall open. I hold it against my breasts and present my perfect round ass to the room, parting my legs so they can all see my pussy, its lips star ting to throb with the thrill of being on display . I peek over my shoulder with a small smile on my face, pleased to see each and ev ery man’s gaze riveted to my swollen cunt .
                  Except for one.
                  Max still stare s at my face instead, lickin g his lips and sipping his drink . He looks at me as if surveying that which is already his. I shudder, but not with disgust. His knowingness is turning me o n m ore than my own audacity.
                  I turn around to face the table and let the dress slide down the front of my body to the floor . My God, one of the men growls as they see all of me displayed before them. I lean back on the stool and let them drink in the sight of me, of my heavy tits and ready cunt. I let my head fall back as if I’m waiting to be taken. Even the fire seems to quite itself . The room is filled with animal energy more powerful than any flame.
                  Under the generous spotlight, I am magnificent.
    The men chuckle and set down their cards . Ignoring them, I pick up the book and straddle my stool . I turn on the vibrator and position it such that it presses against my clit. I con trol the pre ssure by rocking my hips slightly and swiveling the stool. I hear the men murmur in approval and adjust themselves, trying to get more comfortable as their erections get harder and more insistent.
    As I begin reading, I’m so t urned on I could easily come in thirty seconds. B ut I take my time. I read the poetry in a low voice, concentrating on the words as the heat begins to build in my cunt. My voice wavers over the erotic poem as the vibrations make my cunt swell and ache even more , but t he men don’t care about the words even if I do . It’s a contest between my body and my mind as I keep edging myself closer to release.
    They are entranced by my show , by my body, and I love it. There’s nothing more incredible than sharing the most intimate part of yourself with total strangers—especially strangers as powerful as these . In this moment, I’m in control of all of them. Th eir breathing matches mine; their heart rates sky rocket . They can’t wait to hear the sounds I make and see my face during the ultimate moment of truth.
                  My pink ni pples a re fully erect and I thrust them