“Your favorite seat, Miss.” Aside from his sculpted features and well-muscled frame, the waiter at Club Nuit also had the good sense to call her ‘Miss’ as opposed to ‘Ma’am.’
For the sake of his tip, this is a good thing. The thirty-eight-year-old grinned as she regarded the polished tile floors, multi-tiered chandeliers and sprawling wall murals that distinguished the Clearview, Florida nightclub; a discreet Mecca designed for women only.
Yeah, it’s all nice and discreet until they get to the floor show. She let out a decidedly unladylike whoop as Ramon Montague—a longtime friend and one of three owners of Club Nuit—took the stage.
“Bonne nuit, Carlotta!” The tall, muscular Ramon pinned her with a white-toothed smile.
So much for discreet. Carlotta slumped in her seat, but watched closely as her favorite performer addressed the gathered crowd.
“For those ladies who are joining us for the first time this evening, I want to welcome you,” his smooth, lilting voice poured forth through full and sensual lips, “to your fantasy.”
He tossed his head back, his long, thick ebony hair settling lightly around his shoulders.
“At Club Nuit we leave no woman unsatisfied,” he gestured broadly across the room, drawing raucous cheers in response. “We aim to tease you, please you, seduce you and entertain you.” Pausing, he winked flirtatiously at the crowd. “And if, at the end of the evening, you’re in need of total fulfillment,” He beckoned seductively. “Please don’t be afraid to approach us after the show.”
With this Carlotta’s gaze flew unbidden to a corner staircase, where a second Nuit entertainer—an angelic blond named Xavier—lead a stiff, conservative-looking older woman to the second floor of the club.
She won’t be stiff for long, I wager. Carlotta never ventured to the upper level of Club Nuit. Yet the sight of the smiling, rejuvenated women who came frequently down the staircase, and the sounds of club goers who giggled in praise of “the built-in bordello,” never failed to intrigue her.
Ultimately intriguing, however, was the sight of Ramon center stage, swaying rhythmically to the sound of smooth, melodic music piped lucidly through an overhead stereo system.
Although muscular, Ramon boasted an agile, graceful form that seemed custom made for dancing. And he drew an enthusiastic response as he snapped his agile fingers and swiveled his hips seductively.
He drew further enthusiasm when he peeled his sleek ebony jacket slowly and seductively from his shoulders. Soon the jacket was discarded, and he unbuttoned and stripped off the white silk shirt that lay beneath; revealing a massive bronzed chest that drew ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ from the crowd.
“Nothing like a Club Nuit striptease,” she nudged the woman beside her and winked slyly.
“I thought so, too,” the woman snorted, “until I went upstairs one evening.”
Carlotta started. “Did you go with Ramon?”
“Yes,” the woman nodded.
Silence ensued as Ramon slid his ebony slacks teasingly down the length of his tight, taut legs, revealing as he did a ruby red thong that just barely concealed his bulging package.
“So how was it?” Carlotta’s gaze remained fixed on Ramon’s flawless form.
“How do you think?” the woman smirked in response.
She turned to face Carlotta.
“Ramon is an incredible lover,” she waved broadly in his direction. “He totally devotes himself to a woman’s pleasure, and will stop at nothing to fulfill her desires. And when all was said and done between us, he refused to take any money.” She shook her head. “He said I had done just as much for him as he had for me.”
“And you did, my sweet.”
Carlotta inhaled sharply as Ramon’s melodic voice seemed suddenly too close; and his citrus-tinged scent filled her senses.
Looking up slowly, she faced the hottest pair of washboard abs imaginable; not to mention a barely concealed cock presented up close for her inspection.
Carlotta’s heart thudded in her chest as her slit gushed wildly. In an effort to fight temptation, she jerked her head upward and away from his captivating privates.
Big mistake. Ramon’s wide, dark eyes seared her with a seductive stare, and he gave her a soft, sensual smile that only aroused her more.
“Come see me after the show, Carlotta,” his tone soft and alluring. “It’s time for us to take things further—to be together, truly and fully.”
Carlotta chuckled. “After the show,” she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “I have to go home and fix Coney dogs and martinis for my husband and his poker buddies. I’m married, Ramon.”
She inhaled sharply as the flirtatious dancer swooped down upon her, pressing his warm, sensual lips firmly into hers.
For a moment she felt lulled by the tender ministration of his sensual lips, and she groaned when he thrust his thick, wet tongue boldly forth to meet hers.
And, heaven help her, she kissed him back.
All too soon he pulled away, regarding her with passion-dazed eyes.
“You just told me all I needed to know,” he brushed her cheek softly. “Meet me after the show.”
“Speaking of the show,” Carlotta nodded to the surrounding crowd, who frowned condemningly in response. “You’d better see to these ladies, before I get lynched in a fit of jealousy.”
Carlotta continued to watch attentively as Ramon finished his act, pouting, flexing and flirting until the crowd was in a frenzy.
And no one is more adept at pouting, flexing and flirting than Roman, she inhaled sharply.
Although always a gentleman, Ramon could—through a discreet stare, the flick of his tongue, or the placement of a carefully chosen word—ignite a fire that spread wild throughout a woman’s body.
And while Carlotta’s senses were aroused by all of the Nuit men, she had formed a special bond with Ramon, one that also excited her mind. The two often finished off their ‘Nuit nights’ with spirited discussions of their favorite books, and sometimes he even invited her backstage for the viewing of a favorite movie on the club’s DVD player, or a spirited game of checkers or chess.
Unlike her husband Neil, who scoffed in the face of her intellectual diversions, Ramon praised her great knowledge and quick wit. And one night he expressed his divine appreciation in a decidedly novel manner.
* * * *
The couple christened the end of an evening with two glasses of sparkling red wine and a friendly game of chess.
“Victory!” Carlotta raised her arms in triumph as she aced their third game.
“Bravo!” Ramon applauded her heartily, then arched a curious eyebrow. “Care to up the stakes a bit, love? How about a game of strip chess?” His voice lowered, and he pinned her with a teasing stare. “I could let you win. And instead of just looking, you’d be free to touch me as well.”
Chuckling nervously, Carlotta stood from the table. “It’s been fun, Ramon, but I really have to go now.”
With a graceful flourish he arose from his seat and stepped lithely to her side, taking her hands into his. “I’m sorry to be so bold, Carlotta.” His voice whisper soft. “I don’t mean to pressure you.” He massaged her slightly trembling fingers with the lightest, sweetest of touches. “We’re such good friends, but I feel something more.” He stepped closer, his sweet breath grazing her cheek. “Let me taste one of your kisses, Carlotta. Lend me a fantasy that will bring great pleasure to my dreams, and to my waking hours, when I touch myself and think of you.”
Instead of answering verbally, Carlotta surged forward and pressed her lips hungrily against Ramon’s.
Their kiss, while brief, was warm and sumptuous, and Ramon’s full and sensual mouth flowed across hers in a show of tender passion. He took in his breath and pulled her closer, sweeping her body backward as he deepened their kiss.
Soon the couple was locked in a heated embrace, and Carlotta basked in the feel of Ramon’s strong muscled arms as their bodies clung desperately together. In a blinding rush she experienced the perfection of his body; the feel of his hard, toned chest as it pressed hungrily into hers, of his lithe, toned thighs as they gyrated ever so slightly, and the light lap of his long, wet tongue as it grazed her hungry mouth.
Finally she drew back, and stared deeply into his eyes.
“That felt good,” she grinned, adding silently, Congrats, Carlotta Wilkes, on what is officially the understatement of the century.
“Good,” Ramon cupped her flushed cheeks and massaged her face with teasing, tickling fingers, “but not enough.”
“I want more, Carlotta.”