FOCUS OF ATTENTION
Shane Fowler

The woman’s body was wrapped in shiny black vinyl, and her dark hair was piled high up on her head. I sat one table away, watching her. Staring. She wore a zippered dress, tight collar and knee-high boots. You could have stood her under a shower and the water would have rolled off her clothes. I liked that mental picture, the spray from the shower beading up and streaking, like teardrops, down her water-repellent, bondage-inspired outfit.

Daniel didn’t mind that my attention had wavered from him. He poured us each another glass of champagne and then clinked our glasses together, saying softly, “Cheers, baby.” I didn’t respond.

The object of my desire had midnight-black hair and bright green eyes. Her full lips were slicked with a deep berry-red stain. Instantly, I imagined that lipstick smeared along the flat of my belly, and lower, decorating my shaved pussy with ruby streaks. I pictured her crouched between my thighs, the juices of my pleasure adding shimmer to her lips, her sea-green eyes warm and liquid, radiant with want and need.

“Cat got your tongue?” my husband asked. He reached out and stroked the back of my hand with his fingers. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like it if that particular pretty pussycat had hold of your tongue…right between her legs.”

Maybe this wasn’t appropriate chitchat for dinner at a fancy French restaurant. But I was pretty sure that the other diners wouldn’t care in the slightest. First off, few spoke English. But more importantly, this wasn’t your average restaurant.

Daniel and I were ensconced in a corner table at a decadent nightspot in a popular district of Paris. A club privé, or private club; you need to look like you belong in order to be granted access. The hostesses wear tiny dresses that show everything when they bend over: inner thighs, naked ass, hair or bare. The dimly lit rooms are decorated in black, and the ceiling, with a glistening plasticine material stretched over, rolls like water. Cut-glass mirrors in the dining room reflect the patrons, letting you get a good look at those around you while you eat, but before you dine. The mirrors throw a multitude of rainbow lights dancing around the room, and the effect is like being inside a kaleidoscope, twinkling, glimmering, surreal.

But I know the place. I didn’t need to observe the exotic decor, the gorgeous waiter-girls. I only had eyes for her.

She winked at me. Her long, mascara-drenched lashes fluttered, and I suddenly knew what she would look like when she came, knew that those ocean eyes would glow even brighter. I could picture her on the bed in the center of the other room, me on top, her crimson, spade-shaped fingernails creating designs down the skin of my naked back.

One of the oddities at this particular club is the double bed in the center of the second room, a room that serves as both bar and dance arena. Rich velvet curtains from the canopy above the bed shield a mattress sheathed in black satin. In my fantasy, I was the star, grabbing the zipper nestled between this lovely woman’s breasts and undoing her dress with my teeth, peeling off that layer of vinyl to reveal her tender skin. I visualized her body as pale all over, no tan lines, no piercings, no tattoos. She didn’t need additional adornments. She made the ultimate fashion statement with the collar encircling her slender throat.

Daniel clinked our glasses a second time and I turned toward him. “Are you hungry, Katrina?” he asked me. “Or are you thirsty…?”

My husband has always wanted to see me eat another woman’s pussy. In fact, it’s his number one fantasy. When we fuck, he describes what I will look like, the way my face will be coated with her sticky sweet juices. The way I’ll know exactly how to make her come, spreading the lips of her pussy, using my tongue and my teeth to find her clit, to tug on it gently, to nip it and give it sloppy, wet kisses.

“Thirsty,” I answered, knowing what he meant, what he wanted me to say. I lifted my champagne and took a sip. The wetness on my lips was her wetness, the taste her subtle blend.

Daniel sat back again and said, “So look at your little friend again. I know you want to. Stare at her, make goo-goo eyes at her, tell her silently how much you want to eat her, how much you want to press your face into her sopping cunt and make dessert from the creamy nectar of her sex.” He smiled at me, his face coldly handsome, his eyes on fire. “You’ll know just what to do when you get there, Kat. Stop worrying so much.”

As I looked back at the woman, I realized that Daniel was right, I would know what to do to her, how to do it. And I wanted to start doing those things immediately.

At the club, it’s couples only. The woman’s mate, an older Frenchman with thick silver hair and an athlete’s build, watched me lose myself in his wife’s beauty. After our dinner plates had been cleared away, he leaned toward me, pointed to himself, and said, “Jean-Pierre.” I held my breath as she followed his lead, touching the valley between her breasts with one cardinal-red nail and saying, “Claudia.”

Jean-Pierre grinned as my gaze flickered between them, from her to him, then back again. He nodded, approvingly, at my own special outfit. I wasn’t dressed in the S/M bondage queen gear that Claudia had on, although my trousseau did contain plenty of vinyl. This evening, my husband had chosen a more romantic look for me. Before leaving the hotel, Daniel had brushed my long, chestnut curls, running the boar’s-bristle brush through my crowning glory until my tresses gleamed. The silky loops fell loose down my back, free-falling over the straps of my floral sundress. Beneath the short dress, I wore white stockings, high heels, and a pair of virginal white panties.

Most girls go pantyless at the club, for easy access, but Daniel likes to pull my panties down my thighs before we make love, revealing me slowly. I know that most girls go without undergarments, because this was our second trip to the nightspot. The first time we visited the club was a year ago. We’d been discussing it for months ahead of time, ever since Daniel had spotted a reference on a kinky website. My interest was piqued by the idea of a civilized club created solely for introducing couples to couples, a place that allowed people to strip down and fuck while others watched.

From the moment the hostess looked us over through her peephole and opened the door, we were comfortable at the club. The surroundings are subtle; the patrons unusually good looking. On our first visit, we ate a sumptuous meal, made our way into the second room to drink and size people up, and then waited to see what would happen. We wanted to understand how the place worked, what the rules were, the social clues.

In the bar/dance area, we settled ourselves on a deep red sofa and made casual eye contact with the couples nearby. We drank glasses of champagne, watched a few brave dancers grooving on the slick floor and continued to wait. After listening to several songs, we noticed a trail of couples slowly making their way down a winding staircase to…we didn’t know what. Finally, we followed, walking across the dance floor to the stairway. I felt the eyes of other patrons watch me as I reached out for the cool metal railing to guide our way to the room down below.

On the second floor, things were much simpler. There was no more of the blasé flirtatiousness of the room above. Women were seated on the floor, nursing from their lovers’ cocks. Men had bent their ladies over at the waist and were taking them from behind. It was a debauched underground etching from the 1890s come to life. And for us, it was fantasy turned to reality.

I think my husband would have come in his pants if I hadn’t pulled them down his thighs and gotten in front of him, mouth open, tongue out to stroke the straining shaft of his powerful rod. As I sucked him, Daniel staked out the room, and once he’d come for the first time of the evening, he moved us into position next to a beautiful threesome. The group consisted of two women and one man, and I watched, entranced, as the blonde vixen dined on the brunette’s pussy. The fourth member of the party, probably the husband of one of the girls, stood a few feet back, also viewing the grope-fest, his own hand wrapped around his meat, pulling and tugging. I understood why he was content with being an observer. The X-rated scenario was extreme. Their moans and sighs, slurping sounds. The way the women treated each other, at first touching tentatively and gently, but giving way to heated strokes as the intensity built.

On our left, a beautiful woman in tight leather slacks knelt on the floor, pleasing her man with the skilled affections of a ravenous mouth. Her lover’s attention was captivated by another couple, next to him, and his hands were full with the breasts of a woman not his own.

Daniel and I were among the youngest of the crowd, but we were not the most outgoing. Couples in their fifties and sixties got comfortable on the leather couches and pleasured each other. At first, being a part of the action was too intense for me. I wanted to watch, but not take part. I wanted to be watched, but not be taken by anyone but Daniel. He shielded me in the beginning, using his body as a buffer zone. He bent me over a plush, padded seat and fucked me doggie-style, and when he began to find his beat, his hand only naturally connected with the naked skin of my ass….

All heads turned at the noise. All eyes looked up.

“That got their attention,” Daniel said. I blushed so hard that my cheeks felt illuminated in the dim light. Spanking must be a no-no at the club, or if not a faux pas, then a very rare event. But rather than turn away, the patrons moved in closer. Daniel, always in charge, spanked me again. Harder. Louder. I gripped on to the seat and steeled myself for the ride. He pumped me, bucking his hips into mine, grabbing my long hair and wrapping it around one fist. He used my curls to keep me steady, pulling my head up so that I was forced to see the people watching, insisting that I open my eyes when he realized I had squeezed them shut.

“They’re watching you, Kat,” Daniel hissed.

I didn’t answer.

“Open your eyes, baby. You’re the show tonight. You’re on center stage.”

People moved in closer, tight around us. Hands reached out to touch me, to stroke the skin that he was spanking. And despite my shyness, despite my earlier reservations, I found myself enthralled by the feeling of so many fingertips on me, so many probing hands.

Daniel grabbed my hips and fucked harder into me, my cunt making a sweet slurping sound each time he connected. There were women at my level now, on their knees next to me, peering at my face, kissing my cheeks, watching my reaction each time Daniel’s strong hand connected with my quickly reddening ass. There were men close by, pinching my nipples until my skin seemed to scream, digging their fingers into my heated flesh.

“Kiss her back,” Daniel said, indicating the woman closest to me, a knockout redhead whose lips were mere millimeters from my own. I bit my bottom lip instead, dying to kiss her, but scared again. I looked into her eyes, then turned my head to look over my shoulder at Daniel as I came.

He said, “Kat…okay, Kat,” leaned his head back and followed me, diving deep into bliss.

We left right after, confused and excited. Fueled with enough fodder for a year’s worth of fantasies. I remember that the women were lovely, but I can picture no faces, only the heat of the bodies and the warmth of their touch.

But that was last time.

On our return trip, things were different. We were more experienced and I was less bashful. And then there was Claudia. I simply could not turn away from her. She had that entrancing look of a lusty vampire. With me in my pristine outfit, and her in bad-girl black, we made an interesting couple. Now, really, Daniel and I make an interesting couple. He’s six three, with auburn hair cut short, a goatee that frames his fierce smile, and gray eyes that only come alive after dark. Wolf’s eyes. He has a way of looking at me that lets me know what he’s thinking. Usually, he’s thinking about sex, so my life as a mind reader is pretty simple. I’m twenty-eight and I have a petite build—five three, 105 pounds. Daniel can lift me over his head as if bench-pressing me.

But Claudia and I, well, we would scream as a twosome. We’d fit together with ease, my face between her legs, her thighs wrapped around my body, limbs entwined, hair spread about us like the glossy coats rich women wear.

Even so, I had the problem of communicating this to her. The majority of the club’s patrons are French. It’s not a place that many Americans know about. On the nights Daniel and I have visited, we have been the only native English-speakers. So everything I wanted to tell Claudia, I needed to do with gestures, with kisses, with my hands on her pale skin. Before dessert was served, she and her husband had slid closer to us. She put her hand on my thigh, beneath the tablecloth. He leaned toward us and watched as she turned my chin toward hers and kissed me.

All fear fell away. I embraced her slender body and held her to me. I kissed her deeply, then let my mouth move from her lips to that beckoning charm dangling from her collar. I bit this and tugged, my teeth gripping into the cold metal loop, pulling her upward by that slim circle of silver. She moaned loudly and I could feel myself smile. Then she took one of my hands and placed it on her lap, and I let my fingers wander down to the hem of her dress and between her legs, discovering not only that she had no panties on, but that she was shaved bare, like me. I let my fingers move down farther, stroking her knee-high vinyl boots, slipping my fingertips along that sleek material and then back up to her supple skin again.

When it looked like I might unzip Claudia’s dress and take her right on the table, the hostesses swarmed around us, urging us in French and broken English to move into the second room.

“Come—”

“This way—”

“Si vous plaît—”

It was obvious they didn’t want us to fuck in the dining room. My hand tight in Claudia’s, we followed, but rather than seat ourselves on the banks of cloth-covered sofas, we moved directly to the bed.

Other diners had already settled in this room, but no one had yet dared climb onto the mattress beneath the canopy. Claudia pressed me forward, onto the bed, and then climbed on top of me, straddling me at the waist. She grinned, batted her smoky eyes at me and leaned her head back. Knowing what she wanted me to do, I slid one pinky into the mouth of her zipper and pulled down until her dress was completely open. She wriggled out of it, now astride me only in her collar and her boots. I began to touch her, rubbing her pert nipples with the balls of my thumbs, circling her waist with my hands.

I’d been correct in my fantasy assessment. She had no tattoos, no piercings other than the small silver hoops in her ears, which I licked and kissed when she bent down to me. Her white skin was striking against the black canopy above us and the black of her boots. I liked the dangerous feel of the vinyl boots against my own skin. It felt untamed, as if I were a pony and she my Mistress, taking me for a ride.

Others gathered around us. The music, which had been subtle during dinner, now shifted to the throbbing rhythm of rock and roll. American rock ’n’ roll was playing as my dream lover bent forward and kissed me, offering her ass to her husband, who stood behind her. I held her as Jean-Pierre fucked her. I kissed her raspberry-hued lips, licked the rise of her cheekbones, pressed my mouth to her smooth forehead. I stroked her hair, wrapped it around one hand as Daniel likes to do with mine, pulled and made her bring her face down to me.

Even as she kissed me, she arched her back so that her husband could get in deep. She wrapped her arms around my neck and held me as he impaled her with his cock. I moved with his rhythm, felt her body press against mine and rock with the force of his thrusts. I didn’t look around for Daniel, sensing that he was close by, watching, approving. Claudia’s husband pushed her forward, joining us on the bed until his hands were on either side of my head, the three of us merged into one wild creature. He spoke halting English, his breath coming hard and fast, “She likes you. Claudia likes girls, she likes guys, she likes everyone. Don’t you, Claudia?”

My baby mewed, like a kitten. Her husband sped up the ride, fucking her ravenously and then slowing and pulling out of her. He stood above us, still jerking on his cock, milking it until he sprayed his come over her naked back. Daniel, at my side now, was quick to rub that lotion into Claudia’s skin, to croon to me as he did so, “You liking this, baby? Your wish coming true?”

I grinned at him over her head, still holding her, not needing to respond. She and I stayed together for a moment, and then Claudia murmured something and her man decoded the words for me. “Take her into the bathroom. Wash her, bathe with her.”

I didn’t need any other instructions. The club’s bathroom is unisex and it’s located along one side of the dance floor. A high-tech fantasy creation, the room boasts black-painted stalls, chrome sinks, and a shower walled in on three sides with glass, but open on the fourth. No door. No curtain. There were couples grinding beneath the silver disco ball, and Claudia and I made our way through them to the shower.

Some of the patrons had watched our escapade on the bed. Others seemed oblivious, but noticed us immediately when they saw Claudia, naked save for her boots, moving in sultry dance steps across the floor. Her image was reflected in the mirrors on the walls, and I saw people turn to stare, to try and find the real Claudia and not the reflection as we disappeared into the bathroom. A few lovers followed us. Claudia and I were sending off signals that were difficult to ignore.

Black tiles framed more mirrors above the bank of sinks. Claudia leaned against one wall and watched as I removed my rumpled dress, my panties, garters, heels and hose. Then she stripped off her own shoes and collar, took my hand and entered the shower with me.

Inside the glass shower, we turned on the multiple shower-heads and began to wash each other. There were bars of honey-scented soap and I lathered up with the luxurious suds and then ran my hands over Claudia’s naked body. Her skin grew slippery with the soap and water, and she pressed against me, slid into me, pushed me back against one glass wall. I looked over her shoulder, saw Daniel standing in the opening of the shower, watching. I called out for him to join us, but he shook his head, satisfied with being in the audience instead of partaking in the pleasure.

He motioned, like a film director, for me to kiss my newfound girlfriend. Holding her in my soapy embrace, I dug my fingers into her thick, wet hair, met her slick lips with my own. She kissed me back then reciprocated the body-washing, lathering my breasts, my thighs, between my legs. She dropped the soap and neither of us thought to pick it up. I was lost in the heat of the shower and the heat of her mouth. I turned our bodies, pressed her back against one of the walls and kissed her pouty lips, the hollow of her neck, her breasts. She was mooning the dance floor with her lovely, pale asscheeks, and it drew even more faces into the opening of the shower.

The steam from the shower made me feel thick and hot, but the glass walls were cool and comforting. Claudia took control, turning me around again, my back to her this time. I was happy to let her take charge, to let my brain go on autopilot and my body swim in the need to do what she wanted me to. She pressed the flats of my palms against the glass and began to rub her body along my back. Then she went down on her knees on the wet tile floor and began probing me with her tongue, losing her fingers in my pussy and her curious tongue in my asshole. I gripped for purchase on the walls, but found nothing. I looked back over my shoulder for Daniel, but couldn’t see him.

Claudia moved between my legs, turning her body so that her mouth found my clit and her fingers were now spreading my asscheeks. Her tongue mimicked the rhythm of the rock music pouring in from the dance floor. Claudia’s mouth took me higher, her knowledgeable tongue, her fingers tickling my asshole. And then I heard my husband’s voice, felt his cock pressing there, felt Claudia continuing with her tapping on my clit, and I started to moan. I ran my fingers through Claudia’s wet hair, curling from the steam and the heat. I pressed my cunt forward, thrusting with my hips against her mouth as Daniel fucked my asshole hard and savagely.

The soap on my body was the only lubrication he needed. He grabbed on to my shoulders and moved his hips back and forth, leaving the head of his cock in my ass, but rocking the shaft in and out. I was finding it hard to breathe. I looked down and saw Claudia’s eyes locked on my face, her lips pursed around my clit. Daniel’s body continued in its easy rhythm, the feel of his intruding cock making my heart beat faster, but the force of it welcomed by my body. Having Claudia working my clit relaxed me enough to really enjoy Daniel fucking me there. Usually, I need him to talk to me while he takes my back door. I need him saying things like, “Aren’t you a naughty girl, liking it this way?” I need him to paint some sort of picture, some fantasy scenario, ass-fucking me as a way to show his power. Now, I only needed the real feeling of Claudia’s mouth bringing me outrageous pleasure, and the knowledge that our act was being witnessed by a crowd of excited couples.

As I neared climax, Claudia’s husband moved into the shower, standing close to me, deciphering things his wife didn’t even have the time to say. “She wants you. She wants to see you come.” I granted her wish before I could even think about it, my body throbbing, my heart beating so hard I could hear it. “She wants you to make her come…” he continued, while I was thinking Of course, of course, now it’s her turn, and quickly Daniel was pulling out and I was on the tiled floor with Claudia, turning in a sixty-nine, burying my face into her shaved pussy. I looked up once and saw that both Daniel and her husband were stroking themselves, and that Jean-Pierre, who, unlike Daniel, had not even taken his clothes off, was standing in the spray of the shower, drenched totally, enthralled.

Claudia didn’t let up with her tongue. Even though I’d already come, she seemed devoted to making me climax again. I did my best to please her, lapped at her pussy lips, found her clit between my teeth and nipped at it. But no matter what I did, she just kept working me and her body showed no sign of reaching her ultimate peak.

Finally, her husband bent on his knees and said, “Roll over. You go on the bottom, let Claudia be on top.”

I maneuvered our bodies as he said, never relinquishing her pearl from between my lips. As soon as we were situated, I heard the sound of skin hitting skin. My body responded instantly, pushing up at Claudia’s mouth, drenching her with the juice of my cunt. I love the sound of a spanking. Claudia’s husband continued to smack her wet, naked ass while I worked her jewel, and between the two of us, we quickly had her body trembling with a powerful climax. Daniel, watching the festivities, shot his load against the glass of the shower and Jean-Pierre followed a beat later, coming on his wife’s well-heated ass.

On shaky legs, we rinsed off a final time, then stepped aside and dried off, Daniel holding a towel out for me as soon as he’d gotten back into his clothes. The hostesses were at our sides, giving Jean-Pierre a robe to wear, leading us to the bar as if we were celebrities.

Over champagne, Jean began telling us more about himself. But especially about Claudia. “She needs a little bit of spanking in order to come, a little shock of pain,” he said. “She likes the rest. Claudia likes everything. But she needs that spark to get her over the top.”

“Katrina, too,” my husband said. “But your wife captivated her. She lost herself in Claudia’s beauty.”

I could tell Claudia understood because she blushed—the first time I’d seen her do that. Jean-Pierre continued. “You’re the only other couple we’ve ever seen here who spanked.” I looked up at him, startled, but he went on. “Last year, almost exactly this time. Downstairs.” He spoke directly to Daniel. “We watched very attentively as you gave your wife a spanking. We’ve been coming back each Saturday since then.”

Daniel grinned at Jean-Pierre. “I told her, but she wouldn’t believe me. It always pays to get people’s attention.”