The Pink
She was the type of girl that told you that you were going to play with fire if you got too close to her.
She was the type of girl that told you that you were out of her league, even without saying a word.
She was the type of girl that your parents warned you about as being a bad influence, and the complete opposite of who you should bring home to meet the parents.
She was also the one exotic dancer that I fell in complete lust for at first sight.
I’d come to my usual haunt, the Paradise Lounge, maybe once every few months when I was in the mood, and the past couple of times I’d had some nice private dances from a young woman with the stage name, Rose. I’d returned today in the hopes of seeing the blonde Barbie-doll lookalike again, even though any blonde would do since I desired them the most, as long as they didn’t fake boobies. However, once I saw the raven-haired goddess approach my table, I knew I wasn’t going to be seeing Rose in the back area for some private lap dances.
“Would you like some company?” the jet-black-haired beauty asked me, giving me a smile that could have melted an iceberg.
“Sure,” I found myself saying, expecting her to sit across from me, but instead she made herself comfortable beside me, which I didn’t mind.
“My name’s Lorelei,” she said demurely, offering her hand.
I gave it a squeeze, and returned the smile. “Derek.”
She tilted her head back, her long mane of black locks draping down her left shoulder, her right one exposed enough for her gold hoop earring to glint in the muted light of the club. “Do you live here?”
It was a common question, one that dancers would frequently ask to find out if the guy was a tourist or lived in the city, which would lead into questions like what do you do for a living, have you been here before, average conversational stuff. I told her everything she wanted to know, surprising myself with my answers, as I usually liked to keep my private life private, back out there in the ‘Outside World’ past the front doors. I told her that I worked as a copywriter at a major advertising company, that I was working my way to become head copywriter, and that I’d had a hand in several commercials that she’d probably seen.
“If you’ve seen the one for the Momentum 4×4 with the guys driving across the African planes racing a cheetah, that’s one I came up with.”
“I’ve seen that commercial! You actually made that?” she asked excitedly, seemingly very interested to meet a celebrity of sorts.
“I thought it up in only a couple hours,” I replied, proudly. “I also was behind the commercial for Glacier shampoo with that singer, Kerrie Silverwood, in it.”
“I love Kerrie Silverwood!” Lorelei squeeled, squeezing my arm. “She’s such a great singer! Did you meet her personally?”
I lied and told that I had, even though I hadn’t been anywhere near the studio where the commercial was filmed. I felt a little guilt revealing what was supposed to be a corporate secret. We weren’t supposed to tell anyone, even family members the names of our clients, but in less than 5 minutes Lorelei had discovered that I lived here, where I worked and what clients I worked on. There was just something about her that made me want to talk to her, to open up to her completely, even to the point of telling her how I made almost $50,000 a year, and how I was in line for a raise next month.
She had lovely almond-shaped eyes, like a cat’s, but had them in a sexy, sleepy-eyed expression, her deep-brown irises lost around her black pupils. She wore coal-dark eye shadow with a hint of shimmer beneath perfectly-formed arched eyebrows, eyeliner around them that emphasized their shape as it was painted upwards at the outer edges of her eyes , and her mascara had curled her lashes into long, curled fans. Her lips were full and inviting, even though her lipstick was a deep burgundy, a color I didn’t usually find appealing, while her long nails matched it. When she smiled, her cheek bones displayed sumptuous curves on perfect, flawless skin. She wore unusual rings on almost every finger, glittering gold hoop earrings, a gold chain with a large ruby dangling from it, and mismatched metallic bracelets on both wrists, one a metal-studded leather wristband. The result was a gypsy/biker chick/Goth girl look, what with a black leather bra and matching mini-skirt on her shapely legs, and, as I said, the type of girl that screamed ‘Bad News’, but I was completely smitten with her. All thoughts of the ‘good girl’ Rose, and her lovely blonde hair had gone out the window, my interest in her completely erased.
“Would like some dances?” she asked, leaning in on me suggestively so that her thigh was pressed against mine, as her hand rested warmly on top of it.
“I’d like that,” I responded. “Let’s go to the back.”
She agreed, and walked with a seductive stroll to the rear of the rectangular bar, where dancers would charge $10 per dance. The Paradise Lounge was sectioned off here from the rest of the bar by a tall opaque pane of glass and tall plants giving patrons some privacy. Six leather couches took up the dimmed area, and tiny end tables provided a spot to leave your drink aside. She’d probably wished that I’d suggested the VIP lounge upstairs, where dancers would charge a crazy $20 per dance, and the customer would also have to give the attendant a $20 cover charge, but there was no way in hell I was going to blow my money like that, even if it meant (supposedly) more touching. I liked Rose a lot, but I hadn’t thrown around my money like that even with her, content to get my usual; four dances, $40. I had bills to pay after all.
Lorelei didn’t start dancing right away, which I appreciated, because it gave me a chance to check out her lovely face and hot body a while longer, and also get to know her. She didn’t go into detail like I had, but I found out that she’d been working the Lounge for a couple months, enjoyed her work and meeting new people, and best of all, told me that I was very good looking—in fact, one of the best looking guys she’d seen in a while. I took the compliment with modesty, even though my looks couldn’t match any Hollywood hunk, I did think I was good-looking.
At last, a new song started and Lorelei began to dance for me. She swayed her hips, running her slender ringed fingers across her ample breasts, down her belly and around her thighs, before leaning over top of me, bringing her luscious breasts tantalizingly close to my lips, before pulling back. She spun around in slow motion, her hips continuing their lovely hypnotic sway back and forth, as she reached up behind her and removed her leather bra, letting it fall to my lap. I glanced at it momentarily, until I caught sight of her magnificent cleavage, her nipples as hard as my throbbing cock was beneath my pants. She leaned in again, the side of one breast caressing my left cheek, prompting me to nuzzle it and enjoy its firm softness. I could tell they were fake, something I’d never been overly interested in, even on the prettiest of the Playboy Playmates, but Lorelei’s were like a gift from the gods. She adjusted her position, and brought my face directly between them, so my nose was squashed against the middle of her chest, her breasts nearly suffocating me in the best way possible, until she pulled back, and peeled off her micro miniskirt, revealing a complete lack of underwear, and a well-groomed pussy.
She placed her lithe leg beside me on the couch, giving me a birds-eye view of her crotch, running a hand up and down her thigh, and began to gently play with her clit. It made my mouth water and my head dizzy as I watched her play with her privates in a way I found myself yearning to touch her.
After that it became a blur as song after song blared through the speakers, but seemed muted as time stood still for me, my complete attention of this seductive exotic dancer that knew ever single button to push for me to keep my absolute interest. Again and again, she’d bring her tits or bottom close enough to me to lick or kiss, but Lounge rules dictated that the most I was allowed to touch was her thighs, or arms, and even then on the outside. I loved how she draped her back across my front, so I could subtly show her that she was making me hard with her writhing bum on my lap, and she was doing an excellent job.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered in her ear, when she touched my cheek with her hand and rubbed hers against mine. I wasn’t just saying I, I really was spellbound by her. “Wow, you have such soft skin!” I sighed, feeling the smoothest, softest skin across her cheek that I’d ever felt. Not a single hair could have been on her flesh, because it was like her skin was as soft as a breeze—I felt like I could pass through it, it was so sensually soft.
“Thank you,” she cooed, with a smile. “I have a special makeup that keeps it nice and soft.”
“I love it,” I told her. I’d never told any woman that I ‘loved’ her makeup, but this situation called for it. The sixth song ended, and I reluctantly told her that I had to end our time, but she understood, and sat there with her arms around me for a minute so that she could cool down.
“I’ve got to see you again,” I insisted, and asked her when she’d be working again. She told me that she worked from 12 noon to 6, and only during the week, so I promised her that I would be back soon, even though I wasn’t sure what defined ‘soon’. I opened my wallet and gladly gave her $60 for the six dances, before we parted company with her giving me a light kiss on the cheek as her way of thanking me. She added a little cheek-to-cheek nuzzle again, which made me blush, as it was like a cat rubbing against someone she liked. I guess she knew I really liked her extraordinarily soft skin.
I left the Paradise Lounge a half hour later so I could finish my drink, and had to tell three dancers that approached me that I’d already had some dances from another girl. The more I thought about it, the odder it seemed to me that I’d blown sixty bucks on something I never really wanted to spend forty on, and it hadn’t even been on my cutie, Rose, and her natural boobs. Now it seemed odd that Lorelei had so completely swept me off my feet, that she’d made me spend more than usual, and on someone that wasn’t even my ‘type’. Hell, she even knew how much I made a year!
I checked my watch and had to hurry back to work, having left an hour and half earlier on my lunch break, and dug my hand into my pocket to retrieve my wedding ring, and slip it back on.
Like I said, I kept my private life outside the doors of the Lounge.
At dinner, my mind continued to drift into memory, just as it had as I tried to get some work done earlier in the afternoon.
“…my mother is always complaining that we don’t visit her enough…” my wife continued to ramble as I occasionally looked at her and nodded, as we ate dinner.
In my mind I was thinking to myself, God, Lorelei had such nice hair.
“…but when I ask her if we should…”
And those eyes. They were so beautiful. I could stare into those until the end of the world.
“…for the weekend, but I was thinking that we should…”
And that skin! What did she wear on it to make it so soft and smooth? I can still feel it.
“…so the drive would last even longer, because she wants us to…”
Not like Megan’s. Megan’s skin is like rubbing up against tree bark by comparison!
“…what’s so funny?”
My subconscious caught the question, and I looked up innocently at her, my mouth full of baked potato, and wiped the smirk off my face. “Nah-in,” I lied.
“It’s serious, Derek! We can’t be travelling fifty miles every weekend to see her when all she does is complain about us!”
“Who?” I asked, innocently.
“My mother,” she snapped. “Have you been listening to me at all?”
I’ve heard you rambling and blah-blah-blahing, I thought to myself. Out loud I told her I had and focused on our petty domestic problem, and forced thoughts of my exotic beauty out of my head so my raging hard-on would go away.
That night we had sex. It was just ‘sex’, not so much ‘making love’ as a married couple humping, going through the paces. As I did my part (and I admit I love foreplay as much as the orgasming part), I let my mind wander back to the early afternoon, and imagined I was making love to Lorelei, so vivid were my memories of her. I kissed my wife more passionately, and caressed and squeezed her small breasts with more intensity, and thrust deeper and harder into her than I had in a very long time. On the verge of cumming, I mouthed the name ‘Lorelei!’ as ejaculated with the force of a hurricane. Fortunately, we always had sex in the dark, so Megan didn’t see my indiscretion, but it had the effect of turning her on more than usual, feeling my obvious enjoyment of her body, and in short order her own multiple orgasms.
I admit it. I’d fantasized about all manner of other women as I had sex with my wife. From super models I’d seen in magazines, to Hollywood actresses, to Vegas Showgirls wearing those crazy skimpy costumes, but nothing had matched that orgasm as my mind focused on Lorelei.
I couldn’t wait to have sex with my wife again.
Of course, the glitch in the plan was that her sex drive was about half of mine, so she didn’t need it as often. Throw in an argument about her mother, another about money (stop spending it on lottery tickets or DVDs she commanded, even though I knew fully well where $60 of my budget had gone), and to top it off, her period, and my sexual release was postponed for about a week.
I wasn’t about to wait that long, so I returned to the Paradise Lounge without guilt just three days after my last visit, my wallet stocked up with $100 this time so that I could get six dances from Lorelei, have a drink, and buy her one if necessary, and still leave with some money in my wallet.
I found her dancing on the stage, and when she saw me at my usual table she gave me a wonderful smile, as if she was actually glad to see me. Yea, you’re glad to see my wallet, I thought to myself, but maybe a little part of you is glad to see me, and not some balding suit with a paunch. She was an athletic exotic dancer, climbing the pole, swinging about, bending this way and that, and offering customers a painless splits on the floor. This time she wore a black halter top that soon came off, and a black thong with frills along its edges, also discarded during the second song. Her wild mane of black tresses swung about and draped across her face and breasts at different times, the wavy curls glinting in the strobing colored light, giving it and her skin a sexy green alien tint at times, while her shiny black stiletto high heels reflected the lights like they were painted on her feet with Texas oil. Her third dance was slower, and she writhed and stretched her luxuriously-long legs through the music, by which time I was trying not to drool, in anticipation of another private encounter with her.
The music ended, and she gathered her clothing, and waved me over, while the next dancer sashayed up to the stage, her energy a quarter of what we’d all seen with Lorelei. She greeted me with another smile, and I told her I couldn’t wait to come back and see her, to which she replied that she’d hoped I would come back. I took it as a compliment, and we went straight to the back where she finished dressing, and sat close to me.
I could feel the heat from her exercise envelope me, and noticed the telltale signs of perspiration across her neck and collar bones. She shook her hair out and ran her fingers through it to cool herself down, to which I told her that I found perspiring women to be sexy.
“I just pretend that I made them that way,” I told her.
“Mmmm. Would you like to make me all hot and wet?” she asked, seductively.
‘‘Definitely!” I grinned back, lost in the moment. As if I really could sleep with her, what with a wife, Lounge rules against dancers dating customers, and the fact I was out of her league. Probably had a football player boyfriend, I thought to myself.
She took that as her cue, and slowly began to peel off her clothes again as a new song started. It was true; I did enjoy the feel of a sweaty woman, whether from being on the dance floor at a club or in bed with my wife, so when I felt a slight sheen of perspiration across her breasts, I was in heaven! She brushing them against my face and cheeks, keeping the ‘promised land’, her nipples, away from my hungry mouth out of respect for her and the damned rules.
Again and again, she worked me up to a boil, rubbing against me with her front or back, offering her private areas for me to gaze longingly at, and memorize in every detail. She placed her hands on the top of the couch, her smooth bangle-laden wrists an inch from my face on either side so I couldn’t turn away (not that I’d want to!), and then she leaned in again, giving my senses a cornucopia of fragrances to fall into, from her masses of black hair and the perfume on her neck, to that incredibly alluring soft, smooth skin. She knew I loved it, so she placed a warm hand against my cheek, and nuzzled hers against mine, making my head spin from sheer pleasure. It was almost as if she was trying to rub her makeup off onto me, but I didn’t mind. I was in the presence of a seductive love goddess, and this was the best part of my week so far! Every single stripper I’d ever had lap dances from in the past now seemed like a complete waste of time and money compared to Lorelei.
She sat sideways across the couch next, resting one leg across my lap, and lifting her other leg to my face, offering it for me to kiss. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to, but since she began to run her sexy smooth leg across my lips, I went for it without hesitation. They were magnificent legs, perfectly formed along the calf and thigh with just the right amount of fat and muscle, and not a single hair or follicle to be found. Holding her leg to my face by her calf, I played with her amazing leg like it was a flute, reveling in its smoothness, finding my lips kissing the top of her feet like some kind of slave with a foot fetish. I grinned at her, and told her that I’d only do this for her, and willingly kissed her feet and toes, finding unusual enjoyment at appreciating her pretty high heels and her clean toes, painted the same red as her finger nails and lips. Her appreciative smile just made me hungry for more, eager to give her as much pleasure in receiving as she was giving me. I used to look down on guys with foot fetishes, but now I saw why they adored women’s feet. Another change in my perspective, courtesy of sexy Lorelei.
The dances continued, until I counted higher than I expected to, forcing myself to tell her that I’d reached my limit.
I gave her $80 this time for eight songs this time, we talked for several minutes more, and we parted company, only this time she gave me a quick peck on the lips as a ‘thank you’. I felt a momentary flash of guilt at kissing another woman, but I reasoned it was quick and harmless. It was just a ‘thank you’ and if she was truly attracted to me it would have been longer. And somehow those maroon-painted lips had become ten times more pleasing than I’d thought an hour ago.
I left the Paradise Lounge to get back to work, and daydream about my seductive, personal dancer.
The ideal occasion for a third visit occurred just a week later, as my wife decided to visit her mother out of town, leaving me home alone for four whole days. I took advantage of the situation, giving my boss short notice that I wanted to take a couple days off, to give myself a long weekend. Having accumulated enough vacation time, not to mention the long evening hours I’d put in to complete the Momentum truck account, he agreed.
I left home just before noon, and couldn’t wait to see Lorelei again, and this time without the necessity to get back to work after an unusually long lunch ‘hour’. I saw the bouncer I recognized standing near the front door, and I approached him, intimidated by the width of his shoulders, and the black moustache that covered his usual frown.
“Hi, could you tell me if Lorelei is working today?”
He looked me over, probably asking himself if I looked like a crazy customer, or an ex-boyfriend, but I sensed he recognized me from my recent visits, and those before I met my beautiful exotic dancer.
“Naw. She’s off today.”
My shoulders sank, and my look of anticipation probably made me look like a little boy that had just had his favorite toy stolen from him. He offered a lame suggestion to come by tomorrow, but nixed my suggestion that I could just call. Obviously, that idea was out, because the club had to protect its dancers, and they couldn’t know who they were talking to on the phone. I would just have to come back another day. I headed for the door, and paused only momentarily as I heard my name called out behind me. I completely ignored it, recognizing Rose’s voice. I didn’t want to waste another dollar on her, when my one true desire was to spend some intimate time with gorgeous Lorelei.
I came back 23 hours and 19 minutes later, and my prayers were answered.
It was also a good thing that I had taken the day off, because I was informed by the waitress that she’d already gone to the back area with another customer, and if this had been my regular lunch hour I would have gotten back very late. I felt an annoying, fleeting wave of jealousy, but really, I was in a strip club, and she was a stripper. Of course she would dance for others, I told myself. I just hoped that she gave me a ‘special’ one, and didn’t waste her sexiness on some loser.
A half hour later she appeared from the back area, smiling and giving me that sleep-eyed seductive stare as she slowly approached me. I grinned back, pulled her chair out for her, and stood up like a gentleman, which was when she gave me a nice, long hug to welcome me back. I hadn’t expected it, but I returned the embrace, loving every curve of her body, her firm implants pressing tightly against my chest.
I even admitted that I missed her, and felt like I was becoming ‘addicted’ to her. She took it as a compliment, and giggled and smiled at me, touching my arm or thigh as we continued to talk, my eyes unable to see anything but her. I bought her a drink, and envied the straw that she drank her cocktail from, her ruby-red lips puckering as she sucked on the straw, her nail polish and rings reflecting the lights around us. Her smoky eyes drew me into the very depths of her soul.
“Why don’t we go upstairs to the VIP area?” she suggested, playing with the tip of her straw with her tongue.
I made a quick calculation, and knew that it was impossible. She’d already gotten $140 from me from two previous visits and now a $7 drink, and now acted like $80 was as easy to get out me as bus fare. I would have to drop twenty bucks down just to go upstairs, and then I’d only get three dances at twenty a pop from her, when I could get seven at ten per dance. I apologized to her, and said that I really, really wanted to, but I’d have to use my credit card for that, and I just couldn’t.
She tried to hold back her disappointment, but I could tell she was hoping for a win-fall from me, but I had to stick to my plan of spending no more than $60 or $70 on her again. She led me to the back area, my crotch already swelling with anticipation as my eyes locked onto her gorgeous bum and the black thong she wore to barely hide it. We sat on a couch in the corner where it was dark above the seat, but not above her little stool. The overhead lighting gave the edges of her mane of flowing black locks a silvery halo around them, and accentuated the her cheekbones and mouthwatering cleavage.
Crossing her legs seductively before me so that the toe of her black sling-back high heel pointed at me with their perfect little maroon-painted toes aimed at me, she asked me,
“You don’t mind if I touch up my make-up, do you?”
“No problem,” I told her.
She rummaged in her small purse, and produced a silver compact mirror and her lipstick. As I said before, the color was darker than I preferred on women, but it somehow seemed absolutely perfect on her inviting lips, and I had found it more and more appealing, more and more sexy. I watched as she traced the contours of her full mouth with slow perfection, giving them an inviting smooth sheen, before putting it away, and producing an applicator brush, similar to an artists paint brush, only its dark bristles were discolored pink at the tips from use. The soft bristles were about an inch long and as wide as a thumbnail, the six-inch long handle a gleaming silver, matching her silver compact. Resting her elbow on her knee so that the hand that held her compact was near me, showing off her perfectly-manicured red nails that pointed upwards like bloody shark’s teeth, I waited patiently as she swept up some of her pink powder from her compact, and gracefully applied it to her cheeks. Not that I could ever see it properly in this lighting or even out around the stage area, but I could certainly smell it now, and the fragrance was enough to make me lean forward. I never realized that blush was perfumed, but hers certainly was.
“That smells really nice,” I complimented, hoping to breath in its intoxicating aroma. It was feminine and floral, seductive and dangerous all at the same time.
She smiled at me like I was a mouse and she was a cat, looking down at me slightly from her higher seat. Her lips parted like she was a hungry tigress, and I was her meal. She leaned in close and offered her cheek to me, to which I surrendered, and pressed my own cheek against. I couldn’t get enough of her rich softness.
“Do you like it?” she whispered, backing away about a foot, but held the compact under my nose so that I could inhale its perfumed beauty and its intense pink-hued color.
“Yea,” I replied, breathlessly.
“I have a present for you. Close your eyes,” she whispered, suggestively. I did as I was instructed, and seconds later I felt her long hair brush against my cheek. Only it wasn’t her hair, but her makeup brush, as I found out when I opened up my eyes. I backed off but her voice made me surrender to her. “Don’t resist it, Derek. You love it. You love how it feels on me; you’ll love how it feels on you.”
I couldn’t move, so entranced was I by her beautiful deep-red hued smile, her entrancing gaze, and the mesmerizing fragrance of her powder. Looking down her nose at me, her lips parted seductively, they slowly formed into a confident smile as she watched me become hers completely. She laid the compact in her lap, and held my chin in one hand as she stroked both of my cheeks a few times each, enough to get some of the powder on me, making my cheeks warm from the contact, but not given any colorization.
“What..is that stuff?” I asked, my head becoming light and my erection ready to burst from my pants. I was pretty sure your standard blush didn’t feel like this.
She smiled at me like she’d completely won me over, which was, I suddenly realized, the truth. I would do absolutely anything for her right now.
“I call it ‘The Pink’. It’s just common cheek blush, but it’s imbued with a spell or two to make my skin irresistible to men, making it softer and more seductive than anything else on the market.”
“’Spell?’” I repeated, my mind wandering, but not my eyes from her lovely visage.
“I have a friend who’s something of a modern-day witch,” she admitted. “Nothing harmful or evil, but she has a whole wall of love potions. I’ve been wearing the Pink for a month now, and it’s made me very rich! Once in contact with the flesh of a man, it creates insatiable desire which is exactly what you’re feeling for me now, isn’t it, Derek?”
Applying a few more strokes of the Pink onto my cheeks, I knew couldn’t resist her seductive smile, and wanted to fall to my knees before this goddess. “Oh, yes! Yes, Lorelei! You’re the most beautiful woman in the world!”
Smiling with approvaI, she caressed my chin and enforced her will upon me. “You’ve fallen under my spell. You’re mine now, Derek.” Then she commanded me, “Tell me you love me.” I tried to fight it, but the more I looked into her lovely dark eyes the more I realized that all I wanted to do was to please her. “Say it, baby. Tell me you love me.”
“I…”
I’m married…I think?…those eyes!... Those lips!
“…I…”
She’s taking over my mind! That fragrance…it’s everywhere…
“ I love you!”
I couldn’t believe I was saying this to someone I’d only met a couple weeks ago, since it took over four months for me to say it to my wife, but this woman had created a burning desire within me after just three encounters. As I told her what she wanted to hear, it was like a revelation in my own mind. I did love her; I just hadn’t realized it until she’d made me say it aloud. My heart was bursting now with not just desire, but adoration for this beautiful, enticing woman.
“It feels nice, doesn’t it?” she asked, suggestively, tracing a finger across my cheek..
“Yes,” I replied, as it overpowered me. It didn’t make me feel effeminate or girly. It simply created a voracious sexual desire for this gorgeous woman.
“By wearing my blush you can’t escape the fragrance that you associate with me. Of course, my friend told me it’s only temporary if I wanted it to be, but I’m going to keep you, considering how much money you’ve told me that you make. She told me the one way to make the spell permanent is…” she said, leaning into me, and whispering, “…making love.” She kissed me with those blood-red lips of hers for several long seconds, making my blood boil with the lust she’d created within me. “You and I are going upstairs to the VIP area…for some fun! And then you’ll have no other desire but to serve me.”
She stood up, took my hand, and led me upstairs, paying the attendant the $20 cover charge herself, telling me it was ‘on the house’. All the while my mind was racing in slow motion, my will and my legs disconnected, as I told myself that I couldn’t, mustn’t do this, as I’d made an oath to Megan on our wedding day and that it had always meant something to me. I’d ignored my interest in certain women at work that I wished I could get to know better, and had always considered these visits to strip joints as nothing more than harmless staring at boobs and pussy, but I’d never gotten to even first base with any dancer. I’d gotten in over my head with the ‘bad girl’, and obediently followed her upstairs, her lovely, shapely bottom wiggling inches before me, beckoning me to accompany her.
Now, however, Lorelei was going to make me have sex with her, throwing my promise to my wife out the window, but even as we climbed the stairs to the upper level, and made our way to a private area blocked off my a curved wall, I began to question my oath. Megan wasn’t my dream girl, Lorelei was. Megan had an unappealing pear-shaped body, wide at the hips, while Lorelei had the figure of a Playboy playmate, that made you thank God you were a man. Megan liked to start arguments, while Lorelei was nothing but friendly and inviting. By the time I’d sat down on the leather couch and she had straddled my hips, I’d actually begun to forget I was even married.
A hard rock song began playing through the speakers, and she began our encounter with our most intimate encounter yet. Writhing side to side so that her crotch was making my dick hard beneath my pants, she took my hands, and placed them on her black lace bra, my hands more than willing to squeeze and massage her gorgeous breasts. I could sense the implants beneath, which would have turned me off at one time, but now they just lit a bonfire of desire for her. She tilted her head back, draping almost all of her smooth back with her mane of raven locks, as she clutched my hands and made me fondle her breasts even tighter, garnering moans of approval from her deep red lips. I adjusted my hands so they still clung to her tits, but allowed me to use my thumbs to make circles around her hard nipples. She liked it, running her hands up and down my arms, then up to my cheeks, at which point she leaned on top me, and kissed me with those sensuous lips of her.
All thoughts of finding the color of her lipstick were banished as I felt their smooth, slippery softness, the color smearing across my mouth as she turned her face back and forth, as if to tattoo my lips with their color. I couldn’t imagine any other lip color looking so lovely as what she always wore. My arms found her bum, and I massaged her perfect round buns, before rising across her back and nearly squashing her toned body into mine, like I wanted to absorb her into my soul. Her arms snaked across my shoulders, as her mouth opened mine and we began to play tonsil hockey. By the time she’d released my mouth and rubbed and maneuvered her lace bra into my face, I couldn’t tell if the wetness on my lips was her lipstick or saliva. Not that I cared as her seduction was sending me off the scale of anything I’d ever felt. My lips explored the intricate floral pattern of her black lace bra, before she pulled it off, and I was finally able to kiss, and suck, and lick those luscious fake breasts of hers, making me wonder why I’d ever liked the small, but real, ones of my wife. Implants were fantastic! I told myself.
An image of Megan appeared in my mind, momentarily giving me a flash of guilt, until Lorelei forced her other nipple into my mouth to taste, my tongue exploring their rigid sweetness, while her free hand reached into my pants into my underwear and took hold of my cock, rubbing me until it felt beyond my usual fully erection size. She pressed her cheek against mine, breathing heavily and making ‘Oooh’ and “Mmmm” sounds, her Pink blush reinforcing its absolute hold over me. She opened up my shirt so she could massage and rub my own chest, making my nipples as hard as hers, and my chest hair stand on end as if to salute her beauty. With my bare chest exposed, she positioned her tits to line up so that our nipples ‘kissed’ each other, and wiggled her shoulders so that they squashed against each other. Leaning back, she held my head so that I could watch as she inserted two fingers into her pussy and rubbed herself, bringing forth moans of pleasure from her parted lips. Removing her sticky, wet fingers, she brought them to my mouth, and I greedily swallowed them, running my tongue around them, desperate to taste her. She moved them back and forth like a she was screwing my mouth, and smiled as I willingly allowed her to simulate male oral sex. I didn’t care. She tasted great!
She then stood up on the couch so that my face was lined up with her shaved pussy. “I’m going to make to addicted to my pussy,” she told me, breathlessly, as she stood up on the couch and began to gyrate slowly and seductively in my face, so that all I could see was her hypnotically-captivating pussy, and her fingers playing with it to keep it wet. She leaned forward so that I could lick and kiss her private area. I hadn’t even gone down on my own wife, so the short bristles of her groomed pubic hair felt strange, mingled with the insatiable need to taste her pink lips, I forced my tongue into her as far as I could get it, eliciting more moans of approval from her. She made me orally service her for several long minutes, but she wanted to consummate her love spell, so she straddled my hips again, undid my belt and pants, and pulled down my zipper.
A flash of resistance entered my head, but not my hands, realizing that there would be no turning back if I allowed her to take my love inside of her. She was up and on top of me as I tried to decide if I should re-think this, her hand expertly lining up my throbbing cock with her pussy. I gasped as she lowered herself onto me. I was inside Lorelei! My mind almost went insane as I realized that now that she was pumping my pelvis, playing with her long hair, twisting and moaning, I was going to be her eternal love slave, that I would be unable to deny her any wish. It would also mean that we would also hopefully make love in a proper, private place…like her bedroom…
I helped her feel my cock even deeper within her, as I thrust my own hips as much as I could into her, her breasts and earrings flopping around before my face. I loved how her smooth tits rubbed against my face until latched onto her bouncing left tit with my hungry mouth, and sucked it. She was riding me like a wild bronco, and I felt an amazing orgasm build. The thought of becoming her slave and becoming a willing visitor to her personal boudoir was too much for me, and I came minutes later. She rocked and pumped me until she, too, came, her pussy tightening again and again around my cock, smothering it in a sea of slippery cum, as her will claimed my own for her purposes. She brushed her hair out of her glowing face with one hand, draping it over one shoulder to expose her bare neck as she’d done when I first met her, and at that moment, as the overhead lights caught her full beauty, I knew that I had lost my heart to her, and I could deny her nothing.
Lorelei had completely turned me into her obedient love slave.
She wasn’t about to ruin a good thing, however, and had implanted commands within my mind that I was to visit her every Friday at the same time, spending $150 on her in the VIP area every time. She’d used the Pink on several other men with deep pockets and had created an impressive herd of men that would willingly hand over their money and affection for her pleasure, taking care not to ruin their home lives in the process, because a divorce would only complicate things and inhibit the stream of money we wanted to give her. All the while as I and my fellow slaves visited her, she’d sometimes give us a ‘booster shot’ of her bewitching blush, applying a light coat of the Pink to our cheeks so her dominion over us was impossible to resist. I’d even visited her hoping she’d make me wear the Pink, just so I could experience its aphrodisiac powers.
Weeks later, as her birthday arrived, I presented her with the largest ruby ring I could find, as she’d told me to buy her one since it was her birthstone and she liked that gem the most. She showed me a ‘gift’ from another admirer, another slave to the Pink, and he’d bought her a $500 gold earrings. I returned the next day with a $700 leather jacket. As a way of thanking me, she brought me to her expensive condo, and we made love for hours in her bed. It had the desired effect of reinforcing her power over me, and was an added turn-on as I lived the ‘dangerous life’ I’d always secretly wanted. She’d turned me on to her leather outfits and black lingerie--bustiers and corsets, her deep red lips and charcoal dark eyes, her dominant position on top of me during sex, even the feel of her scratching her nails into my back as she came from her multiple orgasms. Nothing she could say or do was wrong. Nothing she desired was out of the question.
When I made love to my less and less appealing wife, I couldn’t imagine anyone other than Lorelei in my arms, but gave her surprisingly affectionate attention in bed when we had sex. Even though she was oblivious to the fact that she was the furthest thing from my mind that I wanted to have sex with, that’s all it was with Megan, by then. It was just sex with her, but it was making love to my Lorelei. Megan was a boring lover at that, practically just laying there as I did all the work, while my love goddess, Lorelei, got into the heat of the moment, reciprocating my touching and kissing with her own expert powers of seduction, bringing me to orgasm again and again, visit after visit to her warm bed.
For months, I obeyed Lorelei’s commands of visiting every Friday, cheerfully handing over my hard-earned money in exchange for her kisses, her moaning, her hypnotically-perfect lap dances, until one day that I’d visited the Paradise Lounge on schedule, only to learn that she was no longer working there. My heart dropped and I began to feel panicked all over. Where was she?! Why would she leave me?! Why would she leave all of us? The bouncer only shrugged, saying that Lorelei had told him that she’d saved enough money and was going to start a new life somewhere else.
“If you’re that ‘Derek’ guy she mentioned, then she told me to tell you that she loved you, but she needed to move on,” he told me.
I was a grown man, but I wanted to burst out into tears, my love goddess had left me high and dry, just as she sucked my bank account dry! I didn’t know what to do, where to start looking for her, once I’d confirmed that she’d moved out of her condo. I visited every strip club in the city and as many as I could find outside of the city, but she was nowhere to be found. My mind was in an upheaval, I needed her, yearned for her, but she was out of my life. She could have moved to California or Paris, for all I knew.
“And that’s why I’m here,” I told Doctor MacKay, trying to get comfortable in my straightjacket, to no avail.
He peered down those horn-rimmed glasses of his like I was insane, which wasn’t far from the truth. He sighed like I’d told him that the Earth was flat and I had proof.
“You’re telling me that you had your nervous breakdown…because a stripper put some rouge on your cheeks?”
“Not just any rouge, Doctor!” I snapped. I smiled contentedly, calming down as I recalled the sweet feminine fragrance of it. “The Pink,” I sighed. “The loveliest, sweetest, most seductive blush you could ever imagine! I can feel it on my cheeks, even now, I can still smell her fragrance, and I…I…I’VE GOT TO SEE HER AGAIN! DOCTOR! I’M BEGGING YOU! FIND LORELEI FOR ME, FOR GOD’S SAKE! I NEED HER OR I’LL LOSE MY MIND! CAN YOU FIND HER??!! WHEN YOU FIND HER TELL HER THAT I’M STILL IN LOVE WITH HER! TELL HER I’LL DO ANYTHING FOR HER! HER EVERY WISH IS MY SOLE REASON FOR LIVING! TELL HER—“
Doctor MacKay closed the door behind him, locking me within my cell at the mental hospital once more. He shook his head sadly at my wife, who couldn’t bear to look through the window at me as I ranted and raved and cried out for my one true love.
“Will he ever be okay, Doctor?” she asked, hopefully.
As an answer, MacKay escorted her past several cells in the hospital, some men crying in fetal positions or pacing incessantly, all with the same words spilling from their mouths.
“The Pink! I love the feel of the Pink! Put some more on me, pleeease!”
“Lorelei, I’m your slave and you’re my master!””
“Let me kiss you again, Lorelei! Are you out there? Please, I beg you!”
“It’s all over my body! The Pink is all over me! It won’t come off! It’s inside meeee!”
“LLOORRREELLLEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”