The Stud Palace (2 page)

I glance down at my man’s thick, wet cock, then stare into his brown eyes. He loves me. He’d do anything to protect me and provide for me. I just wish he satisfied me in the sheets. Still, he is the man that I have had more than my share of ups and downs with—knowing that our love, or perhaps our obsession, for each other is what always brings us back to one another. I don’t have the heart to tell him that my juicy pussy isn’t because of him. I simply lean over and kiss him lightly on the lips, then roll over on my side and allow myself to get lost in his strong arms as he pulls me into him, grinding his sticky dick into my ass. I close my eyes and smile as sensual thoughts of another woman—her sweet, pungent aroma mingling with my own juices—takes shape in my mind. I breathe in the image, slowly drifting off to sleep.

***

“Octavia, giiiiiirl,” Sheena, one of my nearest and dearest friends, says popping her gum in my ear. “I am so damn stressed. I need to get out of this damn house
and
away from Dante’s black ass before the cops have to escort me up out of here.”

She must have caught him cheating on her again
, I think, glancing over at the clock. It’s a little after seven in the evening. Kareem is out playing ball with some of his boys down at the rec center. And I’ve been lounging around the house, reading this book,
Brick
, by one of my favorite authors, Allison Hobbs. And, truthfully—BFF or not, I’m a little pissed that she’s disrupting my reading time with this nonsense again. Every six months or so, she catches Dante with his dick buried in someone else’s holes, they argue, she smashes up his shit, throws him out, then miraculously he finds a way to maneuver himself—and his things—right back into her space. The crazy thing is, it’s no secret that she’s not leaving him anytime soon. I’ll never understand why she puts up with it. Then again, no one would ever understand why Kareem and I break up as many times as we have to only end up right back together. So who am I to judge? I keep my mouth shut, as always.

“I’m so sick of this damn nigga and his bullshit, it’s ridiculous. I’m telling you, girl, I’m ready to punch him dead in his face and stab his ass up.”

I shake my head. “Calm down, girl. Put the weapon down. There’s no need for violence, or you getting all psycho. Now tell me. What—or should I say,
who
—did Dante do this time?”

“I’m so pissed right now I could spit fire.” She huffs in my ear. “I found an opened box of condoms in this nigga’s car, with three rubbers missing.”

“Oh, wow. And what did he have to say when you confronted him about it?”

“His lying, black ass told me they weren’t his. Then he had the nerve to say I’m always somewhere looking for shit. Talking ’bout I’m always starting shit and acting all paranoid. So I asked him if they weren’t his, then why the fuck did he have them hidden in his trunk
under
the mat where the goddamn spare tire is.”

“Ooops and what did he have to say about that?”

“Girl, please. What could he say? Not a goddamn thing. He stood there looking like he had shit in his drawers. Then the nigga tried to flim-flam his way out of it by asking me what the hell I was doing snooping around in his trunk. I told his ass that it’s my job to snoop ’cause his black ass is so goddamn sneaky. ”

I frown. “A mess.”

“Yeah, and it’s all his; dumb ass. I’m not even mad about the fact that he cheated. I’m pissed that the nigga can’t be honest about it. Shit, why can’t niggas stick to the script? As many times as I’ve brought home other women for him, he knows I’ll let him fuck all the extra pussy he wants as long as I know about it. So why this nigga gotta be sneaky and lie like he’s getting over or some shit is beyond me.”

I almost fall over in my seat. I blink, surprised at what I’m hearing. “You what?”

“You heard me, girl. Dante and I have an open relationship. Or at least I thought we did.” She pauses, then sucks her teeth. “This nigga is always doing some extra shit behind my damn back, like I’m not gonna eventually find out about it. Niggas are so fucking stupid.”

I’m not going to lie. I feel a tinge of jealousy flash through me hearing that she and Dante have what I want with Kareem—an uninhibited relationship.
But at least I don’t have to worry about Kareem cheating on me like Dante does on her.
Before I can open my mouth to question her more about what she’s just told me, I hear Dante in the background saying something to her and she starts going off. “Dante, get the fuck out of my face, nigga! I’m not playing with you. We ain’t got shit else to talk about until you tell me who that bitch is you were fucking and why the fuck you couldn’t bring her home! Your greedy ass always gotta be sneaky about shit . . .!”

He says something else, but I can’t make out what it is. I clutch the phone, pressing it tightly against my ear, straining to hear him. But all I hear is a bunch of scuffling around and shit smashing and doors slamming. I try to get Sheena to calm down before she ends up getting arrested and I end up being the one having to bail her out, again. “Sheena! Sheena!”

When she gets like this, wild and crazy, I never hang up on her ’cause I know if I do she’s liable to do anything. She always says loving Dante makes her ass crazy—and she means that literally. “Sheena! Sheena! Girl, get a damn grip! You’re going to end up going to jail if you don’t get it together. It’s not worth it.”

It takes me almost ten damn minutes to get her to finally stop yelling and throwing things at him. “Girl, I’ve had my moment,” she finally says, trying to catch her breath. “Now I’m over it. Well, not really. But I’m not going to jail over his lying ass tonight; that’s for damn sure. He can deny it all he wants, but I know his ass is lying. And he knows it too. So fuck him.” I ask her if he’s still there with her. “Yeah, his black ass is still here. He’s probably upstairs somewhere looking stupid, which is how I know he’s lying. But, anyway, enough about him. You feel like going out and having a drink? I need to get out of this house and unwind for a while.” Although I’m really not in the mood for going out, I agree to go. “Okay. Let me go freshen up. I’ll be at your place in an hour,” she says, quickly disconnecting the call before I decide to change my mind. I shake my head, placing my cell on the nightstand.

An hour-and-forty-five minutes later, Sheena and I are perched up on barstools at the Martini Bar, a chic cocktail lounge located in one of the nearby hotels. I’m on my third Lemon Drop, and she’s already on her fourth Cosmo. Thus far, we’ve kept the conversation light. But my mind is still stuck on what she told me earlier. And I want to know more about this open-relationship she and Dante have. So I ask.

She takes a slow, deliberate sip of her drink, then sits her glass up on the bar. “Girl, it’s no biggie. I’ve always known Dante likes fucking other women and I can’t stop him from doing it so I thought, maybe, if I bring other women home to him and let him fuck, that at least I can monitor what the fuck he’s doing, and who he’s doing it with.”

I blink, placing my glass to my lips.

“Truth is, girrrrrl,” she adds as she leans in real close, “I get turned on watching Dante fuck.”

I almost choke on my drink. “You
whaaaat?
! You like watching him fuck other women?”

“Girl, lower your voice. Damn. Like I want the whole bar hearing my business. But yes. I enjoy watching my man’s dick going in and out of another woman’s pussy or her sucking on his dick. Or me sucking his dick from the back while he’s between her legs eating her pussy out. That shit’s so fucking hot. And I love it even more when he feeds me his dick and it’s soaked in another woman’s pussy and I’m tasting
her
juices on him.”

I clutch my neck, shocked and surprisingly turned on at the same time. “You’ve been with a woman.” I make the statement knowing it sounds more like a question.

She looks around the bar, steadies her gaze on me, then slowly licks her lips. “Let’s just say I love pussy almost as much as I love dick.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This is a side of her I’ve not seen. Sheena and I have known each other for over ten years and have shared some very personal things with one another. But we’ve never really talked openly about what either of us does or doesn’t do sexually behind closed doors with our men, so I’m surprised that she’s sharing all of this. I almost feel guilty having this tingling between my legs. But I want, no, need to hear more. I tightly squeeze my legs together.

“O-M-G! I’ve done heard it all.”

She laughs, then tosses back her drink. “Girl, please. I’m a freak. And so is my man, which is why it pisses me off when he lies about shit. He knows I have very few limitations when it comes to sex, and pleasing him.”

I take a long sip of my drink, swallowing down my envy. Before I can stop myself, I ask, “What’s it like?”

“What, eating pussy?”

I feel myself getting flustered as juices slowly seep from my own neglected slit. “No. I mean, yes.”

She rolls her eyes up in the back of her head, then shudders for effect. “Like heaven, girl; especially when Dante is fucking me from the back and my face is buried between her legs, and my tongue slithering in and out of her wet, warm pussy.” She fans herself. “Girl, I can’t get enough of it.”

She finishes off her drink, flags the bartender down for another round, then goes on to share her first experience with another woman. Four years ago. She and Dante were vacationing in Jamaica when she suggested they have a threesome. One thing led to another and she found herself sucking at her breasts, leaving her nipples tight and wet. Slowly her tongue and mouth glided down the rest of their lover’s body, feasting on her, nipping and sucking all over her until Sheena found her mouth on this woman’s pussy, pulling her pussy lips into her mouth while Dante eased in back of her and slid his dick deep into her soppy-wet pussy. She tells me that was the first time she had multiple orgasms, and squirted.

My breath catches in my throat as she recounts the lusty details of her tryst in Jamaica. She pauses when the bartender returns with our drinks. We both eye him as he sets a fresh napkin down in front of us, then places our drinks down on the bar. He walks off and she continues, “We fucked her the whole weekend, then came back to the states with our relationship renewed, refreshed, and stronger than ever. Or so I thought.” She rolls her eyes. “Every time I think about them damn condoms and Dante fucking behind my back it pisses—”

I cut her off, needing to know more about her lesbian experience. “So are you bisexual?”

She sips her drink, eyeing me over the rim of her glass. “I’m enjoying sexual freedom, boo. And I’m living my life without any regrets. And I’m fortunate enough to have a man who is also very open-minded and willing to try almost anything once, even if the nigga is a sneaky-ass liar at times.”

I don’t want to admit it, but listening to her has me pissed the hell off. I’m mad at Kareem’s ass for not being as open as Dante. And I’m even madder that I’m sitting here with a wet, horny pussy and will have to eventually go home to Kareem rolling on top of me in the middle of the night, ramming his dick into me, humping and pumping me fast and hard a few times, then rolling off after he finishes shooting his nut inside of me, then falling back to sleep. I remind myself, again, that he’s a good man. But that knowing does nothing for my pulsing cunt and throbbing clit.

I imagine Sheena between the legs of some busty vixen—her hands roaming all over her body, only stopping once she finds her hungry pussy, spread open and ready for lips, tongue, fingers—as Dante plunges his dick nonstop into Sheena’s juicy snatch. I can almost hear her juices splashing out of her. My heartbeat quickens at the delicious thought. I take another sip of my drink, then decide to gulp the rest of it back. I swallow, hard.

Sheena laughs. “You all right, girl? You seem a little flustered.”

“I am,” I admit, running my fingertips along my neck, then through the nape of my neck. Subconsciously, I slip a hand between my legs and squeeze. I want my pussy ate. Want to know what it’s like to taste a pussy. Its scent stained into my tongue. I lean in, then whisper, “I’m so jealous. I wanna know what it’s like to be made love to by a woman. It’s one of my fantasies.”

“Does Kareem know?”

I shake my head. “Girl, he’d lose his mind if I told him some shit like that.”

She gives me one of those “you poor thing” looks, then shakes her head. “So what are you going to do about it?”

I shrug. “Keep my fantasies to myself, I guess.”

I need another drink.
I catch the eye of the bartender, signaling for another martini.

A sly smile forms across her pouty lips as she glances down at her watch. She eyes me. “It’s almost eleven.
If
you really wanna take a walk over on the other side, and are willing to toss your inhibitions to the wind, I know just the place where you can go to indulge your fantasy. And the one thing you must know is this, what’s done there, stays there.” She flicks up an eyebrow.

“Trust me,” I say as the bartender places my drink in front of me, then serves Sheena another cosmo. “My lips are sealed.”

She lifts her glass to her lips, eyeing me. “So does that mean you’re ready to experience a night of uninhibited freakiness?”

I inhale a deep breath, then take a slow sip of my drink. My head is spinning, my heart is racing. I am nervous and excited at the thought of finally indulging my deepest desire. I guzzle down my drink, dab the corners of my mouth with my napkin, then say. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Then, girlfriend, buckle up and prepare yourself for a night you will soon never forget.” I nervously ask her where she’s taking me. Her response is, “To Paradise, a place like no other.”

***

To my surprise, Paradise, as Sheena calls it, happens to be an exclusive woman’s club called The Stud Palace housed in what looks like an abandoned warehouse building on Hubert Street in the city. And, truthfully, the outside looks like shit. But once you walk through the metal door you are in a whole other world. The inside is a four-floored fantasy-freaks playground. The walls drip with lust. The music pumps out seduction. Sex fills the air. And you are surrounded by a sea of feminine women from all walks of life, looking to toss caution to the wind for a night of unadulterated pleasure with other women. Females who are not so feminine; studs, women who have the swagger of a man—some donned in boxers, wife beaters, fitted hats, and Timbs with strap-ons on; some more masculine than others with shaved heads and dreads and low-cut fades; others with ponytails and long, flowing hair. They all work at the club. All here to cater to your every sexual whim, eager to please you, tease you and suck and fuck you to ecstasy.