A knock on her office door brings Ms. E back to a different reality. Her best friend from work, Opal, sticks her head in. “Girl, I got something you are going to want to check out.”

Opal closes the door behind and leans forward across Ms. E’s desk. “You know how you’ve been saying that here you are a single girl for a moment and that you needed some excitement?”

“Yes.”

“Wait a minute, let me think of your exact words, ‘O, here I am a single girl for the first time in too long. I need some excitement, something new, something edgy. If I can’t get any, surely there has to be a place where I can simply watch other people getting off! I just want to watch two people fuck. Is that asking too much?’ You recall that conversation?”

“Stop messing with m,e Opal, of course, I do.”

“Well, I think Ms. O has found the answer to your prayers.”

Trying to keep her voice down while bursting with curiosity, Ms. E implores her friend to share what she has found.

Opal describes a new dungeon she heard about while getting her hair done. “Live up-close fucking and you can sit right there in the room with them…if that’s what you’re into.”

“I just might have to check it out. You want to go with me?”

“No, I can’t. You know how it is: I can’t be sneaking out to no dungeon while I got a jealous man at home, but you should go and let me know what you find.”

Ms. Erotica googles the spot—not a whole lot of info to be found online. Curiosity gets the best of her. Putting aside plans for a much-needed kicked-back Friday evening at home, Ms. Erotica decides to give this place a look-see.

She’s met at the front entrance by a man wearing a terrible hairpiece. “Not a promising start,” she thinks to herself. A nice enough guy, but damn, that thing on his head has got to go. He takes her on a tour of the facility. “Our rooms are color-coded. They run from cool to hot,” he turns to face the stunningly decked out Miss Erotica and winks.

Tell me he didn’t just wink at me. She offers a weak smile in response.

“How about we start you off with a drink? It’s on the house. Allow me to take you to my favorite spot in our club. We call it the ‘Speak Easy’ and it’s in the back of the red room. As you might imagine, red means hot!” Again, he winks.

A little self-talk struggles to bring Ms. Erotica’s anxiety levels down a notch. ‘If this man with his Halloween headpiece winks at me one more time, I don’t care what color room I’m in, I’m outta’ here.’

She gathers herself, “That would be nice, thank you, I could use a drink.”

“We all can…and what is your name?”

“Miss Erotica.”

Her host stands back and takes her in from head to toe, “Talk about a name that fits, you will turn some heads tonight, Miss Erotica.”

Ms. E smiles and follows her guide through a labyrinth of rooms decorated with different color lights—white, blue, purple and finally, red. She manages to miss most of what he says. Against the back wall of the red room is a bar. Her guide pulls out a stool for her to sit. Once settled, she turns to take in her surroundings.

“This is what we call our ‘Infinity Room’. As you see, we have different levels.” He points to her left, “That’s our semi-private area. Couples can go inside, do what they want and you can watch through the one-way mirrors on the wall. The rooms are equipped with most anything you desire. Now, over here,” he turns Erotica’s attention to the right side of the room and stairs that lead to an elevated platform. “This is our ‘not so private’ section. If you want to enter the ‘forbidden zone’,” he chuckles and turns to see Ms. E’s reaction. “You do so at your own discretion,” again a fucking wink, “and you do so without clothes, towels only. Yes, we have a dressing room with showers right through that door. Any questions Miss Erotica?”

“No, I think you covered it all. Thank you.”

“I hope I’ve inspired you to uncover it all my dear.” Fortunately, he doesn’t wink.

Other than the guide’s headpiece and winking eye, Miss Erotica is very encouraged by what she sees. A few couples share drinks at Speak Easy tables. Good looking singles drift through to check out the scene. It’s cool. She relaxes and licks some salt off the rim of her slushy margarita.

“First time?” asks the bartender, a rather nondescript middle-aged white fellow.

“Not my first time in a club but, yes, my first time at this one, am I that obvious?”

“Just from seeing you on the tour, otherwise, you look right at home. Don’t be afraid to ask me anything. I’m here to make sure you have a good time. OK?”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.” Ms. E takes another sip on her drink. “One quick question, can I check out the Forbidden Zone before I decide whether or not I want to trade in my cute outfit for a towel?”

He leans forward and says in a low voice. “Usually no, but it’s early, go ahead, take a quick peek, and, yes, that is a very cute outfit.”

“Aweee, thank you.” Ms. Erotica steps down off the barstool and walks up about three-quarters of the way to the Forbidden Zone, just high enough where she can peer over the edge of the elevated floor. She looks back at the bartender who motions her to go further. She blows him a kiss and walks to the top of the stairs. What Ms. E sees astounds her: a variety of beds from a plush canopy style to a swinging red leather hammock suspended at four ends by heavy chains and lots of interesting choices in between. Hanging from one wall is the most diverse set of sex toys, implements and devices she has ever seen accumulated in one location. Floor to ceiling mirrors run the length of the other full wall.

Erotica returns to her spot at the bar, drains her drink and asks for another. The bartender quickly obliges. “Pretty amazing, right?”

“I’m speechless, and rarely am I speechless.”

“Think you’ll try on that towel?”

Ms. E’s eyes sparkle with mischief, “I might have to.”

The bartender lowers the lights a bit and turns up the electronic music. Just as Ms. Erotica is about to ask another question, a gorgeous couple emerges from the men’s bathroom wearing nothing but towels and heads up the stairs to the Forbidden Zone: a tall, blonde, very white athletic woman and a ripped, quite dark Black man about the woman’s same height. He lets her ascend first; a short towel barely covers her petite tight ass and lithe runner’s legs. He follows, taking off his towel about halfway up to the elevated floor. An erect dick swings back and forth between his legs with every step.

Soon, more couples follow. Satisfied moans drift down from the elevated playroom. Her curiosity aroused, Ms. E turns to ask the bartender her question but before she can say a single word he says, “Women only in the female parlor; the male side is co-ed.”

“Can I take my drink with me?”

“Only if you let me fill it up for you first.”

Drink in hand, Ms. Erotica heads for the women’s locker area. Not surprisingly, it’s red, decadent red, French bordello red with large prints of naked women adorning every wall. Thankfully, it is very clean. Ms. E chooses a plush white towel from the middle of a stack off in one corner of the dressing area and hangs her clothes in a wooden locker. The thought of being naked in a strange place with people she doesn’t know sends chills up her body causing her nipples to get hard and a brief moment of hesitation. I’m gonna do this. She follows through on her promise.

The bar is more crowded than when she left to get naked. With one hand securing her towel and the other holding her drink, Ms. E works her way through a gathering of well dressed mixed couples to the stairs. Before climbing up the first step she tries to figure out how to hold her towel up over breasts and down over her bootie without spilling a drop of her margarita. She knows that every blue eye in the house is going to be checking out her black ass. Fuck it! I’m just going to have to give them a little show. Ms. E strides up the stairs, slowly, deliberately, with her perfect round brown bottom on full display.

Her courage is rewarded by what awaits her at the top of the stairs—the white woman on her knees in the canopy bed, hands bound and extended behind her back up in the air at a forty-five-degree angle lashed to a thick rope that runs from one end of the canopy top to the other. Her feet dangle over the edge of the bed, her ass extends up mimicking the angle of her arms, her swollen pussy hangs between open thighs ripe for the black dick that is just about to find its way into the pink recesses of her vagina.

OMG! You got to be fucking kidding me! Erotica is instantly wet. She must sit. The only available seat is a bench adjacent to the bed, almost too close to the lovers and their passionate fucking. She gathers herself, claims her spot and watches a black dick slide in and out of a tender pink pussy, watches the woman’s bound hands strain against their restraint, hears her muffled moans of ecstatic pleasure emerge from the pillow that supports her head, sees the man’s strong hands clutch her hips and pull her up and down his erect cock, smells the sex, feels tingles from her own aroused pussy, wants to touch herself but just watches. Ms. E’s towel comes undone. She sits partially naked next to two nude strangers fucking, focusing on every detail of their lovemaking. The couple is so engrossed in their world that they seem to not notice her presence, until the man turns to her mid-stroke.

“You like?”

Ms. E nods her head, “very much.”

“Care to join?”

“No, thank you, I’m good.”

“No, from what I see, you’re better than good.”

He stares at Ms. E whose mouth is slightly open, lips moist, dark brown nipples erect, thighs parted, pussy peeking out from behind the white towel…his dick gets harder with each detail of her naked body. He imagines how good she must taste, imagines her fit body riding his dick, imagines her…

“Ouch! You just poked me…excuse me, but I think you have a job to finish before you start fantasizing about someone else.” His partner’s voice breaks the enraptured man’s momentary reverie. “You might want to start by getting me ready again.”

“Massage her.” Miss E’s voice joins them in bed. “Cover her face and neck with kisses. Show me and your partner how much you treasure being with a woman.” At first, the man is taken aback by Erotica’s words, as is Ms. E who wonders what exactly gave birth to her bold advice. But she’s right. He finds a bottle of lavender oil and spreads it over the white woman’s nubile body, lovingly, tenderly, pausing to rub tension from knotted muscles, squeezing her protruding ass, fondling her soft, pillow-like breasts. He licks her pussy, kisses her anus, slowly brings her back to the place of arousal prior to his getting lost in an extended eyeful of Miss E.

“Almost there,” again Miss Erotica’s confident voice, “you see all of those toys on the wall? Get the feathered whip.”

He looks to the implement laden wall and the plethora of offerings. “The one to the right with the yellow feathers. I’ll get it for you.” Dropping her towel to the floor, Ms. E saunters over to the toys. She lifts her implement of choice off the wall and returns to the foot of the canopied bed. “Tease her, like this.” Ms. E glides the whip over the white woman’s back, then back and forth the inside of her thighs. She hands the magic wand to the man, “Don’t touch her booty or pussy yet. Gentle touch, Mr. Man, make her want more.”

He follows her instructions. His partner’s body lets him know he’s made a good choice: her hips move in circles, sighs float to the canopy above them and hover like reminders of what they once had, what they came to this place hoping to find.

“Whip her.”

He turns to Miss Erotica to make sure he heard her words correctly.

“You heard it right, whip up and down her pussy and white ass. Trust me.”

He does. His partner lifts her head and lets out a huge “ohhh, oh fuck.” He whips her some more. Her body writhes in response to each flagellation.

“Now you can get to fucking her.”

He rushes to re-enter his partner’s throbbing pussy; she extends her bottom to pull him deep inside her body. They don’t just fuck, they make love, this time each motion is amplified, each response pronounced. They make love with a fury that Ms. E suspects left their lives too long ago. They love deeply and Ms. E watches. They fuck until the woman’s ecstatic yells quiet the crowd down below in the Speak Easy. They fuck like the first time they ever indulged in the pleasure of each other’s ravenous bodies. They fuck until she collapses satiated with orgasmic pleasure.

The man lies next to his satisfied partner and nuzzles her neck before untying her hands. Like a ragdoll, she falls into a tangled clump. His gentle rubs comfort her. She smiles and kisses his cheek, a smile that Ms. E guesses has been absent for too long, one that touches the heart of Ms. E’s desire.

“My, my, my…” the man turns his attention back to Ms. E. He shakes his head in wonder at her natural beauty. “That was good. What do I need to do to taste some of that chocolate?”

“If you are lucky enough to get a taste, you are going to have to earn it, Mr. Man. I may be sitting here naked enjoying watching you with your girl but that doesn’t mean I’m yours. Show me something.”

“Like what?”

“Like what you think you need to do in order to interest a woman like me.”

“Whatever you say…”

He stands next to the bed and spreads oil over his muscular body. “You like?”

Ms. Erotica nods her head. “Ask your wife what she likes.”

“Honey, you heard the lady, what would you like to see?”

The white woman rolls over to face her man. She checks out his full naked body displayed before her. “Show me something new, make me hot watching you. Expose yourself—perform for us.”

The man is stymied. Two women are asking him to do for them what he has always asked women to do for him. He turns to consider himself in the wall of full-length mirrors.

“More oil, Mr. Man.” He looks at Ms. E’s mirrored reflection and reaches for the bottle lying behind him on the bed. He squirts a long line of oil across his chest. The women watch as it slowly drips down over his sculpted pecs and six-pack abs, gathers at his navel and runs along his pelvic bones eventually meeting his hands waiting just above his dick. His eyes make contact with Ms. E. She watches as his erection comes back to life, as it rises from his body, as it grows in his hands, as it points at her reflection in the mirror wall. Both hands run the length of his aroused sex, up and down from tip to base, his dick swelling with each tug, his dick head looking like it couldn’t possibly get any bigger.

“The feathered whip,” his partner’s voice is little more than a whisper.

He looks to Miss E. She again responds with an affirmative nod. “Show us what you’ve learned.”

Their eyes follow as yellow feathers trace every line of his fit body. Ever so lightly, he brushes his face, his neck. The feathers float across his chest. His nipples contract. Ms. E’s harden in response. Across his stomach, up and down the sides of his body, he teases the insides of his thighs, his bootie cheeks, his dick—he places the handle under his erection and runs it back and forth from its tip to its base. Ms. E feels heat ignite her thighs—it feels good, almost too good, almost too sensitive, almost too much to feel.

Ms. E takes hold of the flogger and swats his dick. His partner’s head shoots up from the comfort of soft pillows. She whips his butt, hard. And then again and again, each stroke done with increased intensity; each stroke eliciting a stronger response. She does the same to his thighs, his chest, and his nipples. One hand lifts his dick, the other thrashes the soft meat of the underside of his penis. He squirms with each strike.

Ms. E turns to his partner who has fully emerged from her post-coital slumber and who watches intently, similarly aroused by the show and says, “Girlfriend, you wet yet?”

“Very!” She’s shocked to see how much she enjoys watching a strange woman dominate her man. She loves watching Ms. E perform acts she has been afraid to do but has secretly wanted to, things that Ms. E boldly does with what looks like practiced ease. She wants more.

Giving Ms. E her full attention for the first time, the white woman asks, “So you like to ‘top’? My husband—yes, we’re married—likes to dominate, but watching you order him around got my juices flowing, it has always been my secret desire. Please don’t stop.”

“If your husband is willing…”

Before he can answer, his wife answers for him, “He is. The stage is all yours.”

Ms. E strides to the bewildered husband standing next to his suddenly assertive wife, surveys his fit physique and picks a leather flogger from the far wall. On her way back, she retrieves a blindfold from an array of goodies on a nearby table and secures it around the man’s eyes. Next, she cuffs his hands behind his back and drips more oil across his shoulders and chest. Both women watch intently as the oil oozes over his rippled body, as it courses along the ridge of his pelvis and drips from the tip of his erect dick. Ms. E’s finger follows the oil’s path and forges forward along the length of his shaft. Suddenly, she slaps his dick with her palm. The women laugh as it bobs up and down. Another slap. He stiffens in response. She squeezes him hard and they delight watching blood swell his dick head to the point of looking like it will burst.

Deciding to join the fun, the wife swats her husband’s butt, his thighs, and his penis. “Have you been a good husband, Mr. Man?” His lack of reply results in a firm swat across his ass. “Don’t make me ask the Missus.”

“Yes, always, I take good care of my wife.”

“Is your man telling us the truth?
“Well, there was one time...” Ms. E spanks his bouncing dick.

“I think it’s time you show your husband how that one time made you feel.”

Before he can react, Ms. E undoes the husband’s cuffs, pushes him butt first on to the bed and restrains his hands above his head. “You like horse racing, Mr. Man?” Another swat laces across his resilient erection. “Do you get excited when a jockey rides her horse hard down the stretch trying to be first to cross the finish line?” Yellow feathers spank his balls. “Well, you are about to find out what that excitement is all about.”

“Miss Missy, it’s time to saddle up. Climb onboard your mount and get ready for the ride of your life. It’s the Kentucky Derby and you are the odds on favorite to set a new record for length of orgasm.” Led by Ms. E, the curious wife sits atop her husband’s face, knees astride his head, whip in hand, facing towards his feet. Pointing to his dick, Ms. E says, “This is the horn of your saddle, grab it if you need something to hang on to while you put some ‘oomph’ into this stallion’s ‘giddy-up’.”

Slapping the wife’s butt, Ms. E yells, “And they’re off.” The woman bucks back and forth on her husband’s face. “Faster, Miss Missy, make him run.” She leans forward, grabs hold of her husband’s love stick and rides him hard. Ms. E pinches one of the woman’s nipples, gathers her towel and heads for the exit. “I think my work here is done.”

Ecstatic cries of “yee-haw” follow Ms. E down the stairs as she makes a discreet exit and heads for the dressing room. A soothing, shared hot shower finishes her evening but, damn, she is aroused. As Ms. Erotica waits for her car to warm up for the drive home, she checks her phone for messages. There’s one from Opal who suggested she visit this place. It reads, “well….?”

Ms. Erotica texts back, “I don’t know where to start…I will tell you this, it was a wild ride…Just one thing missing, tell you more tomorrow…btw thank you.”

Before driving off, she texts My’Kuyah, “Want you with me tonight. Hope all is well. Something has become very clear to me: the only thing my Black booty wants is you. Love you. E”