Nesi
My phone has a slew of notifications in the morning, but there's only one that I care about, and it's from Arlo. Wasting no time, I eagerly navigate to his profile, scrolling through his photos, wall posts, and everything else I can find, including the posts he's been tagged in.
As his friend, and I use that term loosely, I have access to everything. He has more friends than I initially thought. I quickly tap the screen and load up his About Me section, which is quite uninteresting. It's clear that he's a student, but it seems like he doesn't lead an eventful life. I can't judge since I served him a fast-food meal for dinner.
I refresh the page and discover a new post on Arlo's profile. It's unmistakably Arlo, tagged along with two other guys named Derek and Zach. From my stalking, I know these are his roommates. In the picture, Arlo is seated in a chair, with Zach and Derek standing behind him on either side.
There's a woman dancing in front of him, and I recognize her. I move closer to the photo and look at the background better. I know those lights, as well as the flashing neon lights. They belong to a club called Panic. If this photo was just posted, Arlo must be there now.
I jump out of bed and freshen up. Though I rarely wear makeup, I want to look good if I'm going to Panic, and not just for Arlo. As usual, I want heads to turn when I walk through those club doors. It's been a while since I've been close to someone, whether intimately or simply as a cuddle buddy. I miss that feeling. And when I'm single, there's only one place where I can find it. Even if it's not romantic and the strippers are just doing their job.
Panic is a rather unique club. Unlike most establishments that close at sunrise, Panic's doors never shut. They remain open 24/7. Granted, their staff dwindles during daytime hours because of fewer patrons. I'm a familiar and well-liked face in the club. Despite my limited ability to tip generously, if at all, due to my financial situation, I still receive the attention I crave so desperately.
After checking myself in the mirror again, I put on a classic hoodie and jeans and grab my pink shoestring backpack. My sneakers are worn out but they'll have to do for now. Sandals would be too chilly for today. I step out of my apartment and the building, making my way to the bike rack. Whenever I leave, I worry my bike might be gone or someone stole a tire. Thankfully, it's still there. It's a reliable bike that serves me well within the city limits. The frame is red with warm splashes of other colors. There's some rust on the chain, but it still functions properly. With my shoestring backpack on, I hop on my bike and head into the early morning sun.
The exterior of Panic is a large circular building with various shades of purple. At night, it's illuminated by large spotlights reaching the sky. Since it's morning, none of those lights are active because no one would see them. I park my bike and walk it inside the automatic doors with me. There's a front entrance where people are usually searched before entering the club. At this time of day, there's no one in line, but during the night, the line often extends outside and down the block. I exchange pleasantries with the front staff, who wave me through without searching. While this club is open 24 hours, it's more enjoyable at night as it should be.
I walk through another set of automatic doors and enter the club's main floor. The music isn't as loud as it typically is because the sun is up. Electronica is the most common genre of music played because of its steady rhythm and beat. I love music with a beat and melody that makes any person get up and dance, music that makes people who can't dance think they're the best in the world. For once, I don't recognize the song playing through the club, but the beat is nice. There's a large dance area in the middle of the room with a polished floor that reflects the lights above. Tables line the edges of the room, and there are two bars, one on each side of the club. Both bartenders look bored as no one orders anything with the sun in the sky. I'm sure their shifts will end at any moment.
The club owner, Jamaal, is wiping down tables near the left-side bar. We nod, and he waves me over, but I'm not here to talk to him. I've got other plans. It shouldn't be hard to find Arlo if he's still here. I see the neon lights from the photos on Arlo's profile and head in that direction. That area is behind a curtain for private performances.
"Yeah! Enjoy it, Arlo!" a voice yells.
He's still here... My ears perk up, much like a dog when hearing something unexpected. I peek around the dark curtain and see the side-view of a man sitting in a chair, getting a lap dance. The various colored lights give his hair a unique shine. The woman grinding up on him is who I thought it was. Claire works her ass, straddles Arlo's lap, and plays with his hair, but he couldn't look any more disinterested. I can fix that.
I don't have heels on right now like Claire, who dances all over him. My gym shoes will make it hard to feel sexy, so I take them off and push the curtain aside, concealing myself enough that Arlo can't see me. My shoestring backpack drops to the club floor with a thud. I know my belongings are safe, given Jamaal is here. Once I get closer, Claire stops grinding and looks at me. "Girl! What are you doing here this early?!"
I clear my throat. "Mind if I give him a try?"
I purposely stay in the shadows. I doubt Arlo can remember my voice and the lighting shifts between light and darkness, not to mention the added benefit of the curtain. Right now, darkness is my friend.
A man walks over to me. That's Zach or Derek, and I can't remember who is who from the tagged photos I saw. "Hey, we paid for Claire to give him a dance. Not you."
"It's fine, Zach. I don't care," Arlo mutters from the comfy chair. He doesn't sound like he's having a good time, and that should be a crime at Panic.
Claire throws her hands up in an annoyed manner. "My shift is almost over anyway, so whatever. He's all yours, Nesi."
Arlo spins around in his chair and cranes his head. "Nesi?"
The lights change again, and when I move in front of him, I'm illuminated by a sea of primarily red and orange. "Remember me?"
I watch Arlo visibly swallow. What a nervous gulp that was. "Yeah... I mean, well, what... What are you doing here?" he finally spits out. His stuttering is cute and brings a smile to my face that slowly morphs into a grin.
Arlo tries to stand up, but I raise my leg and plant my foot directly on his chest, shoving him back against the cushioned seat. "Oh no, stay there."
"Um..." He looks down at my foot before I step back. I pull my hoodie over my head to show Arlo my lacey black bra and abs. I drop my sweatpants to reveal a nice black thong. The colors always have to match. My skin is super smooth with not even a blemish or stain, thank God. I just shaved my legs so my body is ready to play. I hope shiny hair, pretty boy here is also ready.
I watch Zach and Derek smack each other repeatedly while staring at me. They give me the classic stare down my body and then all the way back up. They pause at my tits, abs, thighs, and feet and have no shame at how much they stare. They would do anything to be sitting where Arlo sits now.
"Okay, time to move, Arlo. You didn't want to do this anyway, right?" The guy grabs Arlo's shoulder to move him out of the chair.
"Hey, fuck that, Zach," Arlo says, shoving his hand away. "Get your own woman."
"Move, dude!" Now, the other guy is grabbing his shoulder.
"No, Derek!" Arlo snaps. "Nesi is mine."
Okay, so now I know which one is Zach and which is Derek. I raise an eyebrow and shift my weight to my other leg. "Oh, am I?"
Zach and Derek back off, and Arlo gulps again, just like he did when I stepped in front of him. "I mean... yeah, well, if that's okay with you. I hope it's—"
I press my finger to his lips. "Shut up, Arlo," I demand. "You stutter too much."
"Sorry..." he says through my finger.
I lean in closer. "And I can already tell you apologize more than you should."
"True fucking story," both Zach and Derek say together.
I ignore those two and stare into Arlo's dark eyes while he stares into mine. My finger slides down his lips until it flicks off, leaving his bottom lip pouting as if wishing my finger was still there. His eyes fall to my finger, and I wave it back and forth in front of his face. "Hmm..." I utter suggestively. He's almost panting, and I feel his breath on my hand.
I bend over slightly so I'm at his level, then tilt my head this way and that. "What are you doing?" he asks.
"I said shut up. Did you not hear me?" I taunt. Arlo opens his mouth to talk but says nothing like a good boy. He moves his hands to my thighs, and I slap his hands away. "No touching."
"Why not..." Arlo almost whines, giving me the same stare that his roommates gave me... correction, are still giving me.
I reach around my back, feeling the clasp of my bra between my fingers, and unhook it for a satisfying release. As I toss it over at his roommates, their excited voices fill the air, competing to claim a piece of me.
I look back at Arlo, and his expression goes beyond mere shock; it contorts with surprise and disbelief. His eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth hangs ajar. There's still silence between us, only broken by the ruffling of his roommates fighting over my bra and the pulsing club music.
Stepping closer to Arlo, I raise myself onto my tiptoes, my fingers locking together at the back of his head. His soft hair against my palms fills me with energy. I hop up and straddle his lap while he's pressed back against the chair. His face presses into my chest, and I feel the warmth of his breath mingling with my warm skin.
His hands clench into tight fists and tremble, and his struggle is evident in the strain on his face. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest matches the rapid pace of his breathing, creating a faint breeze that brushes against my tits. He wants to touch me and is resisting because I said no.
"Get that dirty tongue out of your mouth and get to work," I command, my voice dripping with anticipation. The room feels hot; like the club is alive and knows what we're doing behind this curtain. I glance at Derek and Zach, their eyes wide open and frozen.
As I grip Arlo's hair and pull on it, a shiver of pleasure runs down my spine. His tongue goes to work and explores every inch of my tits, leaving a trail of his warm saliva. I can feel the wetness, a tingling that makes my skin come alive. My legs squeeze, and I straddle his lap tighter while his tongue explores me.
My tits feel loved, and I reward him with a few shakes as he continues his oral worship. I can't help but emit a moan that echoes through the room and off the curtains. The sound blends with the soft whimpers and heavy breathing. Looking up at the ceiling, I release another moan since Arlo knows what to do and how to do it. Shocking, considering his nervousness and stutter.
"Oh... Oh. That's a good boy," I gasp, my voice fills with a mix of pleasure and command. I lean forward, urging him to take more of my nipple into his mouth. I can't help but move against him, grinding my body, feeling the friction between us. "Work my body with your hands," I command, my voice husky with desire.
The room becomes filled with the sound of our bodies colliding with the slapping of skin on skin. My ass is caught in his grip, and that causes my breath to hitch in my throat while he breathes rapidly. I encase his head in my arms, keeping his face in my tits and refuse to let him leave.
His hands don't stay still for long and move like a constant dance of exploration and pleasure. They move down, squeezing the muscles in my thighs, causing a pleasurable ache to spread through my muscles. Suddenly, he surprises me by rubbing the soles of my feet, his fingers expertly lacing between each toe. The unexpected sensation makes me curl my toes and cling to him with my fingernails digging into his head.
Arlo knows how to drive me wild and his touch ignites a dormant fire in me. I don't care who sees us, who watches us. All I want is to feel him, to be consumed by the passion between us. His hands and tongue are doing wicked things to me and leave me craving more. The thought of what he could do between my legs makes my pulse quicken.
Speaking of which, I feel his cock bulge in his pants. He doesn't neglect any part of my body, his hands roaming up my back as he presses my tits into him. I can see the hunger in his eyes when he looks up at me, not stopping his tongue's assault on my chest. He pants like a dog, and I feel his cock hard inside his pants, right between my legs. I stand up, bending down to his level, getting lost in his gaze again.
"W-what?" Arlo asks.
Arlo's cheeks are all red, matching the color of my tits. He did some work on them, as he should have. My nipples are hard and longing to be back in his mouth.
The beat and melody echoing through the club changes. I dart a side-eye over to see Jamaal changing the music to something he knows I like to dance to. Technically, I don't work here, but I'm a regular. I look back to Arlo, and he's sitting on the very edge of the chair now. He runs his tongue underneath my tits, licking up the salty sweat that piles between the skin. He moans, barely audible, only to me, and licks harder, lapping my sweat like a thirsty drink.
My hand courses through his near-perfect hair, and I move my legs on each side of his lap. I grip his jaw and force his gaze on me. "Tell me everything that you like to do in the bedroom..." I whisper. His tongue licks up the salt from my sweat that lingers on his lips.
***
Meanwhile, Small Coffee sits in the opposing corner, sipping on... yep, coffee. Though he can't see everything, he can see enough of what happens through the cracks of the curtain. He watches Nesi and Arlo and takes notes on a little notepad with his phone nearby. His face-down phone shows off a case that proudly displays an octagon-shaped logo. He sighs once his coffee is empty. When he goes to get more, his phone rings, forcing him to answer rather than refill his cup.
"Yes?" he says into the phone after bringing it to his ear. He listens to the voice on the other line and then gives a sly smirk. "Oh, yes. These two will be perfect for the first newcomer match of the season..."