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The Night Club


By Ella Grey


Copyright Ella Grey 2019


Smashwords edition


Cover design © 2019 Ella Grey

Photos © iStockPhoto.com


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The Night Club


One of the benefits of being part owner of one of the city’s hottest new nightclubs is that you don’t have to wait in line. The woman tries to keep the smirk from her face as she and her husband stride along the red carpet past the crowds of people hoping desperately to get in, and to be seen getting in.

They stop in front of the bouncer who recognises them at once and waves them through with a tip of his hat. She smiles at him and he actually blushes.

The noise inside is incredible. She can barely hear herself think and she certainly can’t hear her husband when he leans over and whispers in her ear. Thankfully, another benefit of being a part owner is that the VIP section is always open to you.

It’s a nice area, with one long, black, well-padded couch spanning almost the whole wall. There are even glass doors to cut down on the noise while still being able to see out. There are shades that can be pulled down for privacy and a carpet so plush it always make her want to bury her toes in it.

She likes it up here.

Inside it’s much quieter, and she can actually make out the words of the song. She and her husband sit together, holding each other’s hands and waiting.

It isn’t too long until the other owner of the club arrives. He’s the public face of the business, the handshaker and deal-maker, happy to be in the thick of the crowd while the woman and her husband prefer to stay out of the spotlight, doing paperwork during daylight hours so they can spend their evenings together. It’s a deal that suits all of them.

Still, owning a business means you have to check in from time to time, which is what she and her husband are here for.

‘How is everything running?’ she asks.

The other owner smiles. ‘Great, really great. One of our bartenders added a new cocktail last week and it’s pretty popular. I think we’ll have to increase the amount of vodka we buy every week, and …’

The conversation is informative but not very interesting. The woman nods and makes notes about changes that need to be made, all the while thinking about the warmth of her husband as he leans against her. The silk of his jacket feels lovely against her bare arm.

They’re discussing buying the restaurant next door when someone knocks on the closed door. A young woman sticks her head in.

‘Sir? Your sister is downstairs and she wants to see you. Something about a car and a packet of jelly babies?’

The other owner sighs. ‘Sorry about this. It won’t take long, I hope.’ He leaves, pulling the door shut behind him.

Even watching her husband from the corner of her eye, she doesn’t see him move. But she feels his hand as it shifts from her knee to the inside of her thigh, pulling the hem along with it. She shivers with anticipation and closes her eyes, focussing only on the feel of his fingers stroking her stockinged leg.

His fingers leave fiery swirls wherever they touch her and she finds herself swallowing hard every time his hand inches higher. Soon his knuckles brush the outside of her silken panties, harder and slower every time and she’s glad the other owner isn’t in here because her moan borders on indecent.

Her husband’s hand leaves her leg and rests directly between her legs. He holds it there until she looks at him. His eyes are still focussed on the table but she can see him smirking. He’s clearly getting as much enjoyment from this as she is.

With one finger he strokes the delicate folds of her skin. The light pressure of his touch mixed with the slight friction of her underwear is wonderful. She reaches for the remote that controls the blinds so they can do this properly but the other owner suddenly walks through the door, looking annoyed.

‘Sorry about that,’ he says, closing the door behind him. ‘My sister doesn’t have the best timing. Or the best brakes. So, where were we?’

Even as he speaks her husband’s hand doesn’t pull away. He keeps stroking her, over and over, letting the pleasure build.

The other owner is staring at her and she realises she’s taken too long to respond. ‘Uh, we were discussing … buying the restaurant. To use. As a restaurant.’

‘Oh, yeah, right. Anyway, I had a chat to the owner yesterday and I don’t think he’s quite ready to sell but he’s thinking about retiring soon and I think he’ll sell to us then so we need to be ready. And did I tell you that I came up with a new name?’

The woman shakes her head. As the other owner was talking her husband had slowly slipped his fingers inside the waistband of her underwear, pulling the thin strip of fabric aside so that anyone under the table would see her vagina, exposed to the world. She gets a brief sensation of the cool, air conditioned breeze before her husband’s hand moves back and starts stroking her skin again, sliding his finger between her labia until they’re good and slick.

The woman is incredibly glad that the other owner is so fond of the sound of his own voice. All she has to do is nod or shake her head whenever she hears him pause. She hopes he isn’t saying anything important because she isn’t actually listening and her hands are clasped in front of her as she fights to keep control over her own features.

As the other owner says something about hiring some new staff members the woman clenches her jaw — her husband’s thumb is circling her clitoris, each rotation at exactly the pressure she likes. It’s all getting to be too much for her to handle.

Her husband leans forward. ‘Do you mind getting a glass of water? I don’t think my wife is feeling very well.’

The other owner stops speaking, takes one look at her face and then jumps to his feet.

Her husband waits until the other man has closed the door behind him until he reaches over and pulls his wife completely onto his lap, thrusting his fingers inside of her. She’s so excited that some of her juices spill out of her and onto his pants but he doesn’t care because right now all of his attention is on making his wife come all over his hand and a second later she does, head tipping back as she cries his name over and over until she goes limp in his arms, the weight of her a comforting warmth.

He sits her back on the couch and licks his fingers as he waits for her to come back to her senses. He can see the moment she loses her vacant, dreamy look and although he misses it, he knows that it won’t be long until he sees her looking like that again.

The husband can see the shadow of the other owner approaching the door and quickly checks to make sure nothing looks too obviously out of place. He wipes the last traces of his wife from his fingers with a handkerchief and throws an arm around her shoulders as the door opens. It’s the other owner, a glass of water in his hands.

She drinks it enthusiastically and then stands, her hands by her side. She’s calmer now, more relaxed.

‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘Unfortunately I’m not feeling all that well and my husband and I need to go. If you’re not busy on the 28th I could come back and discuss the staff situation in more detail.’

The other owner nods. ‘Of course! I hope you feel better soon.’

He leads them onto the dance floor but when they reach the doors the woman stops and turns.

‘What brand of vodka did you say we were stocking?’ she asks.

‘Is there a problem?’ asks the other owner.

‘No. I’d just like to see for myself how much we have left. It’s this way, isn’t it?’ she says.

The other owner tries to follow them but is waylaid by a red-faced woman yelling about jelly babies. The woman and her husband easily slip past him and into one of the storerooms behind the bar.

It’s busy in there, far too busy for what she has planned. But she visited this place more than once when it was being renovated and she knows of another, hopefully quieter, storeroom they can go to.

The door is half-hidden by crates of champagne and the floor this far back is distinctly dusty. Perfect.

She opens it and heads inside, not bothering to turn on the light. It’s dark in there and she stops the door from closing all the way, not wanting to be trapped in complete darkness.

She can feel her husband stepping forward and pulls him tight against her, kissing him.

But he pulls back. ‘Darling, this isn’t part of —’

‘You know you’re always welcome to say no, dear,’ she whispers, waiting. Obviously she doesn’t want him to say no but if he does she will happily lead him back to their car.

He doesn’t hesitate before kissing her back. ‘I want to. I was just surprised.’

The woman backs up until she feels the wall, cold and unyielding. With a giggle she turns until she facing the wall, hitching her skirt up around her waist.

‘Take me,’ she whispers.

Her husband groans. ‘Darling, you will be the death of me,’ he says as he unzips his pants.

‘True. But you’ll die happy,’ she says and it’s the last coherent thought in her head for a while as he parts her legs with his, pulls her hips backwards and enters her, hot and hard and thrusting into her as though he will die if he can’t get deep enough.

The sex doesn’t last for long but it is oh, so worth it. The woman’s knees start trembling as she’s pressed against the wall and soon it is only her husband’s hands that keep her from tumbling to the floor in a puddle of bliss.

Her husband’s mouth is close to her ear and with every grunt and sigh she gets more aroused until her body can no longer contain her joy. It spills out of her and she has to bite down to keep the sounds of her own orgasm quiet. She succeeds, mostly.

Behind her her husband has gone quiet too as he leans against the wall, his breath coming in short, sharp pants on the back of her neck. The warmth of his body is a lovely counterpoint to the chilly wall she’s leaning on, and once she gets her breath back she pushes herself upright, ignoring the faint tremors still running up and down her legs.

‘Darling, we should go,’ she whispers, kissing her husband’s forehead.

He makes a sound that she takes to mean yes and, after smoothing the hem of her dress she exits the room and then the club, her husband following close behind her.

Safely in their car she turns to him. ‘Do you think the other owner noticed anything?’ she asks.

He shrugs. ‘Probably. He isn’t stupid. But he’s good at keeping secrets, and I’d bet good money he’s had sex up there at least once.’

She nods. ‘Oh, and by the way, you can’t come with me the next time I go. I really do need to concentrate this time.’

He laughs as the car pulls away.


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