Damage

This post is part of a blog series entitled, Memoirs of a Ghost.  For more information, click our About page, and check the bottom of this post for previous entries.

Phan in Repose with Guest

I sent the notices about the time the music started.  We had a new DJ, and more than the usual regulars were starting to drop in.  Megan, Bruce’s best friend, was a no-show once more, and I had been appointed referee for the evening.

“Sure; whatever,” I had replied within a second of the initial text.

“What’s with the attitude?”  Bruce shot back.

“You and I were supposed to go out tonight …”

I could see his typing come across my phone. “What do you expect me to do?  Shut down the club every time …”

“I don’t expect you to do anything,” I shot back.  “I said I would be there.”

I thought about the exchange as DJ Blaze’s tunes started to wash over me.  I was really getting into the mood of the rhythm, wanting the music to numb me of the disappointment I was feeling over this whole so-called relationship with Bruce.  The week before, he asked me to stay behind one night until after close … he said he had wanted to discuss something really important.  That whole night I had been on edge – we had only been dating a few months, but could it be possible that he was really wanting to move to the next level?

We had gone to his office, sat down next to each, and he popped the question.

“I was wondering … maybe …” Bruce asked nervously; a shy grin inhabiting his face.  “… if you would want to buy into the business.”

I was mortified.  “Whaa…”

“I know it’s a lot to think about … I wouldn’t expect you to answer right now, but if you bought in half, just think of the expansion we could do.  I’m thinking 24/7 international … we’d have to start off maybe with six or twelve hours at first, but I’m thinking we could really give all these other clubs a run for their business.”

I had stood quickly, and made some excuse up about needing to get up early the next day.  It was most definitely going to give me  pause to reconsider quite a bit.

My phone went off, disrupting my thoughts.

“You’re not greeting the guests!” Bruce texted.

I looked around.  Blaze had only been going on five minutes, and we had already broken attendance records.  I quickly ran around the room, welcoming everyone to the club, thanking them for coming.

As I made my way back to my perch near the DJ booth, I saw the spin-master look up from his platters and flash a smile at me.  The room seemed to settle into slow motion as his eyes continued to scan me for a response.  Flattering, sure … enough to make me forget breathing, but this guy had a reputation of bedding half of gay SL – irrespective of his or their relationship status.

I looked away.  No thanks!  I wasn’t about to be another notch on his belt.

Another text on my phone.  Mitchell was a regular; someone who stopped by two or three times a week and preferred talking over dancing.  He tipped well, so I always played along.

“Looking sexy tonight.”

I looked across the room, and there he was … sitting on a barstool, nodding his head at me.  At least it looked like him.  What I had known to be a slightly newbish and not very stylish chatterbox had seemingly morphed into a muscle-bound Daddy.

“You look different,” I texted back.

“I went shopping.  You need some company?  You look a little lonely over there.”

I smiled.  Sure, I need company I thought,  but I also knew from our previous encounters exactly what sort of company he wanted from me.  “Thanks, but I better focus on my job tonight.”

Blaze was moving into a new song, and my eyes went to him instinctively.  He motioned with his head for me to join him behind the platters.  Endorphins flooded my body; I could feel my face redden.  Perhaps I was mistaking his cue, so I focused the crowd again … stealing only one glance at him long enough to see him repeat the gesture, his lips mouthing “Come here.”

I jumped up on the stage and moved slowly behind his booth; his fingers moving all over the boards, his body swaying with the music.  He leaned over and yelled over the din of the club.  “You really wanna fill this place?”

I nodded, and within a few moments, he gave me access to his party group, and asking me to send the same notice I had sent out on our club group.  Within five minutes of me doing so, our audience had doubled to forty-five hot and sexy men gyrating on the dance floor … more than we had ever had at one event.

“You can thank me later,” he said, winking.

Cocky, I thought, as I hopped back on to the floor.  Not your best feature.

About an hour and a half later, I was drunk in the music and the beat … and whatever alcoholic beverage I had pulled from the bar.  The night was hot; the air was dripping with men and humidity.  My shirt was off and thrown somewhere as the room had swelled even further.  It seemed nothing to fall into another sweaty torso jumping with the music, and as I slid against his chest, his familiarity didn’t really register until I felt a thick arm close around my midsection.

“Now, this is where I’ve wanted you for a long time,” his voice boomed in a playful growl.

I turned my head back into Mitchell’s beaming scruffy face. His lips grazed the side of my cheek, and for the first time since I met him, I did not recoil from his touch.  Within a moment, he had moved my body around and pulled me against his thick hairy chest, and my hand slid up his pecs and around his neck as he drew me hungrily for a kiss.

His thick hand was down against my ass, pulling me up so hard against him that I could feel his thickened meat.  My body almost began to shake as he pulled me up again, my legs wrapping neatly around his waist as his head moved down to lick my bare chest.

“We could disappear … quite literally … back to my place, and no one would be the wiser,” he said, his masculine lips against my ear.

My mind raced at the proposition, and I was completely silent; made mute by my lust and my desire to be wanted and held.  Bruce might see us, or hear about us leaving together … the party itself had an hour left on the clock.  I could hear Mitchell’s laugh.  “He’s probably in the back counting his beans.  Let’s go.”

I only had to nod once and felt his firm grip lurch me toward the door.

***

A few hours later, I lay against his chest in a bath soaking our hours of sex and play away.  My body was exhausted, but my soul felt light and giddy.  The man was an animal; and he had awakened a sensuality in me that  I did not know to exist.  How I ever thought I could endure another one of Bruce’s ten minute miracles was beyond my comprehension.  Laying against Mitchell, I knew things had to change.

My phone, laying haphazardly on my jeans, began to jump against the floor.  I smiled at Mitchell as I leaned over to flick it back to life.  A nice wet slap met my ass as I did, followed by his hearty laugh.

“Shit,” I said, as bubbles began to appear on the screen.

“What?” Mitchell grinned as he stood, the water cascading from his bearish body.

“Bruce … he’s been blowing up my phone.  Five messages and two voice mails.”

“Maybe you’re not so invisible to him after all,” he shrugged, as he grabbed a towel and moved back into the bedroom.

My mind was racing; I hit re-dial without bothering to check any of the messages first.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bruce’s voice bellowed out on the other end.  “You and Blaze must have had an interesting evening!”

“Excuse me?”

“You both left at the same time; neither one of you are returning my calls.  It’s probably time you and I had a chat.  Why aren’t you at the f*cking house?”

“Me and Blaze … the DJ … really?  You don’t even know what you’re …”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!  You were nearly on top of him all f*cking night long!”

I took a deep breath.

“You’re right about one thing … we most definitely need to talk.”

 

Click here for the next episode of Memoirs of a Ghost.  Click here for the previous episode.  To start at the beginning, click here.
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