Our beloved co contributor Alice King with her pants down and bending over…which is one of the (many) ways we like her best. The panties are from the St. Louis Sex Positive Coffee Shop Shameless Grounds and were a gift from Mal. We bet she’ll spend a lot of time bent over next week but during very little of it, if any, will her bottom covered in anything other than a very, very, well spanked shade of red (and purple). Or at least that’s the goal!
This is an older piece written about 3 years ago, that said I’ve cleaned up some of the grammar but left the piece otherwise intact. An all too typical insight into my life and friends.
So I’m at a dance club, more of a techno club really the other night. We got there early and by early I mean around 10. The early crowd was interesting in the fact that there were two polyester kings who looked like they fell out of the midwest’s remake of a night at the Roxbury. A bachlorette party had arrived just ahead of us and I unlike my one of my two friends was there exclusively for the music and the dancing. Early on at the bar we were closest to there was a larger blonde woman in brightly colored striped dress and heels so high that her size only became more obvious. She spent most of her time draping herself over the two cliché club boys and a very petite woman. Oh yeah and one old guy who had to have been 25 years her senior. Dirty old man or Daddy Complex? Who fucking cares.
The small woman had excessively long blonde hair and a tight little body. As the club filled up she disappeared only to return in a tight black shirt and with her waist length hair pulled into two pig tails and obviously her already good mood became more intensified with each passing song and new dance partner.
The bachlorette party went on a scavenger hunt inside the club and I was asked for a condom by at least 20 different women as part of this but my other now slightly inebriated friend who to say the very least is selective in his choice of women was doing his Joan Rivers red carpet routine each time a woman approached about how the parade of women were all classless sluts and he much preferred European women. His growing disdain for anyone apparently over the age of 26 and lacking the body of a goddess became more evident with each passing drink. Not normally a surly guy he truly had issues with the women who were older than him.
As for me. I could have cared less watching the drink girls a brunette caught my eye, high black heels, long thin legs, and a very short skirt. After that I noticed a voluptuous black woman dancing on one of the risers, the DJ did his best not to suck as the crowd filtered in. I’ve been to clubs in great cities like DC, New York, and Miami this was not one of those cities but should have been large enough to be decent. The polyester kings kept annoying me and the little one in her pig tails was feeling something that I couldn’t. Why you might ask, because she was young and pretty? No. Because she was a woman? No. I could never feel what she was feeling because even if I wanted to do some X (or what ever she was on) I have a feeling that there would have been a shortage based on her usage that night alone. So where the fuck is Sammy the bull when you need him? Not in the Midwest giving me X. She pounded and throbbed, she danced in a world all her own that was shared intermittently with the large blonde and the two polyester jerks.
My friend began insulting an attractive woman in her 50’s for daring to ask him for a condom. Regaling her with phrases like “even if I had one it wouldn’t have enough lube to get your old pussy wet” and “have you heard of menopause? You can’t get pregnant when you’re as old as the fucking earth” Fortunately she just heard no and wondered over to me to ask for one. I politely explained that I didn’t since the drug store was out of over sized prophylactics tonight. A blatant lie of course but she smiled playfully and I suggested she ask the sharp looking kid in the suit by the bar. I’m sure he had a condom since he looked like the type who would be leaving with someone.
The feature DJ took the stage and began to suck only marginally less than the last guy but found her groove two songs in as the club filled, pulsating with dancers, bouncing to the rhythm though the smoke and fog filled room as the green and blue lights flashed providing a silhouette here and a glimpse there of the patrons. The bride approached and asked if I would like a piece of candy off her necklace and a kiss. I paused and politely declined. Was it because I felt there was something morally reprehensible about kissing a woman soon to be wed to another man? Of course not, I might be in the mid west but I don’t subscribe to that school of thought. Was it because I myself am in a committed relationship and considered such behavior to be adulterous? No, I didn’t want to eat off her necklace and kiss her because god knows how many drunk and diseased slobs had eaten candy off of the same necklace and kissed those same lips. Germs and diseases I did not need anymore exposure to than I had gained from her leaning into me. I watched her for a while, grinding one anonymous stranger after another. I give the marriage two years tops. A shame perhaps but more of a shame should the life of a child conceived during that time be affected.
As I float back in from my own small world of watching I notice my small pig tailed blond dancing front to back with the large blond in the brightly colored striped dress in a seemingly sexual manner. I look away and upon looking back to see pig tails raising the skirt of the large blonde who had bent over a bar stool. Drawing her fingers across the other’s thighs, between her legs and then landing a few firm smacks on her ass. Before she stood up again and began dancing again more intensified by what I assumed to be a mystery substance.
It brought to mind the words a rope slut friend had spoken to me earlier that day…”Chicks on X don’t like S&M”. Could she have been wrong? Was it based on her own experience or preferences, didn’t matter it was irrelevant to the situation. My friend was no doubt was dancing barely clothed and feverishly in a city half a nation away looking for an anonymous stranger of her own to share her own particular sexual proclivities with. Most of those proclivities include Japanese words and boy scout like skills.
The night wore on, the insults intensified and the crowd began to bore so we left those who live in that world to their own devices as we drifted back to ours. I can still see pig tails dancing in my mind moving indiscriminately from one partner to another, feeling nothing but lust and joy and music perhaps she is the one who had it right.
I always did like pigtails.