Teaching His Virgin

Silently, I gesture to one of the many waitresses to gather them up and see them— the clutch of beautiful girls— and let them order anything they want. On my tab. Especially the one in the 70’s sweater and adorably dorky squared glasses.

She’s gorgeous and curvy, and I want to see her naked. I want to view every inch of her luscious, young body.

I come to Club Lush quite a bit.

I guess you can say I have my tastes and my preferences, and this club lets me explore them all.

But I can’t remember any time I’ve ever seen a woman as beautiful as her here.

After giving the commands to the waitress, and watching her do my bidding, I turn to my companion for the evening, Lily.

“Lily, dear,” I say, putting my hand on her shoulder.

“Yes?”

She turns her big, liquid eyes to me.

“I know we had a previous arrangement this evening, but I’ve decided to pursue another interest.”

I don’t bother to hide the fact that my eyes are finding the young woman in the sweater, and trailing every inch of her curves.

Lily smiles, looking at the young woman too.

“I knew she had captured you,” she whispers. “She’s captured me as well. If it were a different night or a different arrangement, I might be exploring her as well.”

She gives me a simple smile.

A shrug comes to her shoulders a moment later.

“Don’t worry about me, Kace. With this outfit having already drawn one crowd in for the evening”— she nods to the girls’ table where Lady White is beginning to explain the rules to the group — “I’ll have no trouble finding another person to keep me company tonight.”

“Good, Lily. I will be interested to hear what feedback your playmates give you about that outfit later.”

With that, I give her a nudge and send her dancing into the crowd. Already, I can see the eyes of other club-goers trailing my friend. They devour the outfit that I designed for her.

Lily has always had great taste, or some might say unique taste.

I was glad to have a willing wearer of some of my more outrageous designs.

And I’m glad that the young woman with the 70’s vibe appreciates it.

It means she’s just my type.

It’s almost as if fate has brought us together tonight, and I intend to take full advantage of whatever else it might have in store for us.

After Lily disappears from sight, I take up a concealed place at the bar. It’s filled with other men, but they quickly make a space for me. I double-check with the bartender that every girl at that table has been put on my tab.

“Yes, sir,” he says, and I quietly get back to observing the table.

Lady White has just said they must participate somehow in the club’s activities to earn their place at the club. Briefly, the little fashion designer spots me at the bar. I can tell by the way her cheeks flush.

Her eyes try to escape drinking me in, but it doesn’t work. She can’t quite pull her gaze away completely.

I watch her squirm in her seat, looking at the various stages, various rooms, and activities that Lady White points out. Some of the fashion designer’s other friends chime in about what would be enough to count as participation. Lady White says that it could be anything, but that you must fit in with the clubgoers. You must partake in the cultural and experience somehow.

Even wearing those clothes you think don’t have any business on that beautiful body, I think, watching my girl of interest play with her wavy, brown hair. She has a seventies’ styling job she is quickly unraveling. I also see a smartphone perched inconspicuously on her lap.

And if you’re going to take pictures, I’m going to enjoy punishing you for each and every one, before taking some of you.

With that, I watch as Lady White dismisses herself from their table and retreats back to her loft. The rest of the girls in the party disperse to various corners. My fashion designer, she gorges herself on the outfits on various people traveling by.

There are definitely a lot of colors and styles and designs in here for her to work with. It’s almost like a fashion designer’s paradise. I would know.

She takes more pictures, writes down notes as if this world might disappear forever if she doesn’t. I admire her dedication and passion.

She reminds me of me. I’ve been accused of having a big ego before, but I can’t help it. I approach life with zest and zeal. And it’s obvious that my little fashion designer does, too.

I just have to make sure to get with her.

Something in my gut tells me that this is my chance.

And I always listen to my gut.

Sliding from my perch at the bar, I settle the bulge growing in my pants, and approach her, ready to see how easy or hard it’ll be to make her mine.