Get A Drink With Maria and Aisha

Lois Lane didn't even bother to wipe the cum off her face.

If anything, it helped her to fit in.

The club was a converted office space; the reporter could see the scars where cubicles had been removed and carpet pulled up, lazy yellow rivers of dried glue on polished concrete. The chairs and tables were all ex-restaurant grade, aluminum tubing and matte black plastic. The bar, by comparison, had been constructed out of PVC pipe and sheets of industrial plastic, scratched and semi-transparent.

All things that were easy to clean. Lois Lane had no doubt if there was a blacklight, the whole room would look like a crime scene crossed with a Jackson Pollock painting.

Servers dressed in boots and crotchless panties squeeze between customers in various states of undress. Sometimes the customers would grab and hold them. Lois passed one such server, who desperately tried to hold onto a tray as one woman groped her breasts, and another knelt between her legs to lick at her pussy. Another server was bent over a table, a line of men stroked their cocks as they waited their turn to cum into her pussy. Someone had put a beer pitcher on the ground beneath her overflowing cunny, to catch the white run-off.

Aisha and Maria smiled and pressed a beer into Lois Lane's hand as she made it to the bar. Maria already had her breasts out, and was letting some older woman fondle them, play with the piercings in her nipples.

"Nice place, yeah!?" Aisha yelled, the dark-skinned transwoman grinned and stared around her. Lois popped the cap and took a swig of the beer, tasted some of Terry's salty cream mix with the sticky-sweet lager.

"Looks like fun," Lois shouted back. She scanned the room, eyes open for the missing women she had come to find, conscious that she didn't want to get too drunk...she had to stay sharp.

In truth, she couldn't tell how many of the men and women were present; there were too many bodies, some of them squirming, sweating, heaving, and humping. Some people used condoms, others didn't. Sticky white drops covered the floor, and the babble of voices, cries, moans...the whole place was a madhouse of sweaty bodies and raw sex. The door was in one corner, the bar opposite on the same wall; in the far corners were the bathrooms and some kind of massed scrum of humanity. Lois took another sip of her beer and nodded at it.

"What's going on over there?" The reporter shouted over the noise.