Your turn

“Buddy, you have literally no idea who I am or what I do,” you said, taking the trade-off from Gemma. “And, I’m pretty sure by my count, that was another unwanted sexual advance immediately after being told that what you were doing was sexual harassment.”

“Pffft, if I wanted to sexually harass someone, you would know it,” DeezChains smirked. “Now how about you take a drink from one of my bottles as a consolation prize, because you are getting your ass thrown out of this club.”

“Actually, you aren’t getting anything done,” Gemma said. “And I wouldn’t sit next to you if I’d been **** to walk across broken fucking glass because you give off the rapiest vibes I’ve ever seen. I hope to God you don’t have a little sister because she’s probably racking up a fortune in therapy bills.”

“Fuck you,” DeezChains said, finally dropping his smirk. “You’re just an uppity fucking bitch who doesn’t know a good thing when she sees it. If your raggedy ass apologizes, I might let you suck my dick after I fuck your little bitchboy here in the ass.”

“Oh, so you’re bisexual?” you asked. “Wow, that’s actually a lot more progressive of you than I was expecting.”

“What? No,” he said. “I’m not fucking bisexual.”

“Well, you just said you wanted to fuck my ass,” you said. “I’d call that pretty gay there, pal.”

DeezChains looked like he was losing his mind. “I’m not fucking gay! Get money, fuck bitches. That’s my whole thing.”

“Didn’t he just call me a ‘bitchboy?’” you asked Gemma loudly.

“That was- I was- Fuck off, already!” Deez Chains said. “Get the fuck out.”

The ladies in the group were starting to back away - two of them had already left VIP altogether - and now Smooth Talker grabbed your arm. You turned to him, wrenching your arm away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you said.

“Or what? My boys can fuck you up and no one in this club will say a word. Fuck, report me for sexual harassment, DeezChains don’t give a fuck!” DeezChains shouted. “It’s your word against ours, and there’s more of us and I’ve got plenty of witnesses.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got a Livestream, you idiot cunt,” Gemma said, and gestured down onto the dance floor where Eric was standing right up against the bannister, his phone held up and recording everything.

“What the fuck!” DeezCHains yelled. “Get that fuckers phone!”

The other friend, who had watched this whole thing without opening his mouth, lurched to his feet from the chair and tried to grab the phone from Eric, but Eric jerked away in time. DeezChains and the second friend both tried to chase him, tripping over the table and trying to get over the bannister. You took the opportunity to pull Gemma with you, backing away from the table and towards the VIP stairs.

“Good enough?” you asked.

“We’ll see,” she said. “If anything else happens, we’ve got that Livestream recording as evidence.” She stopped us at the top of the stairs and flung her arms around your neck, pulling you down into a kiss.

“What was that for?” you asked.

“For… trusting me. Knowing I would want to do that and being OK with it,” Gemma said. “Look, John, I don’t always make good decisions. I can be a hothead, especially after I broke up with my Ex because he manipulated me so much.”

“Gemma,” you said, looking into her eyes with a little smile and a shrug. “I love you.”

“God, I love you too,” she said, and kissed you again, pressing her body to yours as you held her hips.

“Ahem,” the bouncer at the front of VIP ‘coughed’ to get your attention. “How about you two fuck off now?”

Gemma grabbed your hand and pulled you down the stairs and out of VIP, right to the dance floor, bumping your way between dancing couples and groups, deep to the back away from VIP and into a darker corner where couples were grinding hard. She pushed you lightly with her fingertips, backing you up to the wall and then lifting her chin slowly, asking you for a kiss as the dance music blasted from speakers just a few feet from you.

You kissed her, and it was the sort of kiss that should have been done in bed. It was erotic and passionate and wanting. Without breaking the kiss, you spun so that she was the one with her back to the wall, and she ran her fingers through your hair as you palmed her tit through her dress and grabbed her ass with the others.

She rolled her body against yours in time with the thumping beat of the bass. You slid your hand from her breast to her arm, to her hand and wreathed your fingers with hers and pulled it up above her head and pinned it to the wall. Her other hand held onto your shoulder for leverage as she dry-humped you on the dance floor.

The song changed, but you didn’t stop making out. You just changed position, Gemma turning to face the wall and driving her ass back against your crotch as a new beat started.

You got lost in the pushing and grinding. Sometimes Gemma was against the wall, sometimes you were. Sometimes she faced you, sometimes she was facing away. But always she was pressed against your hard cock in your pants. Always you had a hand on her, if not both. You knew her lips intimately by now, but you wallowed in testing each other with different kinds of kissing, experimenting over and over until you fell into a teasing rhythm.

The fact that her thong was in your pocket and she was naked under her dress never escaped you. God, you wanted to just reach under and start teasing her more. Start fingering her in the back corner of the club. But her dress was bright and too long to just reach under without pulling it all the way up to her waist, and you weren’t going to expose her like that because she was yours to ogle and play with, and no one else's.

“I’m so fucking wet for you,” Gemma whispered into your ear as she ground her ass back against you again.

“I want you screaming my name tonight,” you told her.

“I will,” Gemma promised you. “Fuck. Take me home, John. I can’t wait any longer.”

“One more song,” you smiled, enjoying yourself too much to just end abruptly. “One more song, and then I’m going to fuck you as hard as I love you.”

Gemma moaned and kissed you, biting your lower lip in anticipation.

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