meet Emma Porter

I was hit by the brilliance of the club. It was real exclusive stuff all right. They had a candle burning at every table with a bar that was stocked with so much top shelf stuff I'd have to stand on a chair to kiss the ass of a guy who could get drunk and still pay his electric. The waitresses should have been in Hollywood, the waiters fighting for the light heavyweight title and pulling mad scattered tail on the side, and even the the carpet had to chime in since it was one, huge, handmade Persian.

I fit in here as well as a Zulu in Leiderhosen. I slid into a dark corner and ordered a Manhattan and kissed a week's wages goodbye. It tasted like an Angel's cunt, perfect in every way that meant anything. I nursed it as long as I could.

The door opened around 7:15 and she walked in. I barely looked up at her and was stunned stupid. Her head swiveled instantly over to me and I knew, even though I was stirring the drink with the cherry on the end of the straw and staring at it as if it was the most important thing in the world, that she was walking towards me; all flashing eyes and swiveling hips. I killed the drink and looked up to see her plant her dark green gloved hands on the edge of the table and stare into me. Her beauty was such that a clock would stop and rewind five minutes just to make sure it hadn't dreamed her walking by it.

Coal black hair cascaded in smooth, shiny waves from a pale brow set with piercing gray eyes that shown like silver coins in the moonlight. Dark red lips stood on a smooth, pale face under a thin, cute nose. Her impressive chest swelled with deep breaths beneath a dark green dress that could have been painted on her for all I knew, and apparently the artist ran out of paint near the navel. My cock sprang up like a vampire from a casket.

It was then I realized I wasn't looking at her and she wasn't looking at me. Something inside was looking into me, at Him. I let the demons sort it out amongst themselves and enjoyed the view for a moment. Somehow, I made my mouth open and a few words trickled out. "Good lord... what do I have to do to get you to sit down?" I asked. Yeziroth's stream of Babylonian love poetry or whatever it was poured out of me and into her through our locked, unblinking eyes. I could nearly smell her wet, pulsing pussy. I didn't know what was in her, but Yeziroth was roaring inside me to get at it...

"Buy me a drink." she said. I could tell by the way she bit her lip and eased herself into her chair that she was wet and wanting. I sent a glare at the waiter and he hopped in. "Tom Collins. Fast!" I barked, miffed I had to look away from her. I could feel Yeziroth churning, aching inside me. My painfully erect cock swelled and pulsed down my left leg. Finally, he chimed in. "Reilly... take her NOW! On the table! NOW!" It demanded. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. "Wait..." I thought as hard as I could...

THe drink clicked on the table. I opened my eyes to see her erect nipples push against the thin fabric of the dress. The waiter smiled a booked. She slammed the cocktail down just as I threw a fin on the table for the drink and a tip. She got up. I got up. I followed her to the back of the bar and up a flight of stairs, the bouncer nodding without judgement. At the top, a short hallway led to four private rooms. She slid a key into the third one and looked back at me. I could see her juices running down thigh and over her calf.

She pushed the door open, and I closed it with nearly a slam.