He wasn't quite like the others.
He certainly wasn't tall, though of course his body was sleek and shaved and taut. So many of them were bald; not him. A mane of black hair stacked on top of his head-and he knew how to whip it around, run his hands through it, make every girl in the audience want to touch it too. The hair gave away his youth; he had to be one of the youngest ones there.
He had fierce eyes. He didn't shoot her playful glances or stick his tongue out lewdly. He glared and frowned and bit his lips, like being up on stage was a perpetual battle inside his mind. She had seen him dancing for a couple of months now. They kept him here, in the VIP area, with the other high class businesswomen-and a few men who typically consumed his attention.
Then one night, as she sat down in her usual spot and neatly began counting from a stack of cash, he smirked at her from across the stage.
She felt her blood pressure rise. "So you do have a cheeky side," she called over the music. He had crouched down to his knees and begun crawling toward her.
Her usual waiter placed her gin martini down. "Anything else, Ms. Brief?"
She didn't look away from the fierce expression in front of her. "Thank you, Alfredo. That will be all for now."
The man before her stood and leaned against the nearest pole. The lights emphasized the deep cuts of his muscles, dancing across skin stretched tight over the undulations of his abs. For a short man his legs seemed endless. And his ass… I need a better look at that ass .
She slid a hundred zeny bill forward and took a sip of her martini. "Let's have a preview, shall we?"
He moved with unusual grace. So many of the men here swaggered around, stomping their feet and thrusting their hips wildly into women's giggling faces. Not this one. He seemed to float. He turned, leaned in front of her and collected the bill. She peered up at the view and somehow maintained a straight face until he stood back up and turned around.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a couple of the other boys eyeing them. She had a reputation here, and it often meant a lot of competition for her attention. The others glared with envy. Sorry boys, no bonus for you tonight .
She watched him do a few graceful twirls around the pole, taking the last gulp of her martini in the meantime.
"I've seen you here a lot lately," she said as he approached again. She placed down another bill. Right on cue Alfredo brought her a shot.
The young man collected the bill, inserting it into his g-string with the other. He reached out and took her hand. For seeming so intensely graceful, his hands were thick and callused and dotted with scars. He ran her palm along his abs. She let her hand linger.
"And you like what you see?" he asked. His voice was low, soft, deep, dark.
She took her hand away, kicked back her shot and placed half of the remaining cash on the stage. "I do."
Alfredo returned and took her shot glass and her purse in one hand, then helped her gently up from her chair with the other. "Thank you, Alfredo," she said, as always.
The man had taken the money and left. But she knew where he would be. Alfredo led her daintily around the stage and down a dark hallway. Unmarked doors stood closed to the left and right. Alfredo always led her to the same room, down at the end on the left.
The room was just the temperature she liked it: warm, mildly humid. She liked to pretend it could be somewhere tropical next to a white sand beach.
She placed her purse on the small table. Alfredo returned in a flash with another martini. She passed him his generous tip with a wink.
A knock sounded from the door on the other side of the room.
"Come in," she called.
He wore the same red robe they all did, embroidered with Elations Extreme on the back. He approached in a few steps then stood before her, looking her up and down.
"It's Bulma, right?"
She pointed a manicured finger at the sliver of chest exposed beneath his robe. She saw now that they were equal height. "The other boys refer to me as Ms. Brief."
"I'm not like the other boys."
There it was. The cockiness she knew he had hiding somewhere.
She bit her lip and folded her arms. "So what do they call you?"
"You want my stage name or my real name?" He began to circle her, stopping behind to pull her jacket off.
"Real name."
"Vegeta." He tossed the jacket onto the chair.
"I'd advise you to be kind to my things, Vegeta," she said, letting a sultry edge into her voice.
"You have a lot of rules, Bulma. "
"Hm." She found herself unable to speak as he trailed a finger along her neck, drawing down to the top of her shoulder. Under the now discarded jacket she wore a strappy, flowy top in red, with no bra. He slid the strap down and let the top hang lopsided.
"Tell me how you like it," he went on, teasingly sliding the other strap down.
"Like I'm the first woman you've ever fucked."
"Maybe you are." She heard his robe crumple to the floor, then he moved in front of her. She looked him up and down. He hadn't kept on his g-string, and he was hardening already.
"We'll see about that. I can usually tell." She winked and lowered herself to her knees. Most of the boys didn't expect her to be so forthright. She supposed most of their clients were desperate and lonely, women and men with unfulfilling lives looking for someone to dote on them for an hour.
Not Bulma. She had the perfect life. She simply liked to enhance it with the company of attractive, spry young men.
"I… I do usually work more with male clients," he admitted, gasping softly as she swirled her tongue around him.
She took his dick out of her mouth with a pop. "See? I can tell."
She didn't care which way the boys leaned. They came to her, after all. Whether for the money or for the privilege of fucking the richest woman in the world; neither made a difference in her mind, and she never asked.
She moved toward the bed and flopped down with her legs hanging over the sides. "Let's see what you can do."
She enjoyed the way he moved. Just watching his muscles twist and tighten under his skin sent her blood pumping. He kneeled in front of her, slowly-almost too slow, just watching.
Finally he inched her skirt up to her hips, shifting his hands lower to cup her ass, tickling against her skin as he found the hem of her thong.
"Leave it on," she whispered.
He got the hint. His teasing demeanor shifted, and abruptly he was at her mouth, covering her lips and jaw in hungry kisses.
She gasped out loud as his hands pulled down the flimsy top and let her breasts fall free. Those calluses scraped against her nipples as his teeth nipped at her neck.
"No marks." She didn't want to have to think up explanations for turtlenecks and scarves in the summer heat, after all.
"Any more rules?" he grunted as he skipped her neck and swirled his tongue around a responsive nipple.
"Hnng… I'll tell you if I think of any." His left hand had already begun wandering down and stroking her through the silky fabric of her thong.
She tossed her head back and let him work. Eventually he had pushed her skirt up over her stomach and buried his face between her legs.
After a moment he growled. She looked up, head reeling, to see him baring his teeth. Without a word he gripped the silky thong in his teeth and tore it clean off.
"Hey!" Bulma rose up but he pushed her roughly back onto the bed.
"It was in my way." With that he settled himself between her legs again, slinging her feet up over his muscular shoulders.
"It was… oh! It was my favorite …" She trailed off as his tongue flicked her expertly, finding all of her favorite spots as though he had tasted her before.
"You want to come?" he murmured.
"Not yet." But damn was she close. She arched her back and lowered her hand into his hair. Just as she suspected: soft and silky and thick. "Mmm…"
Her agreement was always the same, and she was sure that Alfredo or someone told the newer boys. She would not fuck a call boy on the first date, or even the second. But if a boy ate her out like she tasted like the sweetest wine he'd ever had on his tongue, then she'd bring him out on her arm, parade and dazzle him, and then…
His fingers slid in and out of her with ease, her wetness dripping down his vascular forearm. His tongue lapped and danced against her. The pressure of his fingers at her opening drew gasps from her lungs.
He's too good at this. Most of the boys were sloppy, imprecise. She could overlook it, of course, if they showed enthusiasm and willingness to learn. That was all part of the fun of it, after all. But this one absolutely knew what he was doing.
"Fuck!" One long sweep of his tongue sent undulations of pleasure coursing through her. No turning back now. She felt her body raising up as she bucked her hips into his mouth and against his arching fingers. He wrapped his lips around her clit and it was all over. A wordless cry came out of her mouth and she collapsed back down on the bed.
He lingered there as the waves receded, applying gentle pressure to her entrance to draw the pleasure from her as long as possible. Finally he pulled away and wiped his mouth on the robe.
"Will you be wanting more?" he asked, businesslike.
She sat up and pushed stray hair away from her forehead. Her heart still pounded hard in her chest. She searched his dark eyes: expressionless.What is this guy's deal? I have to know.
"Come here."
He stood, his cock right next to her face. She took it in her hand and gave it a once-over, observing the winding veins and taut balls.
"Perfect," she murmured. She licked her lips, then brushed them against the head with the softest touch. He gasped, ever so slightly, and she felt him twitch in her hand.
Bulma didn't always suck dick on the first meeting, either. Usually that was reserved for later, when the boys saw her as more than just a client, when they saw her in her element and came to revere her. But he's not like the others, is he?
She teased him a few moments more, enjoying the deep sighs his mouth uttered. Then she began to suck and pump in earnest. She felt as his body tensed and he allowed the sound of his soft moans to fill the air.
"Mmm… where do you want me to come?" His voice had taken on a deeper, huskier tone, one that sent chills down her spine.
With that she took his dick from her mouth and gestured for him to lie down. He reclined with that cocky smirk on his face. She took her place next to him and resumed, tongue swirling and fist rotating as she enjoyed the louder sounds coming out of him.
"Ahh… I'm close," he murmured.
Like she couldn't tell. This was why she came here again and again, after all. Not just for the fun of handsome young men eating her out. But for the sounds and faces she could force them to make with the actions of her own mouth. She would never tire of making them come.
His hips bucked on their own, and she took her mouth away. She jerked him to completion, her fist sliding along the slick length of his cock as she watched him come. She felt him grow harder, thicker in her grip, then relished as the muscles began to contract involuntarily. "Nnng…" he groaned, helpless, and she felt her own pussy throb at the delicious sound. He tossed his head back with furrowed eyebrows, fingers digging into the bed as a stream of cum pulsated onto the ridges of his tight abs.
He fell back, breathing deeply. She rose and dried off her hand, then tossed him a towel from the shelf in the corner.
"Is… is that all for today, Ms. Brief?" Suddenly so formal, he came out of his stupor. To her he now seemed so young but no less attractive.
She smiled gently and adjusted her skirt. "Yes. But make sure you are free next Saturday night. You're going to come on a date with me. Do you have a nice suit?"
Eyebrows still furrowed, he gave her a confused glance as he mopped up the cum from his stomach. "Not really."
"That's fine." Bulma gracefully pulled on her shirt and fixed the twisted straps. "Arrive at Capsule Corps at seven thirty on Saturday. They'll be expecting you." She pulled on her shoes and jacket, sighing inwardly at her mutilated underwear lying on the floor.
"They..?"
She winked and placed the thick stack of her remaining cash gently on the table. Without another word she grabbed her purse and left the room.