C7 Chapter 5-She smells sex and brandy

The elevator dinged when it reached the one hundred and forty-ninth floor. Someone had pocketed Tio’s money, not that Amberleigh gave a fuck. These elevators were used by club staff only, and when Amber stepped off, she ran into a bouncer at the entrance to the ballroom. VIPs were escorted up here by an elevator operator, as not just anyone had access to this level for the elite clientele.

She recognized the dude guarding the door. Ki was his name and he wasn’t the talking or fucking sort unfortunately. He was fine though, with skin like dark chocolate she longed to taste, hair in tight and tidy corn rows, and just the right amount of muscle. Ki wore a wedding band on his finger and had a daughter. His wife must have been gorgeous and The Cobra Club paid well. It was nice to see monogamy and closed marriages still existed.

But Ki let her in through the barrier no questions asked, another perk of being a club favorite. She immediately began to scope the place out. The ballroom up here was fancier, like a fucking palace with legit murals painted on the ceiling, golden pillars, and a heated black marble floor so shiny you could see your own reflection. One entire wall held a serenity waterfall cascading peacefully and seemingly disappearing beneath the floor like magic. There was also a huge ass mini ocean with all kinds of rare and expensive as fuck sea creatures in there.

Modern glass tables, a variety of expensive couches, and even alcoves with curtains you could drawl shut for privacy. A hibachi grill with a sushi chef, fondue, and a buffet with foods from all-over the world to suit every taste. Enough food to feed The Fringe for a week.

And who could forget the glass ice sculptures of people fucking in various positions, the screens around the room casting the dancing shadows of naked Goddesses and Pages behind them, and the variety of swings, silk ropes, and hoops suspended from the ceiling with naked women and men swaying in time to the music?

There was no bar counter on this level. No, VIPS were not going to have to wait or walk up to a bar for service. Staff wearing G-strings and pasties over their nipples came to them and gave them personal attention. The room was mostly filled with men of all ages and nationalities but was also sprinkled with women here and there. All dressed in designer clothes and draped in expensive jewelry, and in various states ranging from mostly sober, to call a fucking ambulance for that man dying of alcohol poisoning on the white leather couch over there. It was a good thing the couches were easy to clean.

It smelled like sex and brandy up in this bitch. And scotch and bourbon, and all the other nasty alcohol rich men liked. Amber never got the appeal of drinks that tasted like kerosene and cat piss. Whatever happened to just cheap beer and boxed wine, the classics from her childhood? You could get hammered and not need to take out a fucking loan to do it. And this club was also guilty of overpriced drinks. Really, what ever had happened to good old-fashioned values?

Amber began to work the room. She mingled, rubbed her manicured red nails across some shoulders, gave some sultry looks. Danced with another Goddess up against her body, as an old businessman was feeling it. He commanded them to kiss. The customer was always right after all. Customer satisfaction. Amber vaguely knew this Goddess but couldn’t recall her name. Regardless, it didn’t stop her from putting her tongue into the Asian beauty’s mouth.

The old man was into it. And Amber would have bet her lucky stars he would choose them both for a private show or into an alcove. Hell, even Amber was getting turned on as the other Goddess sucked and kissed down her neck. The man sat his drink on the table and got to his feet. He swaggered over in that way rich man often did and handed the Asian Goddess a golden egg. He led her by the hand towards an alcove. Well that was rude! What the fuck! What was Amber, chopped liver in comparison to a tender Asian steak?

She moved on to another target, wishing for that ten wasted minutes of her life back. She bent over to pick up a marks phone when his drunk ass dropped it. She gave him a nice view of her thong clad ass. But she quickly realized her mistake by the way he was salivating over a Page dancing near a golden column. She moved on with a sigh. Damn, strike fucking three of the night!

She would be on shift in a couple hours and if Amber didn’t find a taker soon, she would have to scrap this fucking mission altogether. Miss out on a generous tip. And listen to Ebony brag all damn night long! She gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Was she already getting old and washed up at the age of twenty-two? She certainly couldn’t compete with the gorgeous Asian chicks in the room, but damn, in a room of drunk fuckers, Amber was usually at the top of her game!

She decided to just do herself for a bit. Have some fucking fun, and maybe a mark would come to her. So for a while, she let herself feel the music and danced like no one else was in that fucking room. Sweat began to pool in the crevices and dips of her body. She lifted her long hair up off her neck, closed her eyes, and let her body do all the talking.

And it wasn’t too long before she felt a tap on her shoulder. A Page was standing there holding an envelope in his hand. Amberleigh smiled as she read the contents and held the golden egg in her palm. Senator Berkshire requests your presence in his private suite. Please see second page for specific list of instructions.

She skimmed the second page. Thank God the Senator wasn’t into weird fetishes. Ebony had gotten pissed on once and bitched about it forever afterwards. Luckily, most patrons knew the rules, and that fetishes involving body fluids were restricted to one floor only. It took a special kind of Page and Goddess for that kind of nasty shit.

So far the oddest thing Amber had encountered was the dude who wanted to fuck her armpit after he touched it and smelled it. She had lubed it up and let him go at it. You know whatever floats your boat. But she was looking forward to the senator’s special instructions. This was going to be hella fun. She still had it bitch!