Club Fatale, Pt.

Club Fatale, Pt. 5

Chapter Eight – The Investors

"Evan, I need your help," the Commodore began.

I looked up from my table at the seaside bar. "Have a seat, sir," I said.

He did, positioning himself across from me. I had never seen the Commodore like this before, but right now, he seemed nervous.

"I'm having a rather important business meeting with a group of prospective investors tonight and I was hoping that you would be able to assist me."

"New members?" I asked.

"Not quite that, Evan. But if the deal happens, then yes, they will be."

There was a gurgling sound from beneath the table as Sophia choked on my cock.

"Apologies, Commodore," I said, "but I have to take care of this."

"Of course," he said.

It was past time that I gave her her reward; she had worked for it for the better part of an hour. Fingers in her hair, I held the island girl down on my cock and pumped a load of semen past her tonsils. She retched and resisted, but with her lips wrapped around the base of my cock, there was no place for my sperm to go except down her throat. Finally, she swallowed gloriously around my manhood.

I pulled her up by her curly locks. The girl stood, unsteadily, my come dripping from her chin. "Lunch was excellent, my lovely," I said. "Give my complements to the Sonya. She outdid herself with Patricia, today."

Nodding, the girl walked away on shaky legs.

"That girl is an artist with a blowjob," I said, "and a martini."

The Commodore smiled. "If you like her, Evan, then take her home. She's yours. I have several replacements waiting in the wings. She's only a Grade-C, anyway; practically worthless on the island market."

"Surely skill must account for something, Commodore," I said.

"A matter to be debated among friends," the older man said. "As are all personal details with Femmes. I know a patron who collects only blondes: natural blondes. He claims that he's never even fucked a brunette. If that's true then he really is missing out. My wife Donna, with hair black as midnight, can ride better than Emmanuelle herself. Such are the desires of men: wide and varied. My system grades only on quantifiable physical beauty."

I poured him a glass of wine.

"So tell me why you need my help, Commodore," I said.

"This deal, if it goes through, could only enhance the Club Fatale. It could mean a marked improvement in the quality and quantity of Femmes available to Club members. I did my research on you, Evan, even before you joined. Your business sense is spot-on, one-hundred percent, my boy. The success you've had in your industry isn't far behind that. And you're a keen judge of character. I would rely upon these abilities in gauging my visitors. Beyond that is the fact that I respect your intelligence and judgment; you're a shrewd thinker. And then, there are your newly acquired skills."

"Skills?" I asked.

"Angelique tells me that you are becoming quite the snuffer. She said that your training with Brittany was exceptional and your disposals of Mona and Natalie were quite interesting, to say the least. Oh, and she told me about young Jana... How amazing..."

"She doesn't keep many secrets from you, does she?" I asked.

"Not many, Evan," he said. "I do control her fate, after all."

So he had been spying on me, gathering information from that raven-haired slut and, probably, others. Not that I really blamed Angelique. I blamed him more. It was disconcerting to have the old man constantly watching my every move. Truth be told, I was growing a bit tired of it.

"And what do my skills have to do with this meeting?"

"I might have occasion to call upon your skills for demonstration value, before the meeting is over. So what do you say?"

"I'd like to, Commodore. I really would. But I don't see an angle in it for me."

"Ah! Well, perhaps I could sweeten the deal, Evan. How about a Grade-A snuffette from the commissary?"

I frowned, thoughtfully.

"Two?" the old man offered.

Two, I thought. Could it really be so important to the Commodore that he would be willing to throw that kind of wealth my way?

"That's very kind of you, Commodore, but I still have two Grade-As that I have to choose, yet. And I have Cameron and Devon to enjoy... and the lovely Sophia."

"Three Femmes won't go as far as you think, Evan," he said. Then, the Commodore leaned forward. "What would entice you, Evan?"

I thought about it for a moment, then spoke. "Tell me again about the -AAAs."

He was silent for a long moment.

I went on, expounding on my thoughts. "No one can argue that the girls you have here are beautiful, Commodore," I said. "One and all, they are very pleasing. But I must admit to a certain fascination towards the art of the possible..."

"I'm afraid that there are no -AAAs available, Evan," the old man said.

"I'd be willing to wait," I responded, "for the right girl. One of your choosing, Commodore. As long as she is -AAA."

"You realize that it could take some time to procure what you're asking for."

"If, as you say, this deal could provide more Femmes," I said, "Then I think it might not take too long to obtain one. And if the deal doesn't go through, Commodore, I wouldn't hold you to the arrangement. So really, you have nothing to lose."

"Alright, Evan," the white-haired man said, smiling. "You help make this deal happen and you'll have your girl. Done?"

"Done, Commodore."

"Tonight then, Evan. I'll send a girl to pick you up at seven."

--

Sophia lay upon my bed, well-fucked after an afternoon of athletic activities. Tennis was nice (especially with her playing in the nude), our hike was exhilarating (at least the blowjob rest breaks were) and diving practice was simply divine (I really got into instructing her on cock diving). Now, come stained her lips and pussy and she was unconscious after the pounding I had given her in bed.

I fiddled with my tie and sighed. I was never any good with these things. I wore suits well, but ties always proved a hassle.

"Your visitor has arrived, Master." Devon's voice drifted up from behind me.

I glanced to the full-length mirror and saw the reflection of Devon's sleek nudity. Long, raven locks fell almost to her nipples. I smiled. I had been happy ever since I had forbade her clothing. It made for a more interesting beach house.

"Show her in, Devon."

"Yes, Master."

In seconds, another woman stood in the doorway. Luscious brunette, dark eyes, willowy build; black evening dress with tits nearly spilling out. "Dorian Monroe, Mr. Anderson," she said. "I'm... yours for the night, sir."

"Is that so," I said. "Then perhaps you can fix my tie."

She entered, stepped up to me and briskly tied it. "There," she said. "All fixed, sir."

I took her harshly by the wrists. "And just how much of mine are you, Miss Dorian?" I asked with an edge.

"Please, sir," she said, with just the right amount of desperate pleading in her pretty, feminine voice. "I'm yours completely, sir. Until morning comes, sir. But the Commodore is waiting for us, sir."

"What if I can't wait that long, girl?"

She winced at the pressure I was putting on her wrists. She glanced towards the spent Sophia upon my bed.

"To your knees, girl," I said and she nodded.

Dorian fell to her knees before me. I trapped both of her wrists with one hand; freed my cock with the other. Thrusting inside her mouth, I quickly deep-throated her. I squeezed her wrists and gripped her hair while I face-fucked her. She moaned around me and I went faster, building passion with speed until finally I thrust forward and emptied my balls down her stuffed throat.

Holding her upon me so that she couldn't breathe, I relished in the feeling of complete power over her. I pulled her off of me and stared into her terrified eyes.

"Now, we're ready to go, dear."

--

Ten minutes later we were standing in the Commodore's foyer. Emmanuelle and a brunette I had never met before greeted us. Both were dressed in spectacular evening dresses: traditional gold for Emmanuelle and sultry black for the brunette.

Dorian greeted the brunette with a hug and a kiss and Emma the same with me.

"Evan," Emmanuelle said, "so good to see you. I'd like you to meet Donna Monroe, the Commodore's second wife."

"Ah, you're the sister," I said. "I can see the resemblance. And I've heard the tales of your prowess. Faced with you, I don't doubt their validity." Donna blushed prettily. It made me see why the Commodore liked her. She was several years older than either Dorian or Emmanuelle, but still quite beautiful. It was always the ones like that, just shy of spectacular beauty, that possessed the greatest passion.

I took her hand and her eyes fell upon mine. It was such a palpable caress, with those eyes, like swimming in lust.

"Well, the Commodore and his guests are waiting," Emmanuelle said.

We exited to the terrace. Despite my expectations, it was devoid of the Commodore's ladies, save one. Only Sonya was there, putting the finishing touches on tonight's meal. The Commodore stood with a group of wealthy men and richly dressed woman.

"Evan, I'm glad you could make it!" said the Commodore. "I'd like you to meet some of my friends. This is Miles Lucas, Brian Manning and Cooper Ellington."

"A pleasure to meet you, gentlemen," I said.

I shook each man's hand in turn. Lucas and Manning were both in their forties. Ellington was younger. All seemed like take-charge men, type-A personalities. And each was accompanied by a well-dressed woman.

"Evan Anderson of Anderson Technologies?" Ellington asked. "I hear that your stock's doubled in the last year alone."

I nodded. "Yes, and I own 60 percent of it, lucky for me."

"I'd enjoy the opportunity to discuss the technology sector with you, perhaps over drinks sometime?"

"Look forward to it," I said. The pretty girl at Ellington's side smiled at me.

"And who are the lovely ladies with you gentlemen, tonight?" I asked.

"This is Kara James," Ellington said, proudly. "My executive secretary and right hand."

I smiled. Kara was darkly beautiful with chocolate-colored skin and big, dark eyes set in a fine-featured face. She was probably the most beautiful black woman I had ever seen. I was reminded of a darker and sultrier version of Halle Berry.

I took her hand and mimed a kiss. Her dark eyes called to my soul and I could just picture her writhing in scenes of helplessness.

"Miss Emily Branson," Manning said, gesturing to the tall, gorgeous blonde at his side.

Branson was a long-legged, athletic beauty with the best pair of tits I had seen on a woman in many days. I could foretell much passion in her suffering, as well.

"I know you, I think," I said.

"I'm an escort, Mr. Anderson," she said, matter-of-factly.

"Based in London, if I'm correct," I said. I remembered her from a trip of mine several years ago. Yes, I remembered her well. I could see her struggling to place me. "Welcome to the island."

My eyes slid to the last: a fiery-haired woman, older than the others.

"Elisabeth Manning-Lucas," she said. "Brian is my brother."

I could see the resemblance. I held the redhead's hand for a moment. "Charmed," I said, and looked into her eyes.

She was certainly the least beautiful of the three women, though possessing quite a nice bosom; she somehow appealed to me more. Perhaps it was her attitude, so self-assured, or the hot looks that she gave me throughout the night.

"Well," the Commodore said, "now that we're acquainted, should we eat?"

Agreement all around and we sat at a round table.

The Commodore sat with Emmanuelle and Donna to either side of him. I ended up with Dorian on my right and Beth on my left. Across from me was Kara.

Sonya served. I spoke little, while I ate, and mostly to ask questions that would gauge the three men around the table. I deduced that Lucas and Manning were the leaders of an international prostitution ring, funded by Beth's wealth. Ellington was the head of a shipping business that serviced Florida and the Caribbean. By

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THE END