Mist hung like a spectral curtain, clinging to everything inthe heart of downtown Vancouver, turning the night primeval. A brick wall, dingy and home to graffiti rose from rain soaked concrete and was seemingly lost in the clouds. Reflected streetlights and traffic signals shimmered in the puddles and gutters, trembling with the beat of distant thunder that spilled out upon the street every time the door opened to admit yet another yearning soul within the almost forgotten candy factory. Almost, but not quite; an enterprising trio having decided that there was a different kind of joy to be had within. They’d dubbed it the Jelly Bean Factory, multicolored neon lights marking it from without.
And Within?
Once through the doors, the dreary and gray was left behind and, in its place where pulsing lights, bouncing beats, and a cacophony of colors that would put a rainbow to shame. It earned its name, the walls, the tiles, the carpets, even the furniture reminiscent of a row of jars, each containing brightly colored jelly beans. Tonight, like most weekend nights, the place was packed. Catering mainly to gays and lesbians couples and singles, it had quickly become the place to party if you were even the least bit curious…
This was J’s forth visit in as many weeks. Twelve dollars was such a small price to pay for a night of losing herself in a crowd of sexy, beautiful, and fun people. The first time, she’d been with her girlfriends, and had managed to convince them that her state of inebriation led to the kisses she stole as the night grew closer and closer towards morning. The next time she’d gone alone, needing the anonymity to reinvent herself or, more accurately, to become who she was. That night, there was no hiding her true self. She danced with the other girls there, the music too loud to be conducive to conversation or even the exchange of names. She never had to worry about being hit on by guys; they were too into each other to bother her, sometimes seeking dark corners for their passionate embraces and sometimes not. It no longer surprised her to see two men engaging in mutual mauling upon the dance floor, their drunken passion rough and ready. It was rumored that there were cubbies to disappear into and discretely continue those passions to their logical conclusions, and she often saw couples of both sexes slipping into the shadows, clearly looking for a place of privacy. Oh, how she longed to see for herself what went on behind the curtains that others passed through, and the hallways beyond, of which she had caught glimpses.
With a sigh, she downed a shot of Don Eduardo, savoring the smooth taste as it warmed her throat and filled her belly with fire, loosening her up enough to move out onto the dance floor and throw caution to the wind, her smile full of shy promises, a secret hope in her heart as her gaze swept the crowded room.
The first time she’d dared the club on her own, she’d been captivated by a red headed pixie with a bright smile and a sense of style that matched the décor as if she was, herself, part of the scenery. She watched, enchanted as the girl or rather, young woman flitted like a souped up butterfly, her kisses seemingly random and yet obviously welcomed by one and all. She watched, somewhat smitten, her eyes straying as often to the way her ass moved beneath her daringly short skirt as they did to the uncensored look of desire behind her flashing emerald eyes. A longing filled her, one that was fed when the small woman paused in her fluid dance to rise upon tip toe and tease J with a brush of strawberry scented and silky smooth lips. Had it only been the one kiss, she might not have thought much of it, but it became a game of cat and mouse that night. She’d lose sight of the girl for a quarter of an hour or often more, only to find her standing before her when she’d turn to leave, stealing kisses, her amused laughter swallowed by the sound of bass heavy house spun on old fashioned vinyl by a DJ who knew how to gage the mood of the crowd, amping the beat up as the party grew wilder…
She never learned the girl’s name, nor was given a chance to even ask. Sometime after the clock struck two, she was simply gone, leaving J with one last lingering kiss that lasted long enough to taste her mouth as well as her lips. She went home that night buoyed by wings of desire, unable to keep her hand from wondering between her thighs at each and every stop light, finishing the joy she’d started in the car just inside the door to her house, back to the front door, her skirt bunched around her waist, her panties peeled halfway down her quivering thighs as she fingered herself into the first of three screaming orgasms that night. The other two, like the first, were fueled by thoughts of her nameless playmates head pressing between her thighs, her hungry lips devouring her pussy.
The next morning, all she could think of was her next venture to the Jelly Bean Factory, her hopes and fears pinned on the presence of the red headed vixen who’d ignited her with such lust.
The following weekend turned out much the same, only this time, J found herself wandering through the club, seeking out the girl with the red hair and infectious smile, the weight of disappointment slowly pushing the tequila born smile from her lips as the night grew older with still no sight of the object of her attraction. She was just about to call it a lost cause, when she spotted the girl weaving between same sex couples, artfully avoiding any mid floor collisions. J’s panties grew moist as she recalled her trip home, and what had transpired in her living room the week before, and her cheeks grew warm. Still, embarrassed as she was at the memory, her eyes were drawn like a magnet to this charismatic girl. As before, her clothes belonged in a black light painting; her skirt was neon green, her top day glo orange. Bangles and beads decorated her like some acid drenched Christmas tree, not that she was so out of place among the other club goers. Still, she stood out. Amazingly, her skirt length seemed to have lost an inch, making J wonder at the color of her panties, sure that she’d catch at least a glimpse as she danced.
Her heart skipped a beat, and then another, matching the thump thump thump of the bass, the sound enveloping her, making it impossible to ask even the most simple of questions, such as; what is your name? or can I, please please please kiss you all night long?
She never got the chance to ask either, melting against the nameless girl, her waist encircled as she was kissed playfully. Heat filled her, radiating in her core, teasing a soft moan from her very being, one that found its way between lips that tasted like strawberries and hinted at carnal delights that J could only imagine. It lasted an eternity and yet, it was over too soon. Before she could catch her breath, she was alone in the crowd, a glimpse of orange and green topped by flame red hair dissolving into the crowd.
Once again, a game of cat and mouse was played out. J wandering in a daze of drink and desire, ambushed without warning, the kisses between them growing deeper and deeper, their touches bolder and bolder. Soon, her blue lace panties clung to her pussy, threaded between her quivering folds, wet and sticky and smelling strongly of her desire. She felt so alive, so sure that she had found the key to what she’d felt had been missing, and yet had never been able to put her finger on it before.
That night she left with a pair of canary yellow panties in her purse, a gift from the seductive girl, one that she’d watched, both speechless and breathless, as they slid past firm white thighs to pool around slender ankles. One last kiss, this one burning with more passion than a lifetime of kisses, silky smooth underwear pressed into her hand as the girl make her exit, once again becoming impossibly invisible in the crowd.
Once again, J was unable to keep her hands from herself, this time barely able to get the front door closed before falling to the floor, knees in the air, one hand inside the band of her panties, the other holding the girl’s to her face, inhaling her scent and then, unable to resist, licking her still fragrant dampness from the crotch as she shuddered and shook, her cries filling the stillness of her house as she climaxed over and over and over, loosing count as well as all sense of time.
Finally, she fell asleep, passed out in the floor, her knees curled up against her chest, clutching her souvenir to her cheek, her saliva mingled with the juices from the girl’s cunt cool against her flesh. When she awoke the next morning, she fingered herself to another orgasm, and then again. Afterwards, she slipped the soiled panties on, wearing them all of that day, thinking of their intermingled fluids brushing against her pussy, driving her to distraction. By the time she fell asleep that night, sprawled out on the bed, too exhausted to fall under the covers, she’d managed to cum a total of six more times.
o-O-o
the night was cool, the sky clear. The moon shone brightly outside the Jelly Bean Factory, illuminating the faces of the crowd as they filed slowly in and turned over the price of admission. J was by herself again, searching the crowd for a sign of the red headed girl, her heart misfiring every time she caught a glimpse of flame colored hair, each time, disappointed to find it belonged to an unfamiliar face. Where were those sparkling green eyes, she thought. That bright, never fading, smile. The grace with which she moved through even the most crowded room?
She would be here tonight. She had to be. There was no room in her heart for doubt. She wondered if, tonight, she would be brave enough to ask for what she really wanted, what she desired above all else. She’d spent the entire week imagining what it would be like to do more than kiss or be kissed. She’d fantasized every night, what it would it would be like to taste pussy, to feel someone in her arms as they shivered and shook, moaning into her open mouth as she made them cum, over and over and over… she couldn’t stand it any longer.