Chapter 4- I Promise To Do The Cock Sucking

Amberleigh knew another way to possibly confirm Grayson Godwin was a lying, cheating dog was through the clubs required STI screenings. After she put on a red, deep plunging, V neck dress that barely skimmed the bottom of her ass, did her hair and makeup on point, she headed over to the employee health wing. The club had a state of the art medical facility in house to keep its workers healthy and on the job.  

                 And to keep complaints down from patrons who later tried to pin their STI on the club. Nope, their dirty asses picked that shit up from their one night stands or side pieces. More people than one would imagine had brought civil suits against the club to try and get compensated for their medical expenses and emotional trauma due to the infections. Well, The Cobra Club shut that shit down successfully by their meticulous testing procedures and records on their employees. And they had a grade A team of lawyers in their back pockets. 

                Amber was glad the tech on duty was Rosa. Rosa was always gentle and had warm hands. She was the grandmotherly type with her white hair pinned back into a bun and warm blue eyes. Amber was wearing a thong which made it quick and easy access to swab both her holes in her nether region. Next came the sample from her mouth and a drop of blood from her fingertip.

Rosa was quick and efficient with a good memory.

“I haven’t seen you around here in a while, Miss Amber. I’m glad to see you’re doing well and back here. It hasn’t been the same around here without you.”

Damn straight.  At least someone in this club had seemed to miss her and glad she had returned. Not to mention it was so nice to be valued and appreciated. Perhaps if the rich douche who fucked her over had realized this, that she was the best thing that’s ever happened to him, it was him she would be about to take on the ride of his life. But Amber pushed those thoughts away and smiled at the technician.

“Thanks. There’s no place like home Rosa. How is Buttercup doing? Still growing fat with mice from the garden?”

This place was more than just a sex club. It was home and these people the closest thing to family Amber ever had. And would have, unless she decided to keep the baby. But keeping the child of a God in this city would likely cost another host of problems. She was getting a headache just thinking about it.

Rosa’s smile dimmed, “My Buttercup passed last week.”

An awkward silence passed for a few seconds, as Amber obviously hadn’t known. She wondered what else she had missed being away from home for so long.

“My condolences to your loss. He was a good cat.”

“He was. But everything in life has it season. And my grandchildren brought me over the fattest tabby you ever did see, Mr. Jingles. He’s fitting in quite nicely and making himself right at home,” she chuckled.

“I’m happy for you Rosa. I wish Mr. Jingles many years of good health.”

Many years of good health. Everything in life has its season. Nope, Amber was so not going there. She wasn’t going to feel sorry for that asshole. And their season had passed. It was time to move on, as he had already done the same.

Luckily, Amberleigh hadn’t gotten a sexually transmitted infection from said asshole. Not that she forgave him any for his transgressions. If he was seeing Courtney and making plans to propose to her, the least the playboy could have done was given Amber a heads up. Hell, she would even have continued to fuck him for that matter. And enjoyed it even more knowing.

There was no love lost between her and Cortney Van Tessin, she hated that cunt for numerous reasons. Her fake conniving ass. And Leo hated the woman as well, that alone was grounds to loathe Courtney as Leo was a doll with good judgement. Well usually anyway, unless it came to Grayson and poor Leo was blinded by his love for his friend. It just made Amber more pissed at the thought of the way Grayson used Leo’s love to manipulate his friend into being his fucking puppet.

 But tonight, was supposed to be about Amber getting back out there and not stewing in her own anger, regret, self-loathing, and misery. Fuck that, Grayson was fucking that cunt right now, and like hell would Amberleigh Dubois go hide in her room with her tail between her legs! Tonight she was going to get her own piece, as she eyed The Rainbow Room seeking out potential targets.

The Rainbow Room was alive with the energy of a hundred or more horny souls hoping to get lucky tonight. But at The Cobra Club, luck was on your side indeed. You were guaranteed to get laid so long as you could pay the price. The golden swirl bar gleamed like a shiny beacon, beckoning patrons to come and get the liquid variety of courage. The strobe lights pulsated around the room in time to the beat, every so often stopping to highlight a platform where the club folk pulled out all the stops to prove what made them a fantasy come to life.

At midnight, several golden rings came down from the ceiling above the dancefloor, just beyond the reach of the crowds below. Perched inside each ring was a Goddess or a Page who performed a delicate and dangerous dance to the delight of the crowd beneath. They suspended themselves down from the rings, doing twists, and flips, no safety net to catch them. The crowd was mesmerized. The club always offered some sort of free gifts or shows every night to show its appreciation to its devoted patrons.

The energy of the place could be felt. In fact, you could even hear and feel their feet slapping against the marble as patrons bounced up and down to the beat. The DJ behind the turntable hyped the crowd up, and the shots -the Goddess and Pages wearing nothing but painted on snakeskins-served to the marks, helped further intensify the effect. They felt invincible, unstoppable, and fucking alive. That was something else the club offered, that feeling. The feeling that even though the world around them had gone to hell, their lives threatened, they would actually live like they were fucking alive, instead of people just waiting to die.

 Usually, Amber found the controlled chaos of this room refreshing, invigorating. But tonight, she found it crowded and overwhelming. An assault of her extra sharp senses. The lights too bright. The smells too heavy and breathtaking in a bad way. In the past when she got such a feeling, she would turn to booze. She eyed the bar longingly. It seemed a conundrum really, it was thanks to her pregnancy she was felling this way, yet the one thing which could help her through this was forbidden. How the fuck was she going to get through this first trimester without alcohol on board?

When she was pregnant with her son, Amber was sick for the first few months. Not much seemed to help either. She threw up often and hated Jackson Van Cortlandt even more. As she had lie curled in her twin bed without energy, she’d envisioned many ways to kill him. The rich prep schoolboy had ghosted her even before he knew he’d knocked her up. Amber didn’t know what she’d been expecting really from a boy who was slumming it a party her friend was throwing. He assumed she was an easy girl, good for a quick lay.

But she’d been a virgin when she met Jackson. She was dazzled by his wad of money and his expensive car and too much alcohol led her to bed with him that night. Their whole two month “relationship” never consisted of real dates, just parties, and hookups. But he did buy her shit and make her pretty promises.

At least until Jackson fell off the face of the Earth without an explanation abruptly. A quick trolling of his social media showed him kissing a blond girl in a school uniform. Amberleigh had been crushed. Her first real heartbreak. And then shortly after, her first positive pregnancy test. My how history had a way of repeating itself.

She made her way to the bar. Perhaps she could just trick her body by drinking non-alcoholic beer. Like a fucking placebo effect. It was crazy to think some people actually drank beer for the taste of the shit, because non-alcoholic beer seemed to be pointless. She made sure none of her coworkers were watching as she slid her money chip through the reader and filled her glass from the tap. She certainly didn’t want rumors to be spreading through the club that she might be knocked up.

Not that Goddesses got pregnant often, it was a freak occurrence around here really. A freak occurrence or occasionally on purpose to cater to clients who had fetishes for pregnant women. The birth control implants had a less than 0.1 percent failure rate.  The female marks visiting the club were offered a pill to prevent pregnancy when they went through their screening process. All bases were covered in that regard. Of course, the club was a popular place for single women or lesbian couples wanting to conceive a child and not have a man involved in raising it. It really was a place to make all your dreams come true. Kinda like an adult Disneyland.

Amberleigh drank her nasty, fake beer as she leaned against the bar and scoped the place out. She decided not to make a big display of herself, because she wanted to choose her mark, not the other way around. She wanted to be in control of whom the first person she fucked post the billionaire. And like hell was she settling tonight.

There were a few potentials in her viewpoint. She wasn’t against fucking older men, but tonight Amber was looking for someone young enough to have amazing stamina, but with some experience behind his belt, pun intended.

But mature businessman with flecks of gray in his hair wasn’t entirely out of the running either. Mature businessman could go either way, best between the sheets or a total, self-absorbed dick all about self-gratification. They usually knew what a woman wanted, how to get her off, and they either gave it to her or didn’t give a fuck about her needs.

 Now the college boys were usually more eager to please both parties involved, as they often felt as though they had something to prove. Many of them were at least a good time and sometimes their sloppiness and clumsiness was quite endearing. Their pros also included eagerness and stamina, but many of them either lacked enough experience or just weren’t as in tuned yet to what a woman wanted. But amount of pussy they had pounded didn’t always equate to making them a better lover. But of course, there was always diamonds in the rough.

It seemed that while she made her mental checklist, Amber had narrowed it down between two potential candidates. Specimen number one was pushing forty-five, his skin the color of caramel, luscious black hair skimmed the shoulders of his white-tailored suit. Like shampoo commercial hair. The suit made a nice contract against his skin, his jaw was sprinkled with carefully shaped stubble, his posture relaxed back against a black couch. What made this foreign delight even sexier in her eyes was him drinking a common man’s brand of beer like he didn’t give a fuck. And he clearly had money and a fuck ton of it.

Option number two was maybe twenty-one and very blonde. He gave off a whole surfer vibe with his shaggy locks, naturally tanned skin, and laid back persona. He wasn’t drunk yet, but feeling good, easy to laugh as he knocked one back with his buddies. He’d tried to dress the part tonight, an off the rack suit, though opened and unbuttoned about a quarter down his muscled chest. This boy didn’t come from money, but he looked like a good time. And he had that whole golden boy next door good looks thing going for him. Most importantly, surfer boy was the complete opposite of Grayson Godwin.

Decisions, decisions, but how was a girl to choose? Both were fine as fuck and appealing in different ways. Though foreign businessman looked nothing like the billionaire, and Grayson would never be caught dead in this club, she still couldn’t help but note their similarities.  Money and presence which demanded noticing. She forced down some more of the liquid in her glass and pondered her decision, surfer boy it was then.

She set her nearly empty glass against the bar and glanced at her shiny reflection in the counter. She wiped her smeared lipstick and plumped up her hair a bit. But before Amber could even take a step in surfer boy’s direction, she saw Ebony’s reflection besides her own.

“Bitch, where you been? I’ve been looking for your ass everywhere!” said Ebony.

“I’ve been here at the bar. Alone. The whole fuckin’ time.”

Ebony’s brows nearly met as she narrowed them, “Should you be fucking drinking?”

“It’s non-alcoholic. But let me get this straight, you think I should be out fucking, but drinking is where you draw the line?” she questioned her friend.

“Bitch it ain’t like you gonna get knocked up now is it?” Ebony grabbed onto her arm, “now hurry the fuck on! I got us a gig.”

“Us? And I need some more details here bitch. I was just about to make my move and hit that.”

Amber pointed towards the surfer boy. Ebony laughed.

“Bitch, you should be more appreciative of the things I do for you. Your ungrateful ass can stay here and play in the minors or follow me and play in the fucking big league. I worked hard to get this set up and it wasn’t easy.”

“Fine, but I swear if it’s some freaky shit, Ebony I’ll kick your ass. And I’m not up for deep throating right now or I’ll throw my fuckin’ guts up,” she warned.

Ebony snorted, “Fine I promise like the good friend I am to do the cock sucking. But hurry the fuck up or we’ll be late.”

Amberleigh sighed and drained the glass on the bar beside her. She knew it wouldn’t do a fuck for her, but it was the principal of the matter. Ebony looked excited as she drug Amber through The Rainbow Room and it kinda scared her. Amber just wished she had real alcohol running through her veins.