Allegra

By Matthew Jimson

This sex-filled misadventure follows an ex-military man who works as a bouncer at a secret and highly illegal sex club while trying to deal with his own heartbreak. As obscene sexual acts and orgies play out before his eyes with many of the club's workers and guests alike, only Allegra stands out to him as being "among the sane." Upon her disappearance following a night spent working a private party, he's left to his own devices to seek her out. Surrounded by a culture wrapped up in sexual deviance, he find himself taking pleasure where it comes while learning those sexual misfits with money are often cold, terrible people even if they seem friendly in the club. Teaming up with her life-long friend, he finds himself in more trouble than he ever expected.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charlie Bent
• Release date: Jul 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370846382

Book preview

Allegra

Matthew Jimson

Copyright 2016. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. All characters are 18 or older.

Smashwords Edition

Chapter 1

Someone asked what I did for a living. I work security for a private organization, I’d answer. It was a more respectable answer than the truth: a bouncer at an underground sex club.

The club is the brainchild of Mr. X. One day he got an idea for a venue that would merge the steamy myth of Plato’s Retreat with the orgy scene in Eyes Wide Shut. He wanted to create a safe haven for decadents with some cash. Mr. X banked on the suspicion that enough people were voyeurs or exhibitionists or both, and that they would pay for their peccadillos and keep the whole thing a secret. Judging by the crowds, I’d say he was not mistaken.

I never found out who Mr. X really was. I don’t suppose anyone going by the moniker Mr. X would have it any other way. I asked around, but no one seemed to know how he got his money, enough to convert an old, small warehouse tucked behind a strip mall and covered by a mess of wild bushes and maple trees into a romping ground for an elite clientele. Was he married? Kids? How did he spend his time outside the club? Did he have a straight job? Did he live in an enviable neighborhood? No one knew, and after a while, no one seemed to care.

My job was mostly to provide security. I was the doorman, bouncer and otherwise responsible for containing the insanity in the warehouse cum club. I took my task seriously. If there was ever a reason for a patron to call the cops, I’d be out of a job because the place would get shut down, and who knows? I might even face jail time for being affiliated with Mr. X’s not-at-all-legitimate business.

But I hadn’t seen a single disturbance, which is incredible when one considers the amount of supercharged chemicals raging unfettered through the place. The thing I came to realize is everyone there wanted to be there, had paid out the nose to be there, felt privileged to be there, so no one wanted to risk their membership. I’m not aware of even an inappropriate grope occurring.

The place wasn’t all that special. One could see the industrial former life of the club behind the slapped-on décor. Warm red-hued light bulbs were screwed in, dark colored draped hung here and there, and a few cheap paintings depicting scenes of nature decorated a few walls. No one cared; the charm of the place, I came to understand was in the camaraderie of the patrons, all sharing in the same sexy secret. One didn’t come for the interior decorating, one came to fuck a doctor’s wife or to watch one’s own wife get fucked by a young stud or to fuck one’s regular partner in a new setting with witnesses who cheered one on. A few guys--no one’s favorite--showed up just to watch and jerk off at the real-life porno going on around them. Needless to say, there were boxes of tissues and condoms all over the place, and a few bottles of lube circulated.

On the night where I’ll begin (because I have to begin somewhere) the place was as packed as it ever got. Word got around that Candi, one of the club’s girls, was going to perform a stunt, something described vaguely but enticingly enough to draw a crowd of about fifty. In his wisdom, Mr. X made sure there was plenty of female flesh on hand to entertain the rich, single guys or to join a couple or to simply walk around in their perfect nudity to keep spirits high, so he had a handful of girls on staff for those purposes. There were moments to go before the show and the anticipation in the place was palpable.

At the door, the only entrance and exit to the place, I was making sure everyone who came in was an official member and paid up for the month. One of the girls, Allegra, stood next to me, chewing the fat.

Allegra was one of Mr. X’s girls. Yet, not. She was a class above, I thought. She was as naked as the others, not more nor less jeweled or made-up. But there was just something confident and mature in the way she carried herself, as if she had discovered most of life’s secrets years ago and was constantly amused that not everyone else had caught on to them.

She shouldn’t be doing this, she told me.

You know what her stunt’s going to be?

Yeah. DP.

Diphtheria? I wondered, until I realized double penetration made more sense. Wow. I was impressed.

Well, she said she wanted two in the ass, but we’ll see if that happens.

Wow, again. And again: wow.

Even on the hottest, sexiest night, when the moon was full and everyone was in the mood, the action was still limited to vaginal and oral sex. Anal was very rare. Simple math: not a lot of girls love it and not a lot of guys know how to do it. Two in the ass was unheard of.

We’ll see.

Her ass will fall out, I said.

Maybe, but she’ll get attention and that’s all she wants. Mr. X warned her against it, but he also made it clear that it’s her business what she does with her body and he can’t be blamed. She doesn’t care. She’s been practicing with thick cucumbers and she’s been wearing a butt-plug the past three days.

Holy shit.

All for attention and a full tip jar. Once in a blue moon when I’m drunk enough, I like a good assfuck. But this, this is not a sexual act. More like an Olympic sport. I hope she gets all the attention she craves because she sure as hell isn’t going to get any pleasure.

There came a knock on the door, and I opened to let Mr. and Mrs. O’Neill enter. They brought with them a nice summer evening draft from the outside. Some customers like me to address them formally, others insist on fist names but most prefer nicknames. It’s funny, but I’m not sure I ever caught a single customer’s first and last names together. Just one or the other or something obviously fake.

I welcomed them and directed them to the velvet room where the show was about to start. The wife gave me her usual smile, a gesture I’ve never been able to interpret. Nice lady, I suppose.

She told me if this goes well, Allegra went on, "next time she wants to add a cock in her vag. That is, if she can get the physics of something like that