The secret life of Emily

Emily Davis sat on her bed holding the card. Similar in size to a credit card, it was grey with the letters “VB” entwined in a holographic image in the centre, which seemed to revolve as it caught the light. It was beautiful she thought. Emily had no idea what the letters meant, but she knew what the card was. It was a membership card for a very exclusive club. A sex club.

The banner across the top of the card read “The Secret Life” and had a small red heart next to it with a tiny letter “F” inside, which Emily assumed stood for “Female”, as it was a “Female” who had dropped it in the shop where she worked. Initially believing it to be a credit card, Emily went after the woman, but when she realised what she held, she deftly pocketed it and returned to her counter.

The “Secret Life” club was a well-established venue in the city where Emily lived, and carried a dubius reputation. The clientele were secretive and anonymous, and the place had been raided on more than one occasion amid claims of prostitution and other unsavoury practices. But no evidence had ever been found, and the club was allowed to flourish. This did not stop the rumour mill however, and many lurid tales of what went on in the club, had reached Emily’s ears. At first shocking, and then exciting her. She passed the club twice a day on her journey to and from work, and she had always longed to see inside, and now she had the means to do so. But dare she?

She knew that the membership card would soon be reported as lost, so she only had a very small window of opportunity. It had to be now.

Pulling the bottom drawer clear of her bedside table, Emily took a small package and placed it on the bed. Hiding it from her parents was paramount. They were nothing if not strait laced, and she didn`t relish the awkward conversation that would ensue if she were confronted with her little purchase. She mentally chastised herself for her cowardice. She was Twenty-One years old, and perfectly entitled to wear whatever she chose. But still she hid.

It had taken her three whole weeks to pluck up the courage to enter the shop, and she had quickly left without buying when she saw what was inside. Although there were lots of pretty lingerie in the window, it was a sex shop in all but name, with racks of magazines and sex toys openly displayed. The lingerie section was at the back, but she never made it. Embarrassed beyond belief, she turned around and headed straight back out. There were men inside, and she remembered their wry smiles and amused expressions. She didn`t know what was going through their minds and decided that she didn`t want to know. It was seedy and horrible.

But it was the only place in town where she could buy what she wanted. Mail order was out of the question to avoid nosy parents, so she had to go back.

Steeling herself, she headed straight for the lingerie. There were no other customers there, and it became apparent that the male customers made it no further than the porn mags and sex toys. The range was extensive, and ran from the pretty, sexy, stuff, to the more extreme fetish wear. She knew that her sexual experience with men had gone no further than the occasional fumble, but why would a grown woman want to dress as Alice in Wonderland? Emily found it all bizarre and confusing, but she knew what she wanted.

She selected three bodysuits, each more revealing than the last. The sensible part of her brain was telling her to go modest, but her “Inner Whore” as she called it, won out and she went extreme.

Now, alone in her bedroom, she stood naked before the mirror. Her “C” cup breasts stood proud and firm with little or no sag, and the fat lips of her shaved pudenda, nestled sweetly between her muscular thighs. She hated the thought of hair between her legs and had begun shaving it as soon as it started to appear at age 11. Her pussy was high slung and prominent, with a significant split, and she wondered if that was completely normal. It looked almost swollen. She ran her fingers lightly over the soft flesh and felt a familiar tingle pass through her body. After almost being raped by a drunken reveller at a New Year’s Eve party, she had turned her back on sex and contented herself with her fingers when things got too much, and things were getting too much a lot lately. She thought.

Her sex drive had returned with a vengeance, and she knew that if didn`t get fucked soon, she was going to go insane. Sure, she could get laid anytime she wanted, but sex against a wall, or in a car, had never appealed, and she wanted her first time to be special, memorable even. She needed someone who knew what they were doing, and that eliminated virtually every male she currently knew.

Emily stepped into the body stocking, and pulled it to her waist, marvelling at how well the stocking cupped her pussy. She pulled it up, over her tits, then slipped her arms through the thin shoulder straps. She looked stunning. The body stocking, she had chosen, was made entirely out of black fishnet, and was completely see through. She loved the way it crushed her tits to her chest and she noticed how her hardening nipples now pushed through the strappy material demanding attention. She could probably have done with a slightly larger size, but she liked the way it encased her body, and especially the way it supported her tits.

She flopped back onto the bed spreading her legs before the mirror. The hole in the material seemed larger over her pussy. She grinned to herself as she realised why that was. It was big enough to enable a man’s cock to pass through. She could be fucked while wearing it. She pulled the material taut over her ass hole and realized that there was a larger hole there too. She almost blushed at the thought.

She clutched at her tits and rubbed the palms of her hands over her swollen nipples. She longed to have a mouth licking and sucking at her tits. What would it feel like? She had tried sucking her own tits, but it was hopeless. something was missing.

Rolling onto her stomach, she pulled her knees to her chest lifting her ass in the air and began a gentle stroking motion along the entire length of her slit. She teased the tight rosebud of her Anus, before pushing into the hot slippery hole of her cunt. She made lazy circles at the entrance before delving a little deeper to the taut rubbery seal of her Hymen.

She had been in this position many times, and each time had been tempted to plunge her fingers deep into her virgin pussy, and each time she had baulked. She wondered if she could do it now, but no. She contented herself instead, with a gentle clit rub. The rupturing of her Hymen would happen soon enough she reasoned, possibly as soon as tonight.

The thought both excited and terrified her. Would it hurt? Would she bleed? Would she even be expected to have full sex, or could she get away with some touching and kissing?

She didn`t think so. None of the stories she had heard had ever mentioned those things, and she knew that she had to be prepared for things to get heavy. Very heavy indeed.

She felt the first butterflies in her stomach, and sat on the bed, all thoughts of her impending orgasm now gone. The micro text on the back of the card stated that only nudity and/or fetish wear was permitted in the club, but luckily, she had a large trench coat to go over the body stocking which should suffice.

What the hell are you doing Emily? She thought to herself. This is crazy, reckless, dangerous even. If things were to go wrong, nobody would know where she was, and nobody could help her. She was on her own.

She knew that the chances were that she would never even get into the club, and that reassured her a little, but knew that she had to try. If she let this opportunity pass her by she would never forgive herself. It most certainly would not come again.

It was Saturday night, so she knew that the club would most likely be busy. Hopefully she could lose herself in the crowd. Emily took a deep, nervous breath and started to get ready.

…

Emily had the Taxi drop her a street away from the club, to give her time to compose herself, and to ensure her anonymity. The city centre was busy, with early evening revellers heading to the local pubs and clubs, and Emily eased through the laughing throngs, before standing with trepidation before the large oak door which led into the club. There was a magnetic card reader on the wall to the left of the door, and Emily ran the membership card quickly through it, fully expecting a red light. The light turned green, and the door opened with a gentle click.

Emily was confronted with a lush, deep red carpeted staircase leading to the first floor. The walls were mirrored, and she caught sight of a very nervous Emily staring back at her. The staircase opened into a small reception area, with a frumpy looking, middle-aged woman seated behind the desk.

“Card please.” She murmured, as she absentmindedly struggled with her crossword.

Emily handed it over. The woman examined it in some detail, as if it was the first one she had ever seen. Emily had an almost overwhelming desire to bolt, but somehow stood her ground. “Need any help. You know, with the crossword. I`m not bad.”

The woman looked at Emily in bewilderment. “I just need to scan you in. I won’t be a moment.” Then she disappeared into a back room.

Emily rolled her eyes to the heavens. Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! You`re in a sex club and you`re offering to help the receptionist with her fucking crossword! For fucks sake Em!

The phone rang in Frank Chapmans office. “Hi Frank, it`s Sue from reception.”

“Bloody hell, I know it`s Sue from reception because your name comes up on my phone, yet you still feel the need to bloody well tell me.”

“Mr Grumpy. Anyway, we have a situation down here. There`s a young woman trying to get in on a stolen card. The initials on the card are VB.”

“Veronica Bernstein.”

“The one and only. V`s already inside. I issued her with a new card only an hour ago.”

“And you didn`t think to cancel the old one?”

“For fucks sake Frank, of course I did! But she came in through the front door. You know how dodgy that card reader is. You could get in with a bloody Costco card.”

This was true, thought Frank. He had been meaning to get it fixed, but the regular clientele now used the rear entrance to avoid prying eyes.

“What do you think? Another reporter?”

“What else.” Replied Sue. “She certainly looks the part.”

Frank flipped the CCTV to the camera overlooking reception. Sue was right, she did look the part. Trench coat, nervous. Just another young reporter trying to make a name for herself. Frank sighed. Ever since the existence of the club had become common knowledge he had been besieged by the fuckers. They had tried everything to get inside and had even rented the building opposite to see who went in and out.