Persephone in Winter - Chapter 9/11 - Sex Stories

Persephone in Winter - Chapter 9/11

... men, men born without the, well, sufficient 'equipment' that such women desire, must often stand aside when a lady finds that our sensitive devotion is no match for a good fucking. I'm sure you would understand that, sir." "Look, have you seen my wife or not?" Steven shot back, now unnerved by the attendant's suggestive banter. The man seemed suddenly older. A mixture of arrogance and amusement filled his eyes, but his face looked tired, aging years in the few minutes they had spoken. "I'm sorry sir. I must have been mistaken," he answered, with a knowing smile. Steven pushed by him and fled into the hallway. The warm glow of the wall sconces was now extinguished, leaving him in darkness. Behind him the attendant's laughter spilled from the men's room, booming louder and louder between each gasping breath. A light flickered in the distance where the stairs met the darkened hall. He moved toward it, then quickened his pace, running, running, the plush carpet sucking at the soles of his shoes, his heart pounding, head throbbing, propelled forward only by his terror and the hideous laughing behind him - running, running, his eyes slowly adjusting to the flickering light ahead, until finally he reached it and stopped, panting, dizzy, and swimming in sweat. Below him, hidden by the bend in the winding stairway, music was playing, but not the lush music of an opera. It was thin and nasal, as if made by an old Victrola. He took the first few steps cautiously, then, driven by ...

... curiosity, descended until he could see into the lobby below. The chandelier was gone, the dim light now coming from a few flickering gas lamps clinging to the far wall. The room was filled with Victorian furnishings - satin armchairs, sofas and loveseats trimmed here and there with fringe and lace, all arranged atop an intricately decorated oriental carpet that stretched away into the darkness. "Ahh, there you are. I've been waiting for you. You're very late." A woman stood at the base of the stairway. She looked up at him with a slim, bare arm outstretched, her fingers beckoning. Suddenly the room was filled with women, as though their flesh was precipitated from thin air during a blink of his eyes. "Come, come, mon amour - I won't bite. Unless you want me to." Her voice seemed to penetrate him, her words made all the more intoxicating by an elegant French accent. A sheer black camisole barely contained her lush, heavy breasts, and covered her slender curves only to just above the navel, leaving the slightly parted lips of her sex completely exposed. He was drawn to her, slowly, a step at a time, until he stood before her, close enough to inhale the light scent of perfume carried by the heat of her body. She moved closer, her arms around his waist, her hips thrust firmly against him. Her face was oddly familiar; sparkling green eyes set above a perfect, delicate nose, full red lips with a hint of mischief at the corners of her wide mouth, and flowing loose brown curls dancing over ...