Chapter Two
Lotta stopped a few yards from the door of the nightclub. For her, this was a first. Lotta had never been into a nightclub before. She had rarely been anywhere on her own. It was a simple matter to know what she wanted, but quite another matter to go and get it. For the first time in her adult life, and in fact the first time since her sexual urges had influenced her life at all, what she wanted was not as easy to obtain as simply looking under her bed and dragging it out.
The doorman looked doubtfully at Lotta as she approached the club. His eyes focused on the huge amount of flesh exposed by Lotta’s dress, almost mesmerized by the immense chasm between her breasts. As she came closer, he stepped back and managed to jerk his attention away.
“Good evening, Miss,” he said politely. “Are you on your own this evening?”
Lotta looked around her, saw no one that could possibly be mistaken as being with her, and assumed that the doorman’s question could only be some sort of attempt to pick her up. She smiled at him with what she believed was her sexiest smile.
“At the moment,” she confirmed. “Aren’t you working right now? Can you spare a few hours?”
“I mean,” said the doorman carefully, taking a step backwards, “Do you have friends here already, or are you expecting friends to arrive? Are you a member? I haven’t seen you before. I’m not supposed to let in anyone who isn’t a member unless a full member signs them in as a guest and takes responsibility for their behaviour.”
It was news to Lotta that membership of this type of nightclub was required to allow entry to the premises.
“Do you know all the members?” she asked curiously. “You must have a very good memory.”
“I think I would have remembered you, Miss,” the doorman told her.
Lotta smiled, and this time it was a genuine smile. “You’re so sweet,” she told him. “I like you. I’m going to see you lots and lots.”
The doorman retreated rapidly. “Oh,” said Lotta, seeing her route to the inside of the club no longer blocked. “So I can come in?”
There was no reply. Lotta went in, pausing only by a full-length mirror on the wall of the foyer to check her appearance. Yes, she told herself, no man could fail to be impressed by her full, womanly shape and the prominent display of female flesh.
Inside, the club was busy. Loud music blared out, making any conversation very difficult. Crowds of people filled the dance floor, and many more were seated at tables and at the bar on the far side of the room. Lotta decided that the bar was the right place to be and headed in that direction, scattering dancers either side of her as she ploughed her way through them regardless of their protests.
At the bar, Lotta found three bar stools and pulled them together before carefully positioning herself on them and adjusting her dress to expose as much of her legs as she considered to be decent and respectable. She leaned against the bar, ordered a drink, and waited for the inevitable approach from the men who would surely be overwhelmed by her feminine charms. As far as Lotta could see, there was not a single female in the entire room who even came close to her voluptuous and extensive femininity.
For some reason, not one of the men rushed up to Lotta immediately with declarations of love and desire. Perhaps, thought Lotta, many of them were like Peter and too shy to express themselves. That was the only possible reason none of them had yet asked her to dance, or at least bought her a drink. Well, there was no rush. She could wait, and it was quite pleasant to sit back, to watch the gyrations of those who were dancing, and to imagine how lovely it would be when she had one of those young men on her bed. She could almost feel him now, squirming underneath her...
Lotta had another drink, and then another. After three more, she was beginning to feel decidedly mellow, and yet the pleasant sensation in her mind of a man who would inevitably be providing her pleasure later that night was becoming rather more than just in her mind. She fidgeted restlessly on her three bar stools, adjusted her dress several times although she knew very well that it was in perfect order and displaying precisely the optimum amount of flesh. She had another drink.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Lotta had not even noticed the young man approach. She gazed at him, trying to focus her eyes.
“Hello,” she said uncertainly.
“I just wanted to say,” said the young man, with a quick glance over his shoulder towards a table not too far from Lotta where two other men were seated, “You have the most amazing boobs I’ve ever seen.”
His voice sounded rather louder than was necessary. Even though the music was loud, Lotta could not understand why he needed to shout. He looked across to the two men at the table once more, and made some sort of sign in their direction.
“They are rather nice, aren’t they?” agreed Lotta, looking down her cleavage. “Are those your friends over there?”
He glanced in their direction again as Lotta pointed. Both men looked away as though they had suddenly spotted something or someone that took their interest on the opposite side of the room.
“Yes,” he admitted. “Those are my friends. Um...”
He stuttered, and seemed to have trouble getting his words out. “Could I...?” he began.
“Yes?” asked Lotta. “Could you what?”
“Could I touch them?” His words came out in a rush.
Lotta was puzzled. “Why are you asking me if you can touch your friends. Shouldn’t you ask them?”
He shook his head. “No,” he tried to explain. “Your breasts...”
He looked as though he was preparing to run.
“Oh! My breasts!” Lotta looked down at them once again, slid her hands underneath them and lifted them happily. “Of course!”
Hesitantly, he reached forward and placed one hand flat on the exposed expanse of flesh of Lotta’s left breast. Without another word, he snatched his hand away and retreated towards the table from where his friends were now watching again.
Lotta watched him go, in confusion. As he sat down, she thought she saw one of the other men pass him something. It looked like money, so Lotta assumed he would be back at the bar shortly to buy a round of drinks. However, he did not move from the table, and now all three men seemed to be in an animated argument, with the one who had first approached her shaking his head vigorously. Finally, he did stand up and come towards her.
“Hello again,” said Lotta cheerfully.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” he told her. “For letting me touch... you know.”
“That’s all right,” said Lotta. “It was nice.”
“Yes...” he nodded, and gulped.
“I don’t suppose...” he gulped again, and looked at his friends who seemed to be trying to urge him to do something.
“What?” asked Lotta.
“I don’t suppose you’d let me kiss them... or... anything?”
“Here?” Lotta gazed around the crowded room. Certainly there was no one looking in her direction except this young man’s two friends, but she did think his request was a little unusual in such a public place. “Your friends will see.”
“It’s all right if they see,” he said. “I just wondered if... if you’d mind if I did... it would mean a lot to me.”
Lotta stared at him, somewhat blurrily. What she really wanted at that moment was completely out of the question in such a public place, but if this young man really wanted to kiss her breasts right here and now, then the possibilities for later and somewhere else were almost endless. It took only a minute for her to make a decision, and most of that minute was spent doing nothing more than trying to form an answer without sounding as intoxicated as she actually was.
“Yes.”
Just in case he misunderstood, Lotta sat upright on her bar stool, reached out for him and pulled him towards her. With both hands clasped around the back of his head, she buried his face deeply into her cleavage.
Both his friends stood up. One of them clapped. Lotta hardly noticed.
She had held him for no more than thirty seconds when Lotta noticed there were two other people approaching her. She peered toward them. As they came closer, she recognised one of them as the doorman who had been so nice to her earlier.
“We’ll have none of that in here,” said the other of the two men rather gruffly.
“Oh, it’s quite all right,” Lotta assured him. “He’s not bothering me at all.”
The young man whose head was now almost invisible in the fleshiness of Lotta’s chest, seemed to be trying to tell her something. His arms were flailing wildly and his body twisted from side to side. Lotta transferred the grip with one hand from the back of his head and put her arm around him. She stood up, lifting his feet clear of the ground.
“You can’t do that in here,” the doorman confirmed.
“Really?” said Lotta, squinting in his direction and trying to focus her eyes on his face. “Oh, I see. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you jealous.”
“You’ll have to leave, Miss,” the other told her.
“With both of you?” Lotta asked. “Well, I don’t mind, if you’re sure. Where shall we go? We can’t go back to my house because my mother is at home and I don’t think she’d approve. Anyway, my bed’s not big enough for the three of us.”
“You are leaving on your own,” said the doorman, suddenly becoming assertive.
“I suppose you have to work for the moment,” said Lotta dolefully. “I’ll see you another night, won’t I?”
She took several steps towards the exit, the young man still clasped to her chest. It was a moment before she seemed to notice he was still there.
“What shall I do with this?” she asked doubtfully.
“Put him down,” said both men together.
Lotta nodded, and released her grip. He fell to the floor and lay motionless. His friends rushed over.
“You’ve killed him!”
“I’m sure I haven’t,” Lotta insisted, and took several more steps towards the exit.
The doorman crouched down to examine the unconscious youngster. “He’s alive,” he confirmed. “We’d better call an ambulance. Here, you...” he made a grab at Lotta, “You stay right there.”
“You told me to leave,” said Lotta, aware that everything was not going as smoothly as she had hoped, but still uncertain what she had done wrong. “I’m going.”
Neither the doorman, the security guard nor anyone else could have stopped Lotta’s progress towards the exit, although several did try. She sailed serenely across the dance floor, into the foyer, missed her footing and fell against the full-length mirror, which shattered.
“Sorry,” Lotta apologised to the shattered remains, and continued unshaken into the street.
No one followed her. In fifteen minutes she was at home and in her own bed, drifting off to sleep to the sound and gentle buzzing of her favourite vibrator.
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