Fetish Stories: The club

My friends convinced me to go to a fetish club with them to get me out of the house. I hadn't had a date in a couple of months and they swore I'd been on the computer so much I was starting to look like a hunchback. I was enjoying my self-forced reclusion, but apparently dealing with me once a month wasn't good enough for them. I really wasn't up for actually leaving my apartment, but I wasn't up for my friends tossing me in the gutter either.

That night turned out to be one of the most dreamy nights of my life and I didn't even have to do any illegal substances.

The club we went to was one that I'd been to a few years back and I didn't like it. The drinks were too expensive, the place was dirty, and the girls that generally attended weren't exactly the type you'd let your friends see you with. After a a few dozen unsuccessful attempts to find true love, or at least someone to spend the night with, I retreated to the bar to sulk in my defeat.

I guzzled down more enough drinks to quell my disappointment and was slowly moving towards being disgruntled about going home instead of trying to passively suggest it every time one of my friends actually paid attention to me for more than two seconds. Then she came into the blurred and depraved picture.

I'm not sure how we started the conversation or whether I could say even spit ?beautiful? out of my mouth, but she was just that. As a matter of fact, the only thing that is not a blur from when I was in the club was just how stunning she was. Her hair flowed like a dark orange river down to the nape of her neck, her face surpassed any other woman I had seen that night, and her body was like something out of a magazine. At least that's how I remember it. I might not remember her face and body like it were yesterday, but I do remember the dress she was wearing as if it were in front of my face right at this moment..

Most of the women in the club that night were wearing revealing latex outfits or vinyl tank tops with minskirts that you see everything if they bent over just a little bit, which many of them seemed to be strategically doing for their obviously too-drunk-to-know-their-own-name targets. This woman didn't play that game.

She was wearing a fetish pvc dress that covered every bit of skin from her neck, down her arms, and to just above her knee (I think) in a way that was so enticing no man could have resisted, even with some other girl revealing herself to him and pretending not to notice. She was fully covered, sure, but you could still see it all. It was so tight on her body that every little outline was visible, even to someone as much in a stupor as I was.

Somehow our conversation ended up outside, and we were walking to her car. I remember this feeling of awe over how she just seemed to glisten with every move. She asked me where I lived and it was difficult for me to even speak to her at that point. She looked like a sort of ethereal being that I wasn't supposed to look at or touch. I think I told her that I love her, and I think she told me that's what everyone says.

She asked where I lived and the longest car ride of my life began. We talked some, but she was obviously in better condition than I am and I think my incoherance bothered her a little bit. It became obvious to me that all I was to her was free entertainment, and I suddenly knew what all those women felt like when men just wanted them for one thing. Unfortunately soon after we got to my apartment I lost touch with reality and my memory decided it was time to go on standby so I didn't know what it was like to fully enjoy the taken advantage of experience.

The part of that night I remember I'll never forget. Why she chose me to take home, I'll never know. Why she she came into my life like a goddess in black and disappeared like a puff of smoke I'll never know either. She was gone when I woke up the next morning. All that even showed that it all wasn't a dream was a note she left on my counter that read ?I love you too.?