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24th September
2010
written by Dame Suzy

Who would take the trouble just to be able to make a grand entrance twice a year to the glamorous Real Madrid stomping grounds on the outskirts of Madrid? Lori would. She specifically took motorcycle lessons to get her international operator’s license just to do it.

She already had a distinctive look to her, cocky but with an innocent girlieness that when it did come out, did melt – at least temporarily – the biggest bad-boy heart. Here she was again, long black hair flying around her head, in a bright sexy dress and a stuffed kitty cat between her legs. The big bouncers were surprised – even they whose eyes had seen fights, cars wreck into the club’s façade, and their share of drunken wardrobe malfunctions. They stopped what they were doing even if it was a famous footballer they were greeting, to see Lori rev the motor once in announcement, stop, jump off onto her 4-inch heels – still holding the kitty against herself, kick the kickstand in place and kill the engine.

The new bouncers would ask who she was. The older ones would always remember her, not only for her entrance but for her charm.
She remembered bouncer Eloe by name, and he smiled as she placed the little stuffed animal in his huge hands. Notably, she ignored the footballer to her left, though she would have to admit she’d had a few fantasies about him when he’d played for another team.
But he asked her, “Do always give away your pussy as a gift?”

And she responded, “Not to jocks. It’s not worth fucking just once in awhile because of their schedules, doing all the work. Their fame makes them lazy. And your girlfriends and wives practice an evil method of revenge.”

A little bit taken aback, and exhilarated by the possibility of a challenge, he nonetheless let her go unmolested as she gave Eloe a hug – Eloe squeezed a little longer than normal, after all, she’d be gone till the next year in a few hours – and she went past the plush deep red harem-like canopied couches to get herself a drink.

Once or twice, a seeker – an athlete’s personal friend or assistant would try to entice her to join the VIPs. But the thought of sitting around over-eager wannabes trying to take a rich boy home didn’t appeal to her, and instead she’d give the seeker a peck on the lips – maybe more if his lips were the succulent sort – and send his derriere on its way with a stroking pat.

As she danced – sometimes eyes closed, in her own world, sometimes taking in the view of someone with some asset worth studying, over the next couple of hours men and boys from all walks of life would approach her. One pissed her off enough that she would leave to avoid him and go talk to Eloe in the front.

And she stood by his side and sighed. He was still married. Still couldn’t make time. Last time she’d visited he’d called her just to tell her he couldn’t see her before she left. And meanwhile he’d made her horny just suggesting what he’d do to her and it ended up to be nothing. And it’s not like they could just steal away to the bathroom or to his car – she didn’t want to ruin her reputation – that she never left a club with a guy. That added to her mystique.

Then, out of the corner of her eye she spotted a man she couldn’t resist. He stepped out of a taxi dressed casually in a sweater and tight pants, a subtle shine to his polished boots, his gray-brown hair trimmed a half-centimeter from his well-shaped head. Lori hated sweaters, but this guy… Eloe regarded her stare with a tinge of jealousy.

As another bouncer greeted him, this sweatered guy’s deep brown eyes locked with hers for a moment. “Buona sera,” he said to her with a deep, melodic voice. “Ciao,” she replied with an unexpected blush…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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