“Cock in Ass,” Yvette said with a sparkle in her dark brown eyes. “That’d make a great title for the artwork, don’t you think?”
“Yvette, they’re…screwing onstage!”
“Oh good Lord.” Yvette waved a gloved hand in the air. “They’re not fucking. They’re just…”
Annabelle lifted an eyebrow. “Just what?”
“For God’s sake! It’s art!”
Before Annabelle had a chance to respond, their well-built waiter appeared at the table. Annabelle’s eyes bulged. Upon close inspection, she discovered the waiter’s “uniform”, which consisted of nothing more than black pants and a bowtie, was also painted on.
“Okay, that one’s not totally naked,” Yvette said after he took their drink order. “He’s obviously got something on under the paint in order to keep his cock from distracting us from the artwork. And poking you in the arm when he delivers our free drinks.”
“Oh my God.” This wasn’t exactly what Annabelle had had in mind when she’d taken her college roommate up on her offer to spend a weekend in New York City. Freshly divorced after nine years of country club living with a stuffy banking executive had left Annabelle a bit…conservative. Or downright frigid, depending on one’s point of view. This might be a bit much for her first night in town. Along with that brief, yet highly arousing encounter with Eric.
The first man to make her pussy wet in years.
“First of all,” Annabelle said, trying to get a handle on the situation, “the drinks aren’t free. We paid fifty bucks to get in here.”
“Then we’d better drink up!”
Annabelle could certainly use a few to relax. Was infinitely grateful when the waiter returned with the cosmopolitans they’d ordered.
He placed a glass in front of each woman, then turned his smile on Yvette. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Samson.”
“Nice to be seen,” Yvette cooed. She pulled a ten from her purse and folded it in fourths. “Remind me where I’m supposed to put this when you’re not wearing any clothes?”
He laughed. Annabelle rolled her eyes again. She should have known this was the kind of weekend she’d end up having with wild-child Yvette.
The waiter grinned as he said, “On the tray is fine.”
Feigning disappointment, Yvette sighed. “If you insist.” She dropped the bill on the tray and the waiter sauntered off. Yvette watched him go. “That’s an ass you could bounce a quarter off.”
“I thought that phrase referred to making a tight bed.”
“Tight bed, tight ass. Whatever.” She licked her scarlet lips and said, “Makes you want to spank a cheek, doesn’t it?”
“If you’re into that sort of thing,” Annabelle muttered under her breath, though in all honesty, she felt the same way about Eric. Hadn’t even gotten a glimpse of his ass, but she had a feeling it was even nicer than the one she’d just eyed.
“Oh come on!” Yvette said as she reached for her cocktail. After taking a sip, she added, “You’ve really got to loosen up. In fact, you’re the one who could use a thick cock in her tight, high-society ass.”
Annabelle’s mouth gaped, though she had no valid retort. Unfortunately, her friend was right. Again.
Her gaze slid back to the faucet people, but the curtain had already dropped on them. “What are we doing here anyway?”
“We’re going to buy you a piece of art. For your new condo.”
The ink was still wet on the escrow papers, but the mere thought of owning her first home sent an excited thrill down Annabelle’s spine. “A house-warming gift. Wonderful. But…what does that have to do with this place?”
Yvette handed over the fancy-looking program provided with the theater glasses. “Once a month, artists display their body murals here. By invitation only, you can view works on Friday and Saturday nights. Each scene is professionally photographed and, on Sunday, the framed pictures or the commissioning of paintings of the scenes are auctioned off over a stellar brunch. It’s fantastically competitive! The champagne gets flowing and the next thing you know, half of New York society is bidding outrageous sums of money for naughty nudes!”
“Only you would know about a place like this.”
“Are you kidding me?” Yvette scoffed. “Take a look around. This club is packed. And this evening is the tamer of the two nights. Wait until tomorrow.” She picked up the program and fanned herself with it. “The artists get extremely creative in joining body parts.”
“I’m sure.” She turned her attention to the second stage as the curtain rose. A man in a pike position and painted to look like a piece of light-colored wood with flashes of metallic-silver paint stood in front of a woman lying on her stomach on a raised platform, her head level with his crotch. Her body had been turned into a beautifully crafted bottle of Chardonnay. Her head and neck were painted to look like a cork. The man’s erect cock was in her open mouth.
Annabelle had to chuckle. “He’s a corkscrew.”