All Eyes On Me

Note: Just a quick heads-up for readers who've followed my other stories: this one has a very different feel. It was originally written on request, with a specific style in mind and a target word count. Because of that, the pacing is faster and the scenes are shorter than what I usually write. The person who commissioned it has had the story for a while, and we agreed I could share it here as well after a certain amount of time. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy something a little different!

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I told myself it was a joke when he suggested,Let's do something wild, something we'll laugh about later. He'd said it grinning at me and at first I didn't think that's where he was actually going to take me.

That's how I ended up walking behind him through an unmarked door, under a blue light on the edge of the industrial district, wondering if I was insane for agreeing to this. I braced myself for a bunch of sleazy guys, and something I knew I was going to be needing a shower after, to scrub off the idea of where we were.

What I didn't expect was the way everything changed almost as soon as we stepped inside. There was music accompanying laughter coming from bodies in various stages of undress moving in dim lighting, and then there were eyes. So many eyes. It was pretty much purely older eyes of guys my dad's age or more.

Men of all types from those with gray at their temples, in pressed shirts half-unbuttoned, to heavyset guys with their sleeves rolled up, and others in jeans and t-shirts. There were also women with curves, some that exuded confidence, and others that I found inspiring by their ability to put themselves out there regardless of how they looked, not to be mean. I stood there in my cheap black dress, at twenty-one and clutching my boyfriend's hand, feeling like I'd wandered into another world.

"See? They're all total creeps, just like I said," he spoke into my ear, over the music. "All these old guys still think they've still got it. It's pathetic."

But they weren't looking at him, they were looking at me, and he didn't understand how that felt. At first I thought I was imagining it, but then I caught the way heads turned when I passed, or the way a man smiled over the rim of his drink. Another openly ogled me, with his hand draped between the thighs of the woman beside him, but his focus was solely on me. It sent a pulse through me with how openly they stared, making no attempt to hide appraising me.

I followed him to the juice bar, wishing to no end that there was alcohol allowed, and I barely registered it when he spoke to me. He kept mocking everyone around us, but I buzzed with the unadulterated attention. When the bartender leaned closer so I could hear him over the music to say, "You new? Pretty girl like you shouldn't stay on the sidelines. Go have some fun!" I squirmed a little in my seat.

My cheeks were burning, and when I told my boyfriend, he barked a laugh. "Yeah, no shit he's trying to get you to do something. Look around, these guys will drool over anyone under thirty. Don't take it personally."

But I did, because it felt good. I wandered later, dragging my boyfriend along with me, curious what was around I hadn't discovered yet. There was a hallway lined with so many rooms. Some had curtains half-drawn, where moans drifted out of them. Others had no doors, and windows on either side of where you entered. There were a few with themes, and one that had devices to restrain somebody. The one thing that every area had, was the smell of sweat and sex that you couldn't ignore.

I peeked in every room I was able to. Couldn't help it. An older man was between a woman's thighs, his salt-and-pepper hair was damp, while he gripped her hips. She was clinging to him, her head thrown back, and her mouth open in a silent cry. She didn't look embarrassed when she saw us watching. She looked like she was enjoying being worshiped by the man between her legs.

My boyfriend yanked me away. "This is gross. Let's at least go dance or something. I don't wanna see some dude old enough to be my dad eating pussy like it's his last meal."

I didn't say anything, but I couldn't erase what I'd seen. By the time we left, the silence in the car was suffocating. He just focused on driving, while I stared out the window, replaying the night, thinking about every time someone looked at me with want.

"You liked all of that way too much," he snapped when we pulled into my driveway. "Don't think I didn't notice you ate that shit up."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out, because he was right, and I wasn't sorry. The next weekend, I went back without him. My nerves started to get the better of me, and I almost turned around at the door. I felt like my dress was too red, and tight, coupled with my heels suddenly being a mistake. But then I stepped inside and instantly felt all of those eyes turning to me.

"Dibs!" I heard someone yell when I went through the door, and even though it was immediately followed by laughs, my pulse jumped.

This time, I didn't have anyone to cling to. I drifted toward the bar to get a soda, and let myself be drawn into conversations. The older men didn't leer the way boys did. They seemed like they admired me when they touched my arm lightly and made me laugh. Even when they leaned in closer, it didn't come across as them crowding me. Their compliments felt genuine and left me smiling the rest of the night.

By midnight, I was laughing at the bar, with a circle of men paying attention to me like I was the flame they couldn't resist. After the way my boyfriend continued to talk to me after he brought me here, he now felt like a distant blur, a relic of some smaller life. I realized then that this was where I came alive and now that I knew, there was no going back.

I didn't touch anyone that first night, but with the tilt of my shoulders and the way I lingered on a smile, I let their eyes run over me. I let them buy me drinks, playing into their compliments and stares. By the time I walked out that night, even the bartender was teasing me. At home, I stripped down and stood in front of the mirror, still hearing my boyfriend's voice telling me,You liked it way too much, and I hated how right he was. That first night I'd felt more alive in those three hours than in the whole last year with him. This time, I couldn't even make it to sleep without sliding a hand between my thighs, recalling how so many people looked at me, until I finally came.

I told myself it was curiosity that pulled me back tonight. Curiosity, not hunger. But my hand shook when I gave my ID at the door again the next night, and when the bouncer smiled at me, I felt like I'd already betrayed myself.

"She's back," I heard from somewhere behind me, when I showed my ID and membership card to the person at the window. And just like that, my nerves gave to arousal. This time I'd dressed with intent. I was in a pure white dress that clung in all the right places, styled my hair, and made my lips shine with gloss. I wanted the attention, and the moment I stepped past the threshold, it came in abundance.

Conversations paused, as people I talked to last time saw me. Smiles came from all directions like I was gravity. When I got to the bar, the bartender greeted me like he'd been waiting for me to come back. "Glad you made it back again." He sounded more amused than judgmental, like he knew what was happening even if I wasn't ready to admit it to myself.

"I guess I'm curious," I suggested, tucking hair behind my ear.

"Curiosity never lasts long in here," he said, sliding me a soda without asking. "Seems to me you're already becoming a regular."

The words buzzed in me at his accusation. I drifted again, soaking in who was there. Men caught my eye, and instead of looking away, I let my smiles turn sultry. Then I let my movements catch the attention of others.

At one point, a man that looked to be in his forties leaned in close at the bar. His cologne was like an aphrodisiac, and he was wearing a crisp shirt. He was exactly the kind of guy my now ex-boyfriend would've mocked relentlessly. I'd broken up with him earlier that day, after he brought up the night we were here, yet again.

"You new?" the stranger asked.

"Kind of."

He smiled, but he didn't push me. "You'll like it here, if you can learn to give in to the experience" he claimed.

I didn't go into any rooms that night. I didn't even let anyone touch me more than a hand at my elbow or the brush of a palm at my back as we squeezed past.

But instead of going straight home when I decided I was done flirting for the night, I slipped into one of the private rooms alone, my body still burning from every brush of contact. I gathered my dress around my waist and let my fingers wander over the bare skin between my panties and hips. With my thighs pressed tight together, I teased myself while listening to the muffled noise of laughter, music, and most importantly, the murmur of strangers' voices over moans of their companions, on the other side of the door. The scent of colognes clung to me, and I let it drive me as I touched myself.

It built too fast to resist, causing me to bite down on my lip to keep quiet. The sounds blurred into a haze as my body tightened, shuddering hard while my orgasm rushed through me, leaving me trembling.

The fourth time I walked through those doors, I didn't bother pretending anymore. I'd made up my mind about why I was there. The first three visits in eight days had been about watching. About soaking in the thrill of being wanted without having sex to earn it. But after two weekends of going home buzzing, wet, and unsatisfied, I decided it was no longer enough.

I told myself I'd follow someone else's lead, that way, I didn't have to make any decisions about anything, I was just letting the night unfold. The first one to shoot his shot looked like he was maybe in his fifties, with silver hair and a silky voice. I'd noticed him on my second visit, sitting back relaxing while others talked around him. He'd watched me without leering that night, and only casually spoke to me when I was alone for a moment at the bar and he came up for a drink.

"I've seen you a few times now, and you keep circling this place like you're not sure what you're doing here," he said.

I laughed nervously. "Maybe I'm not."

His smile was small but kind. "Here, it's better when you stop trying to figure things out, and just let go. You keep coming back for a reason, right?"

I didn't know what to say, but he offered his hand. "Do you want to see?"

I let him lead me down the hallway to a softly lit room. It wasn't one of the fully private ones, but he closed the curtains as best he could to give us privacy, aside from the small gaps at either side. He touched me like he'd been waiting all night, but each move gave me time to pull away if I wanted.

His hands settled on my hips before slipping lower to hike my dress up. When his fingers failed to find any panties, they quickly slipped inside me. The relief it brought was so sudden it almost pushed me over the edge before I could mentally calm myself. I clutched at his shoulders, desperate for more.

His lips brushed my neck, and he lowered himself, until they were at the inside of my thighs. When he finally eased me back onto the couch and pulled his cock out, I guided him without thinking. The first push made me whimper, spreading me open, and when he started telling me how beautiful I was and how good I felt, I knew I could never go back to guys my own age.

The murmur of voices carried through the thin fabric, and in the sliver of space where the curtain didn't quite meet the wall, I saw silhouettes moving past. I tightened around him when my body strained between the fear of being seen and the raw pleasure of this new experience. Each thrust made me shiver, and my nails were digging into his butt as he drove deeper. Every sound outside our space made me tremble harder. I wasn't prepared for strangers to cum inside me, but when he was ready, I finished him with my hand against my shaved mound.

I left that night shaking with exhilaration.

The next weekend, I came earlier. That first experience told me I wanted more than to just follow the lead of others. I was ready to start choosing for myself.

I'd notice a couple I guessed was in their mid-thirties. They looked playful, and their hands never left each other. Approaching them, I started to openly flirt as they spoke to me. The woman stroked my hair when I leaned closer, laughing at something she'd said. The man touched my thigh casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and my mind was swimming with how open they were in front of each other.

When they asked if I wanted to join them, my mouth said yes before my brain had caught up. I didn't know what to expect, but being kissed by her while he pulled my dress down was like stepping into a fantasy I hadn't even known I had. I learned just how soft and teasing a woman's lips could be, contrasted by his rough calloused hands roaming at the same time. His cock was thick and dripping when he pressed it against my hip.

The rest left me in a heady rush, feeling her sliding her mouth down my body, showing me what it felt like to be opened and savored by another woman. At the same time, he took me from behind, stretching me fully and taking me hard. I clutched at her hair when she made me climax against her tongue, and then watched her turn to him, stroking him until he groaned. She caught every drop of his seed with her mouth, then surprised me by moving back up to kiss me again, sharing him with me in a way I never could have imagined.

It didn't stop there. After several visits, I no longer waited for someone else to ask. I knew exactly what I wanted, and I went after it.Whowasn't the focus, it was the adoration I was craving.

If a man smiled at me from across the lounge, I crossed the floor. If a woman brushed my arm in passing, I'd let my fingers tangle with hers to see how she'd react. I learned how to make eye contact that was a signal, and even how to lean in and let my dress fall open just enough to entice someone to make their move.

Sometimes it was a slow and indulgent experience with one man, languidly filling me until I forgot my name. Sometimes it was two, taking turns while the other whispered in my ear about how beautiful I looked, or perhaps even letting them use me like a Chinese Finger Trap. Once, it was one older, younger, and middle-aged guy at the same time, each with a different way of touching me until I didn't know where one ended and the next began. The sensation of so many hands on you at once is indescribable.

The girl who came that first night had been nervously clinging to her boyfriend's side. At this point, I was learning who I really was, and getting lost in it.

When I walked in one Friday night, the place was almost entirely dead. Disappointed, I almost turned right around and walked out. There was no buzz of overlapping laughter, or groups already half-undressed in the corners. Just the low thump of music, the bartender hanging out on his phone, and a few men scattered across the main area. I knew most of the people there well enough by then to decide I'd just hang out and enjoy some conversation.

Spotting a man I'd been with a couple times before sitting on the couch, looking at me the same way he had hooked me the first time, I decided to say hi. My stomach tightened, and I went to join him on the couch he was sitting at, and talking with another gentleman I didn't know.

The only other woman in the place sat at the juice bar with her partner. She was older, and glamorous in a simple black dress, sitting with her legs crossed. She was sipping her drink while her man leaned in close to her. They watched everyone, but kept their seats, occasionally joking with the bartender. There were the several men spread out sipping drinks, and all of them looked like they were waiting for something to happen, even though there was only two women here.

I don't know what made me do it. The guy I was speaking to joked about everyone else waiting for me to get on my knees in front of him. Maybe it was the relative quiet of the near empty club. Perhaps it was that there weren't fifty people to hide behind, or be on display in front of all at once. It could've been as simple as the way his eyes looked over me when I sat beside him.

Whatever it was, I sank to my knees in front of him before I'd even thought it through. His cock was already hard when I freed it, and felt familiar in my hand. I wrapped my lips around him and heard his breath catch, as I sank down his length.

He was right, it didn't take long before others started to gather. There were footsteps, and the scrape of chairs, as nearly everyone came closer. I could see them circling out of the corner of my eye. My pulse roared in my ears. A little oral in the main area was generally ignored, but the rules expressly said that any activity should be taken to one of the many rooms, and not in the common lounge, but I didn't stop.

I wasted no time with teasing, and went right to work, savoring the attention as he rested his hand on the back of my head. But when the first man stepped closer, unzipping his pants, I knew what was coming.

I didn't resist when he came close to my side, and I simply reached up to take him in my hand. I started alternating sucking between him and the first guy.

Before I knew it, I pulled my skin-tight dress up, inviting anyone to step up behind me. I felt fingers spread me, lubing me with spit, and then he pushed into my ass. I gasped at the sudden intrusion, the shock of it stealing my breath only for a second, and moaned around the cock in my mouth, the sound was muffled, but I don't think anyone would question if I enjoyed it.

The others closed in at my wanton display, showing no signs of rejecting anyone. It all came in a lust filled haze. The taste of one cock replaced by another, the gaping of a hole before someone else slid into me. The rush of knowing others were waiting, watching, and lining up for their turn. My hands shook from the way each new touch made me ache for the next.

I signaled without words, a look, a tilt of my chin. As soon as one finished, another took his place.

At some point, I glanced toward the bar. The couple there had turned fully to face us, her eyes locked on mine. She didn't look disgusted like I half expected her to. She looked...intrigued. Her partner stood beside her, with his pants unzipped and stroking himself lazily as though waiting for her to give him the green light.

When she finally rose and walked over, the men shifted to let her through. She stopped in front of me, her partner following only a step behind. When her hand gently touched my cheek, she pressed a kiss to my lips even as I still held one of the men in my hand, and another was behind me.

I shivered all the way down my spine at the unexpected moment of tenderness. She decided her man was next, and no one objected. She guided him by his thick and ready cock, and placed him in front of me, prompting me to open my mouth for him too.

By the time it was over, my limbs shook from the strain, I was damp with sweat, and one of the straps of my dress was halfway torn. The men drifted back to their corners, spent and satisfied. The woman smiled at me before her and her partner left, and I couldn't help but wonder how I'd feel watching my man use another woman's mouth.

And I... I sat there on the couch, with legs too weak to stand on even if I wanted to, realizing I'd just been the center of the whole room. The girl who once clung to her boyfriend, nervous and silent, no longer existed, and I didn't want to give up this new me.