"What do you know about the Guiana club?"
"It is a very private place down in Tribeca," he answered, "I've never been there, of course, that is not my thing, you know."
"Could I get in there?"
"It's probably easier to get you into Hizzoner's bedroom, would you settle for that?"
The idea of a beautiful girl like Miyu sneaking into the Mayor's bedroom at Gracie Mansion threw Bruce into contortions of laughter.
"I don't think Mayor Bloomberg would appreciate that," Miyu answered.
"Oh, I'm sure he would. Thank you dear."
Their drinks arrived and for a moment, which is as long as Bruce could last without talking they drank in silence.
"The Guiana is a private club," Bruce said, "and it does not have a liquor license. The activities that go on in there, I hear, require the members to be quite sloshed, to participate, if you get my meaning. There is a bar just at the corner; 'The Hornet' I believe it's called, where some of the members are rumored to fortify themselves before or after their exertions."
"I might as well start there," Miyu stood up.
"You mean tonight?"
"Oh sit down, silly girl!" he said.
"First, it is too early; nothing happens there before eight, second, even if you found somebody at the Hornet, don't think they'll let you in just like that, and finally," he downed his Cosmo.
"I'm not letting you go without me."
"They have a great watercress salad here," he added.
So it was not until ten that Miyu and her friend ensconced themselves on a little table by the window, at The Hornet. From there, they had a good view of the entrance door to the club. The smoking ban did not seem to apply to this bar in particular; at least half of the patrons were smoking; some of them even cigarettes.
"If I may make a suggestion," Bruce said, "you should try to meet one of the members here, and develop a relationship with him before trying to get into the club."
The unlit sign over the entrance read simply "Guiana club" and under it a larger sign read "Private, members only."
The cold kept the street empty. After about an hour, a light spilling on the street announced that someone was coming out of the club. Two people left the club and crossed the street heading for The Hornet. Bruce and Miyu sat up a little straighter in their table, like bird dogs on point, ready to flush.
The two persons entered the crowded bar. Two women. One of them wore black trousers, white shirt, and a black sport jacket or blazer under a great coat; she wore her hair in a crew cut, and unsurprisingly, no makeup. The second woman was more interesting. Even on her high heels, she appeared only four nine or ten, voluptuous, but not fat by any means; her blonde hair was cut in a girlish page boy. She wore a brown mini dress and white wool cardigan. They searched for an empty table and finding none, they made their way to the bar where they found two stools, across from their table.
Bruce tapped Miyu's foot under the table. "I meant her," he said.
"You can do a her, can't you?"
"I was wondering that myself," Miyu answered taking a look at the two lesbians.
The blond noticed Miyu's eyes on her and gave her a look over.
Miyu knew herself attractive, she saw the looks random men, and women, gave her on the street. In the genetic alphabet soup of her past, her mother's mixed Japanese and American ancestry mixed with Portuguese gai jin blood, and who knows what else. Her father's contribution was his Spanish Celtic blood. The end result in Miyu was what can only be described as 'exotic': A five foot six woman, with oriental features and light hazel eyes that, sometimes appeared almost blue. Bruce stood up.
"I'll leave you, he said. Call me when you get home tonight or text me."
He left twenty dollars on the table and then he added, "If I haven't heard from you by one AM, I'm calling the cops," as he bent over to kiss her on the cheek.
Miyu felt her blood congealing inside her body.
She'd never been with a woman before.
She looked again at the two women. How was she going to approach them?
The waiter stood at her table, gesturing towards the two women with a slight jerk of his head:
"The ladies at the bar," he placed the faintest stress on the word 'ladies', "will allow you to buy them drinks."
It seemed fate took a hand.
"Certainly," Miyu answered. "Ask them please if they will allow me to join them."
"Yes ma'am," the waiter's look was less than inscrutable.
Butch approached the table; looking down at Miyu she said:
"Don't you know to stand when your betters arrive?"
Miyu promptly stood up, "I'm sorry. I'm Miyu."
"I don't care who you are, bitch," she sat down at the table.
The other woman also came and sat at the table. This left no chair available for Miyu who now had to stand.
Miyu cast her eyes down, whether in submission or in shame not entirely clear.
"Beth," the blonde said, "what do you think of her?"
The blonde sucked on her unfiltered cigarette, "She may do, perhaps."
The waiter brought a split bottle of champagne and two flutes. He served the two women at the table and gave Miyu the bill. In addition to the champagne, the two dykes' bar tab had been added to the total. Beth looked at her out of the corner of her eye. Miyu, silent, handed the waiter the Visa card she'd received earlier.
"Cindy, we might as well test her before we lose any more time."
"What was your name, slut?" the blonde asked.
"I am Miyu."
They both looked at her in stony silence. Miyu swallowed.
"I am Miyu, mistresses."
They downed their champagne, got up and headed for the bathroom.
"Follow us," one of them ordered.
The women's bathroom was empty. Beth took Miyu into a stall.
Her heart thumped in her chest, she was at the mercy of these two dykes; the gun that Thornton had mentioned did not seem unwelcome now. Beth took her into her strong arms and kissed her on the mouth. Miyu's lips opened to receive her. Her mouth tasted of Bourbon and black tobacco. Miyu felt her mouth invaded by the bigger woman's tongue.
She was about to reciprocate when Wham! Beth's fist smashed into her midriff knocking the wind out of her. She doubled over and fell to the floor. On all fours she struggled for breath on the floor of the ladies room. After a few breaths she recovered enough to realize that she'd been lucky the two club members were dykes otherwise she'd be doing this in the floor of the men's room. She struggled to her feet.
Cindy entered a stall and called her.
"Come here bitch."
Miyu followed her.
"Offer me your boobs, slut."
Miyu opened her white blouse and pulled the cups of her bra below her B size breasts. She held them in her hands. Cindy sat on the lavatory so Miyu slid down on her knees, still holding out her breasts to the blonde woman. She meanwhile searched for something inside her purse.
It was a nail file.
An evil grin crept into her face. She leaned over, nail file in her hand and with it she scratched something on the skin of Miyu's breasts.
After she was finished, she stood up, turned on her heels, laughed and said:
"If you dare. Apartment 1105. We’ll be home by midnight. Beth will go first. She likes to tenderize the meat before we use it. That’ll take an hour. If you last. Then she’ll grind herself onto your face for 4 or 5 orgasms, before going up to bed. Beth likes her sleep. I’ll take over from there, and you and me can spend some alone time together. I’m in an evil mood tonight. I want to see you cry. After that, I’ll introduce you to my strap-on collection. I don’t mind staying up late, because I can sleep in, in the morning. But for you – well, Beth gets up at 7:00am and I’m sure her pussy will need some attention again.”
She laughed once more. "Ciao!"
Miyu looked down at her breasts. Carved on them was an address: 945 scraped into her left tit; 2nd AV into the right.
She looked at herself in the mirror. She saw the address on her breasts, written backwards as if by a dyslexic psycho. Tears slid, unheeded, down her cheeks. She replaced her bra, closed her blouse and stepped out of the toilet.
And here is gorgeous Miyo in all her glory.