Page 82 of Awakening
Getting dressed for the night felt like preparing for a rite of passage. I kept it grown and sexy: cream linen slacks that felt like butter on my skin, paired with Louboutin Men’s Dandelion Esquisse Florale loafers, which conveyed a bold yet soft aesthetic. My cream Cuban 70’s lace shirt was open down the chest, just enough to let the island breeze lick at my skin. I added a gold Cuban link chain with the matching bracelet to complement my rose gold Patek Philippe Twenty~4, the luxury of it evident under the soft light, and my gold bottom grill flashed when I grinned in the mirror. I looked... Good, felt better, but I knew I’d be speechless when the women came out.
Maverick, Ahmir, and Caleb were dressed to kill, too. Silk, linen, dark button-ups unbuttoned, cologne that lingered in the air, we were ready. Then, the door opened, and they stepped out.
Ajaih. Dana. Yanna.
Every man in the room turned to stone and fire all at once, and all of a sudden, I felt underdressed.
The backless mesh mini dresses didn’t just cling to theirbodies; they sang to them. Ajaih’s silver dress shimmered like moonlight. Her hair was bone straight, parted down the middle like a blade, her silver padlock heels locking in her domination. Dana’s gold version of the dress glinted against her honey skin, her curled pixie cut making her cheekbones sing, gold D&G heels accentuating her sexy ass feet, and Yanna... rose gold perfection, especially against her rich umber skin. Her updo was a sexy blend of chaos and elegance, all at once, her crystal Louboutin pumps catching the light, her bottom grill flashing with a smirk that said trouble.
We were wrecked before we even left the villa, and questioned if we should just start our party right here, right now, but the curiosity of tonight’s adventure won the battle.
When we arrived at The Obsidian Bloom, it wasn’t a club; it was a transformation. The carved blackwood doors whispered promises and secrets. From the moment we passed through, the place wrapped itself around us like silk and heat. The air was filled with the scent of night-blooming orchids, smoked vanilla, amber resin, and spice. It was like the island’s soul had exhaled right into this space.
The lighting was low and suggestive, with sconces made of volcanic stone and floor lanterns that resembled open flowers glowing from within. Obsidian tiles lined the walls, gleaming like wet skin. Black silk drapery parted just enough to tease at what hid beyond, alcoves with plush cushions, velvet lounges, and sheer canopies that hinted at sins in progress.
Mirrors reflected candlelight in a way that distorted everything, even time, space, and intentions. It felt likelooking at yourself through the eyes of someone who wanted you.
At the club’s heart, a sunken garden pulsed with glowing orchids, their inky colors lit from beneath like something divine. A shallow water fountain wound around it all, smooth and reflective like a lover’s gaze.
The music wasn’t loud. It was intentional, a blend of tribal drums and ambient rhythm that pulsed through our bodies like a second heartbeat.
The hostess welcomed us with a knowing smile, “The Obsidian Bloom is for those who understand; desire blooms in the dark.”
And as we moved deeper inside, I felt it. We weren’t in a club, we were in the belly of midnight, where saints came to sin, and sinners came to rejoice, and we hadn’t even begun to unravel yet.
Making our way through the lounge, Yanna ventured off to the DJ booth, whispering what I assume was a song request in her ear.
Making her way to the stage, where the gold pole glistened even under the low lighting, the very first note of “Speechless” by Beyoncé melted into the air like warm honey. It doesn’t just start, it slithers in, slow and sultry, with a breathy moan and the quiet tease of a guitar that feels like fingers tracing bare skin. Much like the song, Yanna was in no rush, allowing the tension and desire to build in the wake of her swaying hips as the crowd parts like velvet when she steps on stage.
Every time I saw her in this element, I was blown away. The beautiful, unassuming doctor, who wore her hair in a neat bun most days, had no issue releasing the side of her that kept everyone she encountered eating out of the palmof her hand. Every inch of her commanding attention, the lights kissing the rose gold of her dress as she moved to the pole as if it were an extension of her.
Beyoncé's voice, velvety, soft, aching, drenched in intimacy, played. “I can feel you need me,” she sang, every word as if it were meant for one person, in one moment, behind closed doors, much like Yanna’s body moved. She didn’t just dance, she seduced.
When she spun down the pole upside down, pausing midair in a controlled, trembling hold, the crowd gasped. She landed in a split so smooth, it might've been silk touching marble.
Gliding over to Dana like a panther, graceful, lethal, eyes smoldering, hips swaying, she climbed onto Dana’s lap and straddled her, slowly grinding to the beat, letting her hips hypnotize. Dana’s hands rose instinctively, cupping Yanna’s waist, their eyes locked like a private storm.
When Yanna turned, planting her hands on the floor and bending over, revealing her glittering anal plug, a visual so sinful I felt my throat go dry and my dick go brick. Dana's fingers trailed up her thighs, worshipping every inch.
And then came the moment.
Yanna turned to face Dana, lifting her toned, thick leg onto Dana’s shoulder, her body poised like a sculpture, dangerous and divine. Dana leaned forward, lips brushing low on Yanna’s abdomen, just above the spot where fire blooms and honey drops.
Not being able to take any more, I stood behind Dana, whispering in her ear, “Just taste her mama, I know you want to.”
Doing as she was told, she licked her tongue over Yanna’s swollen clit, causing her body to jerk.
“Good girl,” I praised.
Yanna’s body reacted, trembling, arching, a gasp escaping her mouth. Dana’s hands slid along her hips and inner thighs like a lover who knew the rhythm of her soul. A slow, reverent touch followed by a whisper of her tongue as she ate Yanna’s pussy with a packed audience.
The crowd didn’t exist anymore, only them.
Ajaih leaned into my ear this time, “Still think we’ve seen everything?”
I couldn’t even answer because I didn’t want to blink and miss what came next. My mind was blown as I watched Dana eat pussy in a room filled with lustful stares as if it was her profession. The fucking wine lady was a real eater, pleasure pouring from both sets of Yanna’s lips.
Patrons tossed money like it was confetti at a coronation as she lowered her leg and dropped into a squat and started twerking slowly, every movement calculated seduction.
