A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Crescent | January 19, 2010

Crescent is a werewolf owned and run nightclub in the meat packing district in Manhattan.

Actually it doesn’t officially have a name, but the Manhattan pack have dubbed it Crescent and so that’s what it’s come to be known as.

Even the staff answer the house phones with “Crescent night club”. I think the owners, have decided to go with it.

It’s a got a sunken dance floor, and lots of blue lighting along the walls and darker areas. The dark corners are never black, they’d all manner of hues of deep blue. The area towards the dance floor is more light blue lighting.

It’s got sleek modern lines and two full bars at either end of the club. But the big feature of this club is two walls of glass cubicle rooms on either side opposite the dance floor.

Private rooms.

Paris wanted to take me here, cause he wanted to try something out.

The glass cubicles, are all frosted glass, but when you touch them, they go clear and you can see straight through them. But if you’re not touching them, they remain frosted over and unable to see in.

Bit of a novelty, but a fun one!

I walked in to the glass room and looked around, it had two black, soft leather couches on either side of the small room, and a small glass table in the middle of it. I looked at the wall that would be facing the dance floor and put a hand to it. It went clear and we could see everything happening outside our room.

Paris moved up behind me and pinned my front to the wall, with his body. Moving my hair away from my neck he started kissing me and unzipping the back of my dress, decidedly, slow.

I could feel his hardness press into the small of my back. Uh oh. I had a pretty clear idea what he wanted to try out.

“Should I have not worn underwear?” I ask with a smile on my lips.

He’s an Alpha male who gets rather, hmmm, possessive leading up to and even during lunar week shall we say. No, he just likes to indulge in the build up, like all us werewolves. He’s no different in that respect.

I was literally pinned to the glass wall, watching the dancers on the floor and people walking past, glancing towards us and the other rooms.

He unzipped the back of the dress, the whole way down. Till it hung loosely, on my body. Still covering me, at least for a moment or two longer.

He slipped his hands in around my sides, and cupped my breasts under the light material.

I tried to turn my head to the side, to look back at him.

“What do you think?” He asked me softly, his breath floating and tickling my skin. Like a warm summer breeze of happiness. His tongue ran up and down behind my ear and I fought the urge not to shiver in response.

“I could just do you here, and we’d have an instant audience.”

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