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“Is it a brothel?” I asked, looking back at him, and he shook his head.
“Everything we do here is totally legal, man.” After seeing Candy with her date, I highly doubted that. “No prostitutes work here. All free, consenting adults go back there.”
I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander back to the curtain. What would it be like back there? It was like I was in a trance as I shuffled forward a step, the counter standing between me and the forbidden Garden of Eden.
“It’s a place to let your freak flag fly,” Barry told me, bringing my attention back to him. He grinned, his teeth flashing in the fluorescent lights.
I stared at him. “My…freak flag?”
“We all have one,” he said, shrugging. “I think yours might be freakier than others. Let it fly, man. Don’t hide it away. Don’t be ashamed.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Unless it’s doing shit without consent or to kids, then you can fuck right off. But if you wanna slap the salami back there,” he shrugged again, “be my guest.” I knew I was gaping at him as he waved his hand lazily toward the curtain. “There’s a show starting in…” He looked at the clock, whose hands were erect cocks, and back at me. “Five minutes.”
This man was a whirlwind. A…a weirdo. A freak. And he thought I was one as well? Did I have it stamped across my forehead?
Sweat beaded along my brow. Five minutes until the next show. What would that be like? Sitting in a dark room, masturbating, knowing the people in the rooms on either side of me were likely doing the same. Would I hear them in their rooms fucking their partners? Or were they sound-proofed? The fantasy of being back there made my heart slam against my ribcage.
I licked my lips, still staring at the curtain. Should I risk it? The crinkle of the shopping bag caught my attention, and I shook myself. What was I thinking?
I needed to get out of here before someone caught me.
“Thanks,” I rasped, grabbing the bag.
“Threw some freebies in there for you, too.” The man winked at me before returning to his phone. Did I want to know what they were?
Who was I kidding?
Of course, I did.
* * *
Maybe I was a masochist. The realization dawned on me as I clamped the cold metal cage around my flaccid cock and slipped the padlock in. It felt strange—not too tight, not too loose. Strangely, I was excited yet anxious about getting hard in the cage. Would it hurt? Would it feel…good?
After locking the padlock, I looked around my room. Where could I put the key? If I had it on me, nothing would stop me from just unlocking the cage whenever I wanted, so I had to leave the key somewhere else. But what if something happened where I had to take it off?
My lips twisted to the side, and I chewed on my inner cheek. Perhaps I could keep it in my shoe? Or my car? I sighed harshly through my nose. Neither would work. Both options would be too tempting.
Fuck it.
Moving to the small bowl housing various items on my coffee table, I tossed the key in. I’d fish it out when I got home later. I couldn’t risk having it anywhere near me while I was at school, or else I knew I’d unlock it and punishingly fuck myself the moment after I saw Winnie again.
I hesitated when I got to my front door, staring at the bowl. Maybe I shouldn’t leave it at home. Panic shot through me at the thought of being fully locked up all day with no way out.
I shook myself. I had no choice but to do this. I could not allow Winnie to engrain herself even deeper inside me.
Chapter Six
Four days of chastity. Four days of my cock being locked in a metal cage because I didn’t have the self-control not to touch myself. Four of the longest fucking days of my life.
I’d never regretted anything more.
It felt heavy between my legs as I strode down the hallway, the leather strap of my bag digging into my shoulder. Students raced past me to their next class, and I slid out of their way, barely dodging them as I turned down the hall to my classroom.
I paused when I got to my door, the faint glow of light seeping in from underneath. Odd. No one was supposed to be in there until class later. I glanced at the gold watch on my wrist, one of the few possessions Madeline didn’t take in the divorce, and confirmed the time. Twelve-thirty. Class didn’t start until two.
Was it Dean Groveton? Had he found out about me being in a sex store? Had someone seen me talking to Cassandra? I knew she’d looked too flirty. Did he think I was fucking her?
My mind whirled as I reached out, bracing my hand on the doorknob. I didn’t turn it. Not yet. Not until I could catch my breath and slow my racing heart.
Whoever was on the other side of this door shouldn’t be there.
