That was why they were here. The Brotherhood didn’t hire girls who weren’t at least an eight, and this one was pushing a nine with the right lighting and enough alcohol in my system. A bitter laugh, trapped in my chest, threatened to escape. Nine. I was barely a seven on a good night, and only when I had silenced the critical voice that whispered lies about my worth.
“I’m Serena,” she said, leaning in close enough that her perfume enveloped me. Something sweet and cheap, probably from one of those discount stores where everything came in pink packaging. “I’ve been watching you all night. You’re different from the others.”
“That right?” My voice came out flat, uninterested. I had heard variations of this line before. Different girl, same script. The script that always promised something more, somethingreal, but inevitably led back to the same hollow transaction. I wanted to believe her, to latch onto the idea that I was special, but the years of disappointment had carved deep trenches of cynicism into my soul.
She didn’t seem deterred. If anything, my indifference seemed to encourage her. Her hand moved higher, fingers walking up my thigh with practiced confidence, before she cupped my cock through my jeans. I was already half-hard from the atmosphere—the pulsing music, the dim lights, the general air of debauchery that hung over the place like expensive cologne—and her touch made my dick swell further.
A wave of shame washed over me. This physical response, so primal and involuntary, felt like a surrender. A concession to the very things I loathed about myself and this place. I hated that my body could still be so easily manipulated, so readily swayed by a stranger’s touch, when my mind screamed for resistance.
“You’re the quiet one,” she whispered, her breath hot against my ear, her lips barely grazing the sensitive skin there. “The one who sits back and watches. I bet you see everything, don’t you? I bet you know exactly what everyone in this room wants before they even know it themselves.”
Smart girl. Or maybe just observant. Either way, she’d read me better than most people managed to. Better than my brothers who kept trying to pull me into their conversations about sports, whores, and other shit I didn’t give a damn about. Better than the other whores who had approached me earlier with their rehearsed routines. A part of me, a desperate, lonely part, craved the validation her words offered. But the larger part, the part that knew the price of such attention, recoiled.
To be seen was to be vulnerable.
“I bet you’ve got a big cock,” she continued, squeezing my dick through the denim with just enough pressure to make her point. Her other hand traced circles on my chest. “I bet you’d likeme to suck it. Right here. Right now. Let everyone watch while I choke on your dick. Give them a real show.”
Chapter Two
Nano
There it was.
The offer.
Every fiber of my being screamed for me to refuse, to escape the humiliation, the objectification, the stark reminder of my own degradation. But the ache in my gut, a hollow hunger for connection, for something, anything to break the suffocating monotony of my existence, warred with my revulsion.
To say no would be to return to the cold, isolating silence.
To say yes... to say yes would be to shatter what little remained of my dignity, to become another spectacle for the jaded eyes of this club. And for the first time, the choice felt like a failure no matter which path I took. The promise of release, however tainted, was a siren song, and I was adrift, paralyzed by the monstrous currents of my own internal turmoil.
Direct. Crass. Exactly what I expected from a place like this, from a girl like her.
No pretense of romance or connection.
Just a raw transaction dressed up in dirty talk.
My gut churned. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? This raw, uncomplicated release. But a flicker of something unwelcome traced its way up my spine. I could’ve said no. Could’ve told her I wasn’t interested. Could’ve played the gentleman, not that I ever was one, and suggested we get a drink first, make some smalltalk, pretend this was anything other than what it was. The idea of playing decent, of being the man my brother thought I was, tugged at me, a ghost of a moral compass I usually ignored.
But why the fuck would I? A hot piece of ass wanted to suck my cock, and I wasn’t some monk taking a vow of celibacy. I wasn’t here to make friends or find my soulmate. I was here for exactly this, wasn’t I? The rationalization felt thin, brittle.
Instead, I smirked. My cold, knowing smirk that made people uncomfortable, the one that said I saw right through them and didn’t particularly care what I found, and spread my legs a little wider.
An invitation.
Permission.
Whatever the fuck she wanted to call it.
Serena grinned as if she’d won a prize at the county fair, that victorious little smirk spreading across her glossy lips. Her fingers went to my belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease. The kind of confidence that came from doing this more times than she could probably count. The metal clinked as she pulled it open, the sound cutting through the bass-heavy music thumping from the speakers mounted in the corners of the bar, then moved to the button of my jeans with deliberate slowness. Pop. The button gave way easily. The zipper came down next, tooth by tooth, the sound barely audible over the music and the moans filling the room from the brother going at it behind us. Each movement felt like a nail in a coffin, sealing me into this moment, this choice I was making despite a nagging voice whispering warnings.
She reached into my jeans, her hand sliding past the waistband of my boxers, warm fingers searching until they wrapped around my cock. Her eyes widened slightly.
Yeah, sweetheart, I’m not small.
She licked her lips, that pink tongue darting out to wet them in anticipation. I could see the surprise register on her face, followed quickly by excitement. “Fuck,” she breathed, the word coming out like a prayer. “You’re huge.”
The compliment landed like a blow, a stark reminder of the emptiness this encounter promised to fill but never truly would.
