She hangs up. Alana doesn’t know it, but her weekly phone calls are the closest thing I have to moral support. Or maybe she does, and that’s why she keeps calling.
The day ticks on until it’s time to leave. I’m in a haze as I get into my Uber. My car is still being searched for bugs and shit. If the driver knows he’s dropping me off at a sex club, he’s not saying anything. I’m too nervous to think about anything other than the directions to the club on the GPS.
This time, I walk through the front door and enter the lobby, which is much nicer than the employee entrance. My anxiety builds and I’m not sure if I can do this. Is my Uber driver still there? I should go.
“Hi!” A sweet voice interrupts the early onset of my panic attack. “Can I help you?” There’s a woman standing behind the counter with colorful hair and a huge smile.
The words don’t want to work at first, but then burst out all at once. “Hi, I’m supposed to see Fox today. I don’t think that’s his real name, but that’s what he told me to call him. I think he works here. Maybe? I don’t know, I don’t have his resume memorized.”
The woman rushes from behind the counter and wraps her arms around me. “You’re Kitten! Yay!” Ok. Not what I was expecting at all. “It’s so great to meet you. The boys have been talking about you all day. I’m Jade.” She grabs my hand and leads me to a door. “Let me show you where you can put your stuff, change if you want to, and do anything you need to before you go into the club.” She pushes open the mahogany door with a little heart on it. “People who identify as female use this locker room. Pick an open locker, follow the directions for creating your own code. No cell phones are allowed past the lobby, so be sure to lock that away.”
She has a giddy frenzy to her I can normally match, but right now I’m too nervous, and it’s all a little overwhelming. Maybe she can sense that, because she squeezes my hand.
“It’s going to be fine. Fox is really popular, but he never asks for a guest pass. It’s like a big deal.” Not really helping me to not feel overwhelmed, but it is reassuring. “When you’re ready, walk through those doors.” She points to two big black doors at the back of the locker room. “Then go to your left. Fox is waiting for you in Room five.”
I nod and get ready sort of on autopilot. I’m all nervous, and my hands are shaking. I can do this. I was the one who asked for it. This is what I’ve fantasized about for years. Maybe I’m worried that it won’t live up to expectations, or maybe it will and I will be changed forever. But as my mind swirls with reasons why I should leave, my body walks to the double doors and then down the hallway.
This time, when I enter the room, I’m nervous, not scared for my life. He’s sitting on the couch, dressed all in black, and his mask has Xs over his eyes and a smile made of matching Xs. It shouldn’t be doing something to me, but it does. My body instantly feels awake and the nerves heighten the sensation. Hepats the cushion next to him on the couch and says, “I’m glad you came.”
I sit down next to him and his hand slides onto my thigh. His touch makes me feel safe and special.
“Oh—I get it now. The mask is for your safety, so women don’t show up at your day job demanding you get them off.” I nod. “Yeah, those spreadsheets aren’t going to fill themselves.”
He huffs, and it’s the first sign he thinks I’m funny—and that does the same thing for me as his deep voice calling me a good girl.
“Are you ready to get started?” He makes little circles on my thigh, each rotation going deeper between my legs. Never touching where I want him to, so I shift my weight and spread my legs, clues to tell him what I want.
His hand slides down toward my knees and slams them closed. “Sorry, Kitten, you’re not in charge here.”
I groan and lean against his chest, hoping he doesn’t take it that I’m being rude—I don’t know if I can handle another strike. He lets me stay there until I’ve completely relaxed, my breathing returning to normal and I’m in that hazy, sleepy state between comfort and exhaustion. He pushes me up slightly, and tells me to stand against the table.
He lifts my injured wrist, more of a dull ache now, and reminds me not to put any weight on it. He stands in front of me—not towering, but his presence feels massive. A tight black shirt rises and falls with his breath, the roughness of his jeans snug against his hips, and his faceless mask gives no hint of his emotions.
“Are you going to do everything I ask you?” His voice is cold, and twinges of danger dance in my stomach.
“Yes.” My voice is so quiet, I don’t recognize it.
He strokes my hair and rests his palm on my cheek. “That’s my girl.”
His words make my skin burn and I try to turn away, but he holds my face. Instead, I look into his hidden eyes and hold his gaze. He drops his hand from my cheek, and his fingers trail along my tender neck then push down the strap of my dress. His other hand searches around my back until he finds the zipper. With a slow tug, the dress cascades over my breasts but stays on my hips. He moans as he steps back. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
My dark thoughts make their way into my head and leave my lips. “You probably say that to everyone.”
“It doesn’t mean I’m lying.” His finger traces around my necklace. “This will be the only thing you’re wearing by the time I’m done with you.”
I search his eyes for a hint of what he’s feeling, a clue to what’s about to happen next, and I come up with nothing. So I start to fill in my own gaps. Behind the mask his eyes are wide, taking in my exposed breasts and the dress around my hips. He wastes no time taking off my bra and tossing it to the couch. He massages my breasts, rolling my nipples with his thumbs. I’m surprised how sensitive they are—maybe it’s the softness of the gloves—but each time he applies more pressure, a jolt goes down to my clit. Moans escape my lips with each breath. No one has put me on edge without touching between my legs before.
“Mmm, I love the way your body reacts.” His praise feeds the fire simmering in my core. “Do you want more?”
“Yes, please.” Politeness seems to go a long way with him.
He nods and pushes my dress to the floor with one hard motion, and I’m standing in only my thong in front of him. A stranger. I don’t know his face or his name. But here I am, completely willing to give him my body. Who am I? Was this side of me always there, or is this purely situational?
His chest rises and holds for a moment before sinking. “Stunning.” Everything about me is dainty and cute, from my perfectly coiffed hair to my underwear with tiny bows. He rubshis chin twice before stepping back into his stance in front of me. His fingers trace the lines of my thong, the deep V, until he reaches the center. His fingers pry between the fabric and my skin, and I moan with anticipation. “So needy.”
His finger rubs the outside of the thong between my legs, his soft leather gloves pressing the rough lace into my sensitive skin. “It feels good,” I whisper.
But it’s a tease, a temptation.
