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Including me.
“So beautiful,” he whispers, thumbing the bony part of my inner ankle.
My god, his touch feels good, and as his fingers feather up the inside of my calf, without even thinking about it, I part my legs slightly, enough to make sure he continues, but not enough to scream how much I want it.
And I do.
I’m lying if I don’t admit I hope this man makes me feel good. Gwen warned me, sometimes the members just want what they want, and that’s it. She raised her eyebrows when she said it, looking at me knowingly, to see if I got her meaning.
I did. I was hardly an expert about… intimacy between a man and woman, but I knew from the way she gave me this information not to expect much.
Aside from being paid.
Which, if I’m honest, ispartof why I’m here. I guess when you have so much uncertainty about…things, like I do, it’s easier to let someone else take charge. It’s like an absolution of some sort. If I’m not initiating it, pursuing it, then I can’t be that bad. Right?
The guilt is all on the other person.
Which is completely and utterly ridiculous. I have as much agency as I’ve ever had. This is all of my own choosing.
“Lu, my lovely Lu,” the man chants. He knows my name. He slides the hem of my long dress up to my knees and then my thighs, where he stops.
I want to open my eyes so, so badly. I want to see this man who’s marveling over me, this man who’s paying money to be with me. A lot of money.
I want to ask him why he does it, and doesn’t he have a girlfriend he could do the same thing with at home?
What is it about Club Sin, I want to ask. Why does it have a hold over people like him and me, because I know I’m as drawn to it as Max and this man, whatever his name is, and any of the other beautiful people I pass in the hallways going to and from the rooms we have for them to meet in.
And when his lips fall on mine, right through the veil, I’m able to get part of my question answered, the one about what he looks like. My eyes fly open, and with his mouth resting on mine, I can’t see much but I do see his smooth, tanned skin and heavy brow. But the moment he pulls away, I close my eyes again.
I have a role to play.
His hands return to my thighs, where he left the hem of my lacy dress, and he continues sliding the fabric upward, the cool air of the room whispering over my legs, now goosebumped with anticipation. My reaction is not lost on the man, who chuckles quietly.
The white lace thong Gwen bought me, which of course she made sure I knew cost forty dollars, was sheer enough to also let the room’s air touch my newly-bare flesh. As instructed, I shaveddown there, and after the initial shock of seeing myself so exquisitely exposed, the sensation of being bare of pubic hair was startlingly exciting.
Actually, very exciting.
“Pretty, pretty,” the man murmurs.
When his lips land on my lace-covered sex, I reveal myself with a gasp. I don’t mean to. I am not supposed to. I was to hold perfectly still and not make a sound.
Have I ruined it?
But the man just chuckles again, then presses his tongue into me, or at least as far as the lace barricade will let him.
And in spite of it, the warm wetness of his snaking tongue is pure heaven, a thousand times better than I imagined it would be.
I want to throw my legs open and pull this man’s head into me. I want him to taste me from one end to the other, to smell me and feel me and tell me I’m beautiful.
But I can do none of that.
It’s not what he’s paying for.
My dress is raised clear up to my waist, where it will go no further unless its zipper is opened. But that seems not to bother the man, as he runs his lips across my stomach, laying small kisses on me like searing lashes of sin.
I ball my fists to absorb some of my temptation, hoping he doesn’t notice, or at least if he does, he isn’t bothered by it.
In a startling movement, the man slides my panties down to my thighs, baring me in a way I’ve never been seen. Even when I was with that boy at church camp, it was dark. I was too modest to let him see anything, anyway.
