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I find Winger’s bedroom at the end of the hallway. He has a huge closet where I can easily tuck myself behind his hanging clothes. But if I hide first, I’ll miss the chase.
My hands are shaking and not just because I’m a virgin. I have full faith that my vibrator has prepared me for this, except it’s going to be better because it’ll be a warm body and I don’t have to do the majority of the work. Plus, I won’t have room-temperature silicone in my sex, I’ll get hot, throbbing man meat. What the hell? Hot and throbbing man meat? Have I gone bonkers?
There will be so much more to enjoy…hands, lips, and bodies slapping together. I can’t wait.
I rush back to the other end of the hallway, but instead of standing there ready to run, I strip my panties off and drop them. Then I rush back down the hallway to Winger’s bedroom.
I don’t want them to know where I am, but I want to hear them find my panties.
Safely inside the main bedroom, I peek down the hallway. A click signifies the front door opening. Being careful not to bump the open door, I turn my head to hear better.
“Ready or not…” Tank’s words trail off.
There’s a single clapping sound, like hands being brought together, followed by laughter. “All right, Money, where are you at?” It’s Purge’s voice.
The flurry of footsteps becomes muffled as they step onto the carpet. I’m doing everything to control my breaths including opening my mouth in hopes of making my breathing less noticeable.
My chest heaves up and down. My palms are sweaty. My legs are weak. I wonder if I’ll be able to rush to the closet when they get close. I wonder if I care. After all, the bed is closer than the closet.
“Oh, Moneybags, you are a bad girl. Look at this, guys.” Purge’s voice has moved distinctly closer.
I’m sure he’s found my panties. If only I could see. I’m imagining him squatting down, lifting them, no doubt cupping them to his nose.
Part of me is mortified—the part that had the boyfriend who thought wanting to be chased and taken control of was insane and deviant.
The other part tells me that I’ve met guys who get me, and I’m going to have the best first time ever.
All three of their voices draw closer and they argue over who gets to keep my panties. But Purge clarifies, “Finders keepers.”
The click of multiple doors opening and rooms being searched causes my heart to beat impossibly fast. Almost not even a beat anymore. Just one exaggerated pulse that’s surging blood through my body, that has my nerves on edge, that awakens my most basic instincts.
Have I waited too long to move to the closet? When I rush across the room, will they catch the flash of my bright red dress in the doorway? With three of them moving in and out of rooms, I can’t tell who’s where.
In a mad dash, I rush to the giant closet and quietly slink behind a couple of bins on the floor and Winger’s suits hanging above them. The wardrobe diversity surprises me because I’ve never seen him in anything but jeans, T-shirts, and leather vests. Maybe there’s another side of him I don’t know.
Someone enters the bedroom. I can’t see who. Then the closet darkens as one of them stands in the doorway.
“Oh, Tiny, I can smell you from here.”
Can he? Is that a good thing? I worry my lower lip.
Excitement swirls through me that it’s Tank. I was hoping he’d be the one to find me. I don’t know why. I just want him to be my first. I squeeze my legs together to counteract the ache in my core.
My attempts to stay quiet have caused me to take impossibly shallow breaths. How embarrassing will it be if I hyperventilate, or will I pass out? Maybe lack of oxygen is already clouding my ability to think.
“You know you’re trapped, right?”
A squeak escapes me, and he chuckles.
“Then again, I don’t think you want to escape me, do you?”
I’m now holding my breath. It’s the only way I can keep from making a sound, but I’m about to bust with anticipation. I can’t see where he is, but I can feel his presence, and hear him moving closer.
He’s got to be standing right in front of me. With a whoosh, the bins are shoved to the side.
A hand reaches through the suits and grabs my waist, spinning me as he pulls me through the clothes, securing my back to his chest.
The clatter of fabric and hangers bumping barely registers. A suit falls to the carpet with a soft thud. My front is pressed into the suits, swinging them back slightly.
