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His eyes drag over my body in a way that has heat rising between my thighs all over again. “No. But I wish you were. Maybe I’ll taste you for my dessert.” He gives a shake of his head, like he can’t believe what he just said.
Taste me? My clit pulses at the idea of his warm tongue, those shapely lips doing things to me that have never been done. I should say something but I’m too overwhelmed to speak. My tongue feels useless, my mind going hazy with clouds.
“Good. See you there.” He gives me one last look, and turns on his bootheel, walking away from me.
“Help?” I whisper to the empty room.
How long will I stand here, my wrists in shackles? Who will come to my aid?
Why did I agree to dinner?
Moments later as I’m diving deep into worry, a woman arrives. Gold sparkles on her eyelids and in her short, tight, dark curls. She’s dressed in a black leather corset, black stockings, and a long red-to-orange ombre silky robe that flutters behind her like flames licking at the air. Her glossy black stilettos click against the floor as she makes her way to me with her determined stride.
She’s got black medical gloves in her hands and she puts them on as she walks, covering her sparkly, black-painted nails. She goes right to the handcuffs, undoing them. “Pleasure to be seeing you. I’m Keisha and I’ll be your goddess for the evening.”
The cuffs open and I lower my aching arms to my sides, rubbing at my wrists. Then I remember the half-zipped state of my jeans and the toy tucked inside. Humiliation wells in my chest as I quickly pull the vibrator from my jeans, zipping and buttoning them.
“I’ll take that.” Without a word about my situation, she plucks the toy from my hand with her gloved fingers.
I can’t help but stare at her—she’s breathtaking. What did she call herself? “Did you say you’re my… goddess?”
“Yes. Of course! Any guest of Cannon’s is assigned a personal assistant for the evening, and I’m happy to be yours. Your goddess.” She takes a long look at me. “Or in your case, maybe you’d be more comfortable with a… oh, I don’t know. Fairy godmother, I guess? I have wings I can put on if you’d like.”
I don’t know if she’s teasing or not, but I don’t want her going to any extra trouble on my behalf. “No, no. Goddess is fine.”
“Alright. Just a minute then.”
Click clack across the floors she goes, pulling a coiled whip brass handle in the wooden wall, this one opening a small door, a hinge on its underside like the one on the book return at the town library where I spend my days off.
I think of theNo Talkingsign and the strict librarian with her steely gray bun and thick glasses. I hold back a nervous giggle. This place is nothing like the library.
Keisha drops the vibrator inside, letting the door close shut. She takes the gloves off, finding another handle, opening another hinged door, and drops them in. Reaching up over her head, she grabs a gold bar, sliding it across the wood paneling to reveal a sign that saysThe Garden of Eden is closed for cleaning.
They do take their cleaning seriously. Maybe I could fit in here… have a job here… but working for Cannon? Just thinking of him floods me with heat. I press my thighs together. I was crazy to beg for a job. I’m probably safer at the Accardis’.
My goddess returns to me. She grabs my hand in hers, warm and comforting amidst this strange, other world that I’ve entered.
“Come, come.” She eyes my worn sweatshirt. “We have work to do. Cannon gave me very specific instructions for you.”
Her accent is clearly American. “You’re not from here, are you?”
“Nope. Good ol’ Cannon recruited me when he first opened the club. I knew him way back when, before the Bachman Brotherhood snatched him up. We worked together in a bar in New York City and always kept in touch. When he told me he was converting an old mansion on a mountain in gorgeous Italy into a sex club, yeah, I kinda jumped at the chance to join the team.”
My clit is still humming as I walk. I’m still being punished by the dampness between my clenching thighs, my body wanting to be filled. I press my thighs together harder as we wait for the elevator, in an attempt to stop the pulsing. No luck.
We ride the elevator to the second floor. She pulls me into a room with a red door. There’re dressing mirrors in gold frames hung along one wall, with black and silver diamond-patterned wallpaper hung behind them.
The opposite wall is lined with doors. She goes to them, pushing them to the right, and they slide open on tracks, folding into one another to reveal a magnificent closet. Filled with clothing. Each garment hung neatly, an equal amount of space between each item.
“Hmm… let me see.” The hangers click gently as she glides outfits across the metal bar, searching for the one she wants. “Aha! Here she is!”
She pulls a black garment down from the rack, bringing it to me.
It’s a black one-piece pantsuit; the thin straps of the top are made of thin gold chains. I’ve never worn anything like it. I reach out to stroke the material, cool silk between my fingers. “It’s gorgeous.”
She flashes me a stunning grin. “And it’s going to look gorgeous on you, my dear.”
Gold metal catches my eye, lines running up the inner legs of the pants. “Are those… zippers?”
