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When I stepped into the hallway, I watched the voyeur room, the windows looking out from the office hallway. Everything had been transformed into black leather, shiny and demanding, with cuffs and whips and chains to use for those who wanted to indulge in the fetish. A few people were collected in the room, standing together in groups, talking. They were dressed to the theme, too—corsets, chokers, high heels. The men wore leather pants if they wore anything at all, and my body tightened in all the right places at the idea of being pinned down by someone delicious.
No one did anything on the platform. There was no couple, nothing to grab their attention.
A thought took place in my mind. What if I got up there?
That’s a terrible idea.
I wasn’t the type of person to do something like that. I didn’t do anything voyeuristic. Until I’d come here, sex itself had almost been taboo. Lately, though, I wanted to try more things. I wanted to explore. I’d kept telling myself I couldn’t because I was still a virgin, but what did that even mean?
I took a step toward the doors. I hesitated, a combo of nerves and excitement firing inside me.
I took another step. And then another, and another.
When I put my hand on the door, I hesitated again. I wasn’t ready for something like this. I wasn’t… I turned around and walked to the bathroom. In there, I got rid of my leather skirt and frilly top before I put my lace up boots back on. I wore nothing but my black sheer underwear set and my boots.
I undid my hair so that it fell over my shoulders and looked at myself in the mirror.
A vixen looked back.
Let it not be said that I wasn’t a fox in every sense of the word.
I smiled at myself before I left the restroom and marched into the club itself. I hesitated, scared that everyone would turn around and stare. They didn’t—I looked like everyone else who’d come here to have a good time.
I walked to the voyeur room before I thought too hard about what I was doing and chickened out.
Some of the guests looked up when I walked in. I was suddenly self-conscious again, but the eyes that rested on me were filled with lust. They looked me up and down like they liked what they saw.
Why not?
I walked toward the platform. No one had taken their place up there yet.
I climbed the steps. The silence in the room was deafening, no murmur or comment accentuating the silence.
When I reached the top of the platform, I froze. Everyone was staring, and nothing happened.
Music suddenly started. The bass started thumping around me, and I closed my eyes. I stopped thinking about the people. Slowly, I moved my body to the music.
Was I sexy? I had no idea. All I knew was that this was what I wanted.
I was suddenly turned on. I got wet, and my body tightened in all the right places. My pussy throbbed.
I grabbed a chair from the back of the platform, spun it around so that it faced me, and sat on the chair backward, legs wide. I moved to the music, flipped my hair again, and I got lost in it, the eroticism, the eyes that hungrily devoured me.
12
JAMESON
Ifelt like a piece of shit for what I’d done to Oaklee. Not only for stopping the whole thing midway—she’d been so ready for me to fuck her, and I’d been ready, too—but because I’d kissed her, gone down on her, tried to claim her at all.
What had I been thinking?
I’d given all that up. There were bigger things out there. I’d worked so damn hard not to be my dad that I’d done exactly what I’d done—I’d started something I didn’t see through, and I’d left a broken heart behind.
Until Oaklee had come along, I’d been strong. I didn’t know what it was about her—she had an effect on me that no one else had ever had. When I was with her, everything felt like it fell into place.
I guess that was what had tripped me up. I’d forgotten myself and gotten lost in her curves, in the way her gaze had drunk me in. My animal had taken over, trying to take what it wanted, and I hadn’t been vigilant enough to stop it in time.
Not that I’d wanted to stop it at all.
