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Prologue
She was my dirty little secret.
The woman who lolls in front of her webcam four times a week, wearing a kitsune mask, a red leather harness, and almost transparent lace underwear. Convinced that no one knew her identity.
It had been a matter of chance.
Visiting her father for a business lunch, I passed her room on the way to the bathroom and saw something not meant for my eyes. At least that's what I'd told myself for the first five seconds until I remembered she sometimes wiggled her little ass in front of me. I took that as a reason not to immediately forget the scene I saw.
Of course, I had never mentioned it to her. I paid for the anonymous service she provided, and accepted all the rules she set because it meant I got to watch her enjoy herself.
I spent a week searching the Internet trying to find her. The woman with the strawberry blonde hair and kitsune mask, the one who had unlimited power over me without me even knowing it.
Sometimes I wondered what had happened to my morals. The daughter of a friend. Even though her father was a few years older than I was, there was still an age difference between us, and she was mostly in the immediate vicinity of a nice college boy who seemed to be her father's pride and joy because he had been working for half a lifetime on a wedding that would happen in less than twenty-four hours.
That's why there had been a lot of people at his house the previous night, in celebration of the occasion.
So it seemed all the more strange when I saw her kneeling on the bed in her kitsune mask. A camera was positioned right in front of her. Should I look at the screen I held, or through the crack in the door that forced me to squint hard to see anything? Even if it meant not being able to follow the chat, I stuck with the door slit.
She had regular customers, of course. But none of them could even guess what kind of woman they were dealing with. There was no way you could see the second personality in her face. On the contrary, she exuded girl-next-door charm when you met her. She was quiet. She was polite. She smiled a lot. But she held back in all conversations, even when her opinion would have been a thousand times more interesting than anyone else's.
666'onohoni({i})was what she went by. Seeing her with such a simple user name painted a picture in my mind that made me wonder just how diabolical and delicious her mouth really was. However, there was no way to find out, so since the first time I had seen her in her leather costume, I was content to just be a spectator.
That, it turned out, was exactly what she wanted. To watch her. To accept what she was willing to give. She did not grant any wishes. Just as she did not engage in private sessions, conversations with her viewers, or pornographic presentations of herself.
In spite of this, there was not a single spark of dominance to be found in her during these video sessions. She seemed to enjoy the presentation of herself and to be in control of what was going on. As she touched and caressed herself, she revealed how much she worshiped herself. She was goddess, temple, and worshipper all in one, and until I stumbled upon her stream, I hadn't met anyone I could buy all that from. Or someone with whom it felt equally natural.
That was also why I had never approached her, had never let on that I was one of those anonymous men who watched her. She had built this parallel world, this perfect universe, and it was not up to me to tear down the walls and force her into another sphere. I did not need anything more than the privilege of being able to watch her and drawing my own personal fulfillment.
As she was doing at that very moment, leaning back into her pillows and running her hands over her curves, her head tilted back so her long hair fell in gentle cascades over her shoulders. It wasn't even necessary to see her features under the mask to realize that every touch brought her closer to an ecstatic state.
It was just the image I needed to see in order to survive the rest of the evening. I had spent the day with pompous bankers and investment sharks in a building of steel, glass, and concrete that alone made my head ache. Then I was about to spend the evening with men and women who thought so highly of themselves and their presence that they insisted that you curtsy and give them not only your ear, but preferably some priceless advantage in whatever industry they were in.
I was almost on the verge of making an exasperated noise that would have given away my presence. So I stepped back, looked around the long corridor, and decided to watch the stream from a place where I wouldn't run the risk of putting myself and her in a position I couldn't maneuver out of.
My choice was the sunroom, which was secluded enough from the rest of the estate that I could lie there in absolute silence. Sparsely lit, with a light breeze from outside and the sweet scent of frangipani, which Naomi and Matthew mentioned whenever they gave a tour of the property.
I found a lounge chair among the huge plant pots, ignored the pool lights that managed to evoke other memories, and pulled my phone out of my pocket to access the website again.
Other people drank. Smoked. Took pills. Paid for escorts or other professionals. Gambled away their money, their house, or even their lives.
I got off pretty easy with my little sin, didn't I?
Prologue– Audrey
A Few Years Earlier
He just kept going.
"Thanks. But I really don't want your number." I held out the napkin to the young man again, the one he had just pressed to my chest.
He glared at me. "You're going to regret it if you don't take it."
"Will I?" I replied, glancing down at the doberman at my feet, then across the foyer to Lei, who was deep in conversation, drink in hand.
Every year on Halloween, my dad threw a big party because it was my mom's favorite day. I had taken the opportunity to dress up in vinyl and leather, carved a skull out of my face, and borrowed a friend's dog to complete the look.
Unfortunately, Mr. I'm-more-than-just-a-waiter took that as an invitation to spend five minutes chewing my ear off.
