AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Jonas takes the briefcase from me. “I’ll send this to the usual spot.” He pauses. “I’ll keep five of the guys here with me, until you’re ready to leave.”
I hesitate for one more moment. “Alright,” I tell him finally. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to go.”
And then I close the door, and slip out of the office. I pass Danielle just as I walk out, and she stops, looking up at me.
“Is everything alright?” Her voice is smooth and cultured, no hint of the desire that I can see in her eyes slipping through. She’s too professional to ever let on, which has always made this work.
“Everything is squared away. Is Selena on the main stage tonight?”
Danielle shakes her head. “She’s seeing private clients tonight. No one is on her roster yet. If you’d like me to send her to one of the rooms—”
I nod. “Yes, please.”
“Right this way, then.” Danielle gestures for me to follow her, always perfectly businesslike. She leads me to one of the private rooms—a medium-sized, luxurious space with a half-moon black velvet couch, a circular stage in the center of the room, and a black lacquered closet on one side that I know contains a variety of toys and other implements. On a small, black side table next to the couch is a heavy, cream-colored menu with light neon pink and blue script, outlining the services Selena offers. I don’t need to look at it; I already know what they are.
I sit back on the couch, reaching for the bottle of Dom that’s already chilling in ice next to the couch, pouring myself a glass. I prefer something stronger, and I briefly consider putting in an order to have it brought to the room, but I hold off. The champagne will do for now.
The door opens a moment later, and Selena walks in. She’s as stunningly gorgeous as ever—a tall, willowy blonde with a dancer’s body. It’s wrapped in dusty rose-colored lingerie tonight—a lace bra that pushes up her small breasts and wraps around her ribs in thick silk straps and a matching lace panty with a garter that holds up stockings of the same soft pink shade. She’s flawless, every inch of her smooth and perfect, from her flowing blonde hair to her wide blue doll’s eyes and the mouth that is stained the same shade as her lingerie. Every girl at the Neon Rose is held to a high standard, but Selena outshines them all.
“Dante.” She says my name with a light, accented lilt that makes it sound even more seductive on her tongue. “It’s been a while.”
“It has. How was your vacation?”
Selena smiles, drifting towards the couch on her high heels and sinking down next to me. She arranges herself artfully on the edge of it, pouring herself a glass of champagne and holding it idly in one hand as she reaches out and rests the other on my thigh. Her nails are perfectly manicured, slicked with pale pink polish. The touch is an intimacy, but not one that she has reason to think I’d be unhappy about. She’s touched far more of me than just my clothed thigh. Normally, I’d already be half-hard. But I have a strange urge to push her hand away, and it doesn’t require much self-reflection to know why.
“It was very relaxing.” Her voice has a faint Russian accent, one that I know she’s carefully cultivated—softening it enough to make it sound elegant to guests while still appearing foreign and seductive. She plays the same games with me as she does with everyone else, and it’s never bothered me before. I’ve always enjoyed it. Tonight, it’s actively turning me off. “But you don’t really want to know about my vacation, do you?”
Selena raises the champagne glass to her lips, taking a delicate sip. “Do you want to tell me what you want tonight, Dante? Or would you prefer that I guess?”
We’ve played that game before. A pleasurable game where she guesses my desires, and I punish her when she gets it wrong, and reward her when she’s right. I can see the anticipatory gleam in her eyes—it’s a game she enjoys, and she enjoys it when I come here. She looks forward to my visits—she’s even mentioned that before. She’s never pretended to think that there was a future between us, but I know she feels more for me than any other client she sees here.
Somehow, that makes the idea of doing this feel even more as if I’m somehow being unfaithful to Emma.
You’re being a fucking idiot. You can’t cheat on a girl you’re not even in a relationship with.I grit my teeth, frustration welling up. Up until a few nights ago, I’d never had better sex than I do with Selena. I saved up my visits here almost like a treat, like a delicacy I only allowed myself to sample now and then. A pleasure to be savored in a world where I can have any pleasure I want at my beck and call.
But Emma was better. My night with her was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced—a lust that gripped me in a way that made me feel out of control, ravenous…things I’ve never felt. My games with Selena pale in comparison.
“I want you to dance for me.” I gesture to the stage. “Put on a show, while I enjoy my champagne.”
I see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, though she’s good at hiding it. She wants me—wants the pleasure that we both enjoy when we’re together, and I can tell she’s worried that I’m going to leave it at a dance. But she’s ever the professional, and not in a million years would this woman ever beg for anything from me. She would never cross that boundary.
In here, I’m the one in charge. I always will be. Selena will never challenge me. And I’m reminded of Emma in my living room, dark hair wild around my face, yelling at me for breaking her boss’s nose.
It’s that challenge that drives me wild. Everyone else treats me with a mixture of fear and respect, like a king on his throne. But Emma treats me like aperson.Like a man, and one that she’s not afraid to stand up to.
One that she’s not afraid to say no to, if I crossherboundaries.
Selena stands up in one fluid, graceful motion, taking another delicate sip of her champagne and setting it aside. She sways to the stage, her ass perfectly outlined by the lace curve of her panties, and steps up onto the glossy surface. With a motion of her hand, the sensor picks up her movement, turning on the music that she always chooses when she dances in this room.
It’s slow and sensual, and so is everything about how she moves. I can see the hallmarks of a classically trained dancer in her every step, the arch of her back, the graceful flutter of her hands. I know her past, of course—no one would work for me without every detail of their former lives laid bare—but we’ve never talked about it. Those sorts of intimacies aren’t a part of our relationship.
I can’t, for instance, imagine waking up in bed next to her. I can’t imagine her blonde hair tangled around her face, or her wide blue eyes soft and sleepy. I can’t imagine pleading with her to wrap her hand around my cock and make me come.
When her long, delicate fingers undo the strap of her bra, her back to me as she lets it slide down one shoulder and then another before dangling it off of one finger and tossing it to the side, I feel my cock twitch. When she turns, arching her back against the pole so I’m treated to a full view of her small, firm breasts and hardened, rosy nipples, my cock swells, hardening against my thigh. But there’s no real desire to it, only a bodily reaction that I can’t control, responding to the sight of the gorgeous naked woman in front of me. I feel myself throb when her fingers roll over her nipples, those lips parting to let out a sigh of pleasure, and when her hands slide down her hips in a practiced motion to strip off the next layer, I can feel a bead of pre-cum slide down my shaft in response.
It feels rote. Routine. A dance that we’ve both gone through before, and one that—I realize with a stirring of unease—I’ve come to find almost boring. My body’s response is automatic, but there’s no real desire behind it.
I know what comes next before Selena even begins to slide her panties down her thighs, turning away and bending over as she does, her soft pink lips peeking out between her legs. I can see the glistening sheen of her arousal. I know what she’s hoping for, as she arches her back and lets the panties drop, leaving her standing in only the garter, stockings, and heels.
