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Not the little devil, though. She looks me dead in my eyes and pouts her lips in the shape of a kiss while she waits for my answer.
“It’s Halloween, isn’t it?” I say with an insincere smile. “I suppose I’m looking for monsters.”
Her lips twitch, something flashes in her eyes, like lightning choked by clouds.
“You shouldn’t have to look too far, then,” she says, and there’s an edge in her voice.
I narrow my eyes. There’s something about this woman I can’t quite put my finger on. Something that pulls at some deeper instinct within me. It reminds me of facing another fencer across the piste, of waiting for the sudden lunge and the flick of the blade.
Nothing comes.
“And what brings you here tonight, then?” I ask, leaning suddenly into her. She doesn’t flinch back. She lets me invadeher personal space, and since I’m much taller than she is, she drops her head back to look up at me. From this angle, she presents a tempting arrangement of wet red lips and exposed white throat.
What would I need to do to her, I wonder idly, to make me hard?
And then she surprises me.
“I’ve come here for the exact same reason as any other girl who comes here.” She speaks with the practised coyness of a pageant girl. “To be ruined.”
2
Fuckable Enough
Luca
“What did you sayyour name was again?”
She smiles. She never told me her name, and I know that she knows. She leans forward across the bar, laying her hands and forearms flat across the glossy surface. She raises her eyes to mine, and I see their true colour in a dim line of light falling from high above the bar.
Green.
The slick, oily green of poison.
She answers me very sweetly. “Sasha. My name is Sasha.”
Ruining women, just like anything else in this world, loses its charm the more you do it.
There was a time in my life when I could get hard by wrapping my belt around a girl’s neck and squeezing it just long enough to watch desire give way to terror in her eyes. There was a timein my life when it would be enough to just be a little rough, to blindfold or tie up a woman, to restrict her breath just a little too long, or to bite into the softness of her flesh just a little too hard.
I’m not stupid, though. My proclivities in the bedroom were transparent even to me—perhaps more so to me than to anybody else. Sex, for me, has never been about wanting or fucking. Sex, just like every other thing in my life, has only ever been about power.
And then I realised there was never a situation where Ididn’thave the power. The appeal dulled, became lacklustre. It didn’t matter how extreme my actions got, how far I pushed things. The satisfaction didn’t come because I wasn’t getting what I wanted. I couldn’tgetwhat I wanted—I already had it.
This woman, with her devil costume and blood-red nails and her wet lips and that exposed white throat, is perfect for ruining. The idea of ruining her might have once drawn me to her like a shark to blood.
“If ruining is what you’re looking for, Sasha, you’ve come to the right place.”
I wrap my hand around the nape of her neck. The line of her back lengthens. Is she startled or afraid? Her dark eyes are wide, full of that fuckable innocence I noticed earlier. She looks like a deer in headlights. I press my thumb into her neck and dig.
She lets out an exhalation of nervous laughter. “I know.”
“About almost every man here would love nothing more than to ruin you,” I tell her. “You could have your pick.”
Her breath is short. “You have a recommendation?”
Her question catches me off guard. I laugh and glance around the busy lounge, where patrons sit and drink in anticipation of the night’s debauchery.
I gesture at two old men with satyr masks on. “You’re a little too old for the two royals over there.” I point at a bulky man with an unadorned Volto mask. “The Russian oligarch over thereprefers the kind of women who will ruin him, if you take my meaning.”
