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“Details, Oakley. I need details.” I craved them desperately.
“I want to be blindfolded and completely in the dark about who is watching. It could be one person or a dozen. It could be hundreds of people crowded around. And I don’t know which of those is true. I want someone who will talk me through it and for me to trust him enough to know I’m safe.”
I adjusted my trousers as I was quickly getting hard. “Trust is the most important part. Did you attempt this fantasy with your ex?”
“I told him I liked the idea of us watching it later, and that’s how the stupid video came to be. Guess you could say I was experimenting with my fantasy. But then, of course, he called me a slut and put it on the Internet. And I told my best friend about my humiliation, and now it turns out she also thinks I’m a slut.”
I was angry on her behalf. No one should be shamed for their sexual preference or fantasies. Ever. Yet hadn’t I made an art out of shaming myself? Oakley was right. My father’s voice was in my head. And I’d allowed it to stay there rent-free for too long. I was done. It was time I started believing the words I preached to others.
“You’re not a slut. And your fantasy about wanting to be watched isn’t anything to be ashamed of. Your ex was a fool. Any man would be lucky to fulfill your fantasies for you.”
And suddenly I wanted to be that man.
Chapter Eighteen
Oakley
I wanted Max to take me to his club more than anything, but I wasn’t sure how to ask. Especially given he’d told me he was burnt out from performing. So instead I typed my address into the SUV’s GPS to guide us to my apartment.
My eyes felt heavy as we got onto the highway, and I took the opportunity to sleep once Max got up to speed. I woke to the sound of the map lady on the GPS telling Max to take the next exit toward Jersey City and my apartment. Glancing over, I could see him concentrated on the road, his jaw set, tie undone, looking so very handsome.
“Sorry I fell asleep.”
“Don’t be. You needed the rest.”
“This is me coming up.”
He didn’t deviate or exit. Didn’t acknowledge my words. Didn’t pay attention to the voice from my phone which now said, “Recalculating.”
“Um, Max. You missed my exit.”
Finally, he glanced over. “I know.”
Okay. “Where are we going?”
“The club. Time to live out your fantasy.”
Words I never thought I’d hear. So many emotions coursed through me at the same time. Nerves, anxiety, excitement. Was this truly happening?
We arrived in Manhattan after one in the morning. Max used a card to swipe into a garage, and parked his car on the third level.
He took my hand, wordlessly leading me into a keycard-activated elevator. From there, we went down to the street level, through the back door of a nondescript building, down a corridor, and then Max swiped his card again to lead me into a small room. It looked to be an interview room of some sort.
“If you’ve changed your mind—”
“I haven’t.” Yes, I was nervous, but I needed this. Needed to fulfill the fantasy which had consumed my nights.
“We should discuss boundaries, and what you want to happen.”
“I’ve told you my fantasy. Beyond that, I want you to decide what happens. I trust you, Max.”
His eyes blazed with arousal. “Come with me.”
He led me out of the room and down the hallway to yet another door requiring a swipe. On the other side of it a large man stood, dressed in an all-black suit.
“Good evening, Chuck. Are there any open viewing rooms?”
The larger man fastened his gaze on me before turning it back toward Max. “Good evening, boss. Let me check for you.” He spoke into a discreet Bluetooth device fastened to his tie and nodded when something must’ve come through on his earpiece. “Yes, sir, room number four is available.”
