The V-Spot

by Wendy S. Marcus

  “Thank you. Thank you. It looks delicious,” she said with a big, beautiful smile as she set out two paper plates, picked up a knife and got ready to slice. She made quick work of blowing out the candle, removing it and portioning them each a hefty chunk. Then she hesitated, eyes locked on the treat in front of her. “I know I shouldn’t eat this.”

  “It’s your birthday, a perfect excuse for doing things you shouldn’t.” If she got his double meaning, his attempt to give her an excuse to try new things without feeling guilty, she didn’t let on.

  “I once dated a guy who put my birthday candle in a wedge of cantaloupe melon,” she said, staring down at her cake. “When we ate out he would request the check before I could ask to see the dessert menu.”

  “That guy was an idiot.” An idiot Brody would like to go a few rounds with in a no-holds-barred match.

  She looked up at him with sly smile. “Once I caught on I started ordering my dessert at the same time I ordered my entrée.”

  Very resourceful. Brody smiled back.

  Then Emma’s smile vanished. “When he broke up with me he said he couldn’t date a woman who didn’t take pride in her appearance. That’s when I joined the gym.”

  Brody didn’t know what to say. With his heart lodged in his throat, understanding, aching for how that insult must have made her feel, he probably couldn’t talk anyway.

  “Do you have any idea how long it would take me to burn off the calories in this one piece of chocolate cake?” She held up her fork. “Scratch that. With a degree in exercise science, you probably do. It’s just not fair the hours of exercise penance one must pay to offset a few minutes of taste bud bliss.”

  To that Brody leaned in and teased, “I can think of other, more enjoyable, ways to burn off the calories. No exercise equipment or sex toys required.”

  “Like swimming?” she asked innocently.

  Emma had a sense of humor. He liked that. “No,” he said seriously, leaning in, staring into her eyes. “Not at all like swimming.”

  She swallowed and blinked but didn’t look away. “You’re wasting your time trying to seduce me.”

  Brody didn’t think so. In fact he was rather enjoying himself.

  “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

  He had lots of things he wanted to do with her and sleeping didn’t even make the list. “Fine,” he said calmly. “It’s your birthday. You get to choose how you’ll spend it.”

  For now it seemed she wanted to spend it eating chocolate cake, and by the size of the forkful she shoved into her mouth, there wouldn’t be any more conversation between them for the next minute or two, so he reached for a beer, twisted off the top and took a few long refreshing swallows.

  When he couldn’t stand the silence any longer he said, “You want to know why I agreed to The V-Spot?”

  She gave him a knowing look then licked a smudge of chocolate from the corner of her upper lip. That tongue. Was she trying to make this more difficult? “Wrong,” he said. “To give you a new experience, something exciting and memorable in a neutral location where neither of us had ever been and no one would know us.”

  “Everyone knows you.”

  Not everyone, but sometimes it felt like it. “If things had gone as planned, the other guests wouldn’t have known I was here. And fans of the NCCWE only think they know me.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “The Bull is a character I play. Give me a chance to acquaint you with the real me. Please stay. I didn’t come here for sex.”

  She smirked. “Yeah, right.”

  Busted. “Let me rephrase that. Sure, sex would be great, but it’s not the only reason I’m here. I want to get to know you better. I want you to get to know me. If our night doesn’t end with sex I’m perfectly okay with that. Disappointed, but okay,” he clarified. “Now eat your cake.”

  She did, with gusto, then picked the turkey, lettuce and tomato out of her sandwich and ate that, too. There was something natural and comforting about a woman who wasn’t afraid to show her love of food in front of a man.

  “How about a toast?” Without waiting for her reply he grabbed the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket, popped the cork and filled two champagne flutes. He handed a glass to Emma then raised his. “To twenty-five years of life, may the next twenty-five be even better.”

  “Starting with tonight,” Emma added and touched her glass to his.

  “Starting with tonight,” he agreed. And they both drank.

  After one glass of champagne Emma seemed to relax.

  After her second glass she had him laughing at some of the tales she’d spun over the years. Brody couldn’t recall the last time he’d had this much fun in the presence of a fully clothed woman.

  When she reached for the bottle to fill her glass for the third time Brody stopped her. “It’s a quarter after nine. The gates opened at nine. You want to go down or are you planning to spend your birthday getting drunk in my motel room?”

  Chapter Four

  Emma smiled as she watched Brody put on his eye mask and a black baseball cap. As if the wide expanse of his shoulders, the bulk of his muscular chest and arms, and the potent masculinity of his presence wouldn’t give away his true identity.

  He caught her staring. “What?” He looked himself over.

  “Nothing.” She slid her room key card into her bra. Now he watched her. “What? I don’t have any pockets and would rather not have to drag my bag around with me.”

  “Lucky key card,” he said, his voice deep. He walked toward her, lifting his eyes from her cleavage to her face. “Are you planning to ditch me?”

  “No.” But now might be a good time to say, “You know, just because I won’t have sex with you doesn’t mean you have to go without. I’m sure there are dozens of women downstairs who’d eagerly accept an invite back to your room.” Emma prayed the walls were thick enough to keep her from having to hear what went on between them.

  “Stop,” he said, coming to stand directly in front of her. She stared at the tan skin of his hairless chest exposed where the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. His hand cupped her chin and directed her gaze upward. “I’m here with you. I want you. Only you.”

  The sincerity with which he said those words made her heart flutter, made her yearn to believe him. “But—”

  “No buts. Let’s go.” Since she welcomed the opportunity to stare at his firm, perfectly rounded backside up close and without fear of being caught, she followed him toward the door, so engrossed in her ogling she didn’t notice he’d stopped until she crashed into the back of him.

  “Sorry, I uh...” She readjusted her mask. If she’d known his knowing grin would be the first thing to come into view she’d have turned her head.

  “You like what you see?”

  Hell yes she liked what she saw. What heterosexual woman wouldn’t? But this man’s ego did not need any stroking so Emma said, “Turn around. You have some dirt,” she lied. “On your butt. I was trying to decide whether or not to tell you.”

  He twisted around trying to look.

  Emma licked her finger and rubbed at the made-up mark. “There. All better. We can go now.”

  Brody smiled, one of those slow, sexy ones, as he brushed his finger over her shoulder and down the outside of her arm, his gentle touch igniting an ache of need deep in her core. His touch affected her, muddled her thinking, made her want... Lord, she was in trouble.

  “I like what I see, too,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft and deep. His dark eyes met hers. “Sorry I stopped short, but before we go I wanted you to know, so there’s no doubt.” He leaned in so close she could feel his hot, moist breath on her ear. “I can definitely handle a girl like you.”

  He left off the ‘big’ that’d preceded ‘girl’ when she’d spoken the
words earlier. But honestly, who the heck cared when he was standing so close, when he smelled so good and sounded so enticing.

  “I hope you give me the opportunity to prove it.”

  The urge to drag him to her bed right then and there so he could get to work proving it battled her good sense, good sense winning by the slimmest of margins. “I won’t.”

  That didn’t mean tonight had to be a total bust. She still had the voyeuristic treats offered by The V-Spot to look forward to. Hopefully they’d give her some good erotic visuals to get herself off later on. She covered Brody’s hand, halting its arousing motion. “I’m not having sex with you,” she said, to remind herself as much as to remind him.

  “Looks like it’s time to rev up my charm.” He smiled again.

  As if two vases of roses and a chocolate cake and singing “Happy Birthday” weren’t charming enough to get her into bed. For any other man it would have been. Emma dragged in a deep breath. “Give me all you got,” she said with a confidence she was starting to doubt.

  Then, needing to get away from him before she did something she’d regret, she stepped around him, opened the door and headed down the outside hallway. Away from her air-conditioned room the night air felt decidedly hot and humid and smelled of the thick woodsy landscape that went on as far as she could see in the moonlight. Mumbled voices drifted up from the ground floor below.

  “Wrong way,” Brody called from behind her.

  Dang it. Emma turned and walked back the way she’d come to find a different set of stairs than the ones they’d come up earlier. This one clearly labeled To the Exhibitionist Rooms.

  Brody opened the heavy metal door for her.

  “Thank you.”

  With each step down Emma’s excitement grew. What would she see? How would it affect her? Her heart rate increased. Her palms grew damp, sliding along the circular metal railing.

  At the bottom they came to another door with a sign that read Access Between the Hours of 9:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m. Only. Please Knock. Since it was after nine she did, maybe with a bit too much eagerness because the sound echoed through the stairwell.

  Almost immediately the door pushed open revealing a large, somewhat intimidating, bald man with tattoos covering both of his beefy arms. Dressed in black shorts, black boots and a black T-shirt with Security written across his chest in thick white letters, he looked more bar bouncer than protector/rule enforcer. But he had a keen, in-charge look about him and the high-tech gadget in his right ear told Emma this was no shoddy operation.

  A smile warmed his stern facial features when he said, “Heard you were here tonight.” He held out his overlarge hand to Brody who shook it firmly. “Welcome to The V-Spot. My team will do their best to ensure your visit is an enjoyable one.” The man turned and extended his hand to Emma. “My name’s Doug, head of security. Have you been here before?”

  Emma shook her head.

  “Come.” Doug motioned for them to join him outside on the cement sidewalk. One small light fixture beside the door provided a dim glow, good for throwing shadows more than anything. “Let me give you a quick rundown.”

  Emma half listened as he spoke, more interested in her surroundings. They stood about twenty feet from the side of the motel. Darkened shapes of people walked past. A group of three, all men, a couple, man and a woman, all of whom she’d identified by their lower legs and shoes visible thanks to the landscaping lights that lined the sidewalk.

  “There are twelve exhibitionist rooms at The V-Spot. Tonight ten are open for viewing. One through six will be down the path to your left.” Doug motioned to the left similar to a flight attendant pointing out the exits on an airplane. “Those will have our exhibitionists with more conventional sexual tastes.”

  Exhibitionists with more conventional sexual tastes, an oxymoron if ever she’d heard one.

  “Seven through twelve are to the right.” He motioned to the right. “There you’ll find our guests who prefer to push the limits of what some people consider acceptable sexual behavior.”

  An unexpected tingle zipped through her. Would she see some of the scenarios from her favorite romance novels? While she couldn’t imagine actually participating in a threesome, it’d be kind of neat to see one for real. And handcuffs. She really, really wanted to see a sexual situation involving handcuffs.

  “It’s important to note, all sexual activity taking place in the exhibitionist room is consensual.”

  Good to know.

  “When you get out there give yourselves a few minutes for your eyes to adjust to the darkness,” Doug went on. “Landscaping lights will guide you along the pathways around trees and bushes. Light coming from the exhibitionist rooms is all you’ll need to navigate the sidewalks front and back. This door remains locked at all times.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the door behind him. “Only registered guests of our private rooms are allowed upstairs.”

  Also good to know.

  “There is no photography allowed. Anyone caught taking pictures or movies will have their cell phone or camera removed from their possession and stored in a bucket of water until their departure.”

  To her relief, Emma’s concern about the possibility of winding up in a tabloid picture with Brody faded a bit.

  “You must respect our exhibitionist guests by not banging on the windows. You must respect our voyeur guests by keeping quiet and being considerate of others. There is no alcohol allowed in the viewing area. Anyone demonstrating signs of intoxication or rowdy behavior will be escorted from the property. There is no public masturbation or sexual relations of any kind allowed in the viewing area.”

  Oy! Emma hadn’t considered that. She turned to Doug. “You mean people actually...?”

  Doug smiled. “We get all kinds here at The V-Spot. Not to worry, my security team is out there circulating. Problems and rule-breakers are dealt with promptly.”

  “Do you have many guests who break the rules?” Emma couldn’t help asking. The thought of standing beside a stranger with his hands down his pants, working himself toward orgasm flashed in her mind.

  “Some,” was all Doug said. But he slid Brody a look she read as ‘don’t leave her unattended.’

  Brody’s heavy arm came around her shoulders in response, making Emma feel safe, calming the nervous energy that’d started to bubble inside her.

  “Any questions?” Doug asked.

  Brody looked down at Emma.

  She shook her head.

  “Then enjoy your evening.” Doug leaned back against the door and crossed his muscled arms over his chest. “There’s a guard stationed at this door from nine at night until two in the morning. At all other times the door is locked and inaccessible.”

  “Thank you,” Emma said, cautiously turning away, her feet beginning the journey along the twenty-foot stretch of cement sidewalk that would lead them to the exhibitionist rooms. A group of guys turned the corner, talking and laughing.

  One said, “She took him all the way into her throat. Did you see that?”

  “Sure did,” another answered. “I damn near shot my load right then.”

  A different voice replied, “I need to find me a girl who can do that.”

  Their voices drifted off as they passed by.

  Emma looked up and was taken with the beauty of the sky, clear and filled with stars, the moon a thin crescent. Hot, humid night air surrounded her, the high privacy fence she couldn’t see but knew was there blocked the breeze she’d felt earlier. When it came time to choose a direction Brody asked, “Where do you want to start?”

  Thinking it best to work her way up to the more risqué rooms, Emma turned to the left. When they reached the side of the motel that faced the parking lot she stopped, surprised by the number of people, many standing still, staring into the rooms at the sights before them. A
metal railing kept the voyeurs from getting too close to the oversize windows that seemed to encompass two-thirds of the outer wall of each room. In the varying degrees of light cast by each room Emma could make out the faces of those closest to the windows. Old, young, male and female, although definitely more male, the majority wore the same black eye masks as she and Brody.

  An awkward uncertainty kept her from moving forward. She didn’t know these people, didn’t feel comfortable sharing such an intimate experience with them.

  Lost in thought Emma jumped back into Brody when someone emerged from a wooded area beside her.

  “Excuse me,” an older man said as he walked past. Alone.

  Emma looked to the left, noting small trees and bushes and the shapes of what appeared to be far less people. “Do you think—?”

  As if they were of one mind, without waiting for her to finish, Brody took her by the hand and led her up the small hill. Emma’s dress snagged on a bush. She freed it. The path was uneven, the terrain hazardous for an idiot in heels who happened to be buzzing on champagne, such as herself.

  No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, she tripped over something.

  Quicker than she’d thought possible, Brody turned and caught her, pulling her close, his front to hers. “Careful,” he whispered.

  God, he felt good. So solid.

  Oh shit. She’d removed her shapewear in the parking lot. If she could feel his muscled firmness he could feel her doughy flabbiness. Mortification jolted her back.

  He grabbed her waist to steady her.

  Even worse. “Please don’t.” She looked away, trying to remove his hands from her pudgy middle, regretting her love of chocolate and wine, cursing genetics, promising herself after tonight she’d make more of an effort to get to the gym. As it turned out, good intentions and paying the monthly membership fee weren’t enough to take off the weight and firm up. You actually had to go and exercise.

  Someone cleared their throat.

  Brody shifted, turning her toward a tree, keeping himself between her and the passing voyeur. So protective.