by L. P. Dover
Tonight? Same room, if possible? Same woman? I want to return the favor.
I knew I was getting a blowjob, so maybe if she knows that I want to show her the same pleasure that she’s shown me, she’ll want to meet me.
Instead of walking home, I hail a cab, and hold my phone in my hand until I have to set it down to get dressed. I don’t know if I should text Jenica again. I mean, what’s the appropriate amount of time to wait when soliciting oral sex?
Jesus Christ, even as I think that I’m asking myself, What the fuck am I doing? This isn’t me … but the thrill of it all is so exhilarating. There’s a part of me that likes I don’t know what she looks like, or her me. My body is actually craving the mystique behind it all, the secrecy. I can use my imagination and try things that I’d be too afraid to try if I could see her expression.
I pick my phone back up and text Jenica again.
And I want to be able to touch and massage her breasts.
Because I do. I love grabbing hold of a set of tits and burying my face deep in pussy. And I hope she slams her hand down on my head and holds me pressed against her. The shitty part is that I can’t hear what she wants. She won’t able to tell me that she’s close or that she likes what I’m doing.
That’s when it hits me. This club isn’t about sex … well it is, but not like the clubs in Los Angeles where people just go to fuck. This club is about people discovering how to communicate with their senses. It’ll be my job to bring her pleasure, which means I have to watch her body for signs, I have to feel my way to her pleasure points.
What a crafty fucker this owner is, and now that I’ve realized this I’m pissed that I didn’t think of the concept. I bring the club’s website up and look around. It’s basic with operating hours and a description of the exclusive rooms. You know it’s expensive when it says call for rates, but something tells me that I won’t mind paying for my membership.
Now begs the question. How far am I willing to go? Honestly, I want to test out all the rooms. I want to heighten my senses, but I don’t want to go at it alone.
Ten
Alexandria
“Are you sure you don’t need me anymore today?” I ask, wiping down the counters.
She waves me off. “I’m good. You and Dani came in early and worked through lunch. There’s nothing else that needs to be done. Adrienne’s really sick, so she’ll probably be out tomorrow as well. I’ll need you on your toes, so go get some rest.”
Dani and I look at each other and smile. I grab my purse and the box of quiches I put aside for my mother. “Then, in that case, I’m out.” I glance down at my watch. “Since it’s early, I might go ahead and visit my mother.”
“Tell your mom I said hi, and that I hope she’s getting better,” Sandy says as I walk out the door.
“I will,” I call out.
Dani follows me out to the parking lot. “How’s your mom doing anyway? Didn’t she have surgery on her foot.”
Opening my car door, I toss my purse inside. “Yeah, about five weeks ago. She’s getting around better now. I think she goes back to work in another three weeks. I know she gets bored being at home all day by herself while my father works.”
“I’d love having eight weeks off of work. I can read as many books as I want and drink wine all day.” Smiling, she puts on her sunglasses.
“Nice,” I laugh. “But I wouldn’t want to have the kind of surgery she had. It’s supposed to be really painful.” Plus, I like cooking for a living. Not many people can say they love their job, but I do. I’m pretty sure I’ll love it even more when I finally open up my own business.
Dani waves her hand in the air. “See ya tomorrow, girlie. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
I get in my car and head out of town to the small town of Sweet Briar. When I pull into the city limits, I can smell the salty sea air. Living by the coast was one of my favorite things as a child. Sweet Briar is like one of those small towns you’d see on TV where everyone has the white picket fences and knows their neighbors. I left it a couple of years ago to get more perspective on life. My parents are old-fashioned and were a tad bit strict on me growing up. It was mainly my dad. My mother was the one who was more lenient. I wasn’t allowed to go on dates until I was eighteen years old. Guess you can say I didn’t have many boyfriends in high school. When I went to college, I loved having the freedom of being away from home. That’s why I haven’t left Portland.
I turn down my parents’ street and pull into the driveway of the home I grew up in. The siding is a light blue with white shutters around the windows and a white front door. The landscape is perfectly trimmed and the bushes are shaped to perfection. That’s my father for you. He’s the epitome of perfect. It’s how I had to be growing up. It was exhausting.
By the time I’m out of my car, my mother already has the front door open. Her chocolate-colored hair is pulled high in a bun and she’s wearing her favorite plaid pajama pants. “It’s about time you come to visit me,” she hollers teasingly. Laughing, I sling my purse around my shoulders and walk toward her, arms open. I hug her tight and she rubs my back. “You’re here early. Did you not have to work?”
She lets me go and I walk into the house. “Sandy didn’t need me anymore, so she gave me the rest of the day off. I thought I’d go ahead and come out here so we can spend more time together.” The house smells like meatloaf and my mouth waters.
After shutting the door, my mom limps into the living room before plopping down on the couch. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I know it’s not easy coming out here all the time. The traffic makes an hour drive turn into two sometimes.”
I snort and sit down across from her. “Got that right. Today wasn’t so bad. How’s your foot?”
She turns off the TV and stretches her legs. “Much better. I’m allowed to put some weight on it now, but I’m scared to put too much. I have three more weeks to get better before I have to go back to work.” She works at the local bank and stays on her feet all day. My father’s been trying to get her to retire, but she loves working.
“What about Dad? Is he doing okay?”
A sad expression passes across her face and she nods. “He’s fine. I know he misses you. Every time you come around, he’s not here. I think he believes you’re doing it on purpose.”
Part of it’s true, but I also have a life in Portland. It’s hard for me to make the commute all the time. I wave her off. “I’m not doing it on purpose,” I lie. “I can’t help it he’s never here when I come.” His job is his life, it always has been. My whole childhood was based on trying to live up to his standards. Eventually, I got tired of it and stayed away once I started college. Pursing her lips, my mother stares at me, clearly not believing a single word I say. Clearing my throat, I nod toward the kitchen. “The meatloaf smells good. It’s been months since I’ve had it.”
“That’s why I made an extra one so you can take it home. I know you usually make the fancy stuff at work.”
She winks and I laugh. “My quiches are famous, Momma. One of these days, I’m hoping to have my own place.” Sandy is getting older and I know she won’t be able to keep up the catering business forever. Once she retires, I’ll start up my own business so there’s no competition.
“I’m sure you will, sweetheart,” my mother says lovingly. As far as my dreams and goals in life, she’s the one who’s always had my back. “Have you started dating anyone?” Instantly, my face heats up and it’s obvious she can see my reddening cheeks. “Oh, my gosh, you are, aren’t you?”
“No,” I blurt out. Visions of the play room and the man behind the curtain flashes through my mind. I can even hear his deep, seductive groans in my head. My whole body trembles and I clench my fists. Shit. I can’t be thinking of those things with my mother right in front of me. “I guess you can say I had a date last night, but it’s nothing serious.” If she knew I spent the evening at Society X she’d have a heart attack. She probably doesn’t even kn
ow what that place is. Living in Sweet Briar has sheltered her from the craziness of the big city life.
My mother beams. “If it gets serious, you need to bring him out here so I can meet him.”
Nervously, I giggle and stand. “We’ll see. I’m going to head to the bathroom really quick.” I’m hoping my time away will make her forget about my dating life. Hurrying to the bathroom farthest away from the living room, I shut the door. My phone vibrates in my purse and I pull it out. I gasp when I see it’s Jared from Society X. I clear my throat and press the answer button, keeping my voice low. “Hello.”
“Alexandria, it’s Jared. How are you?”
I listen for my mother, and thankfully, she’s still in the living room laughing at something on the TV. “Good. And you?”
“Never better,” he replies. “Listen, I’m calling because I need to know if you’d be interested in accepting a proposal for the play room. Your recent partner requested to meet you again. Is that something you’re interested in?”
My body tingles in anticipation. “Sure,” I answer without thinking it through. “What will we be doing in there?”
“Actually, you won’t be doing anything. Your partner has requested to return the favor.”
“How?” I ask breathlessly.
Jared coughs which almost sounds like an amused laugh. “You want the details?”
“Yes.” My mind shifts to the play room. I want to imagine how it’ll all go down.
“In that case, here you go. He wants to go down on you and make you come. He also wants permission to touch your breasts and everything below. All you’re required to do is lie on the bed.” A few seconds pass. “Is that something you want to do?”
“Yes,” I blurt, feeling as if I’m going to explode. “I’ll be there. Just name the time.”
“Eight o’clock.”
“Count me in.”
“See you then, Alexandria.” He hangs up and I’m left with a growing ache between my legs. My nipples pucker and rub against my shirt and all I want is to feel them squeezed by the strength of a man’s hands. Slipping a hand up my shirt, I massage them hard, pinching my nipples between my fingers. It doesn’t quench my thirst. I slide my other hand down my pants and the second I touch my throbbing clit, I know that’s where I’m needed.
I rub my fingers over it, gently gliding two of my fingers inside of me. I bite my lip to hold in my pleasure-filled cries. My fingers are drenched, sliding in so easily with each thrust. I squeeze my breasts harder and rub my clit faster. My release comes quick and I fall back against the wall with a thud, gasping for air.
A knock sounds on the door and I suck in a breath. “Yeah?”
“You okay in there?” my mom asks.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I smile. “I’m perfect.”
Pulling into the Society X parking lot makes me both nervous and excited. My necklace is on and I have a sexy set of pink lingerie on under my clothes. I’m ready to go, but I can’t stop the butterflies in my stomach. I’ve dated men who wanted to go down on me, but I never let them. What’s crazy is that I’m letting a complete stranger do it. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know who I am and I don’t have to feel embarrassed if I thrash around like an idiot. If touching myself gives me so much pleasure, I can only imagine what it’ll feel like for a man to do it.
Taking a deep breath, I get out of my car and head for the entrance. Once inside, Jared is waiting for me with a smile on his face. “Ready?”
I swallow hard. “I think so.”
He leads me to one of the small rooms connected to the play room. It’s where he’ll come get me once everything’s said and done. He opens the door to the play room and nods inside. I look in to see a bed with a curtain draped over part of it. “When you’re ready, lie on the bed to where your chest and below are exposed. Your partner will be in shortly.”
I shiver in anticipation. “Sounds good. Thanks.”
“And when you’re done, he’ll leave first. You’ll hear the beep when his door shuts. If for some reason, you don’t like what he’s doing, just say the word ‘stop’ and we’ll intervene.”
“Got it.” I already know that’s not going to be an issue.
As soon as he walks out of the room and shuts the door behind him, I take off my clothes except for my lingerie. I tiptoe into the play room and slide across the silky, purple sheets on the bed and under the curtain. Lying on my back, all I can hear is the sound of my heart beating relentlessly in my ear, at least, until the door on the other side of the room opens and the sound of steps come closer. It’s time.
Eleven
Kai
The first thing I see when I enter the room are pink panties. No, that’s a lie. I notice her. I take a few steps into the room. My bare feet feel heavy as she comes more into my line of vision. Her legs are toned. Her calf muscles flex as she pulls her legs up and crosses her ankles. I don’t know if she planned this or not, but her perfect toes match her panties … well, perfectly. I have never been a fan of pink until now.
Much to my displeasure, her face is hidden by a purple curtain, likely the one I was behind days ago. Her body is laid out, as if this was a feast, and yet I can’t look into her eyes when I make her come. That part bothers me. I want to know what she looks like. I want to feel her penetrating gaze bore into my eyes as my mouth descends onto her pussy. My hand absentmindedly runs over my bare chest. I dressed this way for her, hoping she could see what I have to offer.
My head tilts to the side as I take in the sight of her breasts, and imagine what her peaked nipples will taste like in my mouth, how her flesh will feel against the calloused parts of my hands. My desire to be with her grows the harder my dick becomes. I stand by my original assessment of this place. It’s some sort of sorcery, some voodoo sex magic that turns men into beasts.
The bed sags slightly from my weight and I barely catch the intake of air this woman has inhaled. Is she nervous? I am. It’s one thing to sit in a chair and get a blowjob, to pretend the woman sucking your dick is anyone from your fantasy repertoire. But to see her in the flesh, to know I can put my mouth on her, that my hands can caress her body, that my fingers can dig into her skin, knowing that she is here willingly … this pushes any sex fantasy I have ever had out the door.
The rough exterior of my jeans presses against my growing dick, causing friction that is both welcomed and agonizing. My cock has a mind of its own right now. Truth is, it doesn’t matter that I haven’t seen her face; I’m attracted to her body and the fact that she trusts me.
My hand shakes as I reach out to touch her. Instinctively I pull back, afraid that she will sense that I’m nervous. I’m not, yet part of me feels that this is wrong. I have never had to pay for sex. But I’m here, paying to return the favor to this woman who gave me one of the best blowjobs I have ever had.
Everything about her seems perfect—from the curve of her hip that beckons to be held by my hand, to her supple breasts that will fit in my palm, to her strong legs that will no doubt fit over my hips. I should be so lucky to find myself in that position, where I’m centered and ready to enter her core, to bring her pleasure with my dick.
I realize in this moment that I can’t do this. That being with her, in a paid situation, is not what I want. My mouth opens, intent on saying my name and giving her my phone number, but words escape me. My hand hangs in shame as I get off the bed and take a tentative step toward the door.
The sound of silk brushing against flesh has me turning around. This woman, she wants this from me. Her once closed legs are now spread wide. My knees press against the mattress as I stare at the darker pink spot of her panties. She’s wet. Eager.
And I’m hungry.
She beckons me without movement or sound. Her legs drop and spread, reminding me why I’m there. She is mine for the taking. I kneel between her legs and move my hands up her limbs, kneading her muscles as I move higher until my fingers touch the lace of her underwear. I have a primal urge to rip
them off, to tear them from her body as if they have offended me in some way, but I don’t. I fist them tightly and place a kiss on her inner thigh.
She gasps and shakes slightly. On the inside, I’m laughing. Not at her, but at the reaction because I haven’t done anything yet to equate that type of response. I will though, and I’m not going to stop until she’s fucking my face and coming all over my tongue.
Now I’m a man on a mission. Determined to elicit the most glorious sounds out of this woman. I pull the wet crotch of her panties aside and inhale her sweet scent. My cock presses against my jeans, trying to break the confines of well-stitched material so he can be free. My only relief is to push harder into the mattress, trick him into thinking he’s getting some action. This woman smells of lavender with a hint of vanilla and possibly cinnamon. She makes me want to devour her. She’s not bare, leaving a light smattering of hair. It gives off an air of innocence, and I find that I like it. I’m so used to women being waxed that it gets old.
My nose traces along her folds, and ever so lightly I exhale hot air into her core. Each movement causes her muscles to twitch. I love that she’s nervous, that we are in the same boat. Her hips buck lightly, spurring me on.
Sitting back, I pull her panties down her legs and stuff them in my pocket for later. Without hesitation my hand swoops under her ass, and in one quick motion, my face is nestled between her legs. My tongue darts out and tastes her for the first time. She delves her fingers into my hair, her hips bucking and a whispered, “Oh, God,” being said in a room where we’re not allowed to talk.
And I’m smiling.
Pulling both hands out from her under her, one massages her breast, tweaking her nipple while the other parts her folds with my fingers. My mouth waters at the sight of her clit, just waiting for attention. I kiss her there, sucking her bud into my mouth and vigorously flicking it with the tip of my tongue. Her grip on my hair grows tighter, and her back arches.
