The Choice

by Alice Ward

  Even though I knew she would. She’d drive men wild, fuck them the way she’d fucked me. And she’d forget me.

  I stalked up to her.

  She smiled the second she saw me. “Apollo,” she said, looking at the Joker. “This is—”

  “I don’t fucking care,” I mumbled, grabbing her hand and yanking her away. I saw her eyes widen beneath the mask as I pulled her into an alcove, away from the hundreds of eyes that were mentally undressing her.

  She was frowning when she turned to me. “Possessive much?”

  I’d made her come in the middle of the club last time, and it had been a mistake. I’d bared her to everyone, made her brazen. I’d created a monster. And that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted… her. I wanted to create something with her tonight that she’d remember forever, that her future experiences would pale against. “Have you fucked him?”

  Her eyes widened. “Of course not.”

  “Did you want to?”

  She pressed her lips together and yanked away from me. “So what if I did? What if I wanted to take you both upstairs and sandwich me? This is a club, right? Where fantasies come true.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Is that really what you want?”

  “No,” she said, and I could see the honesty in her eyes. “I only want you.”

  “You’re mine, Cassandra,” I said, trying to keep my voice hard, but I faltered. She wasn’t mine. Not really. I swallowed. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

  She smiled and licked her lips. “Then let’s go.”

  Without hesitation, I led her up the staircase. We’d traveled these steps before, but this time, a new fervor propelled me, hotter and stronger than anything I’d ever felt. I’d gone to the club’s website earlier in the week and booked the “Honeymoon Suite” on the third floor, which, from what I’d read was private and quiet. The privilege was five-thousand dollars for the night. I’d used an alias and booked with a PayPal account that couldn’t be tied to my name, all the while thinking of what I’d said to the journalist at Philadelphia Woman.

  I have no secrets.

  And damn, how I wished that was true. The funny thing was, this wasn’t a crime. If I wasn’t Cameron Brice, this wouldn’t mean anything. Plenty of people went to sex clubs. And yet, right now, this moment meant the world.

  This had to be my last time.

  With the election so close, I needed to walk on the straight and narrow.

  Today was symbolically the end of my life as a free man. The shrugging off of my old ways, and the acceptance of my destiny.

  And I intended to milk it for all it was worth. To give us something we would both remember forever.

  My hand tightened around hers as I led her past the moaning noises emanating from all of the upstairs rooms, straight to a narrow spiral staircase. I took both of her hands and motioned her toward it. She looked up apprehensively. “Up there?”

  I nodded, smiling to myself at how innocent she could sometimes be.

  I held her hand as she climbed and stopped at a door. There was a wipe-off board there too, completely blank. Smiling, she picked up the black pen and wrote in a fat, looping script, He is Mine.

  I raised an eyebrow. “You’re not sharing me, then?”

  “Not tonight,” she said sweetly, underlining the words and capping the pen.

  When she pushed the door open, I immediately stepped in beside her, closing off the booming sound of the bass and the sticky, humid air. I twisted the lock so we would not be disturbed, tilted my mask back, then drew her to me, crushing my mouth onto hers. She responded in kind, our mouths exploring each other in a hungry tangle of tongues and teeth. When I traced my tongue down the side of her face, nibbling the exquisitely soft skin there, she tilted her chin back and groaned. “Oh, god, I couldn’t wait for this. For you.”

  “Me too, baby,” I groaned, holding her there against the wall as I sank down upon her neck, licking and sucking. Her skin was the sweetest sugar. I couldn’t get enough of it. My hands reached down her bare thighs, and up her barely-there skirt, cupping the globes of her ass. I couldn’t feel the hem of her underwear, suggesting she was wearing the standard dental floss that doubled as panties. Or maybe… nothing at all?

  My cock was already straining against my trousers. She yanked on the belt, pulling it open, fumbling with the button and fly before pressing my pants down and letting it free. When she did, she wrapped her hand around it, stroking it, silently urging me on. She pressed her shoulders against the wall, lifting a leg and hooking it around my hips. She tilted her hips against me, grinding her pelvis into me.

  “Condom,” I said, reaching into my pocket.

  “Fuck the condom,” she said. “I’m on the pill. Take me.”

  That was the sweetest invitation I’d ever received. I’d wanted to take my time. I’d wanted to make this last, do everything right. But like her, I couldn’t wait. I needed her now, in a way I’d never needed anyone.

  I lifted her leg higher, the tip of my cock flirting with the material of her underwear — so she was wearing a thong. I ripped the scrap of material away, the sound competing with our breaths. Finding her open to me, wet and ready, I plunged into her. We both gasped. In my case, it was with relief at finally being in the right place after a week of hell. I fucked her there, thrusting into her as she moaned.

  “Harder,” she said. “God, Apollo, give me everything.”

  I did. Sweat beaded on my temples and stuck to our clothes as we moved together, grinding against each other. The damn masks banged against each other, now more of a nuisance than anything else, but not enough to delay our climax. She came, her body shattering in waves, and when my release followed a moment later, she grasped my shoulders tightly, falling against me, resting her head on my shoulder. “Holy shit,” she said.

  I laughed. “You took the words right out of my mouth,” I said when I pulled out of her. “Though I do wonder why I secured this space since it seems any back-alley would’ve done just as well for us.”

  She blinked and looked around, suddenly aware of our surroundings. “You secured this?”

  I nodded. “Online.”

  She smiled, flattered. It was a whole new world up here in the “Honeymoon Suite.” I couldn’t imagine that actual honeymooners came here, but it was everything the downstairs rooms were, but more luxe. There was a king-sized bed in the center of the room with white satin sheets, and the walls were covered in dark red damask fabric. Electric candles flickered on all the surfaces, and there was a gas fireplace, already lit, in the corner of the room. Soft piano music effectively drowned out the noises from downstairs, placing us in another world entirely.

  Her eyes widened. “Have I been transported to the Ritz Carlton?”

  I grinned. This wasn’t even close, but I was glad she appreciated it.

  “And it’s okay we’re up here?”

  I nodded. “Like I said, I paid for it. For us.”

  She looked at me. “You did?” She lowered her skirt and stepped farther into the room, running her finger along the shiny satin of the sheets. “It’s nice.”

  There was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne chilling beside the bed, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to imbibe. I’d purposely laid off the scotch so I could have all my facilities intact for this experience. I opened the door to the bathroom. There was a large Jacuzzi tub in the center of the room as well as two vanities and a walk-in shower with a plexiglass door and multiple showerheads.

  She followed me, peeking inside. “This is nicer than any hotel room I’ve ever been in.”

  I turned to her. The pearls had made it obvious she wasn’t rich, but this was the first real detail she’d ever freely admitted to me about her life. I pounced on it. “Is that so?”

  She must have realized she was revealing too much because she turned away, her cheeks flushed, and opened the double doors across from the bed. “Oh. I guess this wouldn’t be a sex club without these.”

  I looked in. There was
the standard assortment of playthings, everything found in the rooms downstairs, and more. These were packed in boxes instead of plastic and were decidedly better quality. I lifted the lid on the first one to reveal a solid gold cock ring in the shape of a cobra. I placed it back down on the shelf. “Come here,” I instructed.

  She came close to me as I shut the door and looked over at it apprehensively. “Aren’t you going to tie me up? Use something on me?”

  I shook my head, then reached over and started to unbutton the buttons on her sweater. “No. I don’t want the distraction. Unless you…?”

  She shook her head fervently. “I liked being tied up,” she admitted. “But it’s enough just to be here with you.”

  I smiled at the admission, sensing the way she shivered as I touched her. When I opened the buttons of her sweater, one by one baring an opaque bra that did little to hide her nipples, I could almost see her heartbeat dancing underneath her skin.

  I undressed her fully, baring her gorgeous body, revealing and taking my time with each of her soft curves. I slipped the white sweater off her shoulders, pushed the tiny skirt down over her hips as she stood there, bending to my will, allowing me to get eyeful upon eyeful of her. I finished unsnapping her bra, exposing her perfect tits. I loved having her fully open and exposed to me like this — no secrets between us. When I was done, I stepped back, tapping my finger on my chin. “Something is wrong.”

  She shivered in anticipation. “What?”

  “Did you enjoy your dinner at the Capital Grille?”

  She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Did you?”

  “I enjoyed the view,” I said, reaching over and tracing the line of her mask. “You are truly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Cassandra, but I want to see all of you, now. Don’t you think it’s time we take these off?”

  She sucked in a breath, but she didn’t fight when I lifted the elastic and slipped it off over her head.

  I stepped back again, admiring her. God, she was beautiful, her skin so pale and perfect, her blonde hair falling on her shoulders, grazing her nipples. I tossed the mask aside and put a finger under her chin, lifting her face to mine. “What is your name?”

  “Cassandra,” she breathed.

  “No. Your real name.”

  She didn’t answer.

  Taking a breath, I reached up and removed my own mask. I didn’t know why my hands shook as I did. She’d seen my face before, in the restaurant. Had I disappointed her, she wouldn’t be here now. Her eyes swept over my features, and she smiled.

  “Approve?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  I cast the mask aside, then reached for her hand. We entwined our fingers together, and the heat between us was almost an inferno. I freely gazed down at her naked body, without the eyeholes to fuck up the view. It was better, closer, more real than I’d even imagined. “It’s hardly fair. You know my name,” I whispered into her ear.

  She bit her lower lip, the little vixen. “I do?”

  I smiled, wondering about the game she seemed to be playing. “It’s clear your friend recognized me. If I recall, she called me a douche. Did she not tell you who I am?”

  I thought she would concentrate more on my face, now that she was free to. Instead, she looked away. “No. I mean, yes. She did. She said you were some politician.” She sucked in a breath. “I just thought she might be mistaken.”

  “Some politician?” I repeated, half-amused, half-wounded. From what I’d heard, there were few families in America who hadn’t heard the Brice name. “You’ve never heard of the Brice family? Cameron Brice? Son of Vice President Ron Brice? We’re the wealthiest family in the state.”

  I knew I sounded just like her friend had said, like a douche. But for some reason, I wanted desperately to impress her.

  “Well… yes,” she admitted, though she didn’t seem very impressed. “But I mean, Cameron Brice in a sex club? Who would’ve thought?”

  I chuckled. “I confess, my life is a bit buttoned up. I don’t have a chance to breathe in my day-to-day life. These places have become a bit of a closet obsession for me,” I said softly. “You can understand the need for discretion.”

  She nodded. “I won’t tell. I’m sorry for what she said.”

  I laughed softly. “I’ve been called worse. Does it change your opinion of me?”

  “Does it matter?” she countered, reaching up and unfastening the buttons on my vest, one by one. “What should we do now?”

  “I have some ideas,” I said as she carefully undid every one of the buttons on my dress shirt, pulling it open. “But yes. It does matter, Cassandra. I’ll call you Cassandra since you won’t give me your real name.”

  “Again,” she said, looking up at me coyly. “I don’t think it matters.”

  “Fair enough,” I said, leading her through the double doors of the bathroom. I reached into the shower and turned the water on hot. Then I finished undressing. “But just for the sake of curiosity, and because birds of a feather often flock together, do you share your friend’s opinions?”

  She smiled. “I’m not very political.”

  “So you don’t vote?”

  “No, I do. But are you asking whether I’d vote for you?”

  I nodded.

  She batted her eyelashes innocently. “I’d sooner vote for a toad.”

  A toad. How had she, who was admittedly unpolitical, heard about the yellow-horned toad situation? Something tickled at the back of my mind, and a little warning bell went off. I was not going to get taken in by a ringer again. But this was Cassandra, my innocent Cassandra, and though I’d only been with her three times, and she still wouldn’t tell me her name, I’d come to trust her. She’d bared her body to me, trusting me to blindfold her, tie her up, something she hadn’t needed to do if her aim was to fuck me over. Her mentioning the toad was likely coincidental. “Why, thank you. So you’re a liberal?”

  She nodded. “Well, I suppose I am, now that I think of it.”

  Steam had begun to waft into the room, casting everything in a hazy, dreamlike state. I opened the shower door again to let her pass through. She stepped in and water immediately soaked her hair, darkening it. Water trickled over her curves, her nipples went hard as rocks, and my cock twinged again for her. She beckoned me in as I said, “So what causes are important to you?”

  “Climate change.”

  I let out a groan. “Climate change is a load of bullshit,” I groused, grabbing a bar of soap and starting to lather it up. “It was invented by Al Gore because he wanted to feel important after losing the election. But the fact is that they stopped calling it Global Warming and started calling it Climate Change because they have no idea what the hell is going on. The earth has always gone through periods of warming and cooling as long as it’s existed, and there’s little we can do about it.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and I snapped my mouth shut. I was mansplaining. Damn.

  “Really?” she asked, her nose wrinkling as I began to lather her skin. I washed her back, her front, thoroughly, taking care not to miss a single spot. She twirled for me, clearly enjoying it from the groans she let out. She threw her wet hair over her shoulder and gave me a sexy pout. I thought she was going to let the subject go, then surprised me when she didn’t. “What’s bullshit is politicians who think that humans have no bearing on the environment and that we can rape it of its natural resources and behave irresponsibly and everything will be just fine. Don’t you care about future generations?”

  I raised an eyebrow as she started to lather me up, her hands moving slickly over my body. When she reached for my cock, it was already rock-hard again. I’d care about whatever she wanted, as long as she just kept doing that to me.

  “I care very much for future generations. That’s why I want to focus on the things we have control of… emissions, the overabundance of plastics. If we chunk it down and work on one problem at a time, we have a better chance of effecting change.”

  She d
idn’t agree, but she didn’t disagree either. Instead, she went on to another subject that seemed to be weighing heavily on her mind. “Don’t get me started on sexism in the workforce. Women get paid seventy cents for every dollar men make, and it’s not fair.”

  “Well, those statistics are true for a variety of reasons. For example, one reason is that many women leave their work after having children, and find it harder to get back into the workforce after a prolonged absence,” I explained. Her hands were moving harder, faster on me. I was getting fucking aroused by her passion. Not political? Fuck that. She had her opinions, even if she didn’t think she did.

  “That’s bullshit,” she groaned. “Maternity leave in this country is a disgrace, by the way, and politicians like you don’t get it.”

  “Actually, I’m for mandatory paid maternity leave,” I said. “I think the way we treat working mothers in this country is shameful, and we’re falling behind the rest of the civilized world.”

  “You are?” She seemed shocked. “Well, the minimum wage should be raised.”

  “Which would destroy job creation as companies that hire minimum wage workers will likely pile more work on their current employees rather than hire new ones,” I countered. “Or replace them with robots and self-serve computers.”

  She stopped lathering and frowned at me. “Oh, right. Just like that old myth about how cutting taxes for the rich will trickle down to the other ninety-nine percent,” she said, starting to cross her arms. “That’s bull—”

  I grabbed her arms before she could entirely close off from me, my hands sliding down to her wrists, and I pinned her against the wall, kissing her hard as the water rained down on us. She fought at first, but relented, at least for a moment. Then she pushed me away. “You’re fucking heartless,” she sneered at me, turning to open the shower door.

  “And for someone with no politics, you are oddly political,” I told her, grabbing her before she could make her escape. Her skin was slick, but I held her, wrapping my arms around her waist. Bending over her, I whispered in her ear. “And fucking sexy when you argue like that.”