The Virgin Dating Game

by Sky Corgan

  Seeing him again though—discovering that he was my new potential client—my body awakened to the possibilities of...I don't know what. It was easy to give in to him when he plied me with slick words and his domination tactics. I felt like it would be okay to give in to him. How wrong I was.

  I'm not built for having fuck buddies. The strings between my heart and pussy are not detached. If a guy sticks his dick in there, I'm going to acquire some sort of feelings for him. I knew that before I slept with Lucian. I had just hoped that, by some miracle, he'd be an exception to the rule. He wasn't, and now here I am, practically stalking a man who obviously never had any kind intentions towards my feelings.

  It seems almost insane that I'd go to such lengths to see him again. To give him a piece of my mind. I can't let this go though. I need to tell him everything I'm thinking and feeling so that my soul can start healing from ever knowing him.

  ***

  My Saturday is spent sitting tensely on the sofa watching my phone more than the television. There's the tiniest glimmer of hope that either Lucian or Derrick will text me. I don't even care which one, at this point. Of course, I'd love it if they both contacted me, but I'm not going to get greedy about it.

  Janice is at Flesh again. She's addicted to her Sir, and I can't help but think it's unhealthy. A bitter part of me wants to see Flesh get shut down. It's a place of perversion and prostitution. At least, that's what it seems like to me now.

  Nothing illegal goes on there though. You can request sex with a Dom, but they don't have to honor it. I know that because I've read everything on their website about a thousand times since I made my Sunday appointment with Lucian. The line about sexual content between client and Dominant was in fine print at the bottom of their list of services. Soliciting sex from your Dominant or Domme will result in termination of your contract without a refund. Any sexual acts that take place within a scene are at the discretion of two consenting adults. We do not offer sex as a service here but provide the option on the kink sheet so that the Dominant or Domme will know the extent of your limits.

  Still sounds like legal prostitution to me.

  Distracting myself is near impossible. Every time a sex scene flashes across the television, I picture Lucian with the heroine, whoever she may be. I wonder if he's having sex with someone else while I pathetically sit at home and think about him. I wonder if he's even thinking about me at all, or if I'm already a distant memory to him. There's nothing spectacular about me. Nothing that would hold a guy like him interested. That's obvious. Because if he was still interested in me, he'd call me or reply to my texts or...something.

  My nerves are on edge when I lay down to sleep on Saturday night. All I can think about is what I'm going to say to Lucian. Will I be able to hold myself together without completely whaling on him? The thought of slapping him is more than appealing. A swift kick to the family jewels would probably do him some good too. One thing is for certain, I definitely won't be walking into Flesh as a submissive.

  After only a few restless hours of sleep, Sunday finally comes. It feels like there's a thrumming inside of my head from stress. It's way too early to feel this horrible. But hopefully, this is the last time I'll have to feel this way because of Lucian Reddick. When I leave Flesh today, we will be officially done on all levels. Physically. Emotionally. Professionally. It's an almost liberating feeling, knowing that I'm going to reclaim my heart from a man who has been carelessly destroying it over the past few weeks.

  I sit on the sofa and stare at the clock, watching it tick down to my appointment with Lucian. An hour before our meeting time, I start getting dressed. There's not going to be anything easy access about me tonight.

  I slip a pair of pink leggings on under a blue plaid skirt, then shimmy into a gray camisole and layer a brown long-sleeved shirt on top. I pull my hair back into a high ponytail, because I know he prefers it when I wear my hair down. Then I paint my face in nude tones, not taking much care in how decent I look. I want to come off as boring—too boring for him.

  I climb into my car and turn the key in the ignition. The entire way over to Flesh, I'm plagued with tiny heart palpitations. Damn, he's really not good for my health. I'm so nervous that I'm starting to second guess myself. Maybe this is a bad idea. Perhaps I should just let our relationship die out naturally. Is it really necessary for me to get my feelings across to him? Wouldn't not showing up for the appointment be a subtle sort of revenge? He wouldn't get paid for that thirty minutes, and that should piss him off good and well.

  That won't help me though. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm doing this for me, not him. If I don't talk about how I feel, these thoughts will eat away at me until I have a nervous breakdown and start hating all men. I don't want that. I shouldn't allow him to scar me so deeply.

  When I pull up in front of Flesh, I can't help but frown. The place looks so shoddy, I'm surprised that Janice was ever able to convince me to come in the first place. It's in an old warehouse with the word Flesh above the door in large flickering red neon letters, like something from a horror movie. In broad daylight, I imagine it's a little less intimidating, but with the sun setting in the distance, one would half-expect to see rats hiding around the corner of the building. Perhaps that's being a bit too harsh though. It is on the nicer side of town, and the parking lot is well kept and lit sufficiently. I'm probably just being bitter, because the appearance of the building never really bothered me before. It's low key, just the way a place selling these kinds of services should be.

  I push my car door open and let my gaze dance around the parking lot. Paranoia attacks me from all sides, worrying that Lucian will see me coming. That's not very realistic though. The front desk guy said that Lucian only had one opening left, which means that he's probably with a client right now. There are a handful of cars in the parking lot. One likely belongs to the girl he's screwing.

  Too bad Lucian doesn't drive himself anywhere. If his car was here, I might key it instead of going to my appointment. That would probably make me feel better, though I'm not sure why. He has enough money to fix any damage I could do to his property without much of a headache, and I'm willing to bet that I'm not the first girl who has thought of trashing his things out of anger.

  I take long strides up to the front door, holding my breath as I pull it open. The guy I spoke to on the phone is sitting at the front desk, and he smiles up at me. For a moment, I worry that he recognizes me, but if he does, he doesn't say anything about it.

  “Good evening,” he greets me politely.

  I force a smile, thinking about how unimposing he looks. He's around my age, if not younger. Polished, wearing a brown suit and striped tie. His dark hair is slicked to one side. His eyes are almost black, and there's a strange mischievousness radiating off of him. I can tell he's a pervert, just like the rest of these BDSM people. He probably gets off to the thought of women being tied up and beaten. Hell, he probably gets a lot of Lucian's sloppy seconds.

  “Are you a Dom?” I ask, more out of curiosity than anything else as I ease myself into the chair in front of him.

  “I'm in training.” He beams at me, showing two rows of perfect teeth. With a bit of practice, he could easily be every bit as charming as Lucian. “Why? Are you interested?”

  “Not particularly.” I shoot him down without a hint of remorse. I want nothing to do with anyone in the lifestyle ever again. Except Janice, of course.

  My quick rejection seems to stun him. He stares at me blankly for a minute before clicking his mouse a few times and then crossing his hands on the desk, trying to regain his composure. “You have an appointment?”

  “That's why I'm here.” If I sounded anymore bitter, the room might pucker and kill us both.

  “And you are?” He gazes down at some papers on his desk as if there are a thousand clients waiting to see their Doms.

  “Mary Smith. I have an appointment with Lucian Reddick.”

  “Ah yes.” He gives me a half-cocke
d smile before pushing a folder towards me.

  It's too familiar. The folder that holds my information and my list of kinks. For a moment, I worry that it's the same folder from last time, the one that I filled out under my real name, but when I open it up, I find it pleasantly blank.

  “You look familiar,” he muses, making my breath catch in my throat for a split second.

  “I look like a lot of people.” I grab a pen from the pen holder on his desk. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  The hint of recognition in his expression fades away as he turns his attention to my folder. “Fill out your information on this page, including your level of experience with the lifestyle. On the next page is a list of kinks you'd like to try. You can check off as many boxes as you want, but please know that your Dom probably won't be able to get to all of them. If there is anything in particular that you really want to do, put a number by it to indicate where it falls in your list of priorities. Our Doms do their best to accommodate all of our clients' deepest fantasies.”

  Nice. I want to grunt, but I don't. Instead, I get busy filling out the paperwork. I use a fake name, fake address, fake phone number, and mark myself down as a veteran submissive. Then when I get to the kink page, I check off everything except the things that Lucian and I did in our first scene together. When it comes to prioritizing what I want, the pen lingers over the check box for sex.

  “Does Lucian Reddick usually have sex with his clients?” I dare to ask.

  The lines in the man's face deepen as if he knows the answer will hold some weight with me. “That's confidential information. Everything that goes on during a scene is between the Dominant and the submissive.”

  “I just want to make sure I'm getting my money's worth.” I shrug, putting a big fat #1 in front of sex.

  The man shifts in his chair uncomfortably. “I apologize, Miss Smith, but you do realize that this isn't a prostitution operation.”

  “I realize it.” I ignore him, marking off my other two fake top priorities: fisting and humiliation. Neither of which I'd ever want to try. “Sex happens though, and I'm sure it happens a lot here.”

  “I can't say.” A mischievous grin spreads across his lips.

  “You don't have to. I know.” I shove the completed paperwork and folder back in front of him.

  He flips it open as if it's any of his business what I want Lucian to do to me. After he scans down my list of kinks, he closes the folder and looks back up at me. “It will be $150 for a half-hour session. The fee is collected up-front. How would you like to pay?”

  My jaw clenches at the thought that I'm paying good money to tell Lucian off. I knew they'd collect the fee beforehand though, so I'm not sure why I'm getting so heated about it. Grudgingly, I pull my wallet out of my purse and find my credit card to hand over to him.

  The man looks down at the name stamped on the card, then he glances back up at me. “ID please.”

  I give him my driver's license, feeling increasingly nervous that he might rat me out to Lucian.

  “I would prefer it if you do not give Sir Reddick my real name. I want this session to be completely about fantasy, keeping my personal information confidential. I'm a very influential person in my day to day life, so confidentiality is of utmost importance to me. You spoke about confidentiality earlier, so I assume that won't be an issue.” My eyes burn into his, silently telling him that I'll be pissed if he blabs.

  “Certainly, Miss...” He looks at my driver's license. “Underwood.”

  It feels like he's mocking me, but I don't bother saying anything else on the matter. All I can do is trust that he's trustworthy, which I don't.

  This is where things could really fall apart. If he tells Lucian who I am, I'm not sure what Lucian will do. Maybe he won't even show up.

  I wait while the guy runs my credit card. When he hands it back to me, I shove it and my wallet into my purse. He then stands, gesturing to the door. “Are you ready?”

  “I suppose so. How does this work, exactly?” I get up to follow him.

  “You'll be assigned to a room.” He opens the door leading to the area where all the scene rooms are, ushering me in. “In the closet, you'll find a selection of outfits that you can wear for your Dom. I'm sure you'll find something to your liking.” I can hear the grin in his voice. I have zero intentions of putting on anything slutty for Lucian. He's going to get me as-is. “Once you've changed, you can flip the switch next to the door. It will turn an outside light on that will inform your Dom that you're ready to start your scene.”

  He leads me to the end of the hall and opens the door on the right with a key card. When I look inside, I'm surprised to find that it's completely different from the room that I was in when I first came to Flesh. This one is bigger. More like a dungeon than a bedroom. The walls are painted red, and the furniture is all black aside from a stockade that's also painted red to match the room. There's a Saint Andrew's Cross, a small metal cage, and what appears to be some type of sex hammock. And of course, there's the standard rack on the wall with paddles, canes, floggers, and ball gags galore. I'm apprehensive to step inside. The whole ambiance makes me incredibly uncomfortable, especially knowing that Lucian has probably used all of this stuff on someone else. And recently too.

  I try not to seem like a noob as I walk into the room and give it a look around. The cocky little office bastard is grinning at me, assessing my reaction. My insecurity is probably starting to shine through, but I quickly try to reign it in, taking long strides to the small closet in the far corner of the room as if I'm actually interested in changing.

  “Sir Lucian prefers that his submissives wait for him on their knees. So whenever you're ready, flick the light switch, then come to the center of the room, face the door, and kneel. Place your hands behind your back and bow your head respectfully. He'll give you instructions when he enters. Do you understand?” There's the slightest hint of dominance in his voice as he rattles off what I'm to do. It's as if he's trying to practice on me, and I can't help but scowl.

  “Got it, chief.” I mock salute him in complete disrespect, silently telling him to get lost. I've got this.

  I can see the muscles in his face tense as he realizes that I won't allow myself to be bullied. No doubt, if he doesn't tell Lucian who I really am, he'll at least probably tell him that I'm a complete brat. Surely, they have that much communication.

  When the door is shut behind me, I let out an audible sigh. Be on my knees in the middle of the room? Is that a new rule of Lucian's? He didn't ask that of me the first time I came here. Then again, I was a complete novice wanting the lightest experience possible. Perhaps he knew that would be too intimidating for me.

  Absentmindedly, I open the closet and then close it again, not even bothering to peek inside. I don't care what's in there. A dozen outfits that Lucian has already seen before on different bodies. I just need something to still my nerves before I flip that switch and know that there's no turning back.

  “You can do this, Amy.” I fan myself with my hand. As soon as the front desk guy closed the door, it felt like the temperature in the room jumped up by about twenty degrees. I know it's just me though, my nerves heating me up from the inside. “You've got to do this.”

  I take long strides across the room, knowing that time is ticking. If I keep stalling, I might not get out what I need to say. That would be a travesty considering that I'm paying $5 per minute for this.

  I inhale deeply and close my eyes before flipping the switch to signify that I'm ready. Then I dash across the room to stand in front of the Saint Andrew's Cross with my back towards the door, pretending to run my fingertips down the long wooden beams. I want Lucian to be absolutely shocked when he sees me standing there. I want to watch that smug look on his face melt away and be replaced with shear discomfort at the fact that I chased him down.

  It's so quiet that every one of my senses is on high alert. I listen for the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, but I hear noth
ing. Now that I think about it, as soon as the office guy closed the door, all outside noise was lost. This room is well insulated, unlike the first one I was in. I can't help but wonder if it's so that no one will hear me scream.

  I tap one of my blue pumps on the floor in nervousness. This place is strangely silent for a house of pleasure and pain. Recalling my first time at Flesh, I don't remember hearing anyone moaning or screaming when I was led to my room. It was the same this time too. Though I do remember hearing Lucian's footsteps. Maybe it wasn't as busy last time. Or perhaps they purposely have thick walls to contain everyone's individual experience. I'm confused now and putting way too much thought into it.

  Minutes tick by, and as they do, I find myself getting more irritable. It's the same as last time. He's late. Doesn't he have any regard for the fact that people pay good money for this? No. Because he's a selfish asshole through and through. How he ever became successful at anything with his lack of punctuality is a mystery to me.

  Eventually, I get tired of posing for his entry. I let out an exasperated breath towards the ceiling and put my hands on my hips, briefly leaning my forehead against the cool wood of the cross. Almost the second that I do, I draw away, thinking about how many sweaty bodies have been pinned up against it. Disgusting.

  Finally, I hear the sound of the door knob turning. My body tenses, and I quickly reposition myself to look purposeful, though it seems more artificial than natural. I forgot how to act natural the second that I realized how real this situation is, that I'm finally going to face Lucian and tell him off for everything he's done to me.

  “Good evening.” His deep voice sends a shiver rolling down my spine.

  He doesn't recognize me. At least, the way he's speaking to me is indicative of that. So professional, so controlled. I'm about to unravel him completely. Take that thick thread of certainty he's holding onto and rip it wide open.

  “Good evening, Lucian.” I spin on my heels to face him.