Devious Resolutions

by Ashleigh Giannoccaro

  Juliet sits on my desk, one long leg crossed over the other. She’s dressed in lingerie, her stockings meeting the top of her thigh so beautifully. A smile blankets her lips. I brought her with me when Saint gave me this place. She’s now my club manager in my absence. She’s actually very good at the job. Amongst other things.

  “You’ve been waiting for me?”

  “Of course,” she purrs. I move toward her and she pushes to her feet before her lips slam over mine. “It’s out one-year anniversary.”

  A year. How has it been that long? I remember last year, drinking half a bottle of Whiskey, only for her to walk into my office with a bar order. I bent her over my desk and fucked her right there, proving a point to myself and my dead mother. Since then, Juliet has proved to be a rare gem, indulging in my fantasies without question. I think she likes them almost as much as I do.

  “Do you have anniversaries for fucking?”

  She pulls back and pouts. “That’s not nice. We had dinner once.”

  “I ate food off you, it’s not the same.”

  She laughs, flashing perfect white teeth against her crimson lipstick as she presses her hand to my crotch. Of course, it’s not hard, that requires a little extra. “I got you a gift.” She bites my earlobe before swiping her tongue over the side of my neck.

  She practically skips around me, flashing a gleeful little smile before she pulls the door open. “You can come in,” she calls into the hall.

  A guy rounds the corner and steps into the room. I vaguely recognize him as one of the male performers from the gentlemen’s club. He’s joined our little games before, and I very much enjoyed his company. I don’t know his name, I don’t need to and I don’t want to.

  He’s wearing leather trousers and a tank that hangs off chiseled muscles, doing very little to cover him. He instantly reached for the thin white material and tugs it over his head. That’s definitely his party piece. Tight muscles cover every inch of his body, and my eyes land on his sculpted abs, and the deep V lines that cut into his hips. He flashes me a smile that wouldn’t look out of place in Hollywood. My mothers voice rings through my mind. It’s wrong, Jase! Wrong! The devils work. Disgusting. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fight the dark urges that plague me.

  Juliet is at my side instantly, her lips pressing gentle kisses to my jaw. “It’s okay.” She strokes my cheek. “Just let yourself go, Jase. I know how much you enjoy it.” She strokes and coaxes, like the little demon she is, knowing how I struggle with my fundamental nature.

  She slips away from me once more and walks over to the newcomer, trailing her nails over his abs as she faces me, presenting him like the grand prize on a game show. She presses a finger to his cheek, turning him to face her before she kisses him, long and slow, biting his bottom lip. Her fingers work over the zip of his pants. I watch, rapt as she strips him. His rock hard dick juts out in front of him. Juliet is like the devil, leading me straight into hell. I could walk away, but I don’t. I take her hand and follow her every time, because I want it so badly. Even the strongest of men are weak sometimes. This is my weakness right here. The very thing I shouldn’t do.

  “That’s a good gift,” I say, my voice clipped.

  Juliet strokes over him, and his lips part on a gasp. My own dick turns to stone watching them, well, him. Every tiny reaction, each trembling muscle and scrape of his teeth over his lip.

  I both hate and revel in the debauchery of it all. Juliet leaves him and comes to me. She makes quick work of my suit, stripping it from my body layer by layer. I stare at the man, feeling his eyes on every inch of my bare skin. When I’m naked, Juliet drops to her knees and wraps her lips around my cock. I grip the desk as a groan slips from my throat. He moves closer as though entranced by the view in front of him. She keeps going, bobbing up and down as he places a hand on my chest. It’s like electricity passes from him to me, and I get even harder, my dick swelling in Juliet’s mouth. His lips hit my neck and my entire body starts burning up. I so rarely allow myself to indulge in my deepest desires that when I do, it’s an inferno of sensation, a physical over load.

  I grab Juliet’s hair and drag her to her feet. She lets out a little yelp when I toss her on the desk. Papers and pens scatter everywhere. A stapler hits the floor with a heavy thud. I tear the thong straight off her body. She squirms, her breathing nothing more than a series of erratic pants. She loves this as much as I do, to be used by not just one man, but two.

  I turn to the guy, grabbing him by the throat, unleashing both my hate and my desire. I kiss him, thrusting my tongue inside him mouth, violating him. He moans against my lips and my dick twitches, brushing against his. A shiver rips over my skin, and I can’t wait anymore. I shove him over the desk, holding the back of his neck.

  “Eat her pussy.”

  Juliet spreads her legs like the eager little whore she is. Her fingers thread through the guy’s hair as he dips his head between her legs. At the first touch of his tongue, her eyes close, lips parting as a small smile crosses her lips. I study his body, the hard sculpted muscles of his back, his arse, strong legs. His hands span her small waist, tugging her closer to him and holding her in place while he ravishes her with his tongue. He’s really quite skilled at it.

  I move behind him, my palms meeting the tight muscles of his arse. He pushes back against me slightly, until my dick sits in his crack. A shudder takes hold of me, and my cock swells until the head turns purple. Sinner. The word whispers through my mind, but I’ve come too far to turn back now. There is no punishment physical or otherwise that could stop me sliding my dick in that tight hole.

  I glance at Juliet and find her watching me.

  “Fuck him, Jase,” she teases.

  Grabbing his cheeks, I part them and stare down at that tiny hole just waiting to be violated. I spit on it and he jumps. Gripping my cock, I press the head to the tight ring of muscle. This is the part I love, the natural resistance, the way that even though he wants this, his body rebels. I force past that first inch and slide into him. It’s so good, so right. I’ve fucked countless women in the arse, and in theory it feels the same, but it’s different. When I look down, I see the powerful man at my whim, subservient to me. It’s intoxicating. As always, there’s the accompanying guilt. I hate that I like this, but I can’t stop myself. So I grip his hips and I thrust hard and deep. A pain tinged groan comes from him, but I don’t care. I fuck him, watching Juliet writhe on the desk. She grips his hair harder, her hips bucking up willfully, demanding more. I pound into him hard and fast, punishing him for making me want this so much, for reducing me to this.

  Beyond the glass walls of the office, people dance and drink, blissfully unaware of what’s happening right above their heads.

  Juliet cries out and her eyes lock with mine as she comes. I know she’s coming for me, because she loves watching me fuck another guy. It’s her kink, which is what makes her the prefect sexual partner.

  When she’s done, I grab the back of his neck and yank him upright. My hand slides to his throat, squeezing. Part of me wants to squeeze the life from him, as I fuck him. His hand goes to his dick. I see flash of his hand over his shoulder as it moves back and forth rapidly.

  Juliet crawls across the desk, lowering her mouth to the tip of his cock. The harder I pound into him, the faster his hand flies over his dick. The thick muscles of his neck pop out, fighting against my grip.

  “Fuck.” I long groan leaves him, and all at once, every muscle tenses. Juliet opens her mouth wide and sticks out her tongue, allowing me to watch as thick streams of come hit her tongue. Pulse after pulse keeps coming, and she swallows it all. It’s enough to tip me over the edge. Pleasure rips through me so hard and fast it’s all I can do to remain standing. A choked sound leaves my lips, and my vision dots. I grip his hips harder, on stilted awkward thrusts.

  “Oh, god,” I groan. Everything explodes, and I pump my load inside him. It goes on forever, until I feel completely drained.

  The mus
ic from the club hums through the office, backed by the sound of rapid breaths and my own pounding heart. There’s a sudden burst of sound from outside, and I pull away from the guy, turning around so fast I almost fall over.

  Saint stands in the doorway, my judgment and retribution all in one. His eyes flick from me to the two people still sprawled over the desk and back again.

  Panic and shame hit me like a tidal wave.

  “Out!” I snap at them both, my voice shaky. “Get out!”

  They both scramble for clothes before they hurry out the door. I tug my trousers on, covering my dick which is still covered in my own come. I refuse to look at Saint as I put my shirt on, fumbling with the buttons clumsily.

  “Jase,” Saint snaps.

  “I don’t want to talk about this.” Still I don’t look at him.

  Saint moves closer, making me jolt when I realize he’s right next to me. I meet his gaze. He looks troubled. “I am sorry. I did not realize you had fallen so far.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, my stomach churning endlessly. “I just…I need to go.”

  “I’ve pushed you to sin, and now the devil has you in his clutches.” He shakes his head. “Just as Sodom and Gommorah.”

  I grit my teeth, hating the lancing pain that permeates my chest at those words. My mothers lifeless face flashes through my mind and I clutch the edge of the desk, dropping my head forward on pained breaths.

  “You didn’t push me, Saint. I’ve always been…” I suck in a deep breath. “Gay.” I’ve never said it out loud. “And trust me, no one can hate me more than I hate myself for it.” I slowly lift my head and find him frowning at me. “You aren’t the first to look at me with such disgust. My mother killed herself because of it.” I’ve never told anyone why my mother died. It always felt like a horrible shameful secret, but Saint knows my secrets now, and like a confession I find myself purging everything to him. “I was fourteen years old, and I kissed a boy in my class. I went home and told my Mum that I was gay. She kicked me out. I stayed at a friends that night and went to school the next day. When I got home, she was dead.” I had stolen and lied, been in trouble with the police more times than I could count. She had made me go to church and confess, but this…being gay… forced her over the edge and made her take her own life. Something I never thought she would do, because suicide is in itself a ticket to hell.

  Yet here I am, still doing the very thing that killed her.

  Saint sighs and reaches out, cupping my face. It’s such an unusual reaction from him, because he hates touching people. Let alone a dirty sinning gay.

  “I will help you.” He drops his hand and steps away.

  “You can’t help me.”

  “I know better than anyone how to control a sinful nature.”

  “God abandoned me a long time ago, Saint.”

  “Then you must curb your nature for yourself. Then he will come back to you.”

  I slam a hand on the desk. “I have tried!” I limit my interactions, only ever fucking men with a girl, because that’s not gay, it’s just a dirty three-way. At least that’s what I tell myself. I force myself to sleep with women I don’t want, all to avoid taking what I really want. “You avoid your nature by making me kill for you in your stead, Saint. I can’t do that.”

  His jaw ticks. “I like killing. You like fucking men. The Devil has sent them to tempt you, brother. Filthy sinners who will lead you to hell. Like Eve with the apple.” I rub my temples, and though I don’t believe in God as devoutly as Saint does, perhaps I should. He’s managed to leash his dark desires because he has faith. “You must kill that which tempts you. Send them back to the Devil. This is Gods work.” Gods work. My mother would often preach about Gods work, though I never truly understood what she meant by it.

  Saint turns and walks away, pausing in the doorway. “I will give you some time, brother.”

  Then he walks away and leaves me to my shame. Self-hatred eats me alive from the inside out until I’m drowning in shame.

  The next morning I wake early, having had only two hours of sleep. I’ve always wrestled my demons in secret, but now they’re out in the world, and I can feel myself unravelling. A crisis of conscience where guilt is gnawing away at me like a disease.

  I shower and dress before leaving my apartment. Icy air infiltrates my lungs and I tuck my hands in my pockets, trying to ward off the chill. It’s a Saturday morning and the streets are unusually quiet. The distant hum of the waking city can be heard over the sound of a dog barking and birds twittering in a nearby tree. On the corner of the street is a church, it’s enormous form dominating everything around it. St Mary’s Catholic Church. On a heavy sigh, I lift the steel latch and push the old wooden door open with a groan. The scent of incense wraps around me, and as I close the door it’s like a vacuum of silence, and I can almost sense the presence of something more than just myself. If possible, it’s even colder in here than outside, the old stone walls acting like fridge.

  Candles burn at the front, prayers and hopes from people flickering away. The statue of the virgin stares down at me, and though her expression is soft and motherly, I can feel her judgment. Above her, a cross is hanging, an effigy of Jesus nailed to it, his crown of thorns leaving bleeding lines down his face.

  I cross myself, because I know I need all the divine intervention I can get. I eye the confessional box, and it seems so daunting, just as it did when I was a child. I would often sit on the front pew and wait for my mother to confess. Several times a week, and often for a long time. I remember wondering what she could possibly have done to require such forgiveness. As I grew older, I realized; me. She needed forgiveness for creating me.

  I take a steadying breath and release it on a misty cloud. I pull back the curtain and step inside. The darkness encloses around me, and it feels…safe.

  I cross myself.

  “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been eight years since my last confession” I say quietly.

  “I will hear your confession,” the priest says.

  I hesitate. “I… have…I” I stumble over the words. “I have sinful thoughts…toward other men.”

  There’s a beat of silence. “I see. And have you acted on these thoughts.”

  “Yes,” I whisper, drowning in self-loathing with that one word.

  “The path to righteousness is not easy my son. It is littered with evils and temptations. It is our test from God. Should we fail then we will not be granted a place in heaven, and will burn in the fires of hell.”

  That’s what my mother thought, that I would burn. That God hated me. Maybe she was right.

  “Does God hate me?” I ask.

  “God loves the sinner, my child. He only hates the sin. Atone, and commit yourself to a pious life, and the gates of heaven will be open to you.”

  I can be redeemed. There is still salvation for me yet.

  Chapter Six

  Christmas comes and goes, and as is always the case around this time of year, I fall into a depressive state. My father tries to call, but I ignore him. Saint has thankfully left me alone as he said he would.

  It’s New Years Eve, and the club is fully booked. When I walk inside, it’s in full swing. Some famous DJ is performing a set and what looks like falling liquid gold is on the screens behind him. Two fire dancers are on either side of the DJ booth. An aerial hoop suspends above the dance floor and a couple are hanging from it, dangling perilously over the crowd below. The place is packed from wall to wall, with waitresses serving bottle after bottle of over-priced champagne. Good.

  I make my way to my office, and go through some paper work. Various staff pop in, asking me to fix problems. Can no one do anything for themselves around here? I look out at the club below, and pause when I spot a certain performer on the stage below. A woman is wrapped around his waste and they perform a dance that’s bordering on sex. He’s shirtless, in those damn leather pants. She wears only lingerie, a collar around her neck. He pulls her around by a lead
as she writhes against him.

  I close my eyes, and I can remember what it feels like to be inside him. My dick hardens, and my fists tighten on the desk in front of me. The devil will try and tempt you. I’m not sure I even believe in heaven and hell, but I feel my own shame. I don’t want to be this person. Why can’t I just be normal?

  I open the desk drawer and take out the bottle of whiskey I keep there. I could easily go to the bar and get ice and a glass, but I don’t. Instead, I crack the top off it and turn the bottle up, watching the bubbles chug up the neck as I take several gulps. By the time half the bottle has gone, everything is blissfully muted. I no longer feel my own disgust, because I feel… nothing.

  I don’t know how long I sit there, minutes hours. I’ve drunk most of the bottle when there’s a knock at the door. Juliet comes into the room wearing a tiny black dress with bits cut out of it.

  “Jase,” she smiles, her hips swaying as she tosses her hair over her shoulder. Someone else follows her into the room, and when I peer around her, I see it’s leather guy. I’m too drunk to think about the rational path right now. He’s shirtless, and a thin sheen of sweat clings to him. My dick is instantly hard again.

  “Juliet, out.”

  She stills. “What?”

  “Out.”

  “But Jase…”

  “Get. Out.” I grate.

  She turns on her heel and he goes to follow her. “Not you.”

  I don’t even look at her, but she slams the door hard enough to convey her annoyance.

  The guy lingers there, awkwardly looking from me to the door and back again. “Lock the door.” He does, before turning to face me once more. “What’s your name?” I ask. I’ve never wanted to know before, but now I do.