I know there is a level of bad I can imagine but if Jenny went, it can’t be THAT bad. My brain’s rationale instantly goes for the human trafficking and sex slavery, but Jenny is crazy vanilla and it is just one night. What if it isn’t even an orgy; what if it’s just some people who want to mingle without pressure and look sexy, and if you hook up, you hook up. It’s just a night.
There are a thousand screaming voices inside of my head telling me no, but I listen to the one little one that is struggling to get over the noise. The one little voice that says why not?
There is no way I can think about it anymore, I just need to do it, after I shave and pluck every part of my body. A year of no sex means a year of not really trying.
I shower, shave, pluck, and hot wax every part of my body that needs it. And I swear there is more hair everywhere. The year of hibernation hasn't been good for the weeds.
The thong I pick out is sheer black lace with a matching bra. It’s perfect for what I need. I rub lotion everywhere, ensuring I’m soft and silky before having one more look at myself in the mirror. I do look a tad bit thin and a little depressed. You can see it in the eyes, the windows to my bleeding soul.
But all in all, I still look pretty good. I drag on the dress and shudder. It’s hideously short. When I turn around my ass is almost peeking out. If I bent over, you would see my vagina. I drag on a huge trench coat and tie it up, just in case.
I look sexy and mysterious. Actually, in the right light I look beautiful and I feel amazingly rejuvenated and the night hasn't even started.
I take one last look and ponder how they knew my dress size.
The clock strikes nine just as I walk out to the living room, and just as someone knocks on my door.
I hold my breath in my chest, frightened and excited all at once as I walk to the door. A woman in a beautiful black pantsuit and a mask that's as red as her lipstick is standing at my door. Her silky raven hair is pulled up in a tight bun; the sort that makes your head hurt just looking at it. She’s nearly my height in her black stilettoes.
“Good evening, Ms. Edwards,” she bows with a sly grin. It all makes my heart race a little. She holds a hand out to the elevator. “Shall we?”
I nod and follow her silently to the elevator to wait. We stand still and silent, awaiting the ding of the doors. She reaches a milky hand toward mine, squeezing like mother used to do. “Please relax, Ms. Edwards.”
“Sorry, this is new to me, not something I do all the time, and it is a bit weird wearing a mask and going to some strange place.” I shake my head at my candid confession and shaking voice. We enter the elevator and I swear the tension thickens from being in the small space.
She bows her head softly, toying with a smirk. “You will be fine. The evening will be everything you need it to be.”
The comment is meant to soothe, but honestly I feel even more nervous.
“So can you tell me where I am going?” I ask, peeking through my mask at her. From what I can see, she is beautiful, with high cheekbones, a perfect nose, and plump natural lips. She could be a model.
“We can discuss the details in the car, Ms. Edwards,” she says firmly and professionally, shutting down any more conversation. Her eyes draw to the camera in the corner of the elevator.
The doors open and I take long strides to keep up with her quick pace. We hurry out to the black tinted Mercedes that is waiting for us. When we arrive, a man opens the door. She slides into the back, making room for me as well.
There is a divider between us and the driver, taking at least some of the discomfort away.
She hands me a pile of documents for me to read and sign—confidentiality disclosures and other agreements. My hand shakes as I glance over them, reading as quickly as I can. They seem very standard, something you sign if you dated a celebrity. “Where am I going?” I ask her as I reread the documents, making sure I didn’t miss anything.
“To a private residence out of the city. It is a house that is used as the club. But that is all I can tell you.” She smiles, relaxing her back against the seat.
“Is it safe?” I bite my lip as I ask that question, not wanting to hear the answer.
“Of course. It’s very safe. It’s a place where you can dance and socialize with peers without the worry of recognition or anything else. It’s a way for people in your financial and social situation to meet and greet anonymously. Would you care for a drink?” She reaches into a compartment that has chilled champagne stored in it.
“Yes, that would be lovely, thank you.” I take the flute she offers and sip it slowly as we drive down the road to the undisclosed house of mystery.
The road winds and the woods thicken, making it hard to recognize. I can’t help but relax, even though I am on edge, or rather was on edge. The motion of the car somehow hypnotizes me. After a moment, or perhaps twenty moments, I glance at her, grinning. “I feel amazing.” I sigh, looking up through the large moonroof, watching the stars dance in the sky, turning from shades of blue to purple. “Oh my God, did you just see that star? It just shot purple dust across the sky!” I point at the moonroof.
“Yes, I saw it, Ms. Edwards.” She giggles at my outburst, something I would consider out of character for her. “It was lovely.”
We sit there, staring up at the sky in a moment of silence, which she breaks with a soft sigh. “I have a question for you now.” She leans close to me, almost touching my face with her lips.
“Okay.” I attempt to lean back but my hands lift to touch her face, trying to see if she is real.
“What is your fantasy? What do you desire the most?” Her breath tickles my lips as she leans forward more, brushing her soft red lips against mine. Our masks rub as she bites at my lower lip.
My ragged breath shudders as I smile and close my eyes. My entire body is rocked with a shiver as one of her fingers brushes delicately across my breast.
“What is your fantasy?” She cups my breast, squishing it. “Go for something you think you won’t ever have. Something really erotic.”
Somehow the words fall from my lips. “My fantasy is to have sex with someone, like in a room full of people but no one knows we are doing it. To be seen but not seen.” I confess, but she stops touching me. She pulls away, leaving me breathless and wondering what the hell is going on.
I swear I blink and the clicking of my heels on the cement makes me realize we are out of the car in a magical courtyard. There are lanterns and sparkly lights surrounding us, casting shadows with the trees all around. “What is this place?” The twinkling lights twirl in the air as if they are stars in the sky.
Out of the haze of twinkling lights, a man in a black mask and a well tailored suit walks up to me along the walkway to the house that resembles a castle. He smiles from under the mask, and I can’t help but give him the look, as if I am safer from under the mask.
He’s wearing a black pinstripe suit with a red tie. He’s tall with a larger build and sandy-brown hair that is styled like he means business, something that makes me grin. At first I’m certain he’s a dream, the way the lights sparkle and the way he looks exactly like Prince Charming. As he gets closer his navy-blue eyes catch mine from behind his black mask. I am memorized by everything about him and the best I can do is wobble and sway, muttering, “Hi.”
“Hello,” he nods, going past me, taking the vision of beauty with him.
It’s dark inside as I enter, not even realizing I have left the magical garden. The hallway of the house is huge, with red and black couches filled with people sitting and laughing. They each hold a drink or are making out with the person next to them. It moves like an ocean, riding the waves of music. Nothing is too loud or too cold or too much of anything. It’s perfect. The air tickles me, the song plays inside of me, and the waves of the movements are seamless.
I trail along the hall that’s wide enough to be a room, running my finger along the blood-red wall as I round the corner. Everyone is speaking to others in dark corners, h
iding in thick drapes, or leaning against walls that the light doesn't quite reach.
People rub and grind their bodies against each other, and for some bizarre reason I want to join in. I want to do this. It feels fantastic, like I could dance with and rub against anyone. I walk toward a room filled with people dancing in a way I didn't expect. They waltz and move as if I have gone back in time. The fancy dresses, albeit short ones, make the dance moves seem fluid.
The crowd on the edges is liquid too; they move in waves of laughter and drinking. They don't stumble the way I do and somehow they manage to secretly run their hands across my body. My coat is dragged off as hands squeeze my breasts through the silky fabric of my dress. My movements are lost in the moments I can’t trace, part of the haze that is the room and my fuzzy mind.
Hands grab me, pulling me back to grind my ass in the stranger’s hard groin. Someone kisses my neck as a young woman with a black dress and red mask approaches us. She runs her hands through my hair, touching my face and leaving wet kisses on my chest as I grind harder into the groin behind me. He grips me tighter, wanting more from me as the woman with the red mask brushes her lips against mine, pushing her tongue in. She devours me as my hands instinctively reach up to her supple breasts. I can’t fight the drive and hunger I suddenly have for her. We each are exploring each other’s bodies, pinching and teasing the hard nipples we find beneath the silky dresses. The hands behind me probe under my dress, slipping it to the side, thrusting fingers into me. She and I whimper with pleasure into each other’s mouths. She is quivering from my rolling the bud of her nipple between them as I am from the fingers dragging from my wet pussy lazily and thrusting back in. I lean down, pulling at her dress to expose her breasts. The small nipples pucker in my mouth from the strain of my biting them.
He grabs my hips and thrusts his hard cock between my ass cheeks while circling over my clit. I gasp as he rubs me harder, feeling the wetness slip his fingers into me, as the three of us grind and touch each other.
She pulls away from us, moving to another crowd of people, touching and kissing at them like she did me. I want to follow but the man I cannot see spins me around, pressing his lips on me hard. The kiss softens as his tongue finds its way into my mouth. He sucks my tongue, stroking it like a blowjob.
He releases me from what might be the most interesting kiss of my life and drags me through the crowd of lustful people. We arrive at an empty couch where he sits, pulling me into his lap and continues to kiss me as his hand slips inside my underwear again. He pulls them to the side, rubbing circles around my clit. I moan, gyrating my hips with his moving finger as he sinks two in, moving in and out fluidly as I arch my back and push down on his fingers. I want more until my body tenses up and lets go, coming on his hand as he continues his assault inside of me. He pulls his hand out, sucking his fingertips clean of the essence of me. It’s easily the hottest thing I have ever seen.
He pulls me down, kissing me again, but this time it’s a passionate kiss not a dirty fast one, but a slow kiss—one that makes your toes curl.
My mouth pulls back from his so I can ask the thing I know I shouldn't. “I want to see your face. What’s your name?”
“You can’t, you know the rules.” He grins like he likes this feature of the pervy club.
“I hate rules,” I mutter as he kisses my jawline, working his way down my neck. My head starts to come out of the fog and somehow I want him even more. “I want you to fuck me.” I bite at my lip, scared to be rejected.
He laughs, rubbing his still rock-hard cock against me as he nibbles my neck. “I got exactly what I wanted from you and in due time we are both going to get more, trust me.”
“You don't want me?” I ask, afraid of the question as he touches my hair, running his hands through it again.
“I want you.”
I close my eyes, relieved but confused. The moment has a sobering effect but it doesn't last long as his hot breath lands again on my lips, licking and tracing them with his tongue. “I want to have sex with you,” I whimper as he grinds his cock into my underwear.
“Good.” He moans and rubs me in his lap harder.
“I need to feel you inside me, right now,” I growl, closing my eyes when he tears at my dress, pulling it down to expose my breasts. His lips encompass my nipples, sucking on them and pulling at them. I moan loudly, pushing harder into the rigid cock straining against his suit.
“I want you naked in my bed, screaming my name,” he groans as I ride him, gyrating my hips in circles like a lap dance, needing more.
“Tell me your name.” I groan as he bites down and lifts me off the couch with his hard thrusting.
“I can’t and you know that.” He moans and tenses his body, letting his come explode inside of his suit, leaving him a mess and both of us breathless.
He lifts me off his body, holding my face and staring into my eyes as we both attempt to catch our breath.
I don't know why but I sort of like this game of masked crusader.
Chapter Four
The lights in my room are killing my eyes as I peek through my lashes and wince at the sun blaring through the cracks in the blinds.
I sit up fast, looking down.
How did I get home?
Memories start drifting back in. Memories of me begging for sex and a beautiful man driving me home.
What was I thinking? What was wrong with me?
Holy mother of God, I kissed a girl and sucked on her breasts.
What the fuck?
I’m still in the hideous mini dress and my underwear feel old and gross from being dry humped on the couch. I need a shower and some holy water and a confessional.
How could I have let all of that happen? I didn't have sex in college.
Last night was a write-off, except for him. I cannot stop thinking about him. Part of me is ashamed for every moment, but the other part is giving myself a high five—in the vagina.
I get out of bed, fighting the headache and stomachache lingering inside of me, to get to the shower. I don't dare look at myself in the mirror. I skip makeup, tie my hair into a bun, and pull on the comfiest suit I own.
The elevator ride up to work is worse than the one down from my apartment. Waves of nausea roll up and down my stomach, churning and gurgling from nerves and whatever else is in my system.
I almost run into Brandon when the doors open to him standing, waiting for me. “Morning, sunshine.” He smiles sweetly as if we are both having a grand fucking morning. He hands me coffee and instantly turns on his heel, barking away about our morning.
“We have a busy day. Are you ready to crush balls and dreams all at once?”
I growl earning me a wry grin. “Someone seems cheerful, did you have a rough night?” He looks sideways, giving me a suspicious look when we walk to my office.
“I had a fine night and I AM cheerful today,” I sigh, sounding less than convincing.
“What did you do last night?” he asks, making me sigh. I don't answer, but just lean on my desk, lost in a daydream of the mystery guy.
“Hello? Hannah?” Brandon waves his hand in my face. “What is going on with you today? You better watch it, everyone is going to think you’re going soft.” He jokes and hands me my messages. “Oh right, we have a meeting in ten minutes. Get ready for it. Bring the bitch out for this one. Apparently, we are dealing with some guy and his company. There are some people who think he’s an asshole. He wanted a meeting with you today and he is a new client. Just called us the other day and sent over some stuff he wants us to do.”
I nod, ignoring him. Clients aren’t hard to deal with. They‘re all the same. I look back at Brandon, realizing he’s gone suddenly. I sigh again, staring out the huge windows of my large office.
Brandon pops his head back into my office a few moments later. “Ready?” He purses his lips, realizing I am not myself. “Have you been sitting here this entire time? Have you gotten ready? Where’s your makeup?”
I fl
inch. “So which company is this?” I ask as he hands me my makeup bag. I open it up, avoiding eye contact as I quickly apply a moderate amount of foundation, powder, mascara, and gloss. Brandon applies the blush. He thinks by being gay he has the ability to do makeup but it isn’t the case. He always adds too much. “Brandon, what company is this?”
“I believe a little of everything. Last year they were doing some real estate developing—they were the ones that wanted to expand the shoreline with apartments last year. I showed you the papers yesterday,” he says quietly as we walk arm and arm down the hallway.
“I don't remember. You’ve talked on the phone with them, right?”
“Yes, they were pushy for this meeting. I think you’ll need to get your bitch on. These two are smooth talkers and everyone I know says they’re assholes.” He nods at the room when we round the corner and can see both men in the boardroom. Both are around my age or a bit older. One is wearing a nice dark-grey suit with a baby-blue tie. It fits him perfectly, forming around his sculpted muscles. His hair is sandy brown, cut short, and nicely styled. He has a wide jaw and a rugged face. He looks like he’ll be fun to wrestle with.
The other one is shorter but not as good looking. He has on a black suit with a reddish tie. He almost looks like a surfer dude in a suit.
They both turn as soon as we enter, fixing their ties, and walk over to Brandon and me.
I put my resting bitch face back on, walking confidently over to them, holding my hand out to the one in the dark grey suit. “Good morning. I’m Hannah Edwards.” I nod as he takes my hand, squeezing it in the handshake, almost gripping me too tight. His dark blue eyes light up slightly.
“Logan Bennett. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Edwards.” He curls his lip up as he says my name, as if it’s weird for him to be saying it. Jesus, what has he heard about me? Am I another Jenny, a hapless divorcée?
I let go of his hand, noticing right away he flexes as if I have squeezed too hard. The entire interaction is awkward. I try to ignore it, reaching for the other man to shake his hand. “Hannah Edwards, lovely to meet you.” I smile at him as he takes my hand, shaking firmly. He moves like he might kiss the back of my hand but doesn't act on the response that seems as if it might be second nature to him.
The Club Page 3