Dirty Little Lies (10 page)

We walk into the main room and
all eyes turn to me. My nipples, sensitive and tight after Gabe’s assault,
appreciate the attention. I, however, flush ten shades of scarlet and cast my
eyes to the floor.

“Keep your head up,” Gabe says. “You are Venus-in-Training,
and everyone wants to see you. All of you.”

I look up and the eyes that still remain on me are soft,
admiring, and some even lustful. My admirers smile, wink, and give me gracious
nods. I’m beginning to feel better already.

Gabe orders us white wine to help ease me into the
evening’s festivities, but all I want to do is get him back to the hotel room
and do unspeakable things. The Club is just as it was the first night—alive,
with a heady vibe. The crowd is just as intense. We watch the dance floor,
packed with half-naked people gyrating to the beat, and I can’t help but flush,
wondering what I looked like up there the first night.

Gabe raises an eyebrow to me, as if reading my mind. He
squeezes my hand tightly.

We sit through four songs. Yes, I’m counting—nervously
hoping Gabe will let me sit through four more before we get started.

No such luck.

“It’s time,” he whispers and leads me down the corridor of
sin. This time we stop at the dark room.

Gabe releases my hand and nudges me toward the door.

“What?” I panic. “You’re not coming with me?”

“That’s not what this room is about, Stevie. This is about
the allure of a stranger’s touch. Letting yourself go, and allowing yourself to
enjoy it.”

He’s right, and I knew this was coming. I’m just not ready
to leave his side yet. He tips his head to me, and I don’t want to let him
down. Hell, I don’t want to let myself down. And who knows, I may really enjoy
it.

I take a deep breath and walk inside.

It is pitch black and a little scary. And when a hand
reaches out for me, I almost scream. “Don’t worry,” a woman’s voice says. “I’m
only here to get you situated. Would you like to sit or stand?”

“Sit,” I say, since my knees threaten to buckle at any
second.

“Very well.” She takes my hand and leads me to a sofa. The
woman helps me lean back and prop my legs up on an ottoman. Her hands are soft
and her voice is nurturing. She helps to take a bit of the edge off.

My seat is comfortable, but every nerve in my body is
tingling. I take a few more deep breaths and close my eyes, trying to adjust to
the room. I begin to calm.

At least until I hear footsteps closing in on me.

From above, lips come down to meet my forehead—giving me a
feather-light kiss. Fingertips work their way into my hair, pulling it back
over the sofa. I hear Gabe’s words in my mind—
just enjoy it
. 

I really start to, but I’m soon taken aback when another
set of hands are on my feet, sliding my sandals off. The hands are small and
move achingly slow as they remove my shoes and explore my feet. It feels like a
woman’s touch.

She rubs my instep and massages deep into my tissue, while
the other hands continue to play with my hair. Then she lifts my foot and pulls
my toes into her mouth, grazing them against her teeth as she releases each
one. I feel the sensation down between my legs, throbbing with each touch.  She
does the same to the other leg and foot, and at the same time, the hands above
me—also a woman’s, I believe—travel down my neck to … oh, my breasts.

I can’t keep track of the hands on my body, but God, it is
so erotic, so fucking incredible. It goes on for what seems like hours, and I
revel in each touch. The woman above me kneads my breasts, occasionally rolling
each nipple between her thumb and finger. It is exquisite.

The woman at my feet has now placed both of my feet on her
shoulders. She inches my toga up to my knees so she has access to my calves.
The massage continues, and soon I’m pressing my breasts into my masseuse’s
hands; I can’t help it.

Then I feel cool air hit my sex as my gown slides up to my
thighs. Of course, I’m sans panties again. Another
offering
to Venus.

I’m soaking wet—I can feel it.

Hands begin sliding up my thighs.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Gabe did not tell me about this. How far do they go in
here? How long do I stay?

“Mmmm,” the woman in front of me says, and I’m not sure I
want to know what she’s referring to. This is going a little too far now, yet,
I’m not sure I want to stop.

Her hands inch up my thighs, higher and higher.

And then in one moment, a dozen different things happen at
the same time. The sofa dips at my left side, a hot mouth is at my ear, and two
fingers plunge into me.

“Uhhhhh,” I groan, unable to process anything that’s going
on.

The fingers begin to work me, and I know I should snap my
legs together, but I can’t. These are no longer woman’s hands. They are big,
thick, and rough hands consuming my body now.

“It’s me,” the voice says in my ear.

Gabe.

The other hands have disappeared, and it’s just Gabe’s on
me now. But he isn’t slow and gentle; he is crazed. He yanks my gown up to my
waist, clamps his mouth around my nipple, and pumps his fingers into to me—fast
and furious.

My hips rock with him, and the build is so quick, I barely
prepare myself before I shatter all around him. A mix of dirty words fall from
my mouth as I spasm and convulse over and over again.

“Incredible,” Gabe growls.

I fall into his lap, unable to move.

“That was something,” he says, holding me now.

“You can say that again,” I add after I come down from my
high. Gabe is like an addiction; this amazing creature. How have I lived so
long without this?

We stay wrapped in each other for long time and I not only
feel sated, I feel adored. My heart squeezes in my chest and I tighten my arms
around my very own sex god, bringing him closer. He strokes my hair and
whispers endearments in my ear. I have to hide the tear that trails down my
cheek, not wanting to ruin one minute of this … this feeling.  

Happiness, I think they call it.

***

The very next night, I’m completely naked in the bathing
room. It’s getting easier to offer myself up this way. I’m becoming more
comfortable in my own skin—I’m also realizing how many of my needs were being
neglected with Max. But though my body is hungry, my heart is sad. Gabe didn’t
stay with me last night and I only had a few minutes with him on the ride to
The Club.  Now he’s left me … alone. He said it was time for me to do a room on
my own. He said I didn’t need him as a crutch anymore, that I’m ready to fly.

He was wrong.

The bathing room is an open space with several tubs—all
white and virginal. Dim lights and candles give it a serene feeling. Yet, it
doesn’t help me. I’m uneasy as I soak in the tub while two young women play
with my hair.

There are about twenty other people—men and women—milling
about. Everyone is watching each other. Strangely, it’s not creepy. It’s
pleasant, sexy even. I close my eyes and try to get into it.

“Hello,” a low voice says, followed by a splashing of water
over my chest.

I open one eye to check out my company. A beautiful man
sits at my side, as if there’d be any question about his looks in this place. Long
brown hair secured in a tail, model-like features, deep brown eyes. Warm.
Sweet. Young—maybe early twenties.

With a slow exhale, I close my eyes again.

The man-boy takes my hand and my entire body shudders at
the foreign feeling of another man’s touch. He stretches out my arm and soon
the softest cloth is stroking me from shoulder to fingertips. Warm. Wet.
Lovely. I continue to control my breath during the achingly slow caress on my
sensitive skin.

“Is this okay?” he asks. “May I bathe you?”

Breathe, Stevie.

“Uh,” I say, wanting to do this. Wanting to continue my
adventure. Wanting to impress Gabe. After all, he said I was ready. It’s time.

I nod and in seconds the women playing with my hair move
away.

Uh, oh.

Man-boy slides an arm around my waist and pulls me toward
him, settling me between his legs. I stay erect, not wanting my body to touch
his. He seems to understand and doesn’t bring me in any closer. He slides my
hair over my shoulder and takes the cloth from my neck and runs it down my
back. 

He continues washing, stroking, playing with me. It’s
gentle—almost loving—and I start to relax. Until his mouth is on my neck.

Gah!

My eyes snap open, I jump up, and whip around.

“Are you okay?” Man-boy asks, worry in his eyes. “Did I do
something wrong?”

I cringe, not wanting to hurt this sweet, gorgeous guy.
“No, no,” I tell him, leaning against the back of the tub away from him.

“I can do something different if you want,” he says.

“No, you’re perfect,” I say. “I just don’t think I’m ready
for this.”

He drops his head. “But I saw you. That night in the
viewing room. You weren’t skittish then.”

“You saw me?” I ask, embarrassment warming my chilled body.

 He blows out a gust of air. “I did. Fuck, you were great.”

“I was?” I’m a little shocked by his reverence.

“Yes,” he smiles and shakes his head. “I haven’t been able
to get you out of my head. I’ve just been waiting for a chance to get close to
you, but you’ve been guarded by Gabe every night. Can we try again? I’ll do
anything you want, just don’t leave, okay?”

He’s so sweet. So genuine—and an incredible boost to the
ego, but I can’t. I need Gabe. Like physical need. Right now.

“Sorry,” I say before rushing into the locker room.

Gabe is waiting. His arms clamp around me the second I
storm in. “What?” he snaps, his face tight. “What happened? Did someone hurt
you out there?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m okay. Can you just take me home?”

“Of course,” he says, careful not to push. “Anything you
need?”

The answer echoes in my head,
you. You. You. You.
But I know I shouldn’t need him—I can’t. I don’t want to need anyone ever
again.

The night is a blur. I babble
on to Gabe about my nerves in the bathing room; the reasons that I’m only
comfortable with him; why I’m not suited for the lifestyle. I’m a blubbering
mess.

“Stevie,” he purrs, tucking me into bed. “Everything you’re
feeling is perfect normal. You are doing amazing. You’ve had so many changes in
the last week, anyone would be second-guessing things right now.”

“I’m not sure I can finish this,” I say. “I really want to,
I want to know about all of it. But I’m scared.”

“Hey, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.
Still, I also don’t want you to miss out on something you might enjoy. What if
I accompany you in the next two rooms, but we take a few nights off in between?”

“Really? You don’t think that’s cheating?”

“No.” He kisses my forehead. “Not at all.”

“Okay,” I tell him.

“Okay,” he agrees before sliding into bed with me.

***

I move through the next rooms at The Club with surprising
ease after the first two nights. Maybe because I know once things begin to get
heated, Gabe will be there to rescue me … and, ah, finish me off.

First, it’s the bondage room.

“Why does the room smell all lemony?” I ask, looking around
the space in awe. There are benches, crosses, and equipment that is downright
frightening. I shiver at the sound of clanking metal and groans of—I don’t know
what. Pain? Pleasure?

“It’s the polish for all the wood,” Gabe replies.

“That’s what she said,” I quip. To which, he gives me a
hard smack across my rear.

Hmm, interesting. Okay. I might be down with
this.

Gabe promises to be at my side the entire time, so when he
tells me to remove my toga, I don’t give it a second thought. I strip and his
eyes go dark—just as they do every time he looks at my body. I can’t get enough
of his reactions. He walks me over to a long bench. It’s on an angle and
fashioned with straps and cuffs. My bod is on high alert, quite worried about
what’s in store for tonight’s festivities.

“We’ll start slow,” Gabe says in that low dirty voice of
his, gripping my neck to bend me over the bench.

Mama.

My legs fall to the side and Gabe straps them in. He smoothes
my torso flat over the cool leather surface, my bum is now high in the air,
exposing me to the room. He then stretches my arms to the sides of the bench,
where the cuffs are. He snaps my wrists in. I tug my extremities, testing the
restraints, and come to the conclusion I’m virtually immobile. This equipment is
not just for looks.   

Gabe’s strong, rough hand runs down my back, over my bum,
grazing my sex underneath. I nearly lose it right then, aching when his hand is
gone. He selects something off a table and brings it around to show me. It’s
like ping pong paddle, but covered in fur. It trails along my side, tickling my
skin, as he walks down to the end of the bench. I have the sneaking suspicion
that my ass is going to be the ball in this game.

Thud.

He gives me a quick and painful swat that takes my breath away.
Quickly, he palms my sex to soothe. Again, swat and soothe. An electric current
ripples through my body. It’s strangely pleasurable.

Gabe moves again to the table and this time, shows me a
riding crop.

Giddyup.

I can just barely see him from the corner of my eye as he
takes his stance, and with a flick of the wrist …

Motherfucker, that hurts.

He does the same pattern. Flick and soothe. I hold my
breath. This time it’s not enjoyable. Not at all. He changes instruments and
keeps moving at a steady pace. While there’s nothing wrong with a well-timed
smack on the ass, this is ridiculous. It stings. Worse than plucking, or waxing,
or God forbid, exercising.

My head pounds and hot tears spill from my eyes. Finally, I
can’t take it anymore.

“Bumblebee,” I scream. It’s the first word that comes to
mind. No, we never talked safe words, but I read the books. I know how this is
supposed to go. Say the word and the pain stops. And I want it to stop this
instant.

It works. No more pain.

“What the hell?” Gabe’s face comes into vision through my
tears. He’s squatting in front of me. “Jesus, Stevie. You’re hurt?”

“Damn right I’m hurt. You’ve been whipping me with
everything you could find on that fucking table.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? The way you were moaning, I
thought you were enjoying yourself.”

“I was, at first, with the furry job. After that, it stung
like a bitch.” I blow my sweaty bangs off my forehead.

Gabe’s face relaxes and before I know it, he’s shaking. In
laughter.
Real nice.
He uncuffs me and I pinch his ear. “You think this
is funny, you masochist?”

“Hey,” he bats at my hand. “Bumblebee. Bumblebee.”

“It’s my safe word,” I offer indignantly.

“So I gathered.” He rubs my wrists. “I’m sorry, baby. I
should’ve prepared you better for this. But look at it this way, now we know
what you don’t like.”

“Yeah? Tell that to my aching behind.”

He leans over and peppers kisses all over my bottom, then
grabs some type of cream from the table and massages it in. “I’ll never hurt
you again,” he whispers to my bottom.

“Well—” I start.

“I’m listening,” Gabe says.

“Like I said, I didn’t mind the paddle o’fur.”

“Mmm,” he hums. “So noted.”

“You know, this bench could be put to much better uses. Why
waste it with pain?”

“What did you have in mind, Ms. Sinclair?”

Gabe unbuckles me and I quickly turn around, link my legs
around his waist, and pull him to me. I capture his lips and invade his mouth
so deeply, it has him moaning.

“Intolerable,” he says as his lips turn up in a way that
makes me want to do filthy things to him in this room full of people.

What I wouldn’t give to get
him
on this bench.

***

After our night of
Bondage-An-Ow- Ow
, I sleep like
the dead.

The next time we’re at The Club, I perform a strip tease. It’s
the easiest room for me by far. Gabe must’ve liked my performance because
after, he pulled me into his office to have his wicked way with me. But as
incredible as these little adventures have been, the nights in between are the
best. Yes, I am a vixen at Venus. The rest of the time? I’m simply his. I don’t
think I’ve ever been so in tune with my body, or with another person. I find
myself weeping as each day passes, bringing our time together closer to an end.

So far, we’ve spent our free evenings with a walk down to
the pier to ride on the Ferris wheel, a picnic in the park, and dinner at
Gabe’s favorite Indian place.

Tomorrow night, he plans to take me to his new hotel.

But first, I have one more due to pay at The Club.