Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Dirty? Yes. Hedonistic? Absolutely. Filthy beyond belief? You betcha. But right now, it’s my best solution. What other options do I have? I don’t want to call any of my exes, because they’re kind of losers. I don’t want to go on-line because I don’t think many guys would be into dating pregnant women. And most of all, I don’t want a relationship. I made a decision when I got pregnant that I was going to do this on my own. As a result, I’m not looking for a boyfriend, babydaddy, or anything like that. I’m looking for a man to give me a deep backdoor drill to help me through the nausea, and then thank you, goodnight. They’ve done their job, and I just want them to leave without any cuddles, kisses, or romance.
So yes, I’m a filthy whore. I get it. I’m using men for their bodies, but the thing is that it’s really fun! It makes me feel so good and I love being a naughty girl. Besides, I’m not hurting anyone, and I’m treating this as a “lost period” in my life. After Valley Cryo closed its doors, I decided not to look for another job immediately. Instead, I’m just puttering about my home, taking care of myself while waiting for the baby, so there’s no one keeping tabs on me. What I do in my free time is up to me, and I like it that way.
But right. The party. A slight twinge of nausea makes the vomit rise in the back of my throat and I swallow hard. I can tell it’s going to get worse as the night progresses, so what I need to do is to dress sexy so that I can get my needs taken care of asap when I arrive at the location they’ve texted.
But what to wear? I flip through my lingerie drawer, and finally settle on a purple bra with matching cheeky panties. The bra is basically two postage stamps that cover my nipples, finished with straps that criss cross above my big belly. The sides and bottoms of my creamy tits hang out, begging to be stroked and I giggle while putting it on.
Then I slide into a matching purple thong which basically only covers my clit because it’s so small. I turn to check myself out and giggle at the sight. Oh yeah, the string in back is buried dirtily between my big cheeks. Stepping into my purple stilettos, I bend over with my back to the mirror before pulling my buttocks apart with my hands. Oh yes. My asshole isn’t really covered by the string at all. Instead, the purple line just bisects it, showing off the pink pleats spread on either side, and I giggle again while winking the hole at the mirror. I hope the men at the Circle like what they see because I need something in there sooner rather than later, and I need it bad.
With one last toss of my curls over a shoulder, I grab my trench coat, my purse, and a couple of sex toys, just in case. Then I stride out my door and get into the car, punching in the location on my GPS. The machine beeps and I smile saucily. This is going to be fun and I can’t wait.
2
Freya
* * *
I step onto the wraparound front porch, wobbling precariously in my high heels. Goodness, the Circle certainly selected a different type of venue tonight. The mansion I’m about to enter looks like it was built in the Victorian era with turrets, narrow windows, and gables that droop. The porch itself encircles the entire house, and of course, all the windows are blacked out, although I can hear the tinny sound of music coming from inside.
After knocking, a slot in the door appears and an eye peers out. No one says anything. Instead, I merely look at the green-blue eye as it stares back at me before swiveling to the right and then to the left, as if to make sure I’m alone. The entire effect is a bit creepy.
“Um, green beans?” I ask. “Or maybe green bean, singular? Oh shit, I can’t remember. Here, let me check my phone again.”
But then, the slot slides closed with a thump and the door swings open. A woman stands there, she of the green-blue eye. She’s gorgeous with black hair swept into an updo, and a tiny black cocktail dress that bedecks her curves.
“You’re in,” she says. “Welcome to the Circle.”
I nod, stepping into the house.
“Thanks.”
The door swings shut behind me, and I make my way down a long hallway covered with an exquisite runner made of red and brown wool. Then, I turn left, where the music’s coming from, and sure enough, this is the location of the party.