Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“No. Thank you, Oaklyn.” She nodded with a smile and began to pack up her bag. “Headed home for the night?”
She let out a heavy sigh. “No. I have to work tonight, so I’m headed there and then home.”
It was a struggle to keep my face neutral, but somehow, I managed. She waved goodbye, and I tried to focus on my work. Tried to not think about her performing and being surrounded by men. What if one of them took it too far? What if she was hurt again?
Rationally, I knew Daniel took the utmost care of his employees, but after seeing her Friday night, the pit in my stomach wouldn’t abate.
Giving up on the papers in front of me, I shut everything down and headed home. Each mile I drove, I thought about her and wondered if she was okay. It haunted me, irrationally taking over every thought.
I walked in my house and slammed my door, carefully hung up my jacket, stomped up the stairs, and got undressed. I draped my tie onto the rack, and tugged until it perfectly lined up with the rest; placed my shoes on the floor alongside my other dress shoes, the laces carefully tucked inside; coiled my belt tightly and put it in the drawer with the buckle facing out, and dumped the rest of my clothes into the empty laundry basket.
I stood in my walk-in closet, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs, my chest heaving, feeling no calmer than I had when I’d left school. Just feeling too much, period.
I needed a drink. I took long strides to reach my door and as soon as my hand rested on the handle, I remembered my conversation with Oaklyn and how I explained how far I’d come since needing to drink. Now look at me, ready to storm downstairs and chug straight from the bottle. I had more restraint than that.
I forced myself to breathe in for five seconds, out for five. In for five seconds, out for five. I didn’t dare let go of the handle until I had regained control. By the time I did, my fingers tingled from squeezing the metal knob so hard.
I carefully walked back into my closet and grabbed a long-sleeved Henley, jeans, and my ballcap with Cincinnati stitched across it. Then I strolled downstairs, grabbed my keys, and headed to Voyeur. Rationalizing the whole way that if I was the one watching her, then no one else could and I’d limit the risk of someone pushing too far.
I didn’t hesitate when I reached the club. I kept my head down, hat shadowing my face as I stuck to the edges of the room, keeping my eye out for her. Of course, I saw her as soon as I entered. Her magnetism had me stopping and staring. She had a tray of drinks and was laughing with a couple at a table. She had on the same swishy skirt from earlier, except now, she only wore a lacy bustier that showcased her breasts to perfection.
Control. I needed control. I’d gone to Voyeur for a reason and I needed to focus on that.
I went back to the iPads and made my selection, not bothering to sit in a booth in case she came to take my order.
Maybe thirty minutes later of watching her flit around the lounge, smiling, flirting, talking with all the customers, my wristband finally buzzed. I darted down the back hallway and entered the private room. I flicked on one of the lamps, casting a dim light across the two leather club chairs. I didn’t even acknowledge the wall of toys and lube, knowing I wouldn’t need them tonight.
The leather creaked in the silent room as I looked through the glass at the setup waiting for Oaklyn. A simple scene of a girl on the couch watching something sexy and then getting herself off to it. No nudity. Nothing graphic.
She walked in like it was her own home, natural as could be. She moved to the couch, slightly slanted so, I could see more than just her profile, and turned on the TV. Some soft core porn filled the screen and she looked on enraptured by the couple on the screen. I wondered what she was thinking. What she was imagining.
My fists squeezed the armchair, my heartbeat echoing in my ears, as her hands coasted up her legs, dragging the skirt up her thighs, but still not exposing anything as the material fell at her core. Her hands continued their ascent, cupping her breasts. Her eyes slipped closed and her lips opened, a moan reaching through the glass and stroking at my cock.
The semi-erection I’d had since walking in hardened to my full length, pressing against the confines of my pants. One hand kept working her breast and the other moved back down to between her thighs. Moving the skirt aside, but still not showing anything, she began her show.