Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Or at all.
I also learned from my search that I like monogamy. And I don’t know how I’d feel if my partner came to me and asked if they could bring another person into our relationship.
Not that I have a relationship to even consider.
The dancer moves to the next guy. Unfortunately for my crew, it isn’t one of them, but a man a few seats down from me. He, too, keeps his hands to himself but has no qualms about burying his face between her legs. I want to be disgusted but given the chance I might’ve done the same thing.
When the dance is over, I excuse myself and make my way toward the bar, only I veer toward the exclusive part of the club. A guy stops me from heading down the hall until I show him my access pass. I can’t imagine what this guy must think about men coming down this way to check out what’s happening in the Viewing Room. However, after my marathon jacking off session, the idea of seeing some live-action fornication interests me. Way more than it did during my tour.
The first room is red, but the second is green. I type in my member number and the door clicks. I step in and take in the scene and decide I’m going to stay for a bit and watch.
There are a few others in the room. We’re spread out, trying to maintain decorum and space, especially from the guy at one of the tables, who is getting a blow job while he watches the action on the stage.
I sit down and rest my ankle on my leg.
“Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Danson?” a waitress mewls in my ear.
“Rum and coke,” I tell her as I observe the people on the stage.
There are three of them up there, with boom mics and video screens showing every angle. The sounds of skin slapping, their moaning, and sex fill the room. It’s an instant turn on. I don’t need to see what’s going on; just listening is enough. But here I am, watching the man as he lies on his back on a mattress covered with a purple silk sheet. There’s a woman sitting on his face, moving up and down, with her head tilted back. His tongue is undoubtedly fucking her while another woman rides his cock like she can’t get enough.
Speaking of, mine says, “Hey, remember me?”
It’s not like I can forget. I rubbed him raw today in hopes I’d get to second or third base with Scotlyn.
“Crash and burn,” I say just as the waitress brings me my drink.
“Did you want to book a room, Mr. Danson?”
I shake my head. “No, thanks.”
Been there, done that.
After she walks away, I wonder if my name is on the computer, showing I was in the Dark Room last night for a whole twenty minutes.
What a fucking embarrassment I am.
EIGHT
Scotlyn
The night passes quickly, and I swear I can see Brent in the club, but if it is him, he hasn’t come to see me. Surely, he would, right? Although, I will admit, Society X can turn even the most innocent of people into nymphomaniacs. Maybe that’s what Brent needs to break out of his shell. However, a part of me feels a little jealousy in my gut at the thought. If it was Brent I saw, then he’s chosen the forbidden desires of Society X over talking to me. I don’t have a right to be upset over that . . . but I am.
Hopefully, it’s not him.
My shift is finally over, and I head to the back to grab my purse before driving home. All I want is to take a shower and drink a small glass of wine while I watch an episode of Game of Thrones before going to bed. I’ve rewatched the entire series about five times now and it never gets old; it’s my comfort show.
Once I fetch my purse out of the break room, I start toward the back door that leads to the employee parking lot.
“Scotlyn, wait,” a voice calls out from down the hall.
I turn to see Dutch, one of Society X’s security guards. He’s tall and dressed in all black with a shaved head and dangerous-looking blue eyes. The man is a beast, and when he walks through the club, everyone steers clear of him.
Dutch nods toward the security room. “I need to show you something.”
There’s a concerned look on his face which is never a good thing.
“Sure,” I say, shouldering my purse.
I walk down the hall and into his domain. The security room is filled with over a dozen monitors, all showing various parts of the club. He goes over to the one displaying the parking lot and I can see someone standing by my car.