Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
My heart quickens as I’m whooshed into the sky. Where’s Ryder going? What am I going to find? And if I don’t like what I see, what then?
The doors open with a delicate ping! and I step out onto a lushly carpeted landing with glass walls affording a staggering view of the city. Two men in black suits stand beside the only door in the hallway checking the phones of two tall, handsome men waiting to enter. On their screens, I see a Q code flash briefly, as well as the words Club Z VIP. What does that mean? Nonetheless, this must be where Ryder is.
The two guests disappear behind the double doors, but not before I catch a waft of sensual music filtering out into the hall. What is this place? A gentleman’s club? Some kind of high-end cult? But then, the security guards turn to me.
“Can we help you?” one asks in a gruff voice. He’s polite, but obviously a professional. I roll the dice.
“Actually, yes,” I say in my sweetest voice. “I’m late for work. Would you be able to let me in?” The suited men exchange a glance.
“This isn’t the employee entrance. It’s the VIP entrance,” states the second security guard. “And you need your badge.”
I flutter my lashes playfully, grateful that I’m wearing a sundress with a low décolletage.
“Oh, how silly of me!” I exclaim as innocently as possible. “I forgot my badge, you see, and I can’t use the employee entrance because it’s locked already. I’m already so late, you know, and it would really help if I could go in this way. I’m sorry. Just this once.” Of course, if I’m way off, then the bouncers are going to call my bluff and tell me to leave. But I can tell the men are mulling over my statement, which gives me the courage to continue. “Please?” I add, discreetly pressing my arms into the sides of my cleavage so my breasts are pushed together. “I really need to get to work.” My actions are becoming farcical, but hey, I’m desperate.
The seductive move has the desired effect. The suited men stare at me once more, taking in my flushed cheeks, generous figure, and lustrous locks. One of them clears his throat.
“Fine,” he says huskily. “But don’t let it happen again. Always have your badge with you because you know how Club Z management is. They’re sticklers for security, and we could be fired.”
“Oh yes,” I breathe while fluttering my lashes again, unable to believe my ploy’s actually worked. “Of course not. Thank you, gentlemen.” The man swings the door open for me, nodding curtly, and I stroll into the private recesses of the suite.
I blink for a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the dim interior. What is this place? I’m in a small anteroom that leads to a hallway. The music coming from the far end of the space is light jazz, and at that moment, a woman strolls by, clad in nothing but a pink thong and stiletto heels, her breasts bare and bouncing. Then she giggles and begins walking down the hall, and taking a gulp of air, I follow. Where are we going?
Fortunately, the stroll’s not far. I follow the woman as she turns into a much larger room, which makes me pause. This is where the action is happening because the main room is lushly decorated with red velvet sofas, flocked wallpaper, and dimly-lit chandeliers. Semi-nude men and women cluster about, laughing and chatting while clinking glasses of champagne like nothing’s wrong, but I catch my breath because clearly, this place is a sex club. Maybe in a prior life it was a hotel suite of some sort, but it’s been re-done to suit the tastes of a certain set of customers, and the debauchery is rampant.
In the center is a large red ottoman made of velvet, and a woman’s lying on it, totally nude with a man between her legs, sipping at her dripping cunt. She moans with pleasure, but her words are muffled because another man’s got his cock pressed into her throat, running it in and out as he strokes his fingers through her hair.
“Yes baby,” he rasps, his eyes watching as her pussy gets pummeled by his partner. “Fuck yeah, her mouth tightens every time you suck her clit.”
Meanwhile, there are several discreet alcoves surrounding the red ottoman, and through the sheer drapery, I sense, rather than see, people having sex. One woman is clearly riding her partner, her head thrown back with pleasure as he fucks up into her again and again. Meanwhile, there’s some sort of movement going on in another alcove, and my eyes widen as I glimpse a woman on her hands and knees, crying out as a man parts her big buttocks before pushing his member into her ass.