Seductive Shadows Page 7

  “Hi, Sa—”

  “Sandy will do her job in complete silence, and while she’s in your room, you will follow the same rule.”

  I nodded.

  Next to the sinks were glass bottles and canisters, filled with what appeared to be lotion, perfume, mouthwash, facial and hand soap. Scents wafted from the containers; jasmine and bamboo, amber and musk. The lavender calmed me; I was jolted awake by the cedar wood and fresh apple. The smells reminded me of the Recruiter. I had already showered, washed my hair, and shaved the stubble from my body, but I wanted to do it again. I wanted to feel the water cascading from the ceiling, lather the flowery-smelling bubbles over my skin, and massage my muscles with the purple lotion.

  “There’s one more room, Charlie.” Victoria moved out of the bathroom and stood by the door on the left. She didn’t open it. “This is for the girls who participate in heavier role-play and beating. You may go in and have a look around, but unless you’re properly trained, we wouldn’t allow you to bring a client in there.”

  I didn’t need her to open the door in order to imagine what was behind it. Some men enjoyed having their power stripped, to play the submissive, and some wanted to always be in control. Then there were fetishes, and instruments that were used for striking, whipping, and suspension. Those were much more hardcore than the limits I had discussed with Victoria over the phone that afternoon. The chains and handcuffs that were on the ceiling in my room were within my boundaries, along with certain levels of pain, sex toys that vibrated or plugged, and most of the scenes she had listed as long as they didn’t involve rape. I told her I wouldn’t stand for any form of sexual humiliation, to be a man’s slave, or to have all of my control stripped. A loss of power could be sexy, but I wasn’t going to be Lilly—even if I was getting paid for it. Victoria said the potential suitors would be told my rules before they were allowed to book time with me, and I would be informed of their wants and needs prior to them entering my wing.

  Victoria took a few steps back, appearing as though she were about to leave. “Sandy is going to spend some extra time on you tonight. In the future, your preparation will become much more routine.”

  I scrambled for a question to keep her from leaving. There was still so much unknown; having her here stalled me for time and gave me a few final moments to breathe.

  “How will I know when it’s two o’clock?” I asked.

  “As I mentioned before, the sound of a bell will ring through the speakers, signaling that it’s five minutes of. At precisely two, Sal will enter and escort your client out. You may take a few minutes to clean yourself up and change back into your robe before Sal takes you down to the limo.”

  “What if my client asks something personal? Do I have to answer?”

  “You’re here to act out their fantasies. Under no circumstances will either party be allowed to probe for personal information, or to disclose any.”

  The sparks in my stomach and the bursts in my chest made all of her words a bit fuzzy.

  “Anything else?” she asked.

  Having sex with the Recruiter was the preliminary round, and I had passed. Tonight was the real test. If my client wasn’t pleased, this could be my last evening at the mansion. Was that what I wanted? I had already mentally spent my first paycheck. I yearned for this challenge and believed I could succeed at it. My desire for a release was becoming much stronger, and Victoria wanted me to consider her my family, all of which told me this was exactly where I needed to be.

  ”No,” I said. “I don’t believe so.”

  “Very well, then.” She took a few steps and then glanced back at me over her shoulder. “Tonight will be a little…unconventional. Make me proud, Cee.”

  I watched her move down the hallway, the train of her long slip gliding over the broken mirrors, and heard the click when the door locked behind her. Then I felt something on my arm. It was Sandy, standing in front of me, her hands resting on my skin. When we made eye contact, she gently tugged me into the bathroom.

  She spread out a folding table not too far from the sinks, covered it with a towel, and wheeled over a cart of products. She put out her hand, signaling me to lie down. Once I was settled, she lifted the bottom of my robe and bunched it around my stomach. Using a tongue depressor, she wiped wax over the small landing strip of hair I had left. They wanted me bare…but not just the front. After several rips, Sandy twirled her finger, a sign that she wanted me to flip over. And she didn’t stop once she finished that area. She waxed every piece of hair off my body and slathered me in oil and lotion.

  My hands were covered in remnants of paint. It didn’t matter how many times I washed, how hard I scrubbed, or how much soap I used; the colors from my latest piece always seeped into my skin. The different tints acted as accessories to my outfits, but Sandy was able to remove it all while she exfoliated my flesh with sugary goo until my skin glowed. My nails and toes were painted a deep crimson; the ends of my hair curled and sprayed. Perfume had been misted over my chest and core. When it was time to get dressed, she handed me black lace boy shorts and a long, bulky, striped button-down shirt. A black tie and thigh-high fishnet stockings finished the look. She didn’t leave me any heels, jewelry, or even a bra…just a mask that matched my tie.

  Passing by the bathroom mirror, I took a quick glance to review the final look. I stopped, and stared. I gasped. I knew I was attractive; men had always shown me interest, sometimes too much, but this…

  Sandy had made me perfect.

  She airbrushed my face until all my imperfections were gone. Against the subdued color of my makeup, the green of my eyes popped. Sandy had made sure they were the focal point, extending my lashes and curling them around the mask. I almost didn’t recognize the pale, glossy lips that I usually painted in dark hues or the gleaming white teeth that before tonight had been slightly stained by coffee. I touched my cheek, my short, square, red nails stroking skin that looked and felt exotic. Layered, messy, loose curls framed my face and shone from the light. I pushed the pads of my fingers into my forehead, then my cheeks, and I blinked. The view didn’t change. This was how I looked all cleaned up. And I would have plenty more nights to gawk.

  I pulled myself away from the mirror and moved into the bedroom to explore the nightstand and chest before my client arrived. I wanted to be familiar with the room and the toys that were available…and to locate something strong to drink. There had to be a fully stocked bar somewhere in here that could offer me a few sips of calm, but I didn’t know where it was. As I made my way toward the bed, I heard a noise behind me. I turned my neck just slightly, assuming Sandy had forgotten something, and pressed my chin against my shoulder. My breath caught in my throat and my palms began to sweat. It wasn’t her. This must have been what Victoria had meant by unconventional.

  Without a warning from Sal, a man stood in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe. His feet were crossed, his hands in his pockets. He wore a black suit and a white shirt, and his tie matched mine. His was loosened around the collar, though mine wasn’t. His shoes clicked when he shifted his feet.

  I turned and faced him, resting against the pole of the bed and squeezing it between my fingers. My back straightened; I parted my lips like my legs and allowed my tongue to show slightly between my teeth. “Hello, there,” I said, my face tilted a little to the side, curls bouncing from the movement. My voice didn’t show a hint of the nervousness I felt—the butterflies in my gut, the turmoil in my womb, my rapidly beating heart. Nothing betrayed me.

  He closed the door, sending me his smell. Whiskey, maybe, and crisp leaves, mixed with cologne that was a few hours old.

  “Good evening,” he said. He slowly moved closer.

  I took in all of him. Though he was dressed as a gentleman, there was something rugged about him; a man who didn’t use only his brain when he went to work, but his hands, too. His eyes moved from mine and landed on my body, causing everything below my neck to redden. Only a few seconds passed before I fel
t him. His thumb grazed my bottom lip, his skin cold from the glass he held in his palm. I licked my lips, tasting the sweetness he had left behind. The spark from that simple touch opened my pores.

  I needed him to want me.

  He pressed the rim of the glass against my lips, pouring a shot of the amber liquid into my mouth. I swallowed. It was exactly what I wanted, something stiff that would ease my flutters. It burned my throat, gliding down smoothly and without effort. It felt so good…and it tasted even better. His hand brushed against my jaw as he held the drink out in front of me. I met his eyes and waited, but he wouldn’t give me a second sip. He moved a few inches closer, and I leaned farther back into the pole. The liquid finally entered into my mouth, and my body responded to his power.

  While I stood in silence waiting for his next move, I observed the finer details of his face. He took care of himself; his body attested to that. His skin didn’t look older than forty. I pictured his square chin resting on the mattress, his blue eyes meeting my green ones, the light dusting of scruff that covered his cheeks tickling the inside of my thighs. My breast fitting perfectly in his palm, with his long, slender fingers trapping my nipple and squeezing it between his nails. I wanted to lick the stubble on the sides of his face. I wanted to nibble his large, soft lips.

  “Call me Jay,” he said.

  During one of our conversations, Victoria had told me not to use my real name when I was with a client, to have the men call me Cee instead. Not that it mattered, but it made me assume that Victoria wasn’t really hers.

  “What can I call you?” he asked.

  This wasn’t about me, I reminded myself. I could fantasize all I wanted about Jay, but I was here to please him. And it wasn’t about what I should say; it was about what he would want to hear.

  “You can call me anything you want,” I replied. “Tell me, Jay: who do you want me to be?”

  The breath he exhaled trickled inside my collar and down my neck. “Tell me your name,” he said a little louder. There wasn’t any anger in his tone. Just desire.

  “Cee.”

  He dipped his head, his lips stopping just above my earlobe. His fingers traced the skin below my jaw. I expected words to come out of his mouth, but instead it was a tiny moan. A breeze of cold air rushed against me as he moved over to the bed. He sat on the edge, unknotting his tie before resting his hands on the mattress.

  “Come to me.”

  I stepped past the pole and around the end of the bed. His commands, the way he expected to be obeyed, enticed me. They weren’t cruel or threatening; his voice, his words, his whole persona was deliberate and inviting. The need from my other sexual partners had often been a turn off, but Jay’s tone was just the opposite.

  “Slowly,” he said.

  With my chin pointed down, hair falling over my cheeks, I looked up at him as though he were my master. If this was the role I needed to take tonight to impress Victoria and make her proud, I was ready to abide. Our eyes met, and his breath quickened. I bit my bottom lip and took a step forward. My toes danced over a broken slab of mirror, pausing for several seconds, and I took another. Landing just a foot from his lap, my fingers caressed the buttons of his shirt. When I got to the bottom, I started back up.

  “Take it off,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine.

  I pushed his top button through the hole.

  “No,” he said quickly. “Yours.”

  My fingers circled around the top buttons of my shirt, popping them through their holes. As I got lower I shimmied my shoulders out of the collar, and the shirt fell to my chest. With my breasts still hidden, I hesitated.

  His mouth opened. “Drop it. Now.”

  His impatience was sexy; his demands caused everything below my stomach to soften as the fluttering increased. His voice was as nerve-wracking as it was arousing.

  I pulled the shirt open, rubbing the fabric over my nipples, making them even harder as they pushed through the thin cotton. I watched the shirt fall to the floor. It floated so slowly and gracefully in its descent. I kept my eyes lowered as I dipped my fingers into the waist of my panties, running the width of my stomach.

  “Now those.”

  I pulled the waist as wide as the elastic would allow and circled the lace around my hips before I stepped out of them. I stood naked except for my stockings, my eyes still focused on the mirrored floor.

  “Back up, and crawl to the bed.”

  My knees touched down on the glass. My hands were spread in front of me, and I moved forward. The surface was cold, but the heat I felt didn’t allow for any discomfort. I was sweating under his gaze. I finally looked up when I got to his feet. I wondered what he was thinking. I certainly wasn’t new to sex…but this was more than that. I rested my head on his thigh, and his muscles tightened. His breathing filled the air, and his fingers reached into my hair, combing through the curls. When he got to the end of a lock, he started over.

  “Good girl,” he said.

  His movements were soft, his touch tender, but everything else about him was firm. There was so much control in his movements, and I allowed him to use it, yet the edge of his lips turned into a smile whenever I hesitated or paused; that showed me he liked to be tested. And even though every part of me was exposed and vulnerable, with his eyes locked on my own I pleaded silently for him to touch me.

  Gently, I dragged my chin across his thigh, stopping when I reached the edge of his bulge. It began to grow. His mouth opened, then closed again. My hands followed, gripping his pants between my fingers, holding the fabric for just a few seconds before moving to his knees. I wanted to take him in my mouth, between my lips and down my throat. But I also wanted to tease him and make him command his desires.

  “Take off my belt,” he said.

  I didn’t allow him to see my smile, but it was there, even in my eyes. I did as I was told and complied with his second order: to remove his pants. When I pulled the waist past his ankles, he said, “Crawl to the pillows.”

  My movements stopped. He didn’t want me to remove his boxers? His socks? To take him in my mouth? My tongue craved his tip; I wanted to hear the tiny puffs of breath burst from his lips like they were coming from mine. I leaned forward with my mouth open, my tongue circling the inside of my lips.

  He shook his head, his smile lines turning deep. “Get on the bed. Now.”

  I slid my breasts up his shins, then his knees, as I stood. Pressing my hands into the mattress, my ass high up in the air, I slowly crawled to the pillows.

  “Lie on your back.”

  I pressed my neck into the feathery fluff, taking deep breaths of the fresh linen and fabric softener scents that surrounded me. I didn’t know this man, and I didn’t trust him entirely. My desire to please warred with my sense of self-preservation. But tingles had spread down my legs from imagining the unknown, and my nipples ached.

  He sat at my side with one leg on the floor and the other bent. His hand rested between my legs. His fingers didn’t touch me; his palm just pushed into the mattress. His eyes traveled to my breasts. Then his stare lowered. “Is your pussy aching for me?”

  My body was screaming, and I wanted those same sounds to come through my lips. My fingers wanted to be on him; they itched to feel his skin and the muscles that were hidden underneath his T-shirt. I repeated his words in my head and nodded.

  “If you want me to release that ache, then I need you to love yourself. Make me believe that you love yourself, Cee.”

  His tongue was the only thing I could focus on, and the way his eyes bore into my flesh when he discovered a new section of my body. His commands mentally massaged me. I spread my legs even farther, but he never entered. Not with his lips or his tongue or his fingers. His eyes just scanned the patch of bare flesh between them. “Touch yourself,” he demanded. “Touch yourself the way you want me to touch you.”

  I thought back to Cabby and Teddy, my stuffed animals, and how I had turned them around the first time I touched myself because I
didn’t want an audience. I wanted one now. I wanted him to be so aroused and so pleased with my actions that he would slip a finger inside me and have a hard time stopping his mouth from devouring me. And I wanted Victoria to feel the same as she watched me on the TV monitor.

  From the moment Jay had teased my lips with his thumb, he’d proven that he didn’t need to be led. My actions weren’t going to convince him how much I loved myself; they were going to show him how obedient I was. He wanted to feel in charge, so that’s what I was going to keep giving him.

  My clit throbbed for attention, but I wasn’t going to feed it right away. So I pressed my thighs together. I needed to ease my way down, satisfying other parts of my body first, allowing the need to continue to build. His pupils followed as my fingers found my mouth, sucking the tips as if they were his cock. I needed to show him how well I could suck and how devoted I was to his satisfaction. I allowed my nails to sweep down my neck and around my breasts, leaving gentle red streaks on my skin. His hands twitched when I pinched each of my nipples, twisting until a soft moan escaped. As I traveled farther down, his mouth opened, tongue pressing against the inside of his lip.

  “Touch your pussy,” he said.

  I could feel my wetness when I spread my legs again. With the air hitting the inside of my folds, I throbbed even worse.

  “Now.”

  My fingers landed, and I heard his sharp intake of breath. His mouth opened, but I couldn’t hear if he groaned. I couldn’t hear anything over my own grunts and soft screams. The friction worked quickly, causing that familiar feeling to swell within me. If sound could float, there would have been a cloud of moans hanging constantly over my face. My back arched; the top of my head scrunched into the pillow. Instead of gripping the headboard, holding something steady while the pressure in my body built, I squeezed my nipple. When the pain leveled, I pinched harder. I moved my head to the side, taking a mouthful of pillowcase and gripped it with my teeth.