Pleasure to meet you? That’s not what you say right after you finger a girl to orgasm in front of a room full of strangers!
Then again, what do you say after you finger a girl to orgasm in front of a room full of strangers? Oh, never mind. He’s an asshole.
He saunters off, his hair and shirt flowing in ripples like there’s a fan in front of him wherever he goes.
Fuck.
Fuck me.
Fucking fuck fuck.
Bastard.
Horrible asshole bastard.
I’m so goddamned pissed I want to run after him and throw my drink in his face.
But I don’t.
No, I keep calm. This is just a test. He’s testing me, that’s it. He wants to know if I’m worthy. Oh, that’s it. I’m soooooooo going to pass his tests and win.
“Another drink?” says Cock Toy, his eyes down as he approaches me from the side. After the presence of Lukas Thorn, the chiseled body of this submissive man has become totally irrelevant to me.
I look him over, consider throwing him down on the floor and mounting him right here in front of everybody to make Lukas jealous, but I just say, “Yes.” He moves off to fetch me another drink.
I look over at Lukas Thorn. A new gaggle of giggling bitch slut whores have gathered around him, laughing.
I storm back over to the balcony. Lorena is talking with a man I recognize, a well-known flamboyant New York fashion designer. He’s wearing a Willy Wonka-style suit with wide purple and black stripes with a matching top hat.
“Jayd!” says Lorena. “I’d like to introduce you to—”
“Oh, no need. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I have a couple pairs of your shoes.”
“Just a couple?” he says. “Well, get on that, dear. You need more!” I laugh. “Lorena, I see someone I want to play with. I’ll talk to you later. Nice to meet you, Jayd.”
He flops away. Lorena takes a fake puff and looks at me. She’s about to speak but I interrupt her.
“I’m in,” I say.
“In?”
“Your academy. Everything. I want to try it. I think it might be for me.”
A huge smile spreads over Lorena’s face.
“I knew you would, Jayd.”
Chapter 4
I gotta admit, Karissa’s ass is something else. She’s prancing around the stripper pole, the steady rhythm of “I’m Worth It” by Fifth Harmony thumping the room. The low black sofa in which I sit seems to lift up off the floor with every bass beat.
The lyrics fit Karissa perfectly.
I’m on my second Ciroc with grapefruit juice, attempting to replicate the nuclear drink from Lorena’s party but not succeeding, sitting with her friends Ginger and Chantel. Weird to be the only girl without a cock.
Which becomes even more weird when Karissa drops her panties for a guy who has placed a five-dollar bill on the rail.
Ginger and Chantel talk normally about random girl topics while I’m just astounded and amazed at this place. I’ve never even been to a strip club before¸ much less a transgender one.
I gotta admit, the girls are freakin’ hot.
Karissa gets on her knees, wiggling her ass right in the face of the man who sits and stares. Her cock flaps halfway down her thigh. God, how does anyone walk around with one of those?
The song ends, she stands up, blows a kiss at the guy, and collects her tiny pile of clothes as she walks down off the stage toward us.
“A big round of applause for Heaven,” says the D.J. in a booming voice. “Gentlemen, as always the ladies are available for private dances in the VIP Booth. Now put your hands together for Diamond!”
There is a smattering of applause as a six-foot-five blonde girl with massive breasts saunters out in a glittery outfit and swings right up on the pole into a spin.
I can’t help but stare at the beast of a cock swinging back and forth in front of my face as Karissa walks up to me and sits down.
I’ve seen it before—the night of the Jaxon insertion—but here it is. Live. In front of me. Just hanging there. Dangling.
“Yo!” she says as she snaps her fingers in front of my face. She tucks it and pulls her panties on. “I know this is a work of art, but you keep sayin’ you don’t want it.”
I nearly fall on the floor laughing. Yeah, definitely feeling the alcohol. I think I might be turning into a lush down here.
“Heaven?” I say.
“We all have stage names. Don’t need no creepy skeev looking me up and stalking me. Besides, look at this body. Heaven is what you get.”
The waitress comes by and Karissa orders a drink while strapping on her bra and a silky negligee that covers the bra and panties, which glow in the soft neon light.
“So go on,” she says, “before my stage time you were talking about the party you forgot to invite me to.” She play-hits me.
“You were working!” I say. “And I didn’t see you at all the day before.”
“Huh, guess I’ll have to forgive you this time. So he just got you off right there, with his fingers all up in your cooch, right in front of fuck all?”
“Yeah, I hate to say this . . . . . . but I really enjoyed the fact that other people could see us. Not that they could really see us, because we were in one of those things.”
“Play pens.”
I laugh. “Yes. Holy shit, I can’t believe some of the things I’m actually saying out loud recently.”
“You and me both, honey.”
“So the thing is . . . . . .” I laugh again, “this Lorena woman wants me in the very school that I ran from, even though the glowing Erica bitch said I could never come back. And Lukas Thorn is the Director! How hot is that?”
“Submission school, huh?”
“She prefers the term ‘academy.’”
“Ooh la la. Do they have a Dominance Academy? That would be my ticket.”
“Want me to ask?”
“Whatever you want, honey. I got my own side biz going on.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Karissa looks at me like I have two heads. Am I missing something here?
“Hi,” says a tall man in a gray shirt and jeans. We both look up. Karissa puts on a big fake smile.
“Hi yourself,” says Karissa, taking his hand and curling her legs so her foot grazes his calf. “I knew you’d come find me.”
“Private dance?”
“Sure thing, sweetie.”
The waitress brings Karissa’s drink. The man pays for it, and then he and Karissa walk off to a private booth where she draws a velvet curtain.
“So what goes on in there?” I say to the two other girls.
“Depends,” says Chantel.
“On what?”
“On how much cash the guy has,” says Ginger.
Oh my God, is Karissa a hooker? A lightbulb—accompanied by an alarm bell—goes off in my head. Sometimes the obvious is just too obvious until someone points it out.
Shit.
I don’t think I like that.
I glance over at the door. No, I don’t think I like that at all. Suddenly, I feel that unsafe feeling again, telling me to run. Just like when I ran from Erica.
That’s twice in two days now.
It’s kind of like my entire new world is too much to take all at once. I want to experience new amazing things, but then I get these anxiety attacks that prevent me from going after what I really want.
Shit, I suddenly feel all alone.
I used to call Zander when I had these funky anxiety attacks. He would always say exactly the right thing, usually telling me to shut up and stop over-thinking everything.
God, I miss the way he used to lift me up and out of my funk, filling me with hope. I miss him. I wonder where he is. Life is suddenly so different.
“Are you okay?” says Ginger.
“Yes,” I say, noticing the tightness in my throat while feeling a tear fall down my cheek. “Thanks.”
I suddenly regret everything. I have a sudden urge to go home. I want to be in my bed back home in my old big four-poster bed in the big house in stuffy Concord.
Really? Did I just say that? Did I really just say that?
My phone vibrates. I take it out of my pocket and look at the name.
Ashley.
Ho ho ho . . . speaking of Concord.
If I weren’t drunk, I’d ignore it, but the Ciroc makes me tap the icon and say, “Hello, Ashley.”