Shaking my head to clear it, I look at Woolf.
“You’re just going to sign it without reading it?” he asks in disbelief.
“Well, yeah. I mean… who in the hell would I ever talk to this about? My dad? My non-existent best friend because Will didn’t want me to have any friends? Or maybe Will?”
“There’s a damages clause in there. If you talk, you agree that the damages are minimally set at one-million dollars.”
“Fine by me,” I say coolly as I pull my hand away from his grasp. I hastily sign my name at the bottom and date it even though I don’t have a million dollars. But I’m not worried because I don’t have one single person I could talk to this about. Placing the pen back in the cup, I hand the agreement to Woolf.
He stares at me a moment, still wearing his put-upon scowl before taking the document. He folds it in half, seems to consider what to do with it, and then tosses it back down on the desk again with a sigh of resignation.
For a brief moment, I consider alleviating this stress on him by telling him I won’t make him take me. But that trickles away as just the thought of what I might see starts building up excitement within me.
“Are you ready?” I ask, almost bouncing on the balls of my feet. I actually may have overdressed a little, but I didn’t know what to expect. Woolf had told me that memberships cost fifty-thousand dollars per year, so I know The Silo will probably be filled with elegantly dressed people. Or maybe naked people, I have no clue. Woolf is dressed super casual, but it doesn’t make me self-conscious of the blue dress I bought yesterday that has one shoulder and arm bare, while the other is covered in a long, tight sleeve. It’s form fitting through my bust, waist, and hips but comes down to my knee with a sexy slit up the back. The material is slightly stretchy with a silvery shimmer, so I paired it with a pair of silver high-heeled sandals I also bought.
“Look… Callie. Are you prepared for this?” Woolf asks with worry in his eyes.
I tilt my head and give him a censuring look. “Woolf… I saw my fiancé with a ball gag in his mouth, getting whipped by a woman in vinyl. I didn’t freak out then, so I think I’m good.”
He just stares at me a moment before giving a resigned nod. “Alright then… let’s go.”
Woolf takes my hand, which I enjoy very much, and leads me out the back door of The Wicked Horse. There is a path made of slate stone lined with subtle security lights that leads to The Silo, which sits just about twenty yards away. There’s a lone, white door at the base of the massive, concrete structure. We step through it into a short hall that branches left and right, which I assume leads behind the outer ring rooms, and another corridor that leads us out to the center of the building.
As we walk out into the middle of The Silo, I’m immediately assaulted with information. I’m overwhelmed, trying to process everything.
I hear music, but not so loud as I can’t hear the murmurs of people talking. Sexy, slow-beat music. I don’t recognize it, but I like it.
A large, circular bar made of polished chrome, glass, and black lacquer takes up the exact center of the room. A beautiful blonde bartender wearing a low-cut black dress that’s sexy and elegant serves drinks to the members. Several women dressed just like her walk around with trays of finger food, handing them out to hungry patrons.
The room could hold a hundred people easily, but I estimate there’s only about thirty or so. Some are dressed up like me, others wearing jeans like Woolf, which tells me there’s no formal dress code. The patrons are all varied in age, and most people are paired off into couples. This surprises me as I sort of expected a bunch of single people coming together for a horny good time.
As if reading my mind, Woolf leans down and murmurs, “Most patrons are in monogamous relationships. Probably thirty percent are married.”
I quickly take stock of the rest of the decor. Black marbled flooring and contemporary chandeliers in brushed nickel that are dimmed to provide subtle lighting. Other than the bar and the stools surrounding it, there is no other furniture in the massive room.
And then I focus in on what I truly came to see…the outer ring rooms that provide me with a powerful punch as I take in the floor-to-ceiling glass walls providing unfettered viewing inside. I expect that’s why there’s no furniture, so as to encourage the patrons to move around, look inside the various rooms… almost as if they were at an art gallery.
And the first room I look into is almost like living art, and my breath catches in my lungs. The room is completely bare except for what looks like a king-sized mattress on a raised dais of black lacquer about a foot off the floor. The mattress is covered in black silk, which seems to melt right into a black platform, which seems to then melt right into the shiny, black marble floor. A naked couple lies on the mattress, their arms and legs intertwined as they kiss. My breath comes out in a wavering gust as I watch the man slide his hand up the woman’s leg, over her hip bone, and reach in between their bodies. Because they are so tightly melded, I can’t actually see what he’s doing to her, but her back arches up off the bed and her eyes squeeze shut as her lips part to let go of what I’m guessing is a moan.
A surge of… is that lust… courses through me. I have the urge to press my legs together, and I can feel my nipples start to pucker. Holy shit… I’ve hardly seen anything and yet, I’m immediately turned on.
Woolf places his hand against my lower back and tries to direct me toward the bar, but I can’t disconnect my gaze from the couple on the black silk mattress. It’s not what I expected and because I really can’t see much, it makes me crazy to see more. I walk almost trance-like toward the glass wall, intent on trying to get a gander at something more. I feel itchy and needy, my curiosity now completely having shut down any common sense arguments my brain may have still tried to make to remind me I shouldn’t be here.
I step up to the glass and in the reflection, I can see Woolf step up behind me. The couple seems completely oblivious as they continue to kiss and fondle each other. I get a flash of his erection and a peek at her boob, but right now, they are still wrapped tight.
“Can they see us?” I whisper.
“They can,” Woolf says in an almost strained voice.
“It’s so… beautiful,” I say reverently, and then I let out a small gasp as the man pushes himself up, revealing himself to me. He’s beautifully lean and tan, and his erection sticks up from his pelvis, wetness shining at the tip. I stare at it in fascination… the second penis I’ve seen in my lifetime, having of course only been privy to Will’s before.
The woman spreads her legs and raises her knees. I’ve seen my vagina plenty of times, but hers is completely bald and that fascinates me to no end. I’ve thought about doing that before but then figured… why go through the pain for Will to just pound away for a few moments before rolling off and going to sleep?
The man wraps his hand around the base of his shaft and with one arm supporting his weight, he feeds it into her. I hold my breath as I watch it disappear, trying to ignore the twinges I’m feeling between my own legs. I seem to have a hard time with my breathing, actually forgetting to suck in oxygen as I watch his hips start undulating against her, and she starts moving to match his thrusts. It’s a lazy type of sex where neither looks in a rush to get off. They move together perfectly and I see they’re both wearing wedding rings, so they are harmonious in more ways than one.
It’s live porn, and I totally underestimated the effect it would have on me. I totally didn’t think it would make me want to drop my hand down my panties and get myself off.
“Let’s go get a drink,” Woolf says roughly as he takes my elbow and turns me toward the bar.
I almost capitulate.
Almost.
But then I make the mistake of looking at what’s going on in the next room, and I gasp in astonishment. Maybe… one, two, three, four, five, six… seven, eight… nine people in there. All naked and having sex.