Don't Hate Me (Club Pétale), page 4
The large, elegant house had been decorated with blacks, whites, and even some gold here and there. A huge glittering chandelier hung from the ceiling, and there were blown-up pictures hung up on almost every free space showcasing all different types of erotic acts.
My eyes lingered on one with a girl’s tongue lapping up the other’s pussy.
“Welcome, name please.”
My gaze was brought to the little woman that stood before me smiling brightly with an iPad in her hand. She wore a floor-length deep-red gown with nothing underneath.
“Reilly,” I said with a light smile, though the use of my real last name felt wrong.
Applicants had their choice of names, and not only did Rolf put my government-given name on the fucking application, but the fake name that was supposed to protect my identity while in the clubs’ walls was actually my real last name.
For years, I was forced to use my agent number to identify myself, or on the occasion I was going undercover, I would use something like Alex or River. Something that had nothing to do with who I was.
It was easier that way. Safer.
This felt like they were throwing me to the wolves. Even after everything I had done for them.
It was hard not to feel even the least bit betrayed.
Karma. You decided to push their boundaries the last two years and this is what you get. It was hard not to huff and puff and stomp my feet like an upset toddler.
The girl didn’t bat an eyelash as she took in the information. I was probably one of three hundred that night. Just another faceless person in the crowd. She typed a few things into her iPad, and without another word, she stepped to the side and waved me in.
“If you need a tour guide, let me know,” she said with a wink. “There is an open bar to your right, a coat closet to your left, and farther in are the showrooms. Feel free to enter any one of them, though rooms need to be reserved. If you would like to match with someone for the night, please make sure to fill it out on the website or app before coming in as we cannot guarantee a same day match. Also if you have a phone, please leave it here.”
“I didn’t bring it,” I said before stepping into the main room. My eyes lingered on the bar. As much as I hated being even the slightest bit off my game for a job, the urge to down some vodka was getting stronger by the second.
There were fewer people than I thought, though having them all in a concentrated area drinking, laughing, and leaning into each other caused my mind to go into overdrive. The instinct was to catalog all of them. To take in their expressions, what they were wearing, who they were with. But I couldn’t make out any of that.
Not with most of them wearing masks. Even with my mask on, I felt so exposed. I didn’t belong here, and there was someone—probably more than one—that had seen what I truly looked like and knew my name.
But everyone else in here was awarded a luxury, even though I wasn’t. They could mingle, get fucked, ruin their lives, all while under the protection of the mask and fake name. To them, that was enough.
To me, this was suicide.
It made it worse when many turned to look at me as I walked in. My mind told me to be on guard. That maybe they were looking at me because they knew who I truly was… but realistically, I knew that wasn’t the case.
This is the anxiety of being in an unknown place, logic told me. I was all too aware of why I was feeling what I was, but knowing the emotions and where they came from didn’t stop me from feeling them.
Focus on the mission.
I had been in there less than a minute, but the longer I stood, the more attention was drawn to me.
I forced my gaze to wander. I caught a few people not wearing masks—workers I assumed based on the file—but none of them were who I was looking for.
Stage six. Main performer.
I was shocked to hear that someone like her was willing to get up on stage, but there was little description of what went on in these rooms, so maybe it wasn’t all that bad. Tiffany Yates seemed like a well-adjusted woman who grew up in an affluent family. She stayed at home all throughout college before graduating early and joining the Secret Service. That was what the files told me, at least.
Maybe this was her way of getting out of her comfort zone. A way of rebelling against her parents after all those years of being the perfect daughter.
I braced myself to see her in a revealing outfit, maybe dancing on stage. Something that would give her just enough of a thrill to make that stuffy secret service job seem not so bad. A way to let out all the pent-up feelings she had.
It took me a moment to collect myself, but that moment was enough to cause even more people to stare. To them, they saw a random person hanging by the entrance, looking like they didn’t know why they were here.
And to be truthful, they would be right, but I didn’t want the extra attention.
I pushed into the house, nodding at the people who continued to stare, though most looked away when they realized I wasn’t there to mingle. It gave me great comfort to know that even in a place like this, people would shy away from me.
Humans could feel the darkness inside me. They may not be aware of it, but it was almost instinctual. Like the part of them that was trying to keep them safe was setting off the alarm bells when they caught on to what I was hiding.
Which was why it would have been much better to get someone in who was better at seduction than I was. They would fit right in, move through the crowd with ease. They would flirt, party, and then finish the job.
But there I was, sticking out like a sore thumb and hoping desperately that I wouldn’t scare away the target.
Soft music flitted through the air, hiding the light conversations of the people around us. It wasn’t hard to get past the main crowd and to the back rooms. The entire hall on both sides had darkened rooms that patrons could duck in and out of. The music was softer there, and it allowed the moans to filter out of the rooms.
Loud moans. I had the strangest urge to peek my head into one to see what all the fuss was about. Especially when I heard a loud scream.
“Fuck it,” I hissed under my breath and peeked into the first room.
My breath caught in my throat, and my heart hammered against my ribs when I saw a woman suspended upside down and two people on either side of her. She was mostly clothed, though the big wet spot on her underwear showed exactly what had happened to cause her to scream like she did.
I thought this was supposed to be less intense than the main house. If this was what they did here, what the hell did they do there?
I shook my head and left the room quickly, needing to get my head back in the game.
Every thought I had about this being a normal performance left my mind as I walked into her room.
It was dark save for the light on their small stage. Comfy-looking chairs were spaced out in front of it with quite a few occupied.
She’s quite popular, it looks like.
On the stage was a girl with short brown hair and a black mask. She was hogtied and writhing on the ground in tight latex bra and underwear. The stage was slightly higher than the chairs and gave the people watching a perfect view, but even if they somehow missed it, there were screens on either side of the stage. One showed her pleasure-ridden face, the other her swollen and wet cunt. The latex was so tight, you could make out the folds of her pussy. Wetness leaked from the sides of her tight underwear and fell to the ground.
There was a woman off to the side, but I ignored her completely, too focused on the girl on the floor.
Her legs were bound behind her and forced wide open, showing the bulbous vibrator that had been tied to her inner thigh with rope and lying directly on her clit. There was a puddle beneath her, and by the looks of how she writhed, she had already had more than a few orgasms in front of these people.
If it wasn’t for the job, I would have left as soon as I saw her.
Or at least that’s what I told myself as I took a seat near the middle. I didn’t quite understand how she did it, but with each moan from her mouth, I became even further and further entranced.
She wasn’t just up there dancing for people. She was exposing herself in ways I never even dared to. Having them watch as she came over and over again. Having them watch her as she made a complete and utter mess of herself.
Yet she still somehow lies on the ground begging for more.
“Oh fuck!” tumbled out of her mouth as she arched into the feeling. She was begging under her breath for something… but what was it? The more I watched her, the more I longed to know.
But not just what she was begging for… I wanted to know everything that file had kept from me. Wanted to know why she would do this. Why she took the job she did. Why she felt so comfortable exposing herself like this.
I felt an emotion expanding in my chest… it tasted a bit like awe.
Then, when I saw those green eyes pop open and look at the crowd, I froze.
They were just as expressive as I thought. Maybe even more so.
They told me everything I needed to know. How she was about to come again. How she loved the way people looked at her as she was forced to come over and over again. She was meeting everyone’s eyes, making sure they got a good look at what she was feeling.
“Please, please, I can’t come any more.”
The girl off to the side laughed and walked over to her, heels clacking on the floor. She leaned down and ran her fingers through her folds. While I couldn’t see her up the speed from here, it became apparent when her cries stopped abruptly.
“You’re done when I say you are.”
Her entire body stiffened, and the loudest, shakiest moan spilled from her lips, along with a gush of fluid spilling from her and dripping down to the ground below. Her eyes searched the crowd until they landed on me.
Her flushed face and pained moans sent a burst of heat up my spine.
I gritted my teeth and let my blunt fingernails dig into my thighs.
Tiffany Yates… no Blake, had caused me to feel something I hadn’t in years.
Pure, burning desire coursed through me.
I wanted to watch her more. I wanted to see her spread those legs, baring that pretty pussy to me while she came all over me. I didn’t want to hear her beg to stop, I wanted to hear her beg for more. I wanted my name to fall from her lips as I—
I stood as quietly as I could and snuck out of the room.
No, no. Maybe I couldn’t do this job after all. I don’t like to think of myself as a coward, but it would be another few weeks before I came back for fear that the next time I saw her on stage, that I might be unable to control myself.
Blake
As it turned out, my boss wasn’t lying. The same night he let it spill, I waited until the clock struck seven thirty, then climbed into my beat-up carriage, hoping that my night wouldn’t end up like Cinderella’s. I tied my laces extra tight just to be safe, and over two months later, I hadn’t been caught.
Paranoia kicked in, at first causing me to search for the blacked-out vehicles from my employer, but just like he promised, there were none. Though if they were, I would have lost them just like last time.
I had perfected my drive there, making sure to go the long way around the club and through a few residential neighborhoods to be safe. I even made sure to park my car over two blocks away on the off chance they still found me.
I guess I’d do crazy things to get off. I mean, Club Pétale has been a godsend for me.
I liked performing. I liked the people. Well… most of them.
Most importantly, it was a safe space that allowed me to explore the sexuality that I thought at one point didn’t exist. My whole life, sex and love had just been viewed as something used to keep your husband happy. I remember vividly listening to my mom and her friends when they were over. How they viewed their “duties” to their husbands.
Back then, I never thought of how deep a scar it left on me. Or how it molded my expectations of the act and changed them into something undesirable.
Until the club.
The club was the place that taught me just how good sex felt. And how erotic it was in front of others. That I was allowed to do things for myself. To make myself feel as dirty and unhinged as I wanted without feeling guilt afterward.
Sometimes the guilt would hit me out of nowhere, like a shadow pain of my old way of thinking, but that was few and far between.
I hadn’t felt it… well, until someone stormed out of my performance. That night marked the second month since then. I remember her well. The way her eyes drilled into me, I thought there was something there—a connection, maybe—but then she left.
She had tried to be quiet about it, even polite, I guess. But I saw it.
And it shouldn’t have bothered me… but it did.
Something else that had only been worsening my anxiety. A part of me wanted to know why she had left. Though it wasn’t the first time. The rooms had allowed people to come and go as they pleased, and it wasn’t uncommon for people to leave, but her…
I had dreams about her eyes. About the striking blue with broken pupils. In my dreams, they watched, just like that night. But in those dreams, they never faltered. They watched and watched and watched until I was begging for someone to touch me… but they never did.
Maybe that was why I had been so careless in the last few performances. She showed up a few times periodically in the last few months, but she never lingered long. It had been two weeks since I saw her last, and maybe that was what caused me to take up more performances. Riskier ones than what was typically allowed at the club. Maybe it was the need to prove myself that caused me to go out more than usual. To cause me to not watch my surroundings. Something that hadn’t happened since before the incident.
But that carelessness had almost cost me this place.
I had been asked to perform here because of the type of clientele. Apparently, many of them came from backgrounds like mine, and Ax and Sloan, the owner and head of cyber security, wanted this place to be a bit high-class for them. They wanted the performances behind the curtains and in dark rooms to make them feel safer. There were halls with both two-way and one-way mirrors that could be booked by people looking for something a bit more adventurous, but they were out of the way.
I knew what they wanted with this place, so how had I fucked up so badly that it caused someone to storm out?
I hadn’t been thinking when I walked into the club. My mind had been buzzing with thoughts of the performance and hopes that certain blue eyes would be watching me. It had been some time, but my hope never wavered.
A part of me felt bad for how easily she had caught my attention while I had still been ignoring Bailey. She had been trying nonstop to get in contact with me, and each time I came here, I ran the risk that I would see her. I tried not to dwell on it or her too much, but even as I walked through the club, I couldn’t ignore the buzzing of my phone.
I shook the thoughts out of my head and beelined for the dressing room, and before I knew it, I was being bent over and flogged for the crowd.
I jolted as the heavy leather flog came in contact with the meaty part of my thigh. It was a dull ache that would stick around for days after, reminding me just how good it had felt to be fucked in front of the crowds. I would hide them under my suit pants, but every time I sat down or my clothing would burst across it, I would get a burst of a delicious achy pain.
The crowds’ murmurs and whispers caused a buzz to run through me, and their eyes left trails of heat on my skin. I caught a few of them having fun on their own, only making it that much hotter.
They’re like that because of you, I reminded myself. You still have the ability to enrapture them.
My partner tonight, Gale, forced me across the bench they had set up for us, but instead of letting me look up at the ceiling as she drove into me, she had forced me to look at the crowd. To watch their reactions to me exposing myself to them in such a dirty, disturbed fashion.
They loved to see it, and I loved to show them. There was a power in it. One that was enough to remind me of the person I used to be.
Bailey hadn’t shown up since I started performing again. Thank God. There was a fight waiting to happen, but I pushed it far out of my mind.
What was important was that I was enjoying myself. That I was able to explore what my body liked in a safe and empowering environment. Bailey had been what I needed then. A taste of what a real relationship was like, but she couldn’t give me what I needed anymore. We weren’t compatible.
In the first half of the performance, I had lost count of how many times I had already come and just let Gale do whatever she wanted to do to me. It was better this way. Just to give into the pain and pleasure and take whatever came. I didn’t have to worry about anything, my partner would take care of it all and make sure I would leave this place feeling better than I had in days.
She switched from a vibrator to my clit for something a bit more creative. Which so happened to be forcing a tentacle-shaped dildo inside my sopping pussy.
Today wasn’t nearly as painful as some of the other nights. This time, we just focused on getting me off as many times and in as many different ways as possible, only using small bits of pain to heighten the experience. And with it only being fifteen minutes in, I had to hand it to Gale, she really brought her A game tonight.
The notches on the underside of it caused it to rub so sweetly against my G-spot that I couldn’t even form the words to tell her to slow down. Not that I wanted her to. My mind was beginning to swim, and the warmth from all the orgasms started to relax my muscles in a way I desperately needed.
The anxiety of it all had been building and building until it left my muscles tense. Gale knew just how to fix it. I just needed to trust her.
I couldn’t help but look out into the crowd. Seeing what I did to people was a different type of intoxication. I took in their looks greedily, letting it feed the ego I kept locked inside during the day. I let my eyes roam over the people in the crowd until my gaze landed on her.
