Page 2 of Serenity

Oh. Nevermind.

“This is the goddess room. Do you… want to go lower?” Brian disrupted the show before me, offering to expose me to more.

While presented as a single-story building to the unsuspecting eye, the club had many layers. There were underground clubs, and then there was Genevieve—a club underground. To play on the goddess or god floor, a negative STD panel was required. Anyone breaking the simple rule was permanently banned from the establishment.

I didn’t come to play, yet my throat constricted with dryness as I watched women being pleasured from all angles and in different ways. I’d been plunged into a live porn universe. The kind made for men and women with substantial pockets. This was debauchery at its finest but erotic, no less.

“Can we go lower?”

Pleased by my response, Brian smirked and sheathed my hand in his. I should have been high-tailing it out of there, clutching my invisible pearls, and sprinkling holy water, but again… curiosity. Or maybe it was curiosity coupled with… something else.

Reentering the lift, Brian pressed -2, taking us lower this time. In the elevator mirrors, I was nothing like the woman who’d initially entered minutes ago. My desire to satisfy inquisitiveness left me flushed and flustered. I prayed my accomplice didn’t notice and thanked goodness for the mask.

Hardened nipples stood at attention in response to what I’d seen. My breathing was slow, deep, and measured as if breathing too rapidly would be a mortal sin. I was a freak, but a closet one. The people I’d witnessed at Genevieve were open with their lewdness. Something I could never do. It was beyond anything I could have imagined.

“This is the goddess floor. I don’t frequent this floor or the one below, to be honest. This shit is for the common folk.”

Common folk, he’d said, but Genevieve had a hefty member’s fee. The people inside were either guests of a member or members who’d paid the immodest yearly ticket of five or more figures. A hierarchy existed, raising the price for more exclusive and private pursuits. A member of a higher status received access to go deeper.

Undoubtedly, Brian had paid to play.

“There’s more?” I asked, shifting slightly.

With his head tipped, he smirked. “Several. But the remaining floors are mostly private rooms or theaters for exclusive performances…”

“Performances? Is this place not performance enough?”

Tipping the corner of his lips upward, Brian smirked again. “Let me show you.”

About facing, Brian led me back to the elevator. This time, he pressed -8 on the pad and was prompted to scan an access card before the elevator moved.

“Come here, Reni.” Low and lustful, his eyes were as he summoned me to draw near. Simultaneously, he summoned a pulse between my legs. Closing the space separating us, he held my waist from behind. A growing firmness pressed against me, but I was determined to pay it no mind.

Brian was as fine as they came. Chocolate-complected with a full, trim beard and blemish-free skin. A well-sculpted face and gorgeous white teeth. He could easily be any woman’s dream. But we were friends. I knew Brian’s freaky ass far too well to go that route with him. Our relationship was strictly platonic and would remain so regardless of his efforts.

Despite my reservations, he’d sensed it. The desire coursing through me. The lust. It was unavoidable in a place like Genevieve. Strangely enough, it wasn’t directed toward Brian or anyone in particular. The excess of sexual liberation paired with the exhibitionism was what excited me. Curious and curiouser, Genevieve became as the elevator sank us deeper into her walls.

Negative eight floors below the entry point was a stage. “Performances,” Brian said earlier, leading me to wonder what sort of show we’d be seeing. Beyond the stage was a small auditorium filled with plush leather seats. Ushers stood by each entrance alongside servers with glasses of champagne on golden platters. Through the darkened room, we ambled hand-in-hand until we located a pair of seats.

The room darkened as people took their places in the audience. As we were blanketed in obscurity, a spotlight was directed toward the stage. It housed a round bed. On that round bed was a woman scantily dressed. She inched to the edge of the bed, propped her bare heels up on either side and spread herself wide for the audience to see.

Pleasuring herself as if no one was watching, the audience looked on. In and out, she stirred herself, moaning slightly as her thumb brushed a likely hardened clit. This was insane. She was insane. She was a different level of unhinged. A different level of liberated I could never be.

Mildly enthused by the performance, my body language may have said differently. I could feel the heightening of my temperature as I looked on, and I hated being affected by it. Turning to Brian, my face bore questions, awaiting an answer.

“Just wait. It gets better,” he whispered.

No sooner than he’d issued the assurance, a man entered the stage. Sporting a broad, bare chest and with abs and toned arms to match, he wore nothing but silk boxers. The evidence of his arousal was profound. Everything about him was. Despite his mask, I could tell he was handsome.

An inch of black curls rested atop his head and was faded to fucking perfection. A salt and pepper goatee covered his chin, hinting at a certain degree of maturity. Approaching the bed, he knelt between the woman’s legs and began to feast sensuously. Slowly and passionately, he licked her clean. In response, she palmed her breasts and moaned.

Reluctantly, my thighs squeezed shut as I continued to look on through the privacy of my mask. Despite its presence, I still felt heavily exposed. Hardened nipples ached to be touched, licked, and squeezed. By him. I wanted him. The stranger who’d recently taken the stage.

My disgust simmered, stewed, and brewed toward the woman, but I never peeled my eyes away. I hated her. Just as swiftly as those thoughts rose, they were replaced by jealousy. By longing. By lust. I didn’t hate her. I loathed that she wasn’t me and I wasn’t her. Pornos were one thing, but this performance was live and HD, and it was wildly arousing.

Rising to his feet, the man shed himself of the silk boxers he wore. Twice, he tapped the center of the woman awaiting his entry. The circular bed that she was spread out on began a slow orbit on a platform. As the bed rotated, he entered her, marking the beginning of a steady, rhythmic stroke. Groaning upon entry, he bent his knees and worked his hips, undeniably hitting all the right spots. Simultaneously, my lips parted, and my breath hitched between my vocals. I was fully engaged, tugging at a corner of my bottom lip.

And then my mask broke.