Page 53 of Ashes
“Is it okay?” I whisper.
He nods. “Good.” His eyes skim from my waist, cinched in by a tight black corset that finishes just above my hips, to my breasts. The corset is molded into half-cups, only just covering my nipples, pushing my chest into impressive peaks.
Stretching from the sides of my breasts, thick black straps loop up and join another that’s fastened around my neck like a collar. The collar is attached to another strap that hangs down to meet the top of my suspenders. The suspender belt presses tight against my skin, thick in the middle, but fanning out in cords that smooth over my hips and ass.
“Really… fine.” Luther swallows hard, then quickly adds, “You wear it better than the mannequin.”
I tilt my head at him. “Is that a compliment?”
Luther doesn’t reply, just takes my hand. He is hot to the touch. “Tanner talked about a stage, people watching. Look for something that matches his description.”
As we move down the corridor, the thud of the music grows louder. It reverberates through my bones, sending shivers up my arms. If I thought my outfit was revealing, there are people wearing far more daring and elaborate ensembles. But Luther, to my surprise, doesn’t let his gaze linger.
I’m finding it more difficult to stay focused. For so long, all I knew was Johnny. Stiff, rigid, joyless sex. Since I arrived in Phoenix Falls, it’s like I’ve been slowly awakening. Learning it’s possible to feel so many things in so many ways.
We pass a room with a large open door. My eyes catch on flashes of flesh. Bodies. Lots of bodies, whose collective groans make my pussy throb; something about this place is intoxicating. The smells, the sounds, the magick that hangs in the air.
“Keep moving.” Luther tugs my hand.
I follow him, trying to focus on the reason we’re here, but unable not to notice the things that are happening around us. As we cross through a bar, a mage stands in the center of the room. A woman, a water witch like Tanner, is on her knees in front of him. Instead of touching him, she’s moving an envelope of swirling water up and down his large erection using just flicks of her hands.
When he comes, his semen merges with the water, making it paler. The water witch tips her head back and drinks it down, smiling as it splashes her throat and her naked breasts.
“Nova.” Luther stops and meets my eyes. “You okay?”
I nod. My mouth is dry. “Fine.”
He cocks his head to the side. His fingers twitch as if he’s thinking of running them over the black strap down my middle. Then he says, “Okay, then let’s keep moving.”
On a lit-up screen at the end of the bar, Luther finds a list of rooms and levels. He taps it and turns to me. “Wolf Dance. Room Five. Bingo.”
I realize I’m squeezing his hand tightly and release my grip. As we pass the bar, he stops and gets us each a shot of something bright green and revolting. I swallow it down fast. It burns my throat and brings tears to my eyes but helps drown out the nerves in my stomach.
Moving down to the next floor, the lighting becomes darker and the music louder. A hand brushes my hip. Not Luther’s. Another tugs on the black cord around my neck. Luther notices and wraps a fierce arm around me. Fire prickles on his shoulders. Flames lick his skin. He allows them to grow until a security guard shouts, “Fire in the fire play rooms only.”
Luther raises an apologetic hand and cools the flames but, when we start moving again, he walks beside me like a sentinel. Tall, protective.
Room Five is behind a closed red door. Luther pushes it open and ushers me through. Inside, I blink and try to focus. The room is almost pitch dark, but as my eyes adjust, I realize there are rows of small, high-backed couches, arranged in a semi-circle around a dark stage.
I point at it. Luther nods.
Hand on the small of my back, he guides me through the rows. I expect to see people fucking in the darkness but they’re all sitting, waiting, watching the empty stage.
When we find a vacant couch, Luther sits down and pats the seat next to him. I haven’t practiced sitting in this contraption, and the feeling of warm leather beneath my crotch makes me flinch. I turn to Luther. He’s staring at me but looks away quickly.
“See something you like?” I whisper playfully, trying to lighten the tense, quivering atmosphere between us.
Luther leans forward onto his knees. “The boys are very lucky,” he says quietly.
Before he can say anything else, a low vibration, like drums beneath the floor, spreads through the room. It makes my feet tingle in my boots. Luther sits up.
There’s another vibration, louder this time, then spotlights rain down on the stage, illuminating a single shining pole.
Music begins to play. There’s no melody or tune, just waves of notes that send shivers from my head to my toes.
A figure appears on stage. A black mask shields the top half of his face. The bottom displays a square jaw and a dusting of stubble. On one side of his torso, an armored shield stretches from his shoulder down his arm. His legs are clad in dark leather, a silver buckle shining on his belt.
The crowd is silent.