Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
5
Logan
Holy shit, that was amazing. It was beyond amazing. It was fucking filthy, and I still can’t believe what I saw because the blonde girl was sweet, sensual, and innocent while at the same time doing one of the craziest acts I’ve ever seen.
Of course, it wasn’t that crazy, don’t get me wrong. I’ve been around the block a couple times now, and I’ve seen shit that would make a grown man cry. But my tastes run towards the young and curvy, and not the old and decrepit. I like big breasts, a wet twat, and most of all ... the willingness to explore your innermost desires.
After all, modern society has fucked people up. They stay behind their phones all day, afraid to show their faces except in anonymous forums. They become incels, devoid of sunlight and raging at the world from behind a screen. Even worse, a lot of people are afraid to honestly acknowledge what they want from life. They’re so afraid of being judged that they wear masks to hide themselves. I don’t mean an actual mask made of paper and cardboard. I mean a mask consisting of a fake smile, a polite nod, and a willingness to go along with the spiel of marriage, two point five children, and a house with a white picket fence. I think that’s why there’s such an epidemic of depression, anxiety, and other mental illnesses. People need to be honest with themselves about who they are, what they want, and how to go about it.
Of course, it’s easier said than done when you’re a billionaire who doesn’t give a fuck what other people think. White picket fence? Two point five kids? I just hope I don’t have a hundred illegitimate bastards running around town that I’m unaware of. But still, I’d say that a lot of people, despite having the means, don’t even know what they want. They spend their lives seeking this and that, hoping to god to find direction. It’s a fucking shame, if you ask me, when there’s so much to enjoy in the world. Relax, my man, I want to tell them. Live a little. Indulge.
But it’s clear that the beautiful blonde doesn’t have that particular problem. She’s gorgeous. Uninhibited. Desirable. She’s a woman in touch with her womanly needs, and I respect that. In fact, I adore it and I have to have it.
Slowly, I make my way up the stairs, visions of the sassy girl still playing in my mind. I need to find her again, but how? Fortunately, at the top of the stairs, a male attendant awaits me.
“Mr. Blackshaw,” he says in a low voice, bowing his head. “Greetings. I’m sorry to disturb you, but a woman inquired about you.”
I pause for a moment, my foot already on the last step.
“Really,” I muse. “Which one?”
“The young one,” he says immediately. “Blonde and beautiful.”
I shoot him a wry look.
“Casper, my friend, young, blonde and beautiful describes a lot of the ladies at this joint. Which one specifically?”
The attendant nods deferentially, clasping his hands.
“The one in the restraint chair, using a machine with a dildo attachment. She departed the Red Room just two minutes ago.”
I nod slowly, a plan coming to mind.
“Ah yes. Her. What did she want?”
“She just wanted to know your identity,” the attendant murmurs, his eyes still fixed on the ground. “But I didn’t say.”
I nod.
“Thank you,” I say before pressing a hundred dollar bill into his hand. “Fortunately, I found her attractive as well. What did you say her name was?”
“I didn’t,” Casper murmurs, palming the Benjamin. “But she’s Emma Kincaid, and I believe you can find her in the second floor lounge momentarily. She’s about to go on shift.”
“Thank you,” I nod again before making my way down the hall and into the first floor smoking room. Fortunately, the fucking chimneys who usually light up aren’t there at the moment, although the place still smells like smokestack. I pause for a moment before formulating my plan. Then, a smile creeps over my face because Emma Kincaid is about to get the ride of her life ... and it’s not going to be on a machine this time.
6
Emma
I inhale deeply, my eyes closed, in the women’s locker room. My scene in the Red Room was intense, but it was much-needed, and I’ve never felt better. My body is loose and relaxed, and my mind clear. I feel reenergized, rejuvenated, and restored too. I feel like I could go for another all-nighter of Red Bulls and studying, but instead, I’m headed to the second floor lounge of the club in order to begin my waitressing shift. Ah, the irony of life.
But it’s okay because I appreciate what Club Z does for me. These sessions center me, and I feel like I’m the most authentic version of myself when I’m at the club. The other Emma Kincaid who lives in the outside world is practically a stranger to me at this point. She’s someone who smiles, talks, and laughs, but it’s all fake. She does what people expect, while on the inside, the real Emma Kincaid is dying a slow death.