CHAPTER 6
Trista
I sit in the dressing room on the padded bench with one leg crossed over the other and my arms folded over my bare breasts. I’ve been sitting here for five minutes trying to work up the courage to put on the condiment tray and step out of the locker room.
So far, all I’ve managed to do is to take my clothes off and put the slinky black thong on. I looked at myself in the mirror for all of three seconds before my butt slammed down onto the bench, and I covered myself.
I cannot do this.
I cannot go out and look Jerico in the eye while I have silk running up the crack of my ass and my boobs squished by the straps of the tray. It is completely odd and a little humiliating that I’m more worried about Jerico seeing me in this getup than I am the hundreds of other people in this club.
But there is no way Jerico is going to let me hang out in here all night, so I take a deep breath and resolve to get this over with. I stand up on the exhale and jolt when I hear Jerico call out, “Trista… are you okay in there?”
My ass slams back down to the bench as my arms cover my chest protectively. My mouth opens, but no words come out.
“Trista?” Jerico says, his voice practically on the other side of the dressing room door.
I’m still not able to answer him, and frankly, I’m barely able to breathe. I just saw this man get a blow job… watched his face morph into pleasure so intense I wondered what it would be like to be that woman, and…
I have no words for him.
There’s a gentle tapping on the louvered door that separates me from Jerico, and he asks again, “Trista… is there a problem?”
I swallow hard, and my voice practically squeaks, “No, I’m okay.”
“You don’t sound okay,” Jerico says, and it pisses me off that I hear humor in his voice.
Pisses me off so much I can’t help but snap at him, “I’m a little embarrassed to be wearing this.”
Jerico doesn’t say anything for a moment, but then he cautiously points out, “You had no objections to this when I told you about it a few days ago.”
“I know,” I snap at him again. “Just give me a minute.”
“Sure,” he says congenially, as if he has all the time in the world to wait for me.
I hear him take a few steps back and then what sounds like his body leaning against the wall opposite the dressing room door. I can imagine him looking all sinfully sophisticated, replete with male satisfaction, while he waits for the scared little girl to get over herself.
“Surely you know you have a beautiful body,” Jerico says, and the shock of his words cause me to jolt even as I tighten my arms over my breasts.
I don’t even know what to say. In a million years, I would never think a man as gorgeous as Jerico Jameson would consider me to be beautiful.
Apparently, Jerico doesn’t expect a response from me because he continues. “You truly have nothing to be embarrassed about, Trista. No one in this club will think twice about you wearing that uniform. Besides that, I’ll stick with you tonight to ensure that everything goes okay.”
I still don’t know what to say.
The silence continues, but then it becomes awkward.
Finally, Jerico commands in a low, firm voice. “Trista… open the door and step out here.”
I hesitate only a second. This is my job, and I need the money Jerico is going to give me. I’ve got to suck this up, put on my big-girl panties—or thong—and get this over with. It’s only twenty-seven more days of my life, and then I can move on.
Standing up from the bench, I pick up the condiment tray and set the hooked harness over my shoulders, pull my hair out from under it, and situate the straps to come down over the middle of each breast. When I look in the mirror, my face flushes red as I take myself in. My boobs, which are a hefty C cup, are smashed in a way that doesn’t hurt but causes them to round outward. Even though the underside of the strap has a soft, velvety feel, it chafes a little against my nipples. This, of course, makes my nipples hard, and I grit my teeth over the realization that I’m not sure if it’s the sensation of the straps rubbing against them or the knowledge Jerico will be seeing me like this in a matter of seconds.
Just below my breast, the strap on each side splits in two and the four ends anchor to the corners of the tray so I don’t have to support its weight. In addition to being able to see almost all my boobs except my areolas and nipples, my entire abdomen is exposed as the edge of the tray sits right below my navel. I give a slight turn in the same strappy black heels I’ve been wearing the last three nights, and then look at my ass in the mirror. The thong is a dark black satin that is thankfully not see-through—not that it matters when my entire ass is exposed. At least I’ve always thought I had a good butt. It’s not too flat but not too bubbly. I also have good legs, which are long and tanned, and I have to admit there is a small part of me—way deep down inside—that admits I look sexy.
“Trista?” Jerico calls out to me.
I give a slight cough to clear the nervousness from my throat and say, “I’m coming.”
I take a deep breath, turn, and open the door to the dressing room, coming face to face with Jerico.
If I thought there might be some measure of a gentleman within him, I would be wrong because his gaze slowly runs down my body in an appreciative, slightly leering manner. He takes his time, letting his eyes wander back up, but they make it no higher than my breasts.
“I’m going to show you a trick that will make this more comfortable,” he says softly before raising his eyes to meet mine. He steps closer to me and slips his fingers under the strap covering my right breast, but about three inches below it so he’s not touching my skin. The breath I suck in involuntarily is embarrassing, and my body locks solid.
Jerico gives me a wicked smile, and then he murmurs, “I’m just going to make a slight adjustment on you.”
Before I can think to object to him touching me, he pulls the strap away from my breast and with his other hand, he places his palm on the underswell. He lifts it up, and his fingers feel like fire upon my skin. My heart thumps so hard I’m sure it might burst out of my chest. He then lays the strap back over my breast, and I have to admit it feels more comfortable as his hands fall away. My breast doesn’t feel as smashed, but the nipple is harder. Damn it.
My head lifts, and Jerico grins at me. There is no doubt there is wicked intent there. “Want me to adjust the other one?”
My voice is entirely raspy as I shake my head before turning away from him. “I can manage on my own.”
Jerico chuckles as I repeat the same maneuver to my other boob and almost sigh over the feeling of relief it produces. When I turn back around, Jerico doesn’t spare me at all, roaming his eyes over me again. This causes me to fidget in place, much the way I did when I found him in The Silo Room getting his dick sucked while the woman who was pleasuring him was getting her ass fucked. I want to deny to myself that said fidgeting is anything more than just nervousness. However, I can’t lie to myself, although I’d deny it to anyone else, but I was insanely turned on by watching Jerico. I’m not stupid. I know he planned it, because he knew what time I would be showing up and he specifically told me to find him.
I have no clue what his reasoning for it was, but it’s probably something as simple as the fact he truly didn’t care if I saw him doing that. Let’s face it, I know nothing about this man other than he is insanely attractive. Much to my shame, I’m greatly intrigued by the wickedness of him and his club.
♦
The job of selling things from my condiment tray is not very hard. I worked in retail before, so it’s merely a matter of a customer picking out what he wants to buy and me taking the money. I learn quickly enough that the toys on my tray—such as butt plugs and tiny vibrators—are not big sellers. It’s mostly condoms and the occasional tube of KY jelly that sell. Ensuring I learn my job, Jerico explained to me that the regulars who come here bring their own paraphernalia. It’s usually only the people who are here for a single night that will need condoms or lube, and they usually don’t want to spend the extra money on a toy because let’s face it… deviant and public sex in this place is better than any toy.
I’m only working The Waterfall Room tonight and as promised, Jerico is sticking by my side even though I’ve assured him I’m good on my own. Truth be told, he’s absolutely freaking me out tonight. He has not even bothered to hide his appreciation of my body because he continued to admire it even after we left the locker room. My job is to walk around the room so I can be available to customers who may be in the heat of the moment and can wave me over to them. Jerico has made it a habit all evening to walk behind me at a discreet distance so it doesn’t look as if he’s training me, but any time I’ve looked back at him, his eyes have been pinned on my ass. I was horrified by a rush of pride knowing I’d caught the attention of a man who could have any woman in this club, and was even more horrified to realize during my bathroom break a few minutes ago that my thong is absolutely drenched in the crotch.
In addition, even though I’ve discreetly adjusted my breasts when I can, my nipples are still chafing. This is not really because of the straps, but because they are constantly hard. I’m going to go ahead and blame that on Jerico as well. Tonight I’ve had to pay better attention to my surroundings because the patrons who want to purchase from me are usually already involved in some heavy foreplay. As such, I’ve had to keep my attention on the action. But that came only after Jerico pointed out to me I couldn’t do my job effectively unless I paid attention.
I walk the outer perimeter of the lounge chairs set around the pool and notice a man waving me over to him. He’s naked with his legs sprawled out along the length of the couch and an equally naked woman kneels between them as she gives him a blow job.
I like The Waterfall Room a lot. The cascade of water that pours down from the ceiling onto the pool’s center platform is spectacular. It runs through a sleek crystal ceiling light that is nothing more than long strings of lit crystals that hang down in various lengths above the pool. The water sparkles with a million refracting lights as it passes by the clear sparkling gems. While the waterfall is a beautiful centerpiece to the room, it’s functional as well. The platform can hold up to four people who might want to fuck under the spray of warm water.
Around the edge of the pool, the flooring is black cement done in a super-fine texture with silver sparkles in it that prevents slipping but doesn’t hurt the feet. Most people in the waterfall room wear bathing suits or nothing at all. No one ever wears shoes except the employees, and I’m thankful that the floor is non-slip as I walk in my heels.
The man who beckoned me is reclining on one length of U-shaped low-back couches covered in water-repellent vinyl of deep purple that shimmers. Vinyl is the name of the game as it’s easily cleaned in between uses. There are silver pleated curtains draping the double glass doors that lead out to The Deck, and swags of fabric in the same silver hang in arcs from the center of the ceiling starting just outside the waterfall to the perimeter. It sort of reminds me of what the inside of a tent that belonged to a grand Sheik would look like. Or just a fancy circus tent, as the things that go on in here could be considered circus-like.
“What can I get for you?” I ask the man as I come to a stop just a few feet from where he’s lying.
I have to admit the guy is very good looking. I’ve gotten used to the fact that there are all shapes, sizes, and ages in this club. Sometimes, it’s not all that easy to watch an old, wrinkly man getting it on, but I try not to focus in on those sexcapades. It makes me appreciate, however, the men like this one when they need something from me. I’d estimate he’s in his late thirties with sandy-blond hair and warm brown eyes. His haircut is precise and stylish, so I peg him for a lawyer or something like that.
While his partner’s head bobs up and down on him, he does nothing more than consider the items on my tray. He casually peruses them and doesn’t even seem to be affected by what the woman is doing to him. Finally, he looks back to me and asks, “What would you suggest?”
“Pardon me?”
His smile turns salacious as he nods down to the tray. “What would you suggest I use on my girl here? Should I plug her ass while I fuck her pussy?”
I’m completely caught off guard, and my answer is stammered out with a complete lack of finesse. “Um… I have… Um… Well, I’m really not sure—”
The man laughs. I can tell he’s not charmed by me, but takes some pleasure in my embarrassment. His hand goes to the woman’s head, his fingers grasping her hair tightly. He spares her a short glance and growls at her, “Faster,” then uses the grip on her hair to push her roughly up and down on his stick.
Again, it’s extremely weird that he doesn’t seem turned on by any of this but rather seems more interested in embarrassing me because he says, “Why don’t you join us? I’ll let Lila here eat you out while I fuck you from behind.”
I have to suppress the groan of embarrassment welling up inside of me. Not only am I highly offended, but I am also slightly turned on by the prospect of what was just offered. I don’t know if it’s from an abundance of hormones thickening the air or if I just suddenly became susceptible to the wickedness of this place, but for the first time, I wonder if I would ever take up Jerico’s offer to get my rocks off during a slow shift.
“Leave her the fuck alone, Willis,” Jerico growls from behind me. And I mean right behind me, so close I can feel his suit jacket brush against my bare ass.
The man—who is apparently named Willis—uses his grip on the woman’s head to pull her off him, swinging his legs off the couch and placing his bare feet on the floor. He stands up. His dick is wet with lipstick marks and only standing at half mast, so I don’t think the girl was doing a very good job. The man glares at Jerico. “What’s your problem? You never mind your employees joining in the fun.”
Jerico’s voice is low and commanding as well as final. “That’s true, but this one is off limits. Now if you’ll excuse us, I hope you have a good evening.”
And with that, Jerico’s hand comes to the back of my neck. He uses it to turn me away from Willis and pushes me toward the opposite side of the room.
He guides me to the wall adjacent to the entrance door. There are no people congregated here, and it’s fairly quiet away from the drone of lusty moans and slapping sex. With his hand still at the back of my neck, Jerico turns me around to face the pool and the sexual activity going on around it.
“Did you want to join that man and woman?” he asks me softly.
I shake my head immediately, and his fingers squeeze my neck in what I take to be approval.
“But the idea doesn’t turn you off?”
Did he just ask me that?
I feel like my breath has been stomped out of my lungs by the personal question, mostly because I don’t want to tell him the truth. Jerico, however, is not a man who will go unanswered.
“Trista,” he says almost harshly to get my attention. “Tell me the truth… are you turned on right now?”
I shake my head vehemently, giving him a total and absolute nonverbal lie. I’ve been turned on since the moment I stepped out of the dressing room and Jerico looked at my body.
No, strike that. Since I saw him getting pleasured in The Silo room.
Jerico gives a dark laugh and whispers in my ear, “Little liar.”
“I’m not,” I deny, but it sounds weak.
I’m surprised when Jerico’s hand falls from my neck, and he turns to stand right beside me as we look out over the interior of The Waterfall Room. He even casually tucks his hands in his pockets.
“I’ll make you a deal, Trista,” Jerico says.
My head turns in surprise to look at him, but he keeps his profile to me. “What’s that?” I asked hesitantly.
He’s not looking at me, but I can see from the side he’s smirking when he says with utter confidence, “I think you are turned on. Confident, in fact. So if you let me stick my hand between your legs right now and you’re dry, I’ll hand you the other fifteen grand I owe you and you can walk out of here and never come back.”
My heart starts to jackhammer at the thought of Jerico’s hand between my legs, but there is no way I’m ever going to let myself get embroiled with a man like him. Still, you know how curiosity killed the cat and all that, so I ask him, “And what happens if I’m not dry?”
Jerico turns his head to look at me. He’s no longer smirking and his eyes are dark and sinful looking as they bore into mine. “If you’re wet, Trista, I’m probably going to bend you over one of these couches and take care of your problem.”
My jaw drops so far I know I look utterly ridiculous. Blinking at him in astonishment, I take an involuntary step away.
“What do you say, Trista? Can I inch my fingers into your pussy for a little feel?”
Every cell in my body screams out, “Yes!”
Well, every cell except the ones in my brain who know this would be a very stupid mistake to make. I shake my head, taking a breath in to answer with what I’m proud to note is a firm and steady voice. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I think I’ll pass on your little bet.”
Jerico doesn’t say anything at first. He just continues to peer at me intently, perhaps wondering if I’ll repeal that lie I just told. When I don’t, he gives a shrug of his shoulders and says, “If you change your mind, all you have to do is ask.”
“I won’t change my mind,” I say firmly.
Jerico gives a taunting nod and by the curl of his lips, I can tell he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. And to make matters worse, he offhandedly remarks, “If you do change your mind, I might be interested in working out something with you to lessen the amount of days you have to work at The Wicked Horse.”
My eyebrows shoot straight into my hairline. “Are you saying if I have sex with you, I won’t have to work here for another twenty-seven days and you’ll still give me the money?”
Jerico gives me a wicked grin. “I don’t know… are you interested in something like that if I am indeed offering?”
My eyes narrow at him. I know it’s stupid to be offended seeing as how I am working in a sex club and I’ve been turned on ever since I watched Jerico get his dick sucked, but I snap at him, “I’m not a whore.”
I didn’t think this would strike a chord with Jerico, so I’m surprised when his head actually jerks back. “That’s not what I was thinking.”
I can’t hide the sarcasm in my voice. “Well, when you give a woman money for sex, it makes her a whore.”
Jerico gives me an apologetic smile and an acknowledging nod of his head. “My apologies, Trista. Let’s forget what I just said.”
“Gladly,” I say, still pissed off even though he’s apologized. If I had to guess why I’m having this weird reaction, it’s because part of me feels let down that I won’t be having sex with Jerico Jameson.
Oh my God… I’m going crazy I think, and by the look on his face, he knows I’m struggling with this.
Jerico smiles at me and then bends his head so his mouth is within a hair’s breadth of mine. I think he’s going to kiss me but instead he just murmurs, “Putting money and our deal aside, if you ever want me to scratch that itch of yours, all you have to do is ask, Trista. I’ll give it to you.”
I actually go dizzy and my head spins from his words. He is basically offering to pleasure me if I ask, and only in consideration of my need and not our deal. I don’t even know what to make of it but before I can even think about a coherent response, Jerico turns on his heel and walks out of the room.