CHAPTER 7
Jerico
For three nights, I’ve watched her.
By any definition, I’d totally be considered a stalker.
But from the comfort of my office, I can pull up the security feeds on my monitor and take note of the subtle changes in Trista as she works the condiment tray. Truth be told, I don’t need her working that job and have a much greater need for her to go back to cleaning, but fuck if she doesn’t look a hell of a lot sexier in a thong than a turtleneck and pants.
Part of my training in the military was gathering intelligence, so I can pick up on the slightest of details that could tell me a very important story, and there were a lot of changes I noticed over the last three days with Trista as she settled into her job routine.
The most important and pleasing thing was that Trista’s stopped hiding her sexual curiosity. When she first started working here, she looked around a room in a vague way, not taking in too many details. I think she was afraid to watch.
Afraid of what it would do to her body.
But that has definitely changed.
Now, Trista watches what the patrons are doing. Sometimes, she stares for long moments and much to my delight, the kinkier the acts, the longer she stares. My trained eyes take in her chest rising and falling to keep up with what I’m sure was a racing pulse. She’d adjust the straps covering her breasts in a very minute way either because the pressure on her nipples was too much, or because she wanted to create some friction.
Naughty, naughty girl.
My favorite though was when she would cross one long leg over the other and squeeze her thighs together as she watched, and I had no doubt her clit was probably pulsing with desire.
Trista was getting braver too. She never once took any man up on an offer to join, and there had been some I’d seen. I had told her she could if business was slow, but I also made a spectacle in front of Willis that she was off limits. Perhaps Trista thinks she’s off limits to everyone, and it’s fine by me if she wants to think that.
But while Trista may not have had sex with anyone, she certainly had a frisky side that shocked the shit out of me. She was working The Orgy Room one evening as I sat in my office, enjoying a nice scotch while watching her on the video feed. She walked the room, and even her walk was different. Her shoulders were held back, chin up, and there was extra sway in her hips as she wound her way in and out of the various pieces of furniture.
She stopped at a long, low chaise that was currently occupied by a man and a woman. Both naked, engaged in some heated foreplay. The man asked Trista for something, and she pulled a bottle of lube from her tray. The man didn’t take it at first, but merely flipped the woman over on her belly before hauling her to her hands and knees. He positioned himself behind her, one knee pressed into the vinyl cushioning and the other foot planted firmly on the floor for leverage.
He said something else to Trista, who laughed with delight but shook her head. My hand clenched, wondering if he invited her to join in and because I’d never seen Trista laugh like that, I thought perhaps she could be persuaded.
The man grinned at Trista and gripped the woman’s ass before him, spreading her cheeks apart. The man nodded his head that way, and I could practically read his lips—come on—and the expression on his face was pleading.
The woman turned her head to Trista, and it appeared she was appealing to her as well.
To do what to the woman’s ass was beyond me, but my lungs froze as I watched.
I swear I saw a mischievous glint start to sparkle in Trista’s eyes, and then she opened the lube. Stunned, I watched as she first turned it over the woman’s ass, and then squirted some right over the exposed seam and without a moment of hesitation, she turned to the man. He took his cock in hand, leaned his hips forward a bit, and let Trista squirt lube down his length.
He must have asked her to stroke him, but she just laughed again as she shook her head, putting the top back on the lube and placing it on the floor near the couple’s discarded clothes. The man started stroking his dick, but he nodded toward his clothes and said something to Trista. She squatted down gracefully, knees to the side but balancing the tray, and grabbed the man’s wallet. He directed her to open it, and she pulled out a bill. Trista made change and started to put the remainder back in the wallet, but the man said something else to her.
I assumed he was offering her a tip.
Trista shook her head again, but she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as if she was perhaps reconsidering. The man nodded to the money in her hand, then to his cock, and my body went tight.
Trista nodded as she stood up and I also stood up from my chair—to do what I don’t know. Would I intervene if she participated?
Luckily, it wasn’t necessary because all Trista did was stand there and watch.
Watch as the guy gave her a huge grin before lining the head of his cock up to the woman’s anus and started to work his way in. Trista didn’t display one telling sign of shyness about standing there watching a man fuck a woman’s ass. She watched… crossed those legs… pressed her thighs together.
It was sexy as fuck to watch her watch that couple, and I sat right back down in my chair and palmed my own swelling dick. I bet if I called her into my office right then and slid my fingers in that thong, she would have been drenched.
My cock got harder, then, so I jerked off as I watched Trista watch what turned out to be a pretty hot ass fucking.
Tonight though, I won’t get to watch her. She came to me and made a good point about needing at least one night off a week. I wanted to argue with her, but I didn’t, and tonight was that night.
Sad I wouldn’t be able to watch her, wondering what would be running through her head. Wondering if she masturbated right in the locker room at the end of her shift because watching all that kinky fucking had made her horny.
Or maybe she waited until she got home. I could see her using the hand-held sprayer to pulse water over her clit, or maybe she waited until she was naked in bed. Legs spread wide with her slicked fingertips rubbing herself. Perhaps thinking of that couple she watched fuck up close, or maybe she even thought of Helena sucking me off.
She’d look fabulous in a bed made with black satin sheets, legs spread wide and begging me to fill her up. Fuck her slowly.
No wait… I don’t want her in a bed. I won’t make love to her. I want her on her knees before me or better yet… locked in the stocks while I fuck her. I want her in every dirty way I can imagine, and let’s face it… I’d take her on black satin sheets and make love to her all right.
I wonder if I put the moves on her, would she submit to me? I either need to step up my game or forget about using Trista to get my revenge on Jayce.
Standing from my desk, I make my way out of my office and lock up behind me. I’ll hang out in The Social Room for a bit and see if anyone interesting comes through. If not, I’ll probably call it an early night and catch a late baseball game on TV. Granted, owning a sex club means that I have sex.
A lot.
But I don’t have it every night, and there are times I’m not even interested. A beer, pizza, and ESPN preferable.
On the flip side, there are times I can get in a mood and want to do something totally whacked on the kink scale, and there’s not much I haven’t tried.
Tonight… I’m ambivalent, but I will give a quick peek inside to see if there are any regulars who interest me.
Just as I reach over to flip my monitor off, something catches my eye on the security feed. While I have a security team that monitors the activity in the rooms in person and from a security office down the private hall, I also occasionally watch the feeds. I’m not interested in the patrons or what they’re doing, but the general flow of things and to make sure my business is being well run. That the bartenders are filling drinks quickly, and the cleaners are doing their job as efficiently as possible.
Yes, so I may have excessively watched Trista over the last few days, but it’s my fucking club. She’s also part of my fucking favor owed, and I will be using her to my satisfaction before her thirty days are up.
What catches my eye on the monitor is shocking, and I sit back down in my chair so I can be sure about what I’m seeing.
It’s Trista.
Walking through The Social Room toward the bar.
She’s wearing a short, black skirt and a white camisole-type top that’s loose but is cut in a “V” practically down to her navel, with crisscross strings tying the sides somewhat together. The inside swells of her breasts are visible but not much else. The sexiest part is she’s not wearing a bra and the material is very thin. Her nipples are clearly evident, and I wonder if it’s taking all that bravery she’s learned the last few days as she has opened up her acceptance to this club and turned it onto herself. Those long legs are made longer by a pair of obscenely high-heeled ankle boots. The spikes on those heels would look glorious pressed into my shoulders.
Everything about what I’m seeing now pleases me beyond understanding.
She walks through the foyer doors, and my eyes flip to the security feed. It shows her heading to The Orgy Room. If I had to guess, it’s Trista’s favorite just as she seems more interactive in there with patrons than the other rooms.
I sit down in my chair and watch. If I’d been asked what I thought the chances were that Trista Barnes would come to The Wicked Horse on her day off, the answer would have been “not a snowball’s chance in hell.”
But here she is… and I’m on edge to see what happens.
♦
Thirty minutes later, I’m pushing out of my chair with only one destination in mind.
The Silo to talk to Trista.
I watched as she drank a glass of wine and chatted with the bartender. She stayed no more than twenty minutes and left as soon as she finished her drink.
My pulse raced, thinking she might be leaving, but I was relieved when I saw her walk through the foyer and down the hall to The Silo, and that’s when it hit me.
She’s here to try the lifestyle out.
And dressed the way she is, feeling brave, adventurous, and loosened up with a few drinks, she was going to get well laid tonight.
I make it to The Silo only seconds after she does, and she’s still walking toward the circular bar in the middle as I enter. My Silo here in Vegas is very similar to the one in Wyoming, except for one huge difference. The Silo in Wyoming is well lit, and there’s no mystery to the fucking that goes on there. The glassed rooms are bright and so is the circular interior.
I had this room decorated in black and deep purples with incandescent lighting. There were spotlights to showcase the action in the glass rooms, but there were also the curtains for privacy. And in the interior away from the circular bar, there was plush seating—again in a washable vinyl—where patrons could make out, fondle, or fuck. It’s not overly dark, but it is dim, maybe even a little romantic feeling but for all that highly kinky shit going on in those rooms, and still completely rocking a sinful vibe.
Trista walks up to the circular bar, which is outfitted with stools, unlike the other bars, to encourage people to move around. The Silo is a bit different as it has more of a show quality since most of the action goes on inside the glass rooms with the people on the exterior watching so they should be able to do so comfortably.
I come up behind her just as she orders a glass of white wine, then perches that phenomenal ass on a stool. The one to her right is empty and I slide onto it, and the movement gets her attention. She turns to look at me, her eyebrows rising in surprise.
“Oh, come on now,” I admonish her with a smirk, and then let my eyes slide to the bartender who walks up. I place a quick order as I feel like a good scotch tonight. “I’ll have a Laphroaig, and put her wine on my tab.”
The bartender bobs his head and I turn back to Trista. She still has that same stunned look.
“You can’t be surprised to see me in here,” I tell her casually. “I do own this place.”
Her facial muscles relax and she gives me a hesitant smile. “Of course I’m not surprised. I’m just… well, I guess I’m a bit nervous to be in here and was hoping I could just observe unobtrusively.”
“Ah,” I hazard a guess. “You’re a voyeur. You like to watch.”
The bartender returns with the drinks, and Trista immediately picks hers up to take a sip before giving a shake of her head. Those honeyed lengths fall over her golden, bare shoulders. Her eyes peek up to mine, her smile sheepish. “I have no clue what the hell I’m doing here. Curiosity, I guess.”
Fuck yes.
This was even better than I anticipated. The signs are all adding up.
Her increased comfortability the last three days. The way she watched more of the action and was clearly affected by it. And finally… having the actual guts to come in and watch some more. Watching Trista fidget in her seat, seemingly needing more wine to calm her nerves, I realize she wants something from this club, but she has no clue how to go about getting it.
Her sexual curiosity has not only been awakened… it’s been poked and prodded. Now she wants to know more.
And I’m just the guy who’s going to do it for her.
The only guy, I decide.