18. Serenity
Chapter eighteen
Serenity
I feel better after our talk but still confused about some things.
He said he was attracted to me, but he hasn't acted on it. Will he ever? Or was that just like a "thought you should know" and that's it?
And what about my attraction to him? Is that it? Just two mutually attracted people, who live together and what? Never touch? Never talk about it again?
The uncertainty and racing thoughts follow me home that night. He seemed more relaxed in the car on the way home, but neither of us spoke. I took my shower and put on the shirt he left for me.
I slept in bed next to him, listening to the rhythm of his breaths, but struggled not to squirm.
We did our morning run in silence, like usual, and ate breakfast in silence, like usual, but while I was spiraling, he seemed cool and collected.
Work at The Envelope is getting easier and I'm growing more confident in my role. Mr. Volkov, or Adrian as he likes to remind me to call him, comes in a few times a week and sits in my area, but he hasn't made any more advances. He just watches me silently, before pulling the same girl that looks like me into the back. She doesn't seem to mind because she smiles and giggles every time.
That calms my anxiety about him a little. Clearly, he's not all bad if she's eager to be chosen by him again and again.
I have a break a few moments after he retreats to the rooms, and curiosity gets the best of me.
I walk towards the curtained hallway that leads to the back rooms, eyeing the guard warily. He gives me a tight nod of his head in acknowledgement but doesn't smile.
I hold the curtain aside and slip inside, nerves making the palms of my hands tingle.
I have no idea what to expect. The hallway is dark. There are five large glass walls on the right and a couple making out in the shadows on the left.
I slowly inch down the hallway, bracing myself for the unknown as the scene in the first room comes into view.
"Oh my God," I whisper out on an exhale. A large, beautifully built black man stands at the foot of a bed, completely naked. At his feet kneels a white man, and what they're doing is as obvious as it is salacious. The white man's head bounces up and down in front of the black man, while the black man fists his hair, controlling his motions.
My face flushes with heat. I feel like I shouldn't be looking. I get an incredible urge to run away. But they chose a room with a window for a reason. They want to be watched. Because the hallway is dark, they can't see me in detail, but when the black man looks up, he looks right at me. I'm illuminated enough that he knows someone is watching him, but not who. It's dirty, and taboo, and such an incredible feeling.
The black man tilts his head to the sky, groaning, although I can't hear him from here. He likes that I'm watching him. He's getting more turned on by me watching him. Being a strange part of this scene makes my heart beat faster.
My pussy clenches around nothing and I look down. It's never done that before. What the fuck was that about? Am I... turned on?
My nipples tighten, too, as my chest flushes and my breathing quickens. It's such a strange feeling that I almost feel sick.
"Enjoying the show?"
Declan's deep voice just inches from my ear shocks me. I hadn't heard him approach. My hand flies to my chest as if I can keep my heart from beating out of it.
Now I'm embarrassed all over again.
"I...I..." I stammer; my overactive brain unable to form a coherent sentence.
"It's alright, Serenity. I'm glad to see you exploring this side of yourself."
We're silent for a beat, both watching the couple in front of us move to the bed. This is weird, isn't it? Watching a couple have sex with your boss? Am I supposed to say something about it? Is he? Is he turned on? Can he tell I am? For a beat I'm convinced he can read my mind and knows how hard my nipples are and how damp my panties are. Am I breathing too loudly? Is he hard?
I glance at his slacks and sure enough, I can see the outline of a bulge. Nothing detailed, but enough to let me know he's hard. He must be hard all the time, working in a sex club, though, right? Can it do long term damage to be hard for so long? I look at the hard cocks of the men in front of me and wonder how Declan's compares.
I shake my head, trying to clear away my errant thoughts and focus on my breathing. My ADHD and anxiety have gotten better. The low caffeine, high protein diet and morning runs with Declan have helped take the edge off of the worst parts of my condition, but I was born this way, so it'll always be a part of me, it's just become less debilitating with Declan's care and attention.
"How are you feeling?" Declan asks, snapping me back to the present.
"What?"
"Does watching them turn you on? I know we talked about attraction, but I've been wondering about your sexuality. You said you've never really explored that side of yourself."
I nod, my cheeks flaming. But this is his line of work. Sex. Sex and money - the two things the world revolves around. And if he's going to take me seriously as my employer, I need to prove to him that I'm not too afraid to watch it or talk about it.
I clear my throat. "Yes, it turns me on." I quirk my head to the side. "Although, I'm not sure I fully understand why. I'm not a man, and I'm not gay."
The black man has the white one underneath him, penetrating him with deep thrusts while kissing him, his hands roaming.
"It's very common for straight women to enjoy man-on-man action."
"It is?"
I turn to him, finally. His face is covered in shadow, but I can see his dark green eyes vividly. The dark hallway feels a little too intimate to be standing so close to him, when we both know we're both turned on, but he's talking about sex as if he were talking about the weather.
He nods. "There's lots of psychology behind it, but it could also just be because it's passionate. Look at them." He nods back towards the couple. They're both beautiful, passionate lovers, lost in the throes of sex.
"They're beautiful." There's no other word to describe it. They're both muscular, strong, and as rough with each other as they are loving. There's a power dynamic happening here, but it's not one-sided. The black man is topping the white, but the white man has just as much power as his partner. The black man sits back on his knees, lifting his partner's leg by the ankle. Both have their heads thrown back in ecstasy, brows furrowed, jaws tight.
They look like a work of classical art.
"I was wondering if you were sexual at all. Some people can be asexual and it's perfectly normal."
"Asexual?" I've never heard that term before.
"Completely lacking a sex drive."
I nod, looking back at the scene in front of us. That's definitely not me. I squeeze my thighs together, aching. This is all new to me, but it's not as scary as I thought it would be.
Declan's head dips as he catches the movement and a strangled sound comes from his throat, before he clears it hastily and shoves his fists in his front pockets.
"Take your time exploring. I'll cover your shift."
I begin to argue, but he's turned on his heel before I can get the words out.
Take my time exploring...
For some reason, that feels like he meant more than just these back rooms, but maybe the entirety of my sexuality? So, I let my overactive mind wonder what that would look like...and who I would explore it with.