24
“I think we need to set a few ground rules before this happens,” Brandon said, keeping his eyes on Monica while continuing to change the massage room sheets. It was mid-morning, and member traffic was practically nonexistent.
Brandon hadn't waited until Friday—the deadline Monica had set—to give her his answer. There wasn't really much to think over.
She was bright red, thoroughly embarrassed, and even quieter than usual. Even so, she carried an air of determination that surprised him. At times, it genuinely seemed like she might actually have had the nerve to carry out her threat and turn him in.
Of course, Brandon didn’t find it all that threatening anymore.
He’d learned that Laura, his supervisor, was close friends with Amanda and Isabella.
Having crossed paths with her outside of work, she hadn't seemed nearly as strict as she was at the club.
Maybe his job wasn't really in jeopardy after all.
“First and most importantly,” he went on, “is this really what you want? Do you genuinely want to sleep with me, or was it just—”
“I do!”
“Good. Because I want to, too.” Brandon smoothed down another fresh sheet. “Besides, Amanda knows. I told her, and the only reason I'm doing this is because she let—she agreed to it.”
His coworker's eyes went wide. It was remarkable how she managed to blush an even deeper shade of crimson.
“You… want to?”
“Well, of course! Look at you, who wouldn't? Not to mention how sweet and kind you are.”
“You’re only saying that because we’re about to have sex.”
“No. I’m being completely honest. I’d say the exact same thing even if sex weren't on the table.” Finishing up, Brandon gathered the soiled linens off the floor into a bundle.
“Anyway, my point is, Amanda is the one calling the shots here.
If you ever want to actually threaten someone, she's the one you have to go after.”
After tossing the bundle into the laundry cart, Brandon took a step closer to Monica.
“That said, there are a few conditions.”
Monica stared at him for a second, trying to make sense of it.
“No. That’s not how this works. I’m the one blackmailing you.” She breathed the last word in a whisper.
“I know, but between your blackmail and obeying Amanda, I’m always going to obey her.”
They stood staring at each other for a moment, Brandon amazed by how effortlessly that confession had rolled off his tongue. It was true, of course. But saying it so naturally to someone other than Amanda or Isabella? That was brand new.
Monica, on the other hand, was trying to wrap her head around that level of devotion, clearly wondering what kind of relationship they actually had.
“Shall we, then?”
That determination, laced with all her shyness, flared back up, and the girl offered a small smile. “Let’s.”
Monica was even hotter up close. That flustered face, those wide eyes behind her glasses—all laid out right there on the wooden floor of the thermal baths, waiting for him.
The sight only fanned the flames inside him, and the fact that he'd been denying himself for days made it that much harder to resist.
“You… you never said what the conditions were.”
“Right.”
Brandon rubbed the back of his neck, looking away as he tried to figure out how to avoid crushing the girl's spirits. She’d clearly had to push past an agonizing amount of embarrassment to get this far. Hell, she even tried blackmailing me for it, he thought.
Now, Brandon was about to let her down.
“I’m only allowed to use my hands.”
“What?”
“Amanda only gave me permission to use my hands on you,” he repeated, as if that explained the entire dynamic he shared with Amanda and Isa. “I think we can kiss, too. The restriction is mostly about the actual act, you know?”
“Amanda only let you?” Monica sat up, pulling her knees to her chest in a defensive curl.
“Yeah. She kind of calls the shots, and she’s teasing me, keeping me on orgasm deni—” Brandon cut himself off. Probably not the best way to put it.
He crouched down to her level and took her hand. He needed to handle this right.
The gentle rush of water from the fountains outside the thermal baths filled the room, cloaking their hushed voices.
“Look, I know how much you want this. Anyone could see it.”
Monica looked down at her hand, where Brandon’s fingers were tracing a soothing stroke.
“It’s just that I can't go all the way. Amanda’s keeping me on orgasm denial for a while. A power-play thing, control and all that.”
“She bosses you around?”
“Yeah.”
“I…”
“That’s why there's a limit. She let me come here with you and give you pleasure however you want, but I can’t enter you like that.” Brandon tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Amanda only gave me permission to use my hands on you.”
Monica buried her face between her knees and arms, hiding away for a second.
Anxiety began churning in Brandon’s gut. He liked Monica; she was a sweet, gentle girl, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her feelings.
“It’s not fair… the way you were with her that night,” her voice came out muffled against her knees. “I just wanted… the same thing. For my first time with someone who…”
That unfinished sentence stopped Brandon dead in his tracks. Suddenly, the sheer depth of Monica’s shame, her clumsy desperation to make something happen through blackmail—it all made sense.
“Wait, this was supposed to be your first time?”
Monica curled up even tighter, practically radiating mortification. She gave a small nod.
“No, that's not right.” Brandon leaned in closer, wrapping his arms around the tiny bundle she’d made of herself. “Your first time shouldn’t be like this. You deserve something better, something special.”
Her walls crumbled a bit as she leaned into his embrace, letting herself fall against his chest.
“There, there.”
“You seemed so… you looked at me with so much… and then that night with her…”
“I know. I know.”
Brandon didn’t fully understand, but Monica was already far too fragile for him to press any further. Just speaking up clearly took everything she had.
“Listen. Your first time is going to be way better than blackmailing a coworker, okay? I promise.”
“But I wanted you to just get it over with.”
“Me? It’s not that I don’t want to, but…” No. Brandon wasn't about to go down the road of questioning her choices. What she needed right now was comfort. “How about this: I’m sure that if I talk to Amanda, we can figure something out.”
“You’d ask her that?”
“If that’s what you want, why not? Just give me a little more time, alright?”
That seemed to calm Monica down a bit. It was a delicate situation, and seeing the girl on the verge of melting into tears had Brandon walking on eggshells.
But maybe, given some time to think it through, she’d feel more confident in what she truly wanted.
Brandon helped Monica to her feet and wiped the tears from her face. She managed a bashful smile and adjusted her glasses.
“God, this is so embarrassing…”
“Relax. We don’t ever have to talk about it. The disaster today, I mean.”
“You will talk to her, right?”
“I promise.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of routine. He carried out his chores as best he could, his mind lingering on the women who had suddenly invaded his world. He served each member on autopilot, barely registering the grumbling of the wealthy old men.
Every now and then, bustling across the club, he crossed paths with Monica as she went about her work. The poor girl flushed scarlet every time their eyes met. In turn, Brandon made sure to offer a warm, reassuring smile.
In the end, it was the right thing to do.
As gorgeous as Monica was, Brandon had meant every word about wanting to treat her right.
Not to mention, putting that kind of intimacy on pause with anyone other than Amanda or Isabella didn't bother him at all.
Those two were the ones who truly owned his thoughts, fueling every wild expectation his imagination could conjure.