13. Wrinley
Wrinley
I ’m perched in my small bay window, watching the rain fall from the grey sky, when the distinct chime of the doorbell rings through the apartment. That better be what I think it is.
Jumping up from my seat, I rush to the door. I pick up the small package at my feet and am happy when I see I was right. It took forever to get here, but now that it is… it’s finally time.
I grab a corner and aggressively tear it open, unable to contain my excitement. My heart is racing as I grab the small bottle of pheromone spray that is about to literally solve all of my problems. It better, anyway.
Dad hasn’t brought up my employment situation or mom the last few times we had dinner.
The last time it all came up, I came home and messaged about twenty randos from a hookup app in a lame attempt to take my mind off of everything.
Surprisingly, some of them actually texted back, but almost as fast as they agreed to come over and fuck my brains out, they canceled.
I’m dying to know what a girl has to do to get her freak on these days.
I’ve tried everything, from lying about how much experience I have to actually telling them about my virginity.
Virginity kink has to be a thing, right? Who doesn’t want to be someone’s first?
I’d literally give my left ovary to have a dick inside me as soon as fucking possible. I'd even take a virgin right about now.
This new level of desperation I’ve reached has me trying things I’ve never considered until recently.
Which brings us to this little bottle in my hand.
The website and testimonial videos swear that this simple little spray will have the boys salivating to jump my bones, which is interesting because it doesn’t smell like much to me.
So, tonight I’m going to Gravity. I called ahead and bought a single female guest pass that I really can’t afford.
I choked when they told me the dollar amount and I almost called Arabella to see if her new Daddy would be willing to hook me up, but I thought better of it.
I don’t need her asking questions. So what if I can’t pay rent next month.
It’s fine. Everything’s fine. It’ll all be fine.
Getting dicked down for the first time will be more than worth it. Right?
Once my face is made up, I slip on my favorite silver sequined tube dress and black, open-toed heels. The dress is tight and hugs my curves in all the right places and the heels are giving full “fuck me” vibes.
I’m ready.
Walking into Gravity this time feels different. They really have done a great job at making this place feel safe. I’ll have to remember to praise Daddy Cocktimus Prime next time I see him.
I square my shoulders and walk to the bar to order a drink, giving myself a silent pep talk. “You’ve got this. You’re a bad bitch and deserve all the dick you’re about to receive.” Shit, now I sound like I’m saying grace.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender–Jake–asks with a flirty smile.
Shit, is it already working?
Probably not, Wrinley. Settle the fuck down. You only sprayed it on your wrists just before you walked through the door. Worry starts to set in, that maybe I didn’t use enough. It barely has a scent to it. More couldn’t hurt anything.
I pull the small bottle from my handbag and spritz myself on the neck, inside of my wrists and then casually–and hopefully inconspicuously–up my dress.
“Miss?” Jake pulls my attention back to him. He really is gorgeous. “What can I get you to drink?” Well, fuck. He’s literally just taking my drink order.
I take a deep, relaxing breath and order my favorite and very ironic mixed drink. “Can I get a dirty little virgin please?” Arabella and I came across it a few years ago and ordered it at a bar as a joke. Turns out it was very good. “It’s white rum, peach schnapps, coconut rum, sprite and OJ.”
“Thanks, love, but I already know how to make a dirty little virgin.” Okay then. “I just have to scan your bracelet.”
This place has an annoying two drink maximum and this damn electronic bracelet tracks them. Leaning over the bar, I stretch to give him my wrist. He scans it more than once and lets out a groan as he taps it like it’s broken.
“Something wrong?”
“You could say that. Apparently, I’m not allowed to serve you any alcohol.
Sorry, love.” I know now that he’s only doing his job by calling me love, but he needs to stop before I leap over this counter and straddle him right here and now.
He says it with just a hint of a rasp in his voice and it hits me right in the vagina.
“What do you mean, you can’t serve me, Jake? Can she get me my drink, then?” I ask, pointing to the other bartender.
“Sorry, but no. For some reason, you’ve been cut off. The drink rules are strictly enforced here and I don’t have the authorization to bypass it.”
Letting out a huff in frustration, I turn and lean against the bar to survey the scenery. It’s not ideal, but I guess I’m going to have to do this completely sober.
“Um, excuse me,” a quiet, subtly southern voice grabs my attention. “You look like you know your way around here. Can you help me?” I turn to look at the woman that’s delaying project fuckfest. She’s a petite thing with short, platinum hair. She looks out of place.
“Sure, I’m Wrinley,” I tell her as I offer my hand.
She lets out what’s clearly a nervous chuckle and tucks what she can of her hair behind her ear. “Demi. I’ve never been to a place like this and my friends convinced me to come with them. I think I’ve lost them. Do you know where the club entrance is?”
“Come with me, Demi.” I grab her hand and pull her toward the entry door. “It’s this way.” I guess I’ll take this as my sign to get this show on the road.
Once we’re through the doors, we part ways, then I hug my condom filled purse and head downstairs. There better be a hot guy with a big dick down there. That has to be a qualifying criteria to become a member, I’d imagine.
As I step into the large, open space at the bottom of the stairs, I’m assaulted with visions of various kinds of debauchery. There’s some kind of orgy happening on the other side of the room and some guy is whipping his girl against a wooden cross. Jesus .
I know this area can be used for open play or rooms can be used for more privacy, but honestly, I’m not against either option at this point. I just really hope this plan works.
“Hi there, sweet thing,” a deep voice booms from behind me. When I turn to see he’s hot as fuck, I give myself a few internal fist pumps.
Goodbye, hymen. It’s time for you to go.