Chapter Six
Scarlett
I don't know what I was expecting. After an incredible sexual experience where I am still floating on my post-orgasmic high, he suddenly becomes a businessman. I just came on his cock, and the next thing out of his mouth is, ‘What is your bank routing number?’
Fuck it. The night was fun. I am glad I did it.
I probably won’t be able to have sex with anyone who doesn’t have a Prince Albert, so he ruined me there, but I am fine.
Still aching and tingly, I have to get out of this room—and without taking a fucking penny because I am not a whore.
If I hurry, I can still catch John, because our shift doesn't end until three a.m. and it is just two forty-five.
“Okay,” I say, feeling a little sad, but I know what I am getting into. “Is it okay if I use the restroom before I leave?” Don’t cry, don’t cry… this all feels so tawdry.
“Of course, love. I’ll call the car while you’re in there.” He gets up, and his cock is almost hard again as he walks naked into the living room, where he left his phone on the couch.
How am I going to get out? I wait for him to leave and grab my dress off the floor, quickly putting it on.
There is a hallway that connects another bedroom, then a kitchen, and a dining room, which leads to the front door in a round configuration.
So I can get out if I am fast. I walk briskly down the hall.
Since my shoes were already broken and they are near the couch, I will not be getting them back.
I have to realize that my only pair of black pumps are now going to be left as a souvenir for Mr. Cock, who fucked me so hard I am still shaking.
He called for my bag to be brought up, and I just pray it is near the front door.
When I get to the door, I say a thank you to God, Jesus, and the Blue Fairy because there is my bag, and inside of it is a pair of Crocs.
Mr. Cock is on the phone, and I keep to the wall behind him, walking as quietly as I can.
I grab my bag, open the door, and run down the hallway toward the elevator.
I call it, praying it will come before he realizes what has happened.
Obviously, he hears the door slam closed, but he is still naked.
As soon as the door to his suite opens, so does the elevator.
I punch the button for the basement where the catering office is and just pray he won’t follow me.
When I get to the catering office, the other elevator is still on a floor a few stories up. He hasn't called it. I just need to get out of there and get home. I put on my Crocs and walk into the kitchen where the kitchen staff is cleaning up the pots and pans and getting ready to leave.
“Is John, the bouncer, still here?” I ask one of the sous chefs.
“Yeah, he’s usually the last to go. He’s probably at the front, helping them close down the bar.”
“Thanks,” I tell him.
With my heart in my throat, I go upstairs to the bar and find John having a beer and looking wrung out.
“Hey there,” I say, trying to act like I hadn’t just fucked my brains out, but it is really hard to ignore how sore and good my pussy feels.
It is a little perverse, but sitting on the stool next to John feels kind of amazing since I don't have any underwear on and I am still wearing the world's shortest little black dress.
“Hey there, Red Mask.”
I realize I am still wearing my stupid mask. I take it off and put it on the bar. “Do you mind getting this back to Satin Catering?” I ask the bartender who works with the company. I recognize him and have worked with him a few times.
“Sure,” he says, taking the mask and throwing it into a cardboard box with the others.
“How was your night?” John asks like I’d fucked an entire football team.
“Ugh,” I breathe out.
“Bad?” He seems surprised.
“No, just, ugh…” I flash him a smile. I am still so overwhelmed and confused; I don't know if what I did was stupid, brave, or slutty. I am a mess.
“That Rooster masked guy, not a good lay?”
John is gay, and being gay, he is also a man.
He knows how men like to just fuck… with no strings attached.
Not all gay men are like that, of course.
Many of them are romantic and like to be married and have children and live beautiful epic gay lives, but some have a wider sense of sexual liberation and are less shaming than women like me.
“He was fantastic. It was fun, but I don’t want to ever do it again. It was too much for me. So, if you see me on the red heart list, come beat the shit out of me because I will have obviously lost my mind.” I laugh and take a sip of his beer.
“Beat the shit out of you? Woah, you have it bad. He must have been a fantastic fucker…” John laughs and snatches his beer back from me. “I’m jealous. Why can’t I be a banging hot girl like you? I want to fuck a billionaire.”
“You are a banging hot boy who has a husband who might not appreciate you bringing home a billionaire.” I look at his beer longingly, needing something to drink.
“Oh, hubs would be down, especially if we got paid. You know what I mean.”
I do, and I don't, because I just walked away from one hundred thousand dollars.
I try not to think about it because I just couldn't take the money.
It didn't seem right. I had the night, I had the memories, and I'd just move on with my life.
Two thousand will be plenty. I can pay my rent, at least. I did what the catering company wanted us to do: entertain the fucking client.
I hear a male voice just outside the bar. “Have you seen a server wearing a red mask this evening?”
Fuck, it is him.
“John, please take me home,” I beg quietly, totally panicking.
John looks at my face and knows I am freaking out.
He then glances over in the direction of the voice, getting a better look than I do of Mr. Cock.
I can’t look at him; I didn’t want to see him.
I just want to leave. I start heading toward the garage where I know John has parked and just hope he’ll be right behind me.
When I am sitting in the front seat of John's car, I finally can breathe.
God, I was so fucking scared. I don't know what I was running away from, but I just couldn't face him, couldn't look at what we'd done.
It was amazing and felt so good and I wanted more, but it was also wrong—or not wrong exactly… but ah, fuck, I am confused.
“He was so hot,” John says, smiling. “A smokin’ silver fox,” he says and gives me a wink.
“All I saw was his cock mask and well… his actual… never mind.” I laugh, feeling so slutty.
“Good for you, Scar. I’m glad you had fun. I know you well enough that you’ll be a little weird about this, but good sex is good fun. No one got hurt. It was consensual, right?”
“Very,” I agree, and it was.
I wanted it and I got it; I should feel great. John lifts his hand to offer a high five, and I laugh.
“You’re an honorary gay, my friend. Found a sugar daddy, and you got to business.”
Not exactly what happened, but I have to chuckle and hit his high five.
“Not all gays,” I say, “are like that.”
“Only the good ones.” He winks and drives me home.
I am totally grateful for John; I need him after what I have just been through.
It wasn't bad—the sex was actually incredible—but I am a jumbled mess inside.
I thank John for driving me home, and we promise to catch up again.
I don't have another catering gig for about a week or so, which is fine because I have to recover.
I also have an audition for the New York City Ballet later the next day.
I am hoping that I will be cast in the corps de ballet or as an apprentice. I could quit my job at the catering company because the pay would be comparable and I'd finally be able to do what I love instead of catering to people like Mr. Cock.
I am so tired when I finally get home that I just take off my clothes and fall into bed.
In my sleep, I dream of Mr. Cock, and the moment his huge dick entered me.
I feel like I am being blasted apart. He is so thick and wonderful, and I feel completely overtaken by an alien life form that absolutely rocks my world.
I hold on to him as his hips press in and pull out, like a dancer.
I love the groans he makes when he is losing himself in the moment.
When we come at the same time, it is as if we are both in the air flying.
In my dream, I am able to remove the mask, and he is the most beautiful man I’ve ever beheld. He leans in and kisses me, then says…
“Hey, you.”
My bedroom light blares to life.
“I made some chia pudding and a blueberry smoothie,” Mia says, bright and chipper way too early in the morning.
“What time is it?” I cover my head with my pillow and wish her away. I had pulled the blackout shades and intended on sleeping until just before my audition.
“It’s eight-thirty. I have a nine o’clock class, but I wanted to remind you to get up and not miss your audition.”
“I moved it to three, remember? Because I had to work last night,” I say from under the pillow.
“Oh shit, yeah, sorry. I knew you had to work, but I forgot you changed the audition time. How was it?”
Ugh, it is too early to tell her, but I don’t know when I’ll get the chance, so I unearth myself from under the pillow and look at her.
“I ‘hearted,’” I say, feeling so fucking slutty. “It’s when you, um… make yourself available to the guests for ‘conversation’ and, well… Cock.” I give her a big-ass fake grin.
“Oh my god, why? I mean, how? You?” She sits on the end of the bed. “Come on… deets, girl. All of them.”
Fuck, I am too sleepy for this, but I’ll give her the basics. I need her girl-code energy to keep me from pining for the guy, or worse, feeling ashamed of what I did.
“Well, we were masked, so I never saw his face, but he was um… mature.” I start, feeling queasy, but still sort of turned on from the great sex.
“Are we talking grandpa mature, or Beckett mature?” Her pretty face scrunches a little with the question.
“Definitely the Beckett variety.” I have seen her hot older brother only once from a distance when he came to pick her up for their obligatory monthly dinners.
“Okay, that’s hot. Beckett is very sexy, but you know he’s my brother, so ew. And he’s a total tool, so also ew.” Her little scrunch crumples more.
“Yeah, this guy did have a little tool energy, but he was trying. It was a one-nighter. We wore masks, I handed in my V-card, and he ripped it the fuck up.” Boy did he, but he was also gentle. I wasn’t even that sore; it is a good ache, one I wish I could have again.
“Fantastic. So are you going to see him again?” She gives me a flirty grin.
“Only in my dreams. Which I’d like to get back to. There’s not much else to tell. I’m not gonna go all erotica on you; just know it was good. I’m okay, he was fine, it all was nice, and I am now a full-fledged member of the Folks Who Are Fucking Society. I feel honored and blessed,” I tease.
It was fine, but it was also a little bit awful.
I would have loved to have taken the money, but my pride just wouldn't allow me to do it.
The sex was good, but the fact that it ended so abruptly the way it did, and how he was so business-like afterward…
I just didn't want any part of that. I enjoyed myself.
It was a fun fantasy for a minute, and then it was over; no delusions.
“I’m so proud of you. You took control of your sexuality and had some amazing consensual non-committal sex.
” Mia puts her hand over her heart, also teasing.
“My little girl is growing up,” she laughs.
“Call me when you get into the corps de ballet, but until then, get some sleep,” she says, rising from the bed.
“If,” I counter and nestle back into my covers. “If I get into the corps de ballet.”
“You are too funny. You’re the best dancer at NYU; you’ll get in. See you tonight, you full-fledged fucker.” She laughs so hard, and it is so cheesy, but that’s why I love Mia. She makes everything awesome, not just okay, but sparkling.
“I love you,” I say, quickly falling back to sleep.
“Not more than I love you,” I hear her say as she leaves.
I sleep for the rest of the morning and only dream of him once more. Dreaming of Mr. Cock makes me miss him. I would have liked to get to know him better, if only to discover whether he was as awful as he said, or as good as he pretended to be.
When I finally wake up, it is one o’clock in the afternoon.
I go into the bathroom feeling well-rested, finally, and brush my teeth.
Remembering that I need to take my birth control, I open the pillbox.
I am a little bit late taking it because of getting home at quarter to four in the morning, but as long as I take it, I'll be fine.
I open the container and realize I took my last one the day before.
Shit.
It is too late to get my prescription refilled, so I will have to get a morning-after pill. That is a complication because I need to be at the audition. If I get out of the audition before seven, I can go to the pharmacy and pick one up.
I just hope that the audition will be over by then. I calm myself down by telling myself that nobody gets pregnant the first time they have sex; it is rare. I can't think about it. I have to get my brain in the right headspace for the audition.