Page 20 of Axel

Rose is right. I have a problem. The more I work through my past, the more I see my lonely future, and the only thing that’s been keeping me company lately are thoughts about how much I hate Axel.

Oh, and how beautiful he is, too.

Yes, Your Honor, I admit it—the man is clitmusic. I swear mine literally vibrates like a tuning fork in his presence.

“I.D. and phone.” The mammoth security guard in the vestibule of the sex club follows procedures. I flash my credentials, surrender my phone, and get patted down by a woman before entering.

When I do, I scan the room, and it’s unusually dark tonight. Only gold sconces and globe lights glow as music and moans fill the smoky, sandalwood-scented air.

Through the haze, I spot Axel at the bar. He’s with his friend Nash and talking to some hulking guy covered in ink, too. I recognize him. He’s a bouncer at Delta’s, the sex store.

I try melting into the shadows, though I’m confident with my blonde wig, Daisy Duke fashion, and straw cowgirl hat pulled down low; Axel won’t recognize me. He hasn’t yet. And usually, I love wearing my micro jean shorts, knotted T-shirt, and cute red cowgirl boots, but…

Not tonight.

I scan the guests, and dread twists my stomach.

It’s a Luxe Kink theme night. Everyone is dressed in high-end role-play. Most men and a few women wear expensive suits. Many women, men, and fluid bodies look ravenous in luxurious lingerie. I’m talking Agent Provocateur and expensive.

On the stage, there’s a hulking man in a suit getting sucked off by three, elegant women.

The theme is supposed to be sexy and rich … and suddenly I feel painfully insecure and out of place, my heart starting to race with anxiety.

I try to focus on my mission. I need to see who Axel talks to, if I know them, and if I can get more intel. I try not to let two women dressed in classy black silk gowns make me feel less than while they practically hiss behind their hands, their eyes burning a mocking hole in my country-girl clothes.

But … they do.

They make embarrassment flame my cheeks. My bladder clenches under their scrutiny. Humiliation drops my chin. I chew my lip, feeling the crushing weight of being judged and powerless.

It’s all I felt growing up: poor and worthless.

Clearly, their worth is far more than mine, and I can’t breathe. I can’t escape. I need to go to the bar and get a glass of water, but Axel still stands there, talking and scanning the crowd.

Three stunning women approach him. They’re wearing matching pink lace bras, panties, and garters. Draped over him, they confidently wear heels and jut their breasts for his attention, and he smiles at them.

Axel. Actually.Smiles.

He’s so breathtaking when he does it, and all I can remember is…

How he glared at me today. Like I’m trashy enough for him to chase but not worth enough for him to keep.

It’s every insecurity I’ve had since middle school. It’s every girl who bullied me, mocking my red hair and seizures. It’s every boy who said they wanted me, then slut-shamed me afterward.

They didn’t care about my tender heart, even when I triedto be everyone’s friend. They didn’t care how hard my mom worked just to feed us and pay my medical bills. They didn’t care that I have epilepsy.

They just knew I lived in a trailer park and didn’t belong; they made sure of it. When I had a drop seizure, I’d hear them laughing about it later, calling me “Zombie Girl” and mocking my attacks. They wrote mean things on my locker. They trapped me in the stall of the bathroom, trying to give me a seizure. They threw stuff in my hair before I got on the bus. They…

“Excuse me.” A velvet voice shakes me from my memories. “Darling, are you okay?”

My blurred focus finds the most elegant woman I’ve ever seen standing before me. “I… I…” I blink, and tears escape. “I’m fine.”

Dressed in a black leather dress, she looks like a brunette Michelle Pfeiffer with stunning blue eyes and a face that makes age the sexiest thing you can wear.

Gently, she touches my arm. “I’m fineis what women say when they’re breaking inside, but their pride won’t crack. I should know.”

Without introductions, I know who she is. Nadine Faye. She’s the owner. A legend in this town, and none do her justice. In person, it’s like you’re meeting God, and she’s a dominatrix.

“I, uh…” I glance down at my pathetic outfit, at my fists clenched nervously. “I just didn’t know the theme tonight and feel out of place.”

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