Page 7 of Finding Haven
“Well, Zack, I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.” She’s walking away from me before I have a chance to ask for her name. I make sure to tell Myles to add her drink to my account and leave him a generous tip for the part he played in ensuring her safety. As I’m standing to leave, my attention catches on a slim strip of plastic on the bartop in front of where she was sitting. It’s been a few years since I’ve put any of my first-responder training to work, but I immediately recognize the clean piece of plastic for what it is: a blood glucose testing strip.
Jeremy Morris is a lucky man. He doesn’t have any kind of police record and doesn’t seem to have too much of an online presence. He has fewer than a hundred followers on each of his social media platforms, most of which are set to private. None of that matters, though. He may not be on the Phoenix Legion’s watch list, but he’s sure as fuck on mine. The guy was stupid enough to attempt drugging someone in awell-lit public place. I’d be willing to bet it won’t be long before he makes another careless mistake.
After the way their date was going, and the way I ended it, I doubt he will be reaching out to the woman I met at the bar. With any luck, they don’t know each other outside of whatever that was tonight.
As soon as I finished compiling everything I found on Jeremy into a file, saved it to my computer, and backed it up to my external hard drive to be safe, my mind immediately drifted back to the woman from the bar. She was fucking beautiful, but that’s not what my mind is stuck on. Our conversation has been playing on a loop in my mind. I’m not sure what about her has me so enamored.
Aside from those I work with at the hotel, most people steer clear of me. Given my past and the people I’ve lost, it’s never bothered me much. The last thing I need is to form a connection with someone new, only for them to turn out to be an entirely different person once they get what they want from me.
Yet this woman, who had already been dealt a shit hand for the night, didn’t hesitate to strike up a conversation with me. She wasn’t deterred by my short responses or inability to hold eye contact with her for long. Those things only seemed to encourage her.
I can’t believe I let her walk away without knowing her name. With that honey blonde hair, gray eyes rimmed in dark blue, and those fucking mouth-watering curves, I’d bet her name is just as beautiful.
Trying to push thoughts of her from my mind, I make quick work of showering and throwing on a pair of lightweight gray joggers before getting comfortable on my living room couch, laptop in hand. Tonight’s conversation has me craving human connection. The safest way to dothat without having to get to know someone on a personal level is through one of the many adult entertainment sites available. Despite the many options available, I find myself consistently turning to Frisk. The site is built to resemble any other social media app and allows for live streams as well as photo and video uploads, all controlled by the creators themselves. Premium content can be made available to subscribers only or on a pay-to-play basis.
It takes some scrolling through various livestreams and videos to find what I’m looking for. I pause, my breath catching in my throat when a photo of a masked curvy blonde with the username SugarQueen fills my screen. The familiarity of her has the dead thing in my chest threatening to lurch to life, but the lace mask she’s wearing is preventing my brain from fully making the connection. She’s everything and nothing like the woman I met earlier.
5
Quinn
Attwenty-threeyearsold,not a single day goes by that I’m not reminded of all of the ways that my body has let me down. All of that shifts out of focus when I step into the camera’s view. In front of the camera, my body becomes a work of art. Art that demands attention and deserves to be admired. My account has grown faster than I could have ever imagined. Any thoughts lurking around in my head about someone with a body like mine not being worth a large fanbase completely disappeared once my list of subscribers surpassed the triple digits.
My blonde hair comes from a bottle, my cheeks are a natural shade of sunburned pink without foundation, and I have to use an anti-chafing stick whenever I want to wear shorts. Dresses are usually completely out of the question without wearing little bike shorts underneath. And still, my Frisk subscribers show me that plenty of people find my body desirable.
I can’t say they findmedesirable, considering they know nothing about me. But my body?Thatthey want.
The beauty of this little side hustle is I can take photos or film videos when I feel like it and the timing is convenient for me. Sure, I film requested content here and there when a subscriber pays the additional fee, but I still have complete control over the extra’s I choose to offer.I’ve yet to do a private livestream, but I do have the option available. It’s my highest-priced type of content, as it should be. The idea of going live for a stranger, touching myself for their viewing pleasure, feels way too intimate. Taking photos and filming videos is much more my style. It’s where my expertise with boudoir photography shines.
I didn’t think I would ever be the type to make money by running a website built around adult content. It’s exhilarating. I’ve yet to experience any form of desire. Not just basic fleeting lust, buttruedesire. I want to know what it feels like to have a man look at my body with an inextinguishable fire burning behind his eyes. Knowing that I have thousands of subscribers who watch andenjoymy content as soon as it’s been posted gives me a tiny hint of what that level of desire could possibly taste like.
With my camera set up on a tripod and angled towards my bed, I take one last look around the room to make sure that anything that could be linked back to me has been removed. As much as I enjoy the rush of adrenaline I get from filming content for Frisk, the idea that someone from my personal life could find me is never far from my mind. Considering my goal is to someday open my own boudoir photography studio, I doubt any of this could come back to haunt me. Still, taking precautions is never a bad thing.
For what I’m filming today, I settled on a dark purple lace bodysuit with a deep V that practically reaches my navel, showcasing my full breasts and nipples as they strain against the delicate fabric. There’s not much to the back of the bodysuit, the pieces that cover my breasts tying around my neck for easy removal. My hair is styled in loose waves and I applied the makeup around my eyes a few shades darker than I normallywould. The thing that really brings the look together is the lace mask that coordinates perfectly with the bodysuit.
Wearing masks for my Frisk content makes it easier to remain anonymous while still being able to show my face. It’s actually been fun trying to find masks that coordinate with the pieces of lingerie I already own, but I’m itching for some new bodysuits and sexy two-piece sets. Becca suggested that I add “buy me a new lingerie set” as one of the tip options on my page, but I’m not sure how I feel about letting a stranger buy me something so intimate.
Then again, it would be nice to be able to add to my wardrobe. I feel like I’m always taking photos or filming videos in the same few pieces. What would be the harm in letting one of my subscribers treat me? Hell, I know plenty of other creators who have tip options like pedicures and manicures where the subscriber can choose the nail polish color.
Within twenty minutes, I’ve managed to capture a few different poses on the bed showing off my body from various angles. Most of the poses are ones that I have my boudoir clients do during their sessions, so I’m well versed on where the camera needs to be and how it needs to be angled in order to make the shot look as hot as possible while also casting the perfect shadows over my curves.
Filming video content takes a little longer since I have to actually be somewhat “in the mood” for it. But honestly, after that interaction with the guy at the Elysian bar last night, getting there isn’t too much of a challenge. All it takes is conjuring up an image of Zack and the way his warm brown eyes roamed over my body each time he let his gaze shift in my direction, the way his fingers traced around the rim of his glass.Alright, so I’ve got a bit of a thing for strong hands, long fingers, and those veiny forearms guys like to show off.
Part of me wonders if it would be easier to do this kind of thing in front of the camera for a live audience. I enjoy reading the comments and messages from subscribers in response to my content. Being able to read the filthy things they say while I was performing live?
I bet it would be an adrenaline rush unlike anything else.
I’ve always been a “people person” and the type to thrive when given positive feedback. Is that considered a praise kink? I’ve never really had the chance to explore that particular side of myself. All of the guys I’ve hooked up with, not that there are many, have been the type who shy away from any kind of foreplay. They just want to get down to business and get out. I don’t think my experiences have been terrible, but the only thing I can compare them to are the fantasies that play out in my mind whenever I close my eyes.
Fantasies that will now be starring a certain hotel security manager.
6
Zack
Ijoltuprightinbed, coughing and gasping for air as I fight against the imaginary torrent of murky water I swore was filling my lungs mere seconds ago. The nightmare always starts the same way. My feet are rooted in place. No sound emanates from my chest as I stand by helplessly and watch the stranger grasp Ryan’s jacket, pulling him over the ledge of the bridge and down into the river below. I can finally move my feet once they both disappear from view, but when I lean over the guardrail to search for any signs of life, it’s me who’s suddenly drowning beneath the water.
My body feels drenched with sweat. The bed sheets are damp and tangled against the bare skin of my legs as though I’ve been fighting them. I need to get up. I need todo something—anything to push the flashing memories out of the forefront of my mind.
