Page 6 of Seven Year Itch
In all the years I’ve been coming here, I still haven’t really figured out what my kink is. I guess you could call me an equal opportunity participator. I’ll try anything once. Even tried dabbling in dick during a pretty heated group session once. A masculine set of lips wrapped around my cock wasn’t all that different from a woman’s. But by the end of the night, I deduced being with a man wasn’t something I needed to explore again.
The female body is just far more alluring to me. Soft and compliant. Strong yet still supple. Big, medium, small... I appreciate it all. Only sampling one body type is like picking one food to eat for the rest of your life. A damn shame. I crave a mixture—a buffet of flesh in all shapes and sizes. Variety is the spice of life, after all.
“I can’t breathe in this fucking thing!” a female voice shrieks, and I freeze with the bottle of beer between my lips. I think I recognize that voice.
Jerking around, I gaze back at the blonde on the floor to see her sitting back on her heels and struggling with the strap of the mask. Her outburst is drawing the eyes of the people at the Dom’s table, and he doesn’t look pleased.
“I didn’t say you could take that off,” he growls and yanks her chain again to bring her to heel.
“I don’t give a shit. My knees are killing me,” she retorts as shestruggles with the strap. “And this mask smells like ass. Who wore this before me? I hope you washed it.”
“That is none of your concern.” The Dom looks around the room as everyone watches the scene escalate with rapt fascination. A Dom with no control of his sub isn’t a familiar sight this club. “Leave it on and sit down at my feet, or you will be punished.”
She laughs and presses her hands to the floor to stand, revealing her garter belt and thigh highs. She’s stunning.
“Lambchop.”
“What?” The Dom’s eyes go wide.
“Lambchop.” She props her hands defiantly on her hips. “That’s my safe word, right? Lambchop, lambchop, lambchop.”
The man looks up at her completely flabbergasted. “You’re only supposed to use your safe word when I’m pushing you to your limits, pet. We haven’t even gone upstairs yet.”
“I don’t care. This isn’t my thing. I don’t know what my thing is. But this isn’t it. This is just... hard on the knees.”
She finally rips her mask off and confirms what I suspected to be true. The bratty sub is none other than Dakota Schaefer from my hometown of Boulder, Colorado. She’s my oldest brother’s wife’s best friend, a T-shirt shop owner downtown, a former client whose house I renovated many years ago...and the biggest pain in my ass for the past seven years.
She removes her collar and plunks it loudly on the table. “I’m going to go check out some of those voyeur rooms. Have a good life, sir.” She gives him a cheery salute, and I watch in awe as she turns on her heel and confidently marches up the staircase that leads to the themed sex rooms.
With a frown, I chug down my beer and struggle with what to do next. The reason I’ve appreciated this damn club all these years is because I’m anonymous here. My brothers and I have a sordid past with women back home, and I thought I was safe here. Invisible.
Leave it to Dakota-fucking-Schaefer to prove me wrong.
Without realizing it, I’ve carried myself up the stairs over to the theater room. It has one-way glass wrapped around three walls for voyeurs to watch, and from the crowd gathered, I suspect there’s some heavy action going on inside already. My eyes scan through the watchers in search of Dakota, and there’s not a blonde in sight. I begin to worry she took a wrong turn. I can’t imagine Dakota at the Milking Station or, worse yet, Gangbang Lane. Before turning to leave, I glance at the sizable orgy going on down inside the theater, and my fists clench when I spot her.
“No fucking way,” I say under my breath and am immediately shushed by the couple beside me.
I press my face to the glass and watch in rapt fascination as Dakota stands in the middle of theU-shaped sofa, watching the group around her nervously like she’s not sure where to insert herself.
She’s in way over her head.
There’s at least six couples and trios going at it. Hard. Women eating out other women, men taking women from behind over the arms of the sofa. A pair of men sucking on a woman’s breasts as she holds another man’s mouth at her cunt.
Normally... I’d be hard right now.
Normally this would work me up into such a frenzy that I’d be desperate to find someone to join in on the fun with.
Tonight is not normal.
I’m too laser-focused on the bane of my existence looking nervous and unsure. Something I’veneverseen that girl look like a day in her fucking life.
Dakota is... well, if I’m being blunt, she’s a bitch.
She knows it all, she doesn’t want anyone else’s opinion, she’s demanding, impatient, nagging, and just... yeah, a total fucking Karen. The biggest mistake of my life was agreeing to help renovate her house years ago, and I swear she has made me pay for it ever since.
Yet still, I can’t look away.
A half-naked older male approaches her from behind, and I feelmy shoulders tense as he grips her wrist and plays with the pink band wrapped around it. He presses up behind her and whispers something in her ear, and I watch her recoil and shake her head, yanking her hand away.
