Page 3 of Dangerous Pursuit
I elbow my way to the front row regardless and take in the scene. There's moaning everywhere. The smells of sweat, perfume, and alcohol fill my nostrils and a flush creeps up my cheeks.
The woman lies down and the men are kneeling, one behind her head, one between her legs.
The one behind dips down, his balls ending up in her mouth, while the other one rubs his cock against her belly. I wonder how those threesomes work exactly—there must be some 'no crossing swords' rule, but still, the men are so close they could look into each other's eyes if they chose to. It seems dangerous. I'm getting hotter, a little uncomfortable in my pants. I gulp my wine down in one go to take the edge off.
And then my questions are answered—there are absolutely no rules in place as the guy between the girl’s legs leans forward and grabs the other one's cock and starts stroking.
I yelp and jump in place, my heart racing. I turn to look at the other spectators, expecting to find the same level of shock on their faces, but everyone seems to be enjoying it. I glance at the scene again, the guys now kissing, stroking each other, the girl now underneath them, making use of her tongue. The men seem to temporarily forget all about her.
I shouldn't be here. Shouldn't watch. I'm shocked by how seamlessly it all plays out, how the men work together in such harmony.
The truth is, every now and again, I wonder how it would be like with a guy. Just to try it out, of course. But I never let myself dwell on those thoughts. I have my job, my football practice, and my semi-finals looming just around the corner. A sexuality crisis isn't on my bingo card this year.
I need to get the hell out of here—the sooner, the better. It just seems wrong ogling strangers in such an intimate situation. At least that's what I try to tell myself, because the truth is, it's the stir in my pants than makes it dangerous. I takeone last look, my cock jerking.Enough. I turn around and pace out.
It takes me several tries to find my way back to the main room through the maze of corridors. I put my empty wineglass on someone's table and bolt to the exit, the air suddenly too stuffy to breathe.
Once I'm outside, I lean forward, propping my palms on my knees and take a few gulps of fresh air, the dust in my mind slowly settling. I'm safe now.
I straighten up, and my eyes land on a somewhat familiar figure. The bouncer's sitting on a high stool, arms crossed, dark shades propped on top of his head. The line has vanished, and he's alone now, scanning the narrow alleyway.
His head then snaps to the side and our eyes lock. Perfect. Maybe if I talk to him for a bit, I can get the debauchery out of my head.
I raise my hand. "Citizen boo!" Well, shit. It was funny the first time, not so much in the current context. But I don't even know his name. What was I supposed to say,Hey bouncer? That'd be rude.
Boo arches his brow, and I walk over. Even though my heart is still beating faster than it should, I go for a lighthearted tone. "Are you aware of what's happening inside?" I mock shock, although the mockery is somewhat fake.
"You didn't figure it out from the name?" he smirks and points his chin toward a giant neon sign that readsSkin on Skinin cursive.
I roll my eyes. "I knew what it was, but—" I look around and lower my voice. "People are… You know.Fucking." I say,as if he, in fact, doesn't know. "They should rebrand to Skin be Rubbin' on Skin."
The bouncer lets out a deep chuckle, his voice matching his physique—massive. "It sure isn't for everybody."
I straighten up and scrunch my forehead. What, does he think I can't handle a little smooching'? "I didn't say it bothered me." It totally did.
He raises an eyebrow and sizes me up and down, his lips curled into a half-smirk, his stubble-covered jaw appearing even sharper, if that's possible. He should be an actor or something. "Oh yeah? I must have underestimated you, then."
His biceps bulge as he shifts, catching my attention. I must be staring for just a bit too long, because he catches me off-guard as he says, "See something you like?”
Oops.
I roll my shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just curious how you got such a prestigious job guarding a hallway."
He laughs, a deep rumble that does something strange to my insides. "What can I say? I'm overqualified. So tell me, Mr. FBI, did you get the intel you needed?"
He smirks at me, his massive arms crossed over his chest. The neon sign reflects off his shades, and that smirk makes my pulse pick up.
Mr. FBI. I roll my eyes, hoping the darkness hides my blush. "My work here is done. You can all rest easy tonight."
Boo chuckles, the sound reverberating in his broad chest. I find myself smiling in return. "I don't know. You might have to come back for further questioning."
"Is that so? I didn't realize bouncers had so much authority."
"We don't, but for you, I might make an exception." He grins, and I feel an odd swooping sensation in my stomach. Is he just being friendly? I glance at his lips for a second, wondering.
I look away, the neon sign suddenly fascinating. "Do you ever go inside when you're not working?"
He shrugs. "Sometimes. Depends on my mood."
