Page 15 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
My brow furrows. “That’s an option? I thought I needed, uh, you know, knots.”
“Oh honey, we have all kinds of ways of satisfying an omega’s instinct for breeding. What do you think omegas with vaginas do during their heats if their partners don’t have knots?”
It’s a rhetorical question, but I’m immediately met with the mental image of a female alpha with an enormous knotted strap-on. A fresh wave of slick bursts from me and I hope Daisy doesn’t notice.
“Omegas may lose their minds a bit, but they don’t magically change their sexual orientation the moment a heat hits,” she continues. “Heck, we even have ways of helping asexual omegas through heats, so if you want to take sex off the table completely, we’ll help you figure it out.”
“Really?” I’d never considered the ins and outs of heats before. I’ve only seen a handful of heat pornos, and most of those seemed totally fake.
“Yeah, of course!” Daisy beams at me, and it’s clear why she does this job. Everything about her is welcoming and enthusiastic, without being overly saccharine or fake. I have the urge to ask her for a hug, but I doubt she’d want my perfume all over her.
“Our job here is to keep omegas comfortable and safe when they’re in a vulnerable state. We try to avoid using chemical heat suppressants once a heat has begun because of the potential side effects, but those paired with non-sexual physical contact are enough to get through things with minimal discomfort. Dr. Stills probably didn’t mention it, since you seemed interested in sex,” she adds with a saucy wink.
It’s ridiculous, but my pussy clenches and the feeling of emptiness intensifies at the mention of Ambrose.
“Oh. Makes sense.” I clear my throat, trying to disguise a groan at how needy I feel right now. “In that case, I care more about the personality of my partner than their gender or designation.”
“Perfect.” Daisy checks a few boxes on her form. “Any preferences for age or body type?”
“Over thirty,” I say immediately, worried that I’ll get paired with partners barely in their twenties. “And I like most body types.” I’d prefer not to have a partner so small that my larger body would crush them, but beggars can’t be choosers whenyou’re a desperate, horny mess. “As long as they smell okay and aren’t an asshole, anything is fine.”
Daisy narrows her eyes at me. “You’re making this very easy for me, Camille. Remember, you’re allowed to be as picky as you want. If we don’t have any matches for what your top choices are, then we can reassess. But I don’t want you going into your first heat and having an awful time because you told me what you think I want to hear.”
That makes me pause. “I…” Shit, I can’t believe I’m going to say this aloud to a stranger. “I’ve never had a sexual experience that was particularly good, so when I’m presented with a menu of options, I’m not even sure what to ask for.”
Daisy doesn’t bat an eye at that, even though it’s pathetic that I’ve only had shitty sex. “You’re able to come on your own?” she asks, like she’s talking about the weather.
“Yeah. I’m an expert at that,” I say with a sheepish smile.
“Okay. Then close your eyes and take a deep breath.” She watches me until I do as she asks. “Good. Now, tell me what you’re thinking about when you come the hardest.”
I sputter and open my eyes to see her watching me calmly. If anyone else but this cheery ball of sunshine asked me that, I’d think they were coming on to me. “I don’t know,” I groan, feeling foolish and exposed.
“Yes, you do. Tell me. Unless you’d rather go through a hundred-line sex questionnaire.”
With a sigh, I close my eyes again and try to pretend I’m alone. It takes what feels like ages before I’m able to voice any thoughts aloud, and when they come out, my words are stilted. “I don't know if I'd like it in real life, because none of my partners were willing to try, but I think I’d like to be… told what to do. I don’t want to make the decisions. Especially with this, where I already feel completely out of my depth.”
“Are we talking, ‘move here, bend over’ basic kind ofinstruction, or,” Daisy lowers her voice to what I’m guessing is an attempt to be a gruff alpha, “Get on your knees and suck your alpha’s cock like a good little omega.”
“Oh,god,” I squeak, my eyes flying open. Daisy raises her eyebrows expectantly. “The second one. I think. Fuck, this is embarrassing.”
“Dominant partner, dirty talk, praise,” she says like she’s checking off a mental list. “For your first heat, we don’t get into too involved kinks, but we can absolutely accommodate this. I think I have enough to work with to move on to scent cards.”
She sets aside her forms after jotting a few more notes, then cracks open the giant binder that’s been sitting on her lap.
It’s filled with tiny, sealed pouches, almost like a photo album, except inside are what look like blank pieces of cardstock.
Daisy flips until she finds what she’s looking for, and passes over a small card. “Smell it and tell me what you think,” she instructs.
I bring the card toward my nose and almost gag at the scent of bubblegum cough syrup like I had as a kid.
“That’s a no.” Daisy shakes her head and holds her hand out for me to pass it back.
The next card smells like a charcoal grill. Not as evocative in its unpleasantness, but nothing I’d want to spend much time around. I’ve caught on that these must be the pheromones of the heat minders that match my requests. She passes me another and I’m hesitant to sniff it, but this one isn’t bad. The scent of the beach, salty ocean spray, a hint of sunscreen, and warm sun.
“That one is kinda nice,” I say, when Daisy waits for a reaction.
She notes that, and we go through a few more cards thatare pleasant enough, if not arousing. None of them are nearly as good as that faint hit I got off of Ambrose. I know it’s pathetic, but I keep hoping that the next card will smell like him.
