Laura

I can't believe this!

His ex-girlfriend!?

The one he had ranted back then that he was done with? The one he'd called a gold digger. A bitch.

Jesus, Liam's really banging her?

I thought...

No way.

All those times her pictures were still on his phone, and he refused to delete them, Liam wasn't keeping them as his way of remembering the face of the bitch that broke his heart. The girl he had dated right from college until he saw her in bed with his manager.

He wasn't keeping them because it helped him to hate Bianca, no.

He kept them because he still wanted her.

He's still obsessed with her.

I should've known!

He was always talking about her. About their moments together. About her kisses. Her touches. Even when fucking me, he kept talking about her, but I thought it was from his hatred for her.

Only it wasn't.

I stagger backward, reeling.

Liam pulls away from Bianca, his cock still hard and pointing toward the ceiling, the tip dripping with his cum. The one he had wanted to shoot into her.

Gosh, he was fucking her raw!?

Water drips from his body as he strides towards me. His light brown hair, now dark brown and damp, mats over his temple.

"Laura,"

I've always loved the sound of his voice, but right now, I hate it so much.

Bianca walks out naked behind him, looking at me like I'm acting weird. Like it's normal for a girlfriend to see her boyfriend screwing another woman.

Gosh, I want to smack the smug look off her face.

"Laura, it's not what it looks like," Liam blurts, trying to reach his hand to me.

"It's not?" I glance between them. "What does it look like then?"

Jesus, my lungs are burning from not being able to breathe.

"Look, I've been meaning to propose this to you, Laura."

I narrow my eyes on him and then Bianca, who's casually admiring the ring on her finger.

"Propose what, exactly?"

"An open relationship, Laura."

"Excuse me?"

He exhales at my confused stare. When he looks up, his throat bobs as he swallows. I don't know if it's anger he's swallowing or shame.

"Listen, Laura, sex with you is always stale. Don't get me wrong, you're such a good girl. But there are some spices you lack during sex,"

"Stale? Spice?"

I don't seem to understand his logic or semantics at this point.

"Have you ever mentioned this to me before?" I ask him.

Liam takes a moment before responding. "No. But that's because I didn't want to make you feel bad,"

Oh, well, I feel bad. I fight against the tears trying to leak from my eyes. I refuse to let him know I feel hurt.

"Listen, an open relationship is the new trend. Everyone's doing it. Even married couples. You get to taste whatever guy you want, and I get to taste whatever girl I want. Win-win..."

"And that's why you gave her the ring?"

I point at Bianca, at the ring on her finger.

His face blanches a bit.

"Well, uh, Bianca is very open to the idea. So, I proposed to her. I mean, it's better that way than us being apart completely. I get to make her my wife and also keep you as mine. I mean, we both could still have sex, do some lovey-dovey things while you equally get to take other guys or girls to bed,"

His logic totally makes me stagger.

"You want me to be the third person in your bed?" I stare disgustedly at him.

"Come on, Laura. It's a fair trade. Our sex life won't be boring anymore..."

"So, you engaged Bianca and came up with this open relationship without consulting me, Liam?"

"Look, I'm sorry, I just didn't see the need to do so until Bianca agreed to the terms."

"So, you've been speaking with her all this time?"

The weight of my stare shifts from shock to confusion and now accusing.

He teeters on his feet, looking at Bianca briefly. Was he expecting her to defend him?

"Well, sort of..."

"You told me you hated her, Liam! You swore to never be with her again after what she did to you!"

Liam lunges and tries to hold me, but I hit his hand away in anger. If he makes any more attempts to touch me again, I'm going to break his head or crush his dick.

"Of course, I hated her, but come on. This is Bianca we're talking about. I've been with her since college. We do on and off. She cheats, but in the end, she still comes back to me. She always prefers me to other guys, Laura."

"Gosh, Liam! You're so out of your mind, and you disgust me."

He shakes his head, trying to coax me into seeing the idea from his lens.

"Laura, trust me, us being in an open relationship is going to be sweet as ever. You won't have anything to lose."

"I will lose my sanity, Liam! Gosh, I'm already losing it!"

At that, I begin to pace around, trying to calm my nerves and my thoughts that are racing.

When I can't make sense of it anymore, I grab my bag and turn to leave, but Liam tries to stop me.

He dashes out and stands before the door, blocking it.

His body's still damp, his cock still hard, as if this altercation is equally making him hard.

But when I see his eyes drifting slowly behind me, I turn to see Bianca propped up over the bed, fingering herself, uncaring about our banter.

"Don't leave, Laura. This is something..."

"Get out of my way now, Liam!" My voice pitches as my chest heaves.

"Laura, I still want you."

"I said get out of my way, you swineherd!"

"Laura...please..."

I don't wait for him to finish blabbering, I rush to where he's standing and kick him in his cock.

Liam groans, falling aside, hands clasped over his cock.

That's when Bianca reacts. She rushes to her feet and crouches beside Liam, who has turned red from pain.

"Baby, are you okay? Did she hurt you?" Obviously, he's hurt.

I don't even wait for them, I bolt down the hallway and out of the house.

The moment I'm back in the elevator, everything hits at once.

Liam had only been using me as a rebound until he got back with Bianca.

He never loved me at all.

I was just a means to an end.

His comment about our sex life being stale sends cold through me.

Stale?

Was he saying I'm not fun to be with? That I taste bad?

Gosh, my self-esteem has never dropped to this level before.

To me, I loved sex with him. I revere him, but giving myself to him never meant anything to him.

Without warning, the tears rush down my cheeks, dampening my shirt.

I should have known all along he was only pretending to want me, but I was too blinded by the idea that I've found a perfect boyfriend who gave me keys to his apartment, let me ride his car to work when mine is at the mechanic, and let me rant about books and blockchain to read between the lines.

I struggle to wipe my eyes clean when the elevator reaches the last floor, yet it's fruitless.

The tears keep coming hard and fast.

I burst out into the foyer, ignoring Mars' call.

I saunter outside, heading to my car. I try to open the door, but I see a flyer attached to the door.

I don't have the energy to read the content, I just enter my car and press my head against the wheel, bawling. My sobs have my shoulders shaking.

I hit the wheel, causing the horn to honk in the quiet street.

The will to head back to the office has been drained, and I grab my phone and shoot a text to the head of my department, Patricia, telling her I've got food poisoning and won't be able to come back again today.

I drop my phone and start the car, wondering what to do.

And then it hits me, Maisie, my cousin, will be at home now.

She's definitely going to say, "I warned you about him, but you never listened," when she sees me, but at this point, I don't care. I just need a drink buddy, a talk buddy, or a sob buddy. Just anyone.

I restart my car and begin to drive away after getting one last glance at Liam's window.

My vision has never been this blurry before. It's a wonder how I don't crash into anyone while driving.

Thirty minutes later, I reach our small townhouse on Western Avenue.

The house rent costs an arm and a leg, but since I'm sharing it with Maisie, it's fair.

She was the first to come up with the idea of us leaving our grandma to move to L.A. and live our lives as adults.

And here we are, living it.

While I'm introverted, Maisie's wild. At least, since we moved to L.A., she has been with thirty guys, including the sheriff who lives opposite us.

I guess her kind of work makes it easy for her. Maisie is a freelance stripper.

So while I'm at work during the day, she's at home entertaining her boyfriends, and then once it's seven at dusk, she leaves for work.

I puff a breath, gather whatever's within reach, and shove out of the car, slamming it shut.

A little stride across the asphalt leads me in front of the steps. I maneuver it nonchalantly and slide my key into the door.

The moment I step inside, the smell of musk hits me. And then I hear the moans.

"Ugh! What's with me and moans today?" I grumble.

Obviously, Maisie's too busy to realize I'm around.

Passing the foyer, I arrive in our small living room, where I see her bouncing on a man.

Her chest is bare, and her black denim skirt rides up her waist.

Her tits jiggle with every bounce she delivers over the man's cock.

Her eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

From the mop of red, mussed hair and uniform on the man, I realize it's the sheriff who lives opposite us.

He skipped work just to fuck Maisie? I'm totally blown away right now.

Their cries of pleasure pitch in volume, the sheriff lands his palms on her breasts and fondles, but I just couldn't take it anymore, so I interrupt.

"Ahem!"

I clear my voice so loud, it sounds like a broken record.

They both squeal and scramble off each other.

"Christ, Laura!" Maisie yelps, covering her tits and pulling her skirt down.

The sheriff quickly buckles up, flicking a sorry look at me in between, and then bolts away when he's done.

"Girl, are you a pussy-blocker or what? I was just getting my itch scratched."

"It appears so," I chirp, walk further into the room, and slump into the couch beside the one they were banging each other on. "Since all I've been doing this afternoon is walking in on people having sex."

My face falls at that, and so does my shoulder. The hurt returns, rubbing off on me. The tears start to leak from my eyes again.

"Hey, flower girl, what's up? Why do you look so glum?"

Flower girl, that's what she always called me back when we lived with grandma because every year, I always received a bouquet of bluebells from an anonymous person on my birthdays. It made me start a small garden in grandma's backyard in Maryland.

I look over at Maisie, willing myself to speak, but words fail me. Only the tears rush out.

She scoots close to me, sitting on the armrest and pulling me toward her. Her fingers rake my hair as she coos.

"It's okay, flower girl. No more tears, you've got me," her voice softens. "Tell me who the fucker is, and I'm going to kick his ass..." Maisie drifts off, as if realizing what's truly happening, she gasps.

"Liam, right?" I look up at her through bleary eyes, not speaking. But she reads it on my face immediately.

"He wasn't really going to propose to you, was he?" Her teeth grit. Tessa must have told her about the ring, too. "That piece of shit!" She shoots me a glare. Then. "You saw him screwing some bitch?"

I nod. "His ex. And then he...told me to be the third person in their bed."

A string of expletives escapes her lips. She punches the air and growls.

I've never seen her growl before.

"I knew that son of a bitch was only pretending to love you!"

"Yeah, you won," I gripe.

She sighs, turning to look at me, "I don't mean to gloat, but Liam truly isn't good for you, Laura."

"Would you know if someone will be good for me?" I shoot, blinking up at her.

She smiles, leans close, and wipes my tears with her thumbs. "Of course, there would be. I don't do relationships, I mean, romantic relationships, but when I see the one for you, that truly loves you, I'd know."

She smacks her lips. "But in the meantime..."

Maisie glances down at the things I heaped on my lap. A frown appears on her temple.

"What?" I ask.

She reaches a hand to my bag, pulling out the rumpled paper attached to the hand, and unfolds it.

The crease on her forehead irons out, and she begins to blink wildly.

"What's wrong?" I ask, getting curious.

And she turns the paper to me, not just paper. It's a flyer. Probably the one I saw attached to my sedan.

I read the wording.

"Sin House. The Ultimate Room X,"

I hadn't seen the image in the background before because it's blurry, but I see it now.

Some naked women tied to guillotines and suspension rigs.

I cut my gaze back at her, shrugging.

"Where did you get this?" She asks.

"I saw it attached to my car earlier. Didn't even know I came with it."

To my surprise, Maisie squeals, kicking the air.

"What's the fuss about?"

"I'm stripping there tonight! Sin House is the most elite sex Club in L.A. That's where the big fishes in the city do their thing, flower girl!"

"O-kay? That's good news, I guess?"

"Totally," She stares at the flyer again, then. "And since you're in bad shape, coming there with me tonight is a totally good idea..."

"Oh, no. No. Bad idea, Maisie..."

"No, flower girl. It's a freaking ass good idea! Don't you see? God probably wants you to unwind there and forget shits about some cheating cock, Flower girl." She stands, hands on her waist. "I'll be a bad cousin if I let you stay alone in this house, drowning in sorrow because of heartbreak."

"Maisie, clubs- sex clubs, are not my thing."

"One night of fun in sin won't hurt, come on." She says, meaning it.

Although I still want to protest, Liam's words about me not being fun in bed hit me square in the face.

Why don't I go out there and find out if he's really telling the truth or not?

A streak of doubt rears in, but with how determinedly Maisie's dragging me upstairs, I have no other option but to give in.

TBC.

Laura.

"Jesus, Maisie, how am I supposed to cope here?"

I glance away from Maisie, who's sitting behind the steering wheel of my sedan, to the parking lot filled with various types of expensive cars.

She truly wasn't kidding when she said Sin House is the most elite sex Club in the city. I've not gotten inside yet, but I already feel intimidated.

Maisie chuckles, the sound drawing my attention.

"Damn, the energy is already pulsing from out here. What do you smell, flower girl,"

"Huh?" I flick my eyes back at her, brow arching.

"I smell hot sex, Laura. The musk of the hottest daddies in this city." She unbuckles her seat belt, shoving out.

Clearly, Maisie isn't feeling the intimidation I feel, even wearing that skimpy, backless silver gown with a deep V-neckline that leaves her whole cleavage open.

I slowly get out of the car too, rubbing my fingers together as I look at the dome-shaped building with shiny glass walls. It's tucked away in a private estate.

Already, there are bouncers around the parking lot and the revolving glass doors, which are the entrance, guarding the place.

It's unlike normal clubs where you see people lined up in a queue, waiting to get permission to go inside.

Sin House is strictly based on invitation, which I'm clutching tightly. Maisie, on the other hand, is here to strip and has her card with her.

As we reach the bouncers, they nod knowingly at Maisie, showing they know her.

I show them my invitation and stride in after Maisie.

We stride down the hallway with red velvet walls and black marble floors, my eyes pinned on the double stainless steel doors at the end of the hallway where the bass of the music playing inside streams from.

One of the doors in the hallway opens, and a girl, probably 5'8, dressed in a red leather harness with rings that left her breasts open and thigh-high heels, comes out. Her purple hair was tied into a ponytail.

The tiny frown on her face lifts when she sees Maisie.

"Maisie! Thank goodness you're here," She lets out.

"What's good, Piper?" Maisie asks as we stop before Piper,"

"We're running short of one stripper tonight. Christine called in sick, and she's supposed to attend to a client named Shark, who booked an exclusive lap dance."

I'm assuming she's the leader of their freelance stripping group.

"Oh, shit." Maisie curses. "What do we do?"

"We need a replacement," Piper confirms. Her eyes skate over to me and glint.

My head draws back when I understand what she intends. Maisie's look equally confirms it.

"You want me to be a replacement? No way, I'm not doing this," I blurt, already backing away.

"Come on, Laura. There's no harm in doing it. Christine isn't here to take the job and we're going to lose all our money if we're not complete tonight."

I look at Maisie like she's grown two heads. Her doe-eyed look clenches my heart.

"I don't know what to do out there," I cry out.

"But you can dance, right?"

Yeah, right. I was once good at ballet.

I try to argue more, but she huffs, "See? You've got the skill, flower girl, let's go,"

Piper opens the door to the dressing room that instant, and they pull me inside.

I'm shocked to see various colors of lingerie and harnesses in the room.

Maisie sets me before the mirror, removing the green backless mid-thigh gown she gave me earlier.

I feel so exposed. I cover my breasts. The other strippers in the dressing room don't even look fazed about their nakedness.

"Just relax and let me transform you," Maisie leans into my ear and whispers. We look at each other through the mirror silently.

She goes to the rack and selects a black lingerie, throwing it at me.

I begrudgingly shove my legs into what I realize are a net panties and bra.

I thought the backless dress earlier was revealing, but I was wrong.

This here is revealing. It gives this sense of indecency, but shockingly, I'm not so repulsed by it. Not even when my nipples peek through the net.

Piper helps Maisie put me on black strappy harnesses with rings.

I feel like I'm about to get choked.

My light brown hair is pulled into a tight ponytail just like the others, and then they place a cat-shaped mask over my face.

They coat my lips in black lipstick and shove my legs into some shiny leather thigh-high stilettos.

When I look in the mirror again, I appear different. Indecent but hot.

I've never felt like this before.

But after that comes the lessons.

How to own the moment like it's mine. How to capture the attention of the man, how to keep a steady eye contact, and how to grind my assets on him.

I steel my nerves and listen.

___

We all leave after the lessons, heading into the room where the music is coming from.

In the hallway, the sound had been dull, but inside here, it's loud, thrumming through my veins.

My gray eyes flit through the space lit by kaleidoscopic lights, at the naked, tangled bodies, enjoying the bliss of rocking their sex together.

When I look over at the dance floor, I see some men, probably in their thirties and above, bent to their waists as women fuck them with strap-on dildos.

On one of the sofas, my eyes glimpse five men sharing one woman, her moans rising over the music.

I've never seen a live porn, until now.

The tension builds, and my throat clogs.

The moans barreling into my ears as both genders get pounded by their partners makes my core throb.

The other strippers, including Maisie, walk to the stage, taking on the poles and twirling around them like they were made for this.

I strut past the naked bodies and head up the spiral staircase that leads to the VIP section, as was told.

It has a private booth surrounded by one-way mirror glass that overlooks the scene below.

I expected to see an old man with a wrinkled face, but surprisingly, he's young. Well, not so young. Maybe he's in his mid-forties.

He's dressed in a spotless white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his biceps.

He doesn't have any tattoos I can see, but he certainly has muscles and bulging veins swirling up his wrists to his biceps.

His shoulders are broad, and through his five undone buttons, I see a snick of his muscled chest.

I look down and marvel at how his black slacks wrap around his toned thighs.

His jaw is sharp. Chiseled to perfection with a fine line of salt and pepper beard, the same color as his quiffed hair.

A Cuban cigar is wrapped around his lips, oozing a bright orange cherry glow with each drag he takes.

He hasn't spoken, but I can already feel his intimidating aura. His blue eyes focus on me, practically undressing me.

A glint of approval shines in his eyes, and the devious way his lips quirk up makes my core melt.

I'm about to have a heart attack; that's the only thing that can explain this spike in my heart rate.

I feel so conscious of every dart of his eyes around me, and the burn it leaves in its wake makes my body bead with sweat.

He raises a hand, flicking two fingers at me. A signal to come forward.

My legs move on muscle memory. I pose in between his powerful thighs, trying to put into practice what I was told.

My gray eyes fix on his sharp blue ones. He looks so hot and powerful. A dark aura steams from him, luring me in.

I've never been wet with just a look. Not even when I was with Liam.

Liam! His name spurs a sour taste on my tongue.

I push everything about my ex-boyfriend away from my mind and focus on this moment.

I push my sense of morality away, looking hungrily at the man.

He leans up from the burgundy sofa, raising his free hand to my left breast.

Just one firm touch. That's all it takes for me to combust.

A moan builds at the back of my throat, my head thrown back.

He slides that hand over my nipple, touching it through the net bra.

His eyes glow.

And then he lands a short spank to my breast, growling.

"Show me what you've got, Little flame, ride me,"

I don't know if it's his voice or the nickname he just called me, but a strange pulse goes off in my pussy.

I look down at him, my eyes hooded with need.

Confidence floods my veins, and with it, I straddle him.

Tension seeps and clouds the air in the booth, pulsing with the sensual music streaming in the club.

With deliberate, slow grace, I start to sway my asset over him.

Heat flares between us as we stare at each other.