Complete disappointment floods through me as I had not considered this at all. I thought this was a bro thing, which I can argue against all day long. Micah would never begrudge me a relationship with Walsh, assuming Walsh was open to one. He has made me question that, but first…
“When was the first time you had a dirty thought about me?” I ask, changing the conversation to throw him a little off balance.
Never in my life have I seen Walsh embarrassed. First, it would be hard to tell given his olive skin—passed down to him by his Greek mother—but second… Walsh is just one of the most self-possessed people I know. He doesn’t blush.
Except right now, I can see red clearly staining his cheeks.
“When?” I press upon him.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says as he stands abruptly from the couch. “You wanted an explanation and I gave it to you. I need you to accept it and move on from this, Jorie. What happened last night was amazing. You’re amazing and Vince is wrong about you. But it’s not going to be me who helps you along this journey of self-discovery. It can’t be me.”
I don’t stand right away, but merely study him for a moment so I can assess how strongly he believes his own words. Judging by the hard set to his jaw and the concrete determination focused right on me, I’m guessing he believes it deeply.
“Fine,” I say as I stand up and walk toward the elevator. “I just hope it’s not awkward if we run into each other at The Wicked Horse again.”
“It won’t be,” he grits out, the muscle in his cheek jumping again.
Hmm… I thought that little threat might get him to budge, but he’s calling my supposed bluff.
Here’s the thing, though. Walsh hasn’t seen me for a long time. I’ve grown in ways he’d have no idea about. He’s judging me based on an image of a little girl.
What he doesn’t know is that I don’t bluff. If I say I’m going to do something, I do it.
I give him a bright smile as I step backward into the elevator and push the one and only button available. “Good. But if you’re in any way anxious about it, I’d avoid The Orgy Room tonight. That’s the room I want to try out next.”
The doors slide shut, and I smile at the fury on Walsh’s face.
CHAPTER 7
Walsh
I’ve been coming to The Wicked Horse ever since it opened a little over two years ago. I forged an easy friendship with its owner, Jerico, and it absolutely suits my lifestyle.
For as long as I’ve been sexually active, I’ve always been dirty.
I mean, really dirty.
My ex-wife Renee can attest to that, and it was really the one thing that held the marriage together for as long as it did. She was a wildcat in bed. While The Wicked Horse wasn’t around when we were together, she would have totally been a swinger there with me. I know this because we swung with other couples on occasion.
Once I got divorced, I found dating to be just fucking hard. It was more effort than it was worth. I didn’t want to get married again, but not because Renee destroyed me or anything. In fact, our parting was quite amicable. It’s just that marriage didn’t serve any purpose. At least my marriage to Renee hadn’t other than having constant and amazing sex whenever I wanted it. After my divorce, I wasn’t lonely. I didn’t feel the need to share my deepest thoughts with a woman. I was completely fine and happy having casual sex without commitments.
So coming to The Wicked Horse has always been a treat. It’s never been repetitive. It’s never been dull. It’s been quite fulfilling as a matter of fact, which is probably why I come at least five out of seven days of the week.
But tonight, as I ride the elevator up, my stomach is cramped into a painful knot. I’m here two hours earlier than I normally come, and only because I need to know if Jorie is really going to take advantage of this place again.
I swear I’m not going to interfere, but I need to know.
“Good evening, Mr. Brooks,” Larissa says from behind the podium with a welcoming smile. She’s a great fuck, and I’ve had her multiple times. I’m not the kind of man who only has a woman once. If she’s sweet and makes me come, I’ll hit it again.
And again.
I just won’t buy her dinner for it first.
“Larissa,” I say somewhat stiffly because I’m tense as hell. I should ask her to take a break and suck my cock, but that wouldn’t even scratch the surface of my anxiety.
I head to the bar and order two fingers of whiskey, house brand being fine because I do nothing more than shoot it down. The bartender eyes me warily since I never drink alcohol here. With a hiss, I set the glass down and make my way to The Orgy Room to see if Jorie is really going to do what she promised.
♦
Two hours later, she still hasn’t shown, and I don’t know whether I’m relieved or pissed. I mean… of course I’m relieved she’s not here. I don’t want her randomly fucking guys because she needs to prove to her ex-douche that she’s sexy and desirable. I’m happy she hasn’t walked through those doors.
But I am slightly pissed I’ve wasted two hours of my life because I let Jorie pull my chain.
No, wait… she yanked my chain and she did it hard.
She did it to prove I’m invested in her and she did it brilliantly, little minx. I have it in my mind that the next time I see her, I should bend her over my lap and turn that pale skin bright red with the palm of my hand.
No, wait… not going to see her again. We’re done. If I were to put her over my lap and spank her, that would most definitely lead to me slipping a finger inside to see how much she loved it and then that would lead to us tearing each other up.
I’m sure of it.
My eyes roam around The Orgy Room where I’ve been waiting for Jorie to appear. There’s a chance, I suppose, she went to one of the other rooms to seek her pleasure, but I doubt it. She mentioned this room specifically because the little smartass knew I’d show. Her not showing means she has the power right now, and I don’t like that one bit. Control is my middle name.
I should just fuck someone in here. There’s not a woman in here who would say “no” to me and I’ve had several approach who I’ve turned down. Pick a girl, pound one out for both of us, and get gone. Easy plan.
Except I’ve sat here in this room for almost two hours, watching all kinds of filthy stuff going on, and while my dick isn’t dead, it hasn’t reacted appropriately. It’s been semi-hard for sure, but it’s not been aching for release. I have a moment of panic that maybe I’m getting too old for this shit, or that I’m just not turned on by this stuff anymore, which means my sex life will be on the decline.
But I immediately push that thought away. I have no choice but to because Jorie struts into The Orgy Room, and my dick goes rock hard. She’s wearing a denim mini-skirt that’s barely covering her goods, black ankle boots with a heel so high I’m not sure how she walks, and a white halter top that’s so thin her hard nipples are poking through.
Fuck.
I involuntarily push my palm down onto my dick, not to rearrange it, but to try to force it into submission.
No luck.
Her eyes scan the room slowly… leisurely. They cross over me, and she sees me standing there because she gives me a slight smile and a nod of greeting before continuing her perusal. She doesn’t look back my way, and that fucking pisses me off so badly my feet are moving before my brain tells them to.