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Slowly, I strip off my clothes and throw them in the hamper inside the walk-in closet right off the bathroom. I turn to look at myself in the mirror, and I don’t know what I expect to see. There are dark circles under my eyes, my hair is flat and dull. I look tired. And honestly, I am. My body is exhausted, like remembering all these things has just worn me out.
The shower starts to steam up the bathroom, and I let out a long breath and step inside. The minute the hot water hits my back, I instantly relax. The pulsing of the water makes the tension in my shoulders fade away, the heat calming my mind.
I reach over to the little alcove in the wall and pull out the shampoo that Drew got me. As I lather it on, the floral scent hits my nose. I let out a hum as I continue to massage my scalp. When I finish, I tilt my head back, letting the water cascade over me, rinsing away the suds.
My mind starts to turn as the water pours over me. There’s an odd comfort I find here. Maybe it’s the nice house, or it could be the guys. Well, minus the asshole who is Cam.
Logically, I should want to go home. I shouldn’t want to be locked away here. Okay, I’m not technically locked away here. And last time I went on my own, I was attacked. Just to fucking go to the bathroom.
Maybe I have Stockholm Syndrome. Is that possible?
No. Because I’m sure if I asked to go back home, Drew would help me get there.
But something is keeping me from wanting to jump onto a plane and head back there.
And I don’t know what that is.
Thoughts of the interaction with Cam just a few minutes ago start to flood my mind, and I can feel the pulsing between my legs. My hands slowly move down from my neck and graze over my nipple, causing a small moan to escape my lips.
Why does that asshole have me so needy?
My fingers slowly slide down between my breasts, softly leaving a trail of goosebumps even under the hot water. As my fingers descend, they follow the water flowing off me, down my stomach, slowing slightly as I pass my belly button.
I bite my lip as my fingers dip lower and slide through my pussy, eliciting a groan from me. My clit pulsates as I circle the tip of my finger around it, teasing it. My entire body is already on edge from the teasing that Cam did to me on the couch.
I work my finger through my slit and push it slowly inside me, tightening around my finger as I slide it in and out. Even in the shower, I can feel how wet I am as I drip around my hand. My breaths come out fast as I take my thumb and rub my clit as I finger fuck myself closer to a much-needed orgasm.
I turn around to face the wall to brace myself as I continue to pump my finger in and out of my drenched pussy. My eyes spot the detachable shower head, and a shiver runs down my spine in excitement.
Taking it off the mount, I hit the button, and the stream starts to flow through the head. Warm water shoots through the openings, and I push another button to change the pressure and spray type. I find the massage spray, and a thrill shoots through me.
Reaching down, I apply the spray of the water along the slit of my pussy until it hits my clit. My eyes widen at the pressure and the euphoric feeling coursing through me. I reach down and spread my lips apart, angling the spray to directly hit my sweet spot.
The pulsing water against my clit causes me to groan, my body vibrating from the intense pleasure. Trying to chase that finale, that crescendo of my orgasm.
It’s so close, the release I need. I can feel it start to crest as my muscles tighten. My breaths come out fast, moans slipping through between them. I don’t even care if anyone can hear me. This feels so good, and I can’t stop.
Ineedto come.
While lost in my race to the finish, the music switches to the next song in the list, andSex Metal Barbiecomes on over the phone.
My body freezes, and my chest tightens. I drop the shower head, and it falls against the shower wall. Panic surges through me. This used to be one of my favorite songs by In This Moment. And then my mind is assaulted with a memory.
“Chanel! You are on stage in ten!” Jeff’s voice rings out behind me.
I turn and look at him. “Got it. Busy out there yet?”
“Packed. So give them a good show. We have a group in here, and they look like they have a lot of money to burn. They are to the left of the stage. Give them your best shot.” Jeff pushes his glasses back up his nose. He is the owner and manager of Ruby’s, a strip club here in New York.
He’s not a bad guy, but he’s a strip club owner. He looks grungy, like he always needs a shower. He always smells like the club, cigarettes, and cheap perfume. His clothes are disheveled, like he rolled off a shitty couch and came straight to work. And I’m sure if he had hair, it would be greasy and gross.
But either way, he gives me good shifts dancing, which I make pretty good money from.
I look in the mirror and spray my face with setting spray. Those lights get hot, and dancing around a pole isn’t as easy as it seems. The last thing I need is my makeup melting off on stage.
I put one last spritz of hairspray in my hair and take a look at the final product in the mirror. My cat eye liner, my dark eyeshadow, and black lipstick portray my very goth look. Standing up, I adjust my skull corset and thong. I fix my tits in the corset, for when I tear away the openings in the front to expose them.
“You’re up, Chanel,” a voice booms from the doorway.