Page 2

Kelcie

It’s Saturday and gone noon when I wake.

I lay there for a good ten minutes, my mind wandering back to Mr X again, his stature, deep dark brown hair, the stubble, and the way he carries himself, which I think may also be arrogance.

I wonder what he does for work, to be able to be a member of The Sicuro I can’t imagine it’s anything mundane, and possibly not legal.

I tell myself he wasn’t watching me like Sarah proclaims.

Why would he watch me, the other girls at The Sicuro are far more beautiful.

I am 5’5, with brown copper hair that reaches to the middle of my back.

I’m not thin like the other girls who look like they danced throughout high school, I’m curvy with boobs and an arse.

I force my thoughts away from him and get myself out of bed.

Debating whether to go for a run before I have any breakfast or eat and go before work.

Knowing I would make my excuses not to go later, I brush my teeth, pull my hair into a ponytail, and throw on my kit.

I don’t run to make a certain distance in a set time, as it makes me hate it.

Today I tell myself since I haven’t done anything for a few days to aim for around 45 minutes.

It’s March so the weather isn’t the greatest, cloudy but not raining, temperature low enough that I have a long sleeve top on.

As I am running, at what is more like a jogger’s pace my mind turns to work.

I am on the bar from 10pm until close again tonight and it will be as busy as it was last night.

I’m hoping for a quick finish as I am on the 10am until 4pm tomorrow.

Sundays are deep clean and restock, every Sunday.

It never needs much due to how clean the place is kept, but the bar is closed until 8pm, it’s quiet and I can put music on as long as it is kept at a low volume.

I wonder if he will be there tonight.

He has been every night this week, which is unusual for him, maybe 2-3 times a week he would visit.

The image of him, sitting in his booth silently, is back in my mind.

I imagine what his body is like under his suit, if he looks that incredible in it surely, he looks better under it.

Fuck’s sake, I sigh, trying to remove him from my thoughts yet again, what the hell is wrong with me.

It may be the fact that I haven’t had an intimate relationship or been bent over and fucked since I was about 20, and that was two years ago now.

It’s not that I haven’t been asked out, but my focus is on leaving here so why make any kind of relationship that could even marginally derail that course? Plus, I’m not one for one-night stands and there are more than enough toys that can help me with self-pleasure, and the websites sure make it easy shopping for them.

Not that I have a vast amount, but they are no longer kept in my underwear drawer and have been placed in the one below with only nightwear accompanying them.

The nightstand drawers are kept beside the bed, within easy reach should I ever want to release the tension.

The tension that has recently been building up more than usual.

Pulling my thoughts back I notice that I have been jogging for 35 minutes and decide to make a turn that will take me back home, I push harder picking up my pace in an attempt to get him out of my mind.

I have my headphones in, but haven’t noticed the music that is playing, so pull my concentration to it.

The next track begins, Aphrodite by Sam Short pours into my ears, instantly drawing my mind back to him and what it would be like to straddle him whilst he is sat in his booth, fucking me until I crash around him.

Fucking hell, it’s like I have a teenage crush.

I end my run about half a km from my apartment and walk the rest.

I feel it again, the sense that I’m being watched, my body tingling with nerves.

Is it nerves or is it the fact I can’t get him out of my head? I walk through the door locking it behind me, remove my trainers, throw my phone and headphones on the table, and walk to the bathroom.

I pull my running top off over my head, reach around my back to unclip my sports bra, pulling it forward and release my tits, noticing that my nipples are hard.

I take my running leggings down, tugging my socks with them as they go, gather up the sweaty kit and place it in the laundry basket.

I turn the shower on, but before stepping in I head into the bedroom and open my lower bedside drawer.

I take out the rosebud clitoral stimulator, this one never fails me, a quick check that it has power and off to the shower I wander.

I place myself under the hot stream of water, allowing it to cover my whole body, soaking my hair as I push it back out of my face and down my back, my thoughts running back to him sitting there looking at me.

My nipples are still hard, and my pussy comes to life with a throbbing that craves release.

I take a small step forward, the water running down my back, over my shoulders down my pert breasts, I cup one with my left hand brushing my fingers over my stiff nipple, imagining him gently gripping it with his teeth.

I move my hand down between my legs, over my smooth pulsating pussy, I glide over it and as I come back slowly inserting one finger, feeling the wetness that the thoughts of him have brought.

I slide it in and out, increasing from one finger to two, my body tensing, and my breathing deepens, I reach for the rosebud that’s sat waiting to be put to use.

My other hand takes control of it, I glide my fingers around my pussy opening my lips, placing the toy over my pink swollen clit, and flick it onto the second setting.

As the toy starts its suction motion a moan escapes me, I continue with my fingers pushing in and out of my pussy causing my juices to coat them.

My mind focused on one thing only, him, sitting and watching me as I take control of my need for release.

Every single hair on my body stands on end, my legs start to shake, and the wetness from my pussy covers my hand.

I increase the level on the toy, and it takes me higher, I am on the edge of climax, my breathing fast and shallow, I’m there, as I slip my fingers back inside me my eyes clench closed, all I see is him.

My whole-body trembles as I fall apart around myself, juices cover my hand and my thighs.

I don’t move whilst I allow myself to come down from my heightened state.

Eventually turning the toy off, I wash it in the shower, it’s needed, I can’t remember the last time I came like that.

Toy cleaned I pop it on the side, stepping back into the shower deciding that I should wash my hair first to give my clit time to calm down.

By the time I have dried my hair and dressed, I ponder about what I want to eat and my stomach grumbles telling me to hurry up and feed it.

I make a sandwich after I can’t find anything in the kitchen that I want.

Whilst my shower antics released my tension, and the sandwich filled my empty stomach, neither has brought me any feeling of complete satisfaction.

I know what I need, a decent meal and a good fuck, both of which haven’t passed any of my lips in some time.

I spend the rest of the day cleaning the apartment, changing the bedding and the usual mundane tasks that I leave for a Sunday but since I am at the bar tomorrow, I get them done today.

Deciding that I need to get some kind of gratification I book dinner for myself at 7pm at the Bistro restaurant that’s on my way to work.

It’s a nice place, and I feel comfortable there on my own.

A 7pm dinner means I will have plenty of time to relax and then sort my uniform at work.

I grab my work kit, the book I am currently attempting to read ‘Atomic Habits’, hoping it will help me move forward in life, and put it in my bag.

I was at the Bistro bang at 7pm, seated and my order was taken within 10 minutes.

I can’t cook a steak myself, so I opt for that with a trio of vegetables, convincing myself it’s healthy and ignore the fact it’s cooked in butter.

I accompany it with water, which would normally be a large glass of Sauvignon Blanc, but I never drink before work.

I don’t get my book out and opt to sit and people-watch instead.

I find it therapeutic, to watch people talk, smile, laugh, wondering what words are passing their lips.

My meal arrives and as I look up to thank the server a figure passing the window catches my eye.

Before I can focus on the man, he’s passed and out of eyeline.

“Was that him?”

The words escape my mouth, instead of the Thank you to the waitress.

“I’m sorry?”

She responds confused.

“I mean, Thank you.”

Fuck me, I need to get this man out of my head, this is getting ridiculous now.

I finish my meal, settle the bill, and make my way to work, I arrive for 8.30pm and use the staff entrance and make my way to the staff room, giving a slight nod of acknowledgment to the Dave’s working security and the girls already working.

I sort my uniform and then chill out with my book before it’s time to start.

The time passes and I make my way into the bar at 9.45pm ready to take off Jade.

She confirms everything is in order and hands it over.

It’s a standard Saturday night and the time passes quickly, then there he is, walking over to his booth.

Must be midnight, I check the clock it has gone 1.30am.

His facial expression shows he is incensed, I pour his usual.

He walks to the bar and takes it, something that is not done here.

I look over for one of the Dave’s and see David, I make eye contact and he walks to the bar.

We move to the side out of any members’ view, and I tell him what’s happened.

As minor as this seems Mr DeMarco has rules for The Sicuro and one being it is table service only.

David tells me not to worry and that he has eyes on.

The night continues to go like any other, with the exception that Mr X has had more than his usual couple – something has pissed him off.

I catch his eye, and he’s looking straight at me.

I look away quickly but find myself drawn back, he's still looking at me, or staring straight through me.

I busy myself and make sure I don’t look his way again.

But that doesn’t stop me feeling him staring at me.

The last member’s leave and I glance over at booth one, he must have left without me realising.

I’ve overthought this, he wasn’t looking at me, I convince myself he was staring into nothingness, with only the reason why he was pissed off on his mind. I clean up, there’s no Sarah tonight which means no post-shift drinks, but I am happy to just get home. I change, say goodnight to Dave who’s locking up and make a move. It’s there again though, that feeling of being watched and after overthinking it at work I can’t shake it. I don’t wait and look around, I pick up my pace and go home. By the time I make it there, I’m sweating due to pretty much running most of the way. I collapse into bed at 4am, and his image is there, his stare, the one I am trying to convince myself wasn’t at me. I still don’t know if it made me nervous, scared or turned on.