CHAPTER 7

ALINA’S POV

It was weird heading back home from work around 10; 15am, knowing I had to be back to the same work by 6pm, to officially begin the work that I had gone for earlier in the day. Weird.

But as weird as that may seem, nothing could beat the absolute tug of war that was finding an outfit for the night. I mean, I couldn’t show up there in my pencil skirts and chiffon shirts that I would regularly wear to Boldlines. I didn’t even know how they dressed over at Oxygen, didn’t ask that. But then again, with the tour earlier… you pretty much get the picture.

Still, “You’re not some hooker or Siren, Alina. You’re a consultant, a creative consultant. You should look like one!” that was what I told myself. The little ‘motivating  get it together’ speech in front of the mirror. But guess what? Nearly 9 hours later, all that confidence came completely watered down by the oppressive onslaught of naked asses all around me!

“Well, aren’t you overdressed.” a woman mocked as she strutted past. Her fair ass jiggling ever so softly in the lace silk slip barely covering her ass, the heels she had on somehow making it easier. Another joined her, same outfit, serving me similar looks—confusion, bafflement, then laughter.

Great. Just great, Alina.

First day of work and this is how you start. Show up late, and then clad in the one color that should literally be a sin in this… sinful place!

Who wears white to a place like this? White. It may be a perfectly tailored dress, professional, but it was white.

WHITE.

“Oh God,” I groaned silently, for the hundredth time at least. “Maybe I should just head home. Change or something.” It would be better than sticking out like a sore thumb around here. I turned around then, ready to head back to the dimly lit hallway that led outside when a tap came on my shoulder.

“Excuse me,” I paused, Ms. Vega’s familiar face appearing. “Spotted you all the way from the bar, Angel.”

Angel? Oh shit, the white.

“Ughh, this looks bad. I know. I’m sorry.” She simply chuckled, stepping back to look me over some more. More chuckles leaving her lips, and i swear, I would switch my dress right now if I could. Anything to stop the glances I was getting. This was a pleasure house/ exclusive lounge, of course people would be in expensive lingerie sets and enticing body suits.

Even if I wouldn’t wear that, at least not anything in white. “It’s not that bad.” she waved off, smiling. “It’s just… pure. But it’s not your fault. I realize I didn’t warn you about the do’s and don’ts around here. The outfits for instance, so I’m sorry.”

Oh. She’s sorry. That does make me feel a bit better. Gets the blame off a little.

“So…” I breathed, trying to relax a bit. Looking around. “This is what night looks like here.”

“Yup.” She smiled proudly, “She’s pretty, isn’t she?” I looked at the half naked bodies literally everywhere. Clad in expensive looking bodysuits, silk slips, leather corsets, velvet shorts, and some even stark naked under the amber lights that was golden this morning.

“Yeah. She’s … pretty.” I turned back around, reserving any comments I had. That was when my eyes landed on her own outfit. Earlier when I had come in she was on a somewhat professional attire— a crisp gray suit. All professional and put together like some real hot shot. But now, she was perfectly rocking a leather body suit with hose. Her hourglass figure on full display, coupled with hand gloves to match. All leather.

Instead of a cooperate lady, before me was some sexy badass that I was really starting to be jealous of in my stupid dress.

“Wow,” I said honestly, “You look incredible. Very sexy.”

 “Naked Elegance.” She said with a wink, “That’s the dress code around here.”

The dress code? I looked around, and sure enough everyone looked actively naked but still somewhat pleasing to the eyes. It wasn’t trashy or demeaning. If anything it all seemed very intriguing, sensual under the lights, and just… tempting. Made you want to join them… get naked. Do or at least feel something.

 Like the woman over on the stage that had caught my eyes. A man tied there. The silk ropes of the stage holding him upright, like a cross. Red marks already forming on his skin, a whip in her hand as she circled him. Boobs spilling from the crimson red leather lingerie she had on, ass all the way out, hot red killer heels completing the whole combo. But the main course was how she hit him— intentional, sensual, like she was enjoying it. And him, stark naked. Dick curved, hard, and leaking of precum while he groaned from either pleasure or pain. Maybe both as the audience watched with enthusiasm. Partly reliving every pleasure the two felt on stage.

It was comepletely pornographic!

Real, and interesting to look at. I just wanted to-

Hold on, what kind of thoughts are you having right now, Alina? What are you doing? You’re a Creative Consultant here, not part of the party.

But before I could take my eyes off, it caught unto yet another pair at the mirrors. Right in front of those velvet couches I had seen in the morning. I watched them touch themselves, staring directly at the mirrors. Not taking off whatever clothes they had on.

 “Oh my God,” I whispered, as the man sped up. His fingers pressed on the woman’s lace panties, eyes watching her twist with pleasure on the mirrors. My throat instantly went dry. Shock parting my lips, senses heightened as the moans filled my ears. From the stage, audience watching, others even starting up theirs… everyone around me literally acting loco, and all half naked! I could hear them even through the bass thumping from the speakers!

“Oh my God,”I quickly turned away, Ms. Vega’s smirking features waiting for me. “I told you this is where flirting happens,” she said, “All with clothes on, as you can see.”

Oh I could see. I could most definitely see.

“That’s what those ropes were for?” I asked weakly, glancing back at the stage. The man there trying to wriggle free now, whips landing across his thighs. His dick going harder if that was possible. Curving, and spilling, happy pleasurable smiles decorated his face. The hell?

“It’s called a scene.” Ms. Vega explained, “As you can see they’re deeply enjoying themselves. A sub, and her dom.”

Sub and dom. Like Submissive and Dominant?

Wow. Just wow.

 I’d never imagined I would have the time or money to visit a place such as this, watch it happen before my eyes or even feel aroused by it all. But here we are. Here we are.

“Can I meet everyone now?” I blurted, refusing to stare anymore. This was work. I was here for work, not gradually feel my panties get wet watching live p**n.

“Everyone?” She grinned, “Not sure that we’ll be possible, but let’s over to the bar area.” I let her lead me off then. My bag hanging tight on my shoulders, eyes trying to focus strictly on where we were headed. Without much success though, but we eventually we moved into the section where the floors became red. And instantly, my feet took an abrupt halt.

Mouth hanging open to see the empty hallway from the morning was now packed with people. Men and women, dressed even more scandalous here! Moans, deep groans filling the air. Thick and loud with scents of cocktails, perfumes, sweat everywhere.

Every breath feeling like I was inhaling someone’s secret. Secret’s they sure didn’t care about anyone finding out right now. Not with how long gone everyone seemed with the steady rhythm in the air. Everyone bewitched, red light bathing everything, matching the floors and giving more than enough sensual energy to leave you sleek and wet.

And I’d thought the main lounge had me aroused. This was worse! This section. The private suites. There was even a door not fully closed, revealing a manicured hand gripping a rail as pleasured cries tore the air.

“W-woah,” I breathed, “What is this place? What is going on right now?”

Bodies brushed past me as I met up with Ms. Vega, who had taken great pleasure in watching me gawk around. “Oh, I love newbies!” She chuckled, “I can’t wait for you to start shedding off your little protective blanket. Oh and, are you sub or dom?”

“Sub or a do-” The words choked in my throat. Her teasing smile widening ,and just then, a 6ft male brushed past me. Shirtless, and sculpted. His shorts leaving nothing to the imagination, transparent all through displaying the huge hard on and fair ass on him!

“I- you… oh God,” Ms. Vega laughed, watching me make a mess of myself when she knew clearly how all of these was getting to me. “You’re defintely a sub. Despite the mouth you have on you.”

What?

“I am not a sub.” I disagreed, realizing what that meant. “I’m not a dom either. I’m just a Creative Consultant here to work. Not interested in any of these.”

“Oh, really now?”

“Yes, really.” I straightened up, squaring up my shoulders. More confident despite the heat on my cheeks and between my legs. “I am very serious. So let’s head to that bar, and you show me who you can. Or can’t.”

She smirked, held my gaze for a bit but turned around regardless. “Let’s go spunk, you’re real interesting!”

I followed her. This time more than focus to avoid distractions all around me. Oxygen was no joke, that much was clear now. This was serious. Dangerous, and hella unhealthy for a mind like mine already battling with images and scenes I’d rather not think about right now or even right here.

Still, it doesn’t change the fact this was a good business raking in a shit ton of money. Let’s talk about the people present here tonight. The numbers. Did they have such every night? Were there nights when it was more? Excess? People really came here, did things, and lived like this? Someone like me didn’t even have the time to wonder if I was into stuff like this or not. Too many real shitty life problems attacking me all at once.

Maybe if I was better, I would consider coming? It wouldn’t be bad to just…explore things, would it? Experience it.

We turned a corner, revealing another lounge area with fewer people, and I exhaled in relief.  

“Mark, a shot please.” Ms. Vega’s sounded out as we approached an alluring magnet. Black and bold, with intricate old veins all around it— the bar. “Want a drink too, spunk?”

She looked at me, “Well… I guess.” I muttered, sliding onto a bar stool. The marble counter cool to the skin, matching perfectly with the overall aesthetics of the building.

“Who’s the Angel?” The bartender frowned, mixing drinks. “Are you here to purify us or damn to hell for all eternity?”

Eternity? I just rolled my eyes, smiling lazily. “Neither. This is just a little closet malfunction.”

“Which I’m partly to blame for,” Ms. Vega added, coming to my rescue. “She’s our new manager around here, so be warned.”

I love that. Be warned.

The guy raised his hands in mock surrender after that, bringing attention to the ripped muscles of his arms and dangerous V- shape going down his pants. Was it just me or was everyone around here model-level hot?

I turned away before I could get caught though. Wouldn’t be wise for a ‘new manger’ to be caught staring. “Here’s your drink, little Angel.” He placed my glass down. A grateful smile on my lips as I took it, sipping gently as I turned on my bar stool. My eyes taking in the relaxed, and yet again half naked people lazing about on the red comfortable couches. Laughing. Half drunk for some.

I looked at the floor above us, noting it was less noisy. Dimmer. Probably a VIP section, but just then I froze. Glass halfway to my lips, arm leaning back on the counter as I saw it. A figure. Him.

Standing in the shadows, behind a glass.

No smiles, no smirks, hand in his pocket, the other holding a drink. Just staring, at me.

And all at once the air thickened. My pulse racing as the music faded from my ears.

“I finally see you… bastard.”