Page 105 of A Forgotten Promise

That’s what I tell myself as my attention stays glued to the beautiful woman who now sheds her robe. She is wearing a lacy lingerie top that exposes her breasts, and a matching garter with stockings, no panties.

Two men join her and lift her to the swing. It’s almost like a dance performance, just a bit salacious. They tie her wrists and ankles, and before they leave the stage, they give the swing a little push.

“Well, gentlemen, are you ready for the show?” Her voice fills the room. She must have a mic I didn’t notice.

Her voice is melodic, with a tone of jest and a lot of confidence. Like she’s the one ready for the show and enjoying it.

Her presence on the stage is all-consuming. She is exposed, swaying gently, but somehow also powerful. Despite being trapped, she exudes a similar confidence to my brothers, my father, or Corm.

A man in a suit in a mask walks on the stage. He’s well built, his muscles bulging under his clothes. I don’t see his face, but I imagine he’s handsome. Besides that thought, he looks like any other man in the audience.

He approaches the swing and traces his hand between the woman’s breasts down to her pussy. He cups her roughly, and her gasp echoes around.

I hold my breath, a tingling sensation swarming in my core. What is this? Like a live porn performance?

The man on the stage unzips his pants and his cock springs out. Itislive porn, only somehow better.

I grab my glass and gulp two long sips. On the stage he pulls at some ropes, and the woman is now tilted with her head facing down, and her core aligned perfectly to his height. Two projections light up on the wall behind them, showing the couple from different angles.

It’s official: this is the first porn that has ever aroused me. Jesus. I’m panting, a hot ache spreading inside me, and they haven’t even started. The man gives himself a tug and pushes inside her aggressively.

The room fills with appreciative sounds, and other sounds that suggest the audience is inspired. I’m so out of place, and yet strangely grounded.

“Is this your first time here?” A thrilling, chilling drawl shatters the world around me.

Chapter 19

Corm

“Do you ever leave?” Roxy leans against the door frame.

She’s in a smart dress with a jean jacket over it. I long ago gave up on reminding her of our business dress code. The woman wears her mismatched clothes with more style and elegance than anyone else I know.

Besides Saar, if she was willing to dress at all.

“What do you want, Roxy?” I growl and push my chair from my desk.

I’m getting claustrophobic in my large office because she’s right, I have been stuck here for days.

And nights. Not that I’d admit that. I made Saar believe I’m in The Velvet Room, but instead I’m here, pretending I’m a workaholic.

“Just making sure you turn off the lights when you leave.” She snickers.

“Go home.”

“I will after you tell me why you are sleeping in the office.” She takes off her heels and saunters to my desk where she plops into a chair opposite me.

“I don’t sleep here,” I lie.

She raises an eyebrow. “You know, a man is only powerful if he can be vulnerable. I know that society teaches you boys not to cry, but it’s fucking bullshit.”

“Thank you for your insight into the problems of modern men. Not sure why you feel I’m interested in this conversation.”

She rolls her eyes. “Look, you’re extra nasty with the staff, and I’m frankly tired of the constant flow of resignation letters because people fear you—”

“If they did their jobs and used their brains, they would have nothing to fear.”

I stand, walk to my shelves, and pour myself an inch of whiskey. I take a sip, but when I turn, Roxy is still sitting there.

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