Page 81 of All Her Broken Pieces

We’re handed two bracelets each, one black and one yellow.

“Is this your way of telling me that you’rewithme?” I ask with a hint of a smirk on my face.

“If you play your cards right,” she purrs while slipping on her bracelets and sauntering over to the black velvet-curtained entrance of the club.

Sensual music plays throughout the club as the sounds of moans punctuate the steady beats. At first, I assume the moans are coming from the music, but looking around, I realize they’re live. The club’s main room has a stage in the corner with a short catwalk that juts out from it. Several booths line the wall. There’s a bar on the opposite corner from the stage, while the middle of the room has small round tables scattered throughout. The lower tables include chairs, while the taller ones have people gathered around them.

We make our way over to a booth, and I pull Bridget in close to me, practically forcing her to sit on my lap as I glance around. There are people coupled up, engaging in different acts all over the room. Some are observing like us, while others explore their sexuality uninhibited. Near the bar, a bouncer is standing in front of an opening that leads to the private rooms.

Someone comes by to take our drink order, and Bridget orders a bourbon neat. I have a feeling she’ll need it to loosen her up for what I have planned.

As Bridget sips on her drink, her hand snakes up my thigh, and my cock jumps at her touch. Most days, all it takes is a look from her, and I’m at full mast, ready to go. She’s incredibly sexy, and it baffles me that she doesn’t see that. That past boyfriends have made her question herself and her worth pisses me off to no end. She comes across as a confident, powerful woman, but the more I’ve gotten to know her, the more I’ve seen the woman who is a powerhouse in the office but is broken emotionally. The masks she wears fool most, but not me, and peeling them back has allowed me to see all her beautifully broken pieces. I want to be there for her as she puts them back together. Hell, I’d put them together for her if she’d let me, but even though we’ve made a lot of progress in the past few weeks, we still have a long way to go before she fully trusts me. And I’m hoping tonight is another step towards that.

Looking around the room, I notice several couples and point them out to Bridget. With my hand holding her neck, I pull her face close to my lips, whispering in her ear, “Do you see that couple onstage?”

Her eyes track the couple; a man, probably in his late twenties, has a petite blonde woman, who’s easily in her late forties, tied up and bound on a bed. Her arms secured above her head, she lies there bared to him as he feasts on her.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” she starts as I feel her shift in her seat. “Look at how he’s devouring her.”

“That’s what you look like when I do that to you. See how he looks at her, licking and sucking, and then looking at her with adoration. That’s how you make me feel.”

Bridget’s focus shifts to a couple at one of the low-top tables in the middle of the room. They appear to be in their thirties, both wearing green bracelets that broadcast that they’re open to anyone joining them. An older man, maybe mid-fifties, approaches and pulls up a chair to join them. The men take turns kissing the woman before leaning forward and kissing each other as the woman watches. I notice Bridget rubbing her thighs together at the sight. “You might have a little voyeur in you. Is watching them turning you on?”

“It kind of is. He walked right up and they let him join them even though he’s…”

“Even though he’s what? Older than them?”

“I wasn’t going to say that. It’s just that the couple is hot, like an eight or nine, and the guy that joined them is like a five at best.”

“Based on the way they’re all sucking face, I’m guessing that couple doesn’t agree with your assessment. And really, it’s up to them, isn’t it?”

“Sorry, that was a shitty thing to say. Sometimes I have difficulty turning off that voice in my head, and it comes out of my mouth unfiltered.”

“Is that the same voice that says all the shitty things about my age versus yours?” I prod gently. “The same voice that convinces you that you aren’t attractive without makeup? Because I think that voice is full of shit.”

She looks at me with shock on her face that quickly morphs to confusion, like she’s thinking over the truth in my words.

“How do you do that? It’s like you’re in my head. It feels like you know me better than anyone else.”

She’s easy to read, yet she acts like no one else ever has. But the more I think about what she’s shared with me, the more I’m convinced that no one’s ever paid close enough attention to her micro-expressions to decipher what she’s saying without words.

How her eyebrows furrow when she’s working through a problem, and she’s stalling to practice reciting an answer in her head, careful to weigh out her words before she speaks.

How she chews on the bottom right part of her lip, moving it back and forth in her teeth when she’s trying to hide something.

How she plays with her left earlobe when she’s nervous, tucking it in and letting it pop back into place, only to repeat the gesture until her anxiety abates.

It blows my mind that no one in her life has taken the time to understand her, but I’ll gladly be the first.

With my hand under her chin, I angle her face toward mine as I press our foreheads together. “You make it easy for me to know you. All it requires is attention, and if you haven’t noticed, I have difficulty keeping my eyes off you.”

Her hand is still on my leg, squeezing and groping as I move mine under her arm and onto her leg. I slowly make a path up her thigh and under the hem of her dress until I’m grazing the fabric of her panties.

“Keep looking. Tell me what you see,” I say, distracting her as I draw her focus back to the club.

Her head swivels as she looks around the room, and I continue dragging my fingers up and down her panties, reveling in how they dampen the more I stroke.

“I… uh…” She struggles with words as I continue my movements. “There’s a couple over by the bar. The younger guy with the man-bun…”

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