Page 9 of Skin
She whimpers and I feel her pussy clench up as I take my finger away.
Good girl. She wants more.
That’s how I want it. That’s how it will be.
“Why are you stopping?” she gasps. “What’s the matter?”
“We’re home.”
Avery
My skin isn’ton fire. It’shotterthan that. My insides aremolten.
I was so close to having an orgasm. So close to the first orgasm I’ve had with a man.
He barely touched me. He hardly did anything. He didn’t have to. His touch was so perfect, so wanting and...like it was made for me.
“We’re home,” he says. I look up, out the window. We’re uptown, I think, from how tall the buildings are and how they disappear into the sky.
“This is where you live?” I ask. I peer out the window past him and past the empty sidewalk, into the luxurious, modern vestibule in white and grey, golden tones licking every corner of it, a fire blazing in one corner and deep, plush couches set up around it.
“Live and work,” he says with a smile. “Now come on. It’s warm inside, and we have to get ready for the party.”
He exits the car when someone outside opens the door, and then he leans in to give me his hand to help me out. The snow is still falling, but it’s warmer. It’s still cold, but it’s no longer brutal.
“Careful,” he says, guiding me along the sidewalk to the building.
Up close, it’s even more beautiful, and when we pass through the glass revolving doors, it’s even more breathtaking once we’re inside.
We make our way to the elevators and he hits the call button. I turn around; this is not a typical elevator bank. Behind me, a plush sitting area boasts clusters of feather-soft looking, low slung cream colored couches. The ceiling is two stories high, and past the sitting area the far wall opposite the elevators is made of glass. Above it, the slanted ceiling is made of pure, crystal clear glass, with just the sky and the hint of the tops of tall buildings above it. The snow falls softly, and I feel as though I’m in a snow globe.
“It’s...a nice building,” I say. I swallow thickly as we get on the elevator.
“About the party,” he says. “I don’t know if I gave you enough details. I’m a partial owner of the club where it is being held.”
Club Skin.
I saw those words on the invitation.
I could deduce what kind of party is it.
Girls at work - my former work, I should say - talked about them from time to time.
You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, they’d say.
But it helps if you’re willing to do a lot, they’d say.
I don’t even know what kind of things may be asked of me.
“Does being the owner give you any special privileges?” I ask, my eyebrows raised.
“Yes,” he says simply. “It does. It gives me access.”
“To girls?” I swallow thickly.
“To whatever I want.”
Heat flutters between my legs as we get off the elevator. The view from his floor is incredible. I glance left quickly, at the large window composing the entire hallway. The snow up here is colder, icy almost, and whips through the air, so close to us. But we’re protected in this tower in the sky.
