Page 40 of Push My Buttons
I lean forward slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of their faces beneath the masks. Something about their movements tugs at my memory, but I can't place why. The masks transform them, making them both familiar and strange at once.
"Holy shit," the one with metallic accents says, his voice carrying clearly to my hiding spot, the words slightly tinny through what must be a voice modulator built into his mask. "They really went all out."
"It's impressive," Respirator Mask agrees, his voice deeper, more controlled, each syllable emerging with an electronic undertone that makes him sound almost inhuman.
"Impressive? It's fucking perfect." Metallic Mask circles slowly, taking everything in. "I wonder if she's already here, watching us."
I smile behind my mask. If only he knew how right he is.
"Probably," Respirator Mask says, and I swear I can hear a smile in his voice. "Tactical advantage."
Their easy banter continues as they explore the set, discussing potential strategies, admiring details. I watch them, fascinated by the way they move together—like they've done this before, like they know each other's rhythms. My subscribers don't know each other, do they? The thought is oddly unsettling.
"So," Metallic Mask says after a while, his voice pitched just for his companion. "You're ObsidianWolf?"
My heart skips a beat. So they are meeting for the first time. The realization makes this even more interesting.
"And you're NeedleAndVice," Respirator Mask—ObsidianWolf—replies, extending a hand. "Nice to finally meet you."
They shake, and something about the gesture strikes me as formal, almost cautious. Two strangers united only by their appreciation of me.
"Been following her long?" NeedleAndVice asks, leaning casually against a concrete barrier.
"A while," ObsidianWolf says, his voice giving nothing away. "You?"
"Eleven months, give or take. Never missed a show." NeedleAndVice's smile is audible in his words. "There's something about her, you know? The silence. The mystery."
"The control," ObsidianWolf adds, and something in his tone makes my skin prickle with awareness.
"Exactly," NeedleAndVice agrees. "She never loses control. Never breaks character. It's mesmerizing."
I shift slightly, uncomfortable with how accurately they've read me. Is it that obvious? Is my need for control so transparent even through a screen?
"I wonder what she's like in person," NeedleAndVice continues, his voice dropping lower. "If she's as intense up close as she seems from a distance."
"I guess we're about to find out," ObsidianWolf says, and there's an edge to his voice I can't quite interpret. Anticipation? Nervousness? Desire?
Before I can overthink it, I move.
It's time.
Chapter 15
Theo
Movementcatchesmyeye—ashadow shifting where there shouldn't be one. I tap ObsidianWolf's arm and nod toward the far corner of the set. "We have company."
He turns, and we both go perfectly still as she emerges from the darkness.
Holy. Fucking. Christ.
Okay, yeah… I think I just came in my pants a little. And I’m not even ashamed. If there’s a tip jar somewhere, I’m about to put my mortgage in it.
Something in her eyes punches right through the haze of lust, a flicker of recognition I can’t pin down. I’ve seen those eyes before—or maybe I’ve felt the way they look at me before—but the thought slides away the moment I try to grab it. Later, maybe, I’ll figure it out. Right now she’s moving toward us and my blood is rushing south too fast for anything else to matter.
I've watched Vanta's shows for months. I've fantasized about her, tipped obscene amounts just to see her acknowledge me with that subtle nod she gives her favorites. I thought I was prepared for meeting her in person.
I wasn't even close.
