Eleven (4 page)

“I really want to say yes, but…I…I can’t right now.”

The smile he had that put his gorgeous, white teeth on full display quickly faded. His dark brown eyes became glossy as they dropped from my face to my feet. “I thought you wanted to marry me,” he said with a shaky voice, still knelt on one knee before me.

“I thought you didn’t want to get married right now,” I responded, remembering how against marriage and legal commitment he seemed to have been last year. “You told me, ‘well, we're basically common law already; why do all the extra?’ remember that?"

He dropped his head and inhaled deeply. "So are you saying 'no'?" His voice seemed weak and shaky. Jason was not a man of many tears and the idea that he might become one tonight hurt my heart. I love my man. I love him so much. I'm just so torn between allowing myself to explore what I want and finally getting what I need. A good man that takes great care of me. I would never have to work with Jason as my husband. 

But I've wanted Kai longer than I've even known Jason was alive.

Then again, Jason was a sure thing. Jason had no secrets. I knew his every move. I knew his every thought. I knew him.

I gazed back into his pleading eyes.

I knew exactly what I had to do.

Kai

Chapter 6

Friday Night

              Andrew, the driver, pulled the black Benz in past the wrought iron fence and towards the tin paned warehouse building. The bright head lights shined brightly against the white metallic frame of the upward sliding door.

I looked over at Halee, my flamingly gay assistant that handles my Fridays. He sat with his legs crossed at the knees, holding his tan hyde Coach planner in his right hand and his blackberry in the left. His long, dark hair swept to the back of his perfectly round head. His pouty pink lips pursed away from his soft, pink face and light gray eyes.

My iPhone vibrated in my left pocket. I pretended not to feel it because I knew

it could only be Erica. Ashley rarely hit me up on Friday nights. I’ve trained her that way. Two missed calls from Erica and a voicemail. I shook my head and turned the phone face down on my lap. How dare she? Hit me up like everything is okay when she flat out dissed me. Walked out on me as if I had created a fairytale of feelings between us. Besides, she knows this is the day of the week when I’m not available.

For the most part, she had stopped calling me on Fridays. I tell her I’m with my family, but she never buys it. I want to be honest with her. I promise I do. But I can’t. She wouldn’t accept me. She’s afraid to admit to liking me as if two girls liking each other is a taboo equivalent to a mother and her fourteen year old son seeking legal marriage. I mean fuck!

“I have already initiated New Client Protocol. Guard 1 will be in the Safe Room. Guard 2 will be right outside of the main door. There will be two guards, one on each end of the hall, and two additional guards around the outside perimeters,” Halee said in his nasal-like voice and professional tone. Even though he tried to hide that gay boy slur, I could still hear it. It’s the famous homo tongue that makes a ‘d’ sound like a ‘z’ and creates a lisp even when there is no natural speech impediment.

“Okay,” I smiled as Andrew opened my door. His black suit coat almost blended with the outside darkness.

The renovated warehouse stood tall and dauntingly over our heads. The whole outside just looked creepy this far out into the country. Two guards stood still and intimidatingly at the two end points of the two-story, white-metal, squared building. One guard dressed in a Men in Black suit pulled the sliding metal door up, revealing the first level which was composed of  the Red and Purple Rooms.

Hay walked me up the spiraled, metal stairs to the Black Room. This was the only room in the entire upstairs. It was also the most expensive room. Clients paid, on average, seventy-five thousand dollars for the pleasures of the Black Room.

A King sized bed with steel posts on each corner sat flush against the far right wall. Metal was the only thing strong enough to withstand the affairs of the Black Room. Above the bed was a sixty inch plasma. Though I rarely turned it on, it was still nice to look at from inside the Ready Area which I will get to later.

The leather sex swing hung from the ceiling like a hammock from a tree. The Punishment Wall was neatly decorated with oversized-black dildos, chains, whips, clamps, paddles, cat-o-nine tails, and chastity belts. Everything hung organized as if it were being presented in a sex store.

Across from the Punishment Wall was an apparatus similar to an old guillotine that the pilgrims used to behead witches and thieves. It stood waist tall. Someone drops down to their knees and places their wrists and neck into their respective circular, fitted openings. The padded flooring had leather belts that buckled around each leg at the knee and ankle. The Black Room is the only room with this toy. I call it The Boogeyman. I get clients that sometimes forget themselves and think that just because they are paying me means I work for them. The Boogeyman scared them back into reality; Makes them understand they do what I tell them and as a symbol of their appreciation, I allow them to pay me.

Then there was the Reward Section. The largest collection of bullets, vibrators, silk blindfolds, flavored lube, and whatever else puts a smile on that ecstasy filled face while u came thunder. This section was only visited by those who obeyed me to my satisfaction...which is nothing short of perfection. However, this section was not visited by first time clients. You should never pet a dog you don't know.

The Restraint Area housed cuffs, chains, ropes, and bondage tape which all hung on the far left wall. In front of this wall was a glass display encased with an array of dildos, strap-ons, and harnesses. I really only used one strap though. I called her, Wonder Woman, a name well earned considering the amazing capabilities of this strap. It was ten inches of cinnamon complexioned pleasure, when erect of course. It's a flaccid five and a half inches. That’s right, Wonder Woman gets hard. Friction on the shaft surface triggers the internal sensor to inflate the air chamber, pushing out the foam like interior against the skin of the strap. In front of the tiny, silent motor is a refillable capsule that wirelessly communicates with the smart bullet that is used to measure my own sexual excitement from inside me. As the bullet vibrates against my walls, it reads my wetness and vaginal contractions. The bullet learns my orgasm threshold. Once my threshold is crossed, the bullet communicates my orgasm to the sensor in the dildo. The small, accordian ridged capsule then catapults to the inner tip of the dildo head and oozes an edible white substance -the consistency of melted ice cream- from a pen tip sized hole. Wonder Woman is amazing.

The center of the Restraint Wall was made up of one way glass. Next to that glass was a door that led into the Panic Room. This is where the guard was stationed during New Client Protocol. The glass was bullet proof and the door was thirteen inches of solid titanium. If a client were to ever get out of control, or a jealous significant other finds this place and tries to shoot it up like The Playas Club, I have a safe place to run and call for help.

"So tell me about the client," I said as I looked around the room, ensuring Haylee had the room fully stocked for tonight's events.

Haylee followed me closely around the perimeter of the now dimly lit space like a dog behind his master.

"His name is Marq Ex. He's the owner of Ex Inc. Law Firm. He's married to Ravyn Ex, wife of seven years. I checked my resources and he is notorious for paying the strippers at The Diamond for a little extra in the Champagne Room. He's also rumored to enjoy a little backside action if you know what I mean," he smirked as he lowered his eyes mischievously at me.

I smiled back, "What else?"

"He's 6"1', white, average build, and very attractive."

I shook my head. It was always the same kind of guys. Rich, married cheaters that claimed to be hetero but came here for gay fantasies they couldn't tell their wives about. Fuck it though. I get paid to put this "black dick" in their lives and let them believe there's nothing gay about it since the penis I wear isn't a penis I grew.

"What about his character? Am I dealing with a bitch or a cocky asshole?"

"Definitely a cocky asshole," Hay replied. "He loves to humiliate people. Point out their flaws in front of whoever will laugh. Not to mention, he's a dick to his wife; cheating in public, daring her to leave him. Flaunting his adultery through the entire downtown. He even fired his assistant because she couldn't suck dick right."

"He thinks he knows dick sucking, huh?"I giggled.

Goosebumps covered my arms and legs. I loved a challenge. The thought of breaking down a pompous jerk turned me on. My mind raced with the fun I was going to have with him.

Everything in the room was perfect and ready to go. That's exactly why I love Haylee. He knows how to get the job done. He doesn't run his mouth. He's loyal. He knows how to get me ready. Hell, if we weren't gay, I would smash that.

Hayley grabbed my essentials and rushed over to the Ready Area of the Panic Room. In the Ready Area was a shower, mirror, and dressing room. I kicked off my khaki Toms and stepped from the thin, black carpet onto the cold, marble floor of the Panic Room.

I trailed moderately behind Hay as he paced to turn on the overhead shower. I pulled the holder from my ponytail. My curly, puffy mane fell to the sides of my peanut butter face and draped over my smooth, round shoulders.

I stepped out of my skinnies. I admired the contours of my body in the oversized, black bordered mirror that hung delicately like a gentle giant over the his and hers glass bowl sinks.

Nice tight stomach. Toned thighs. Perky B's that look amazing in a sports bra and a lacy Vicky. I could tell even Hay admired my figure for the perfection it represents.

You see, I fuck a lot of girls. And I mean A LOT. I believe it's because I do what I want. I don't have to commit to being masculine or feminine. I just commit to being me. I can smash the same amount of females in a SnapBack and Jays as I can in a pencil skirt and heels. Fuck it, a SnapBack and heels. I don't straddle the fence. I am the fence. I am Kai. And when I’m here, the call me Eleven.

Chapter 7

Eleven

Mark Ex held his still position in the open doorway of the Black Room. His ice blue eyes  and bright pink lips stood out against his chiseled face.

Navy suspenders deeply imprinted the light blue checkered button down his navy, silk tie hung from.

He stood in his dark blue, slim fit slacks with an arrogant, smug, rich brat look on his face.

Though my Giuseppe heels only pumped me up to 5"7', I still felt taller than him in my black Dior bra and panty set.

My hair was pulled back tightly into the neatest bun natural hair hair has ever seen.

Wonder Woman hung flaccidly between my thighs.

I looked him up and down and walked away. I sat on the edge of the black, velvet comforter that draped loosely over the California King bed and crossed my legs at the knees.

I stared at his shadowy figure in the dim, recess lighting; waiting for him to do the shoulder shrug assholes do when they are left waiting.

I counted the seconds of silence in my head while the inevitable happened. I wanted it to happen though. Why? Because now I get to completely disrespect whatever authority he thought he had and establish my Apex dominion in this room by simply saying "Take off your fucking clothes, get on your knees, and suck my dick."

"Excuse me?!" His appalled eyebrows rose high into his sloped forehead.

He smirked. "I don't get on my knees and I definitely don't suck dick."

I licked my bottom lip, and tilted my head to the side the way dogs do when their human is speaking gibberish. "Did I ask you what you sucked?"

He chuckled as he opened his mouth to respond. I cut him off, holding my index finger up like a church usher.  "I didn't ask you shit. I told you to suck my dick."

"No, I heard you-" he started.

I interrupted again. "And yet, it's still not in your mouth."

His mouth dropped open in shock. I expected it to. I'm sure he's never been spoken to this way before. But he's no different from any other client I have ever dealt with. I just have to let him know that.

"Look sweetheart, I don't know what anyone told you, but I don't suck-"

As he rambled off about how top notch CEO's such as himself are too good to suck dick, I politely stood from the velvet bedding and strolled over to the Punishment Wall. I fingered past tons of submission tools.

I let my finger tips graze over the gags, the paddles...the whips. My eyes lit up when I swath whip. I pulled down the long, thick, strip of leather. This should definitely show him who 'Masa' is.

"Where are you going with that thing?" He asked as he stumbled back, forcing his back against the dark wall.

I said nothing. I watched as the fear in his body movements conflicted with the curiosity and intrigue in his eyes.

The whip drug against the thin, black carpet behind me. I stopped about two feet away from him. We stood facing each other in silence as his bottom lip quivered.

"He might not be tough to break after all," I thought to myself.