Easy peasy. I can do this. Iwantto do this. Maybe.
I look up. “Excuse me, Max?”
She wanders over.
“Uh, with this… um…” I can’t bring myself to say Glory Hole. It seems too dirty, somehow, which is ridiculous given that I’m thinking about doing it. My body’s humming at the possibility. “Event.This is weird, but, how do I know I’ll be attracted to the person? Is that…is that awful?”
“Nope. I get it. You don’t want to go in there with, like, a deep thirst for hefty thighs and find out you’re barely getting a handful, right? I’m a Switch, which gives me lots of options, but I’ve got friends here who would never, in a million years, top, others who’d never bottom. Shove two hard-core tops in a dark room together and it’d be like cats fighting for dominance. Which would suck. Unless that’s their thing.” She grins.
I can’t help but laugh. “So, it’s dark in there? How does it work?”
“Well, there are the traditional glory holes. Booths with holes at strategic levels. We call those Old Glories. Then we’ve got the Black Hole.”
“What’s that?”
“A bigger, two-person booth. Total darkness. Anonymous. No speaking, unless you’re safe wording or need to get out. No actual holes, but all the benefits of pure anonymity. You’ll never know who you just did terrible, wonderful things with.”
My breath’s gone all shaky with excitement and nerves. “What if someone comes in and I’m, I don’t know, not attracted to them? Not into it or scared or weirded out? Is that awful? I don’t want anyone to feel bad, you know, but if—”
“Safe word. Just safe word. No excuse needed. No hard feelings.” She points something out on the paper. “Look. Here, you just give details of soft and hard limits, wants, specific physical stuff. Whatever you’re into, curious about, desperately seeking. Honestly. It’s anonymous. You get assigned a number and you’re matched up.”
“Wemet in the hole,” says a voice to my left. I turn to see a small, round woman holding the end of a leash that’s attached to a hairy, tatted-up biker in nothing but a leather thong and a collar.
He’s got his arms around her. “Luckiest day of my life,” he says, looking down at her like she just hung the sun
“Oh. Wow. That’s amazing. Congratulations,” I tell them.
“Listen. No pressure, okay?” Max’s tone is suddenly serious. “If you’re curious, just fill it out. You can change your mind anytime.”
Curious? That’s one way of putting it. I’m half-terrified.
It’s the other half that pushes me to grip the now sweat-slicked pen. The half that’s already fully caught up in this sex-filled underworld. The half that definitely gets why Zion comes here in his off-time.
Even now, I grind into the stool, thinking of that woman’s ass and the paddle, that sick blend of excitement and jealousy.
Would I like that? The spanking? Would I like the way Zion and that other man stood there, objectifying her, talking about the woman like she wasn’t even there?
From the way my insides clench up, I’d say yes. Yes, I’d like that very much.
It takes concentration to focus on the words dancing on the page in front of me. Words like Penetration and Anal. Impact, Force, Oral, Pain. Top, Bottom, orientation, special requirements, specific desires.
What if I did it, just this once? One time, one experience, and then I leave. Back to life, back to the shitstorm. I could make this whole ordeal about me instead of us or him.
I inhale, long and slow, shut my eyes, and picture the video—Zion doing things to that woman’s body, her moans, every muscle tensing up.
I want that pure, unadulterated pleasure. Just once. One time and I’ll go.
Maybe that’s all the confrontation I need.
“Think I could have that second drink?” I ask Max, fully decided.
“You’re on.”
After a while, I put down the pen and push it toward her, along with the form.
“Alrighty then.” She scans the sheet, her face expressionless. “You’re all set. I’ll send this in to Benji and he’ll assign you a partner.”
A few minutes later, just as I’m slurping the last of my drink, she looks over. “Oh. I think it’s your turn.”
