He doesn't stop, and I let myself go, falling into pleasure. It feels like my mind is in freefall even though I'm standing still. Every time Hudson enters me it feels better, until each bit of friction feels like a tiny orgasm. I'm under the water in an ocean of pleasure and I don't want to surface. I don't know how long it is until I feel him come. It could be hours. And when he comes, I come with him again, though I haven't really stopped. And this time I think I do scream. How is it that each time with him is better than the last?
I feel like I'm still floating, but Hudson releases me from the cross, and I'm being carried somewhere. He's cradling me and I like the feeling of being cared for and close. "Are you all right?" he asks.
"I'm perfect." The fog is lifting, but I can still feel that perfect floaty sensation. Almost like being high. "We're definitely going to do that again."
I can hear his chuckle vibrate through his chest.
I look around and I don't recognize where we are. There are no other people, it's a cozy room. White furnishings and a fire, and Hudson is holding me on the couch. "Where are we?" I ask softly.
"My private room," he says. "After that, I wanted some privacy."
"Mmm." I snuggle closer to his chest, and I love this feeling. It's perfect. I don't remember a time when I've felt this content. "You never really told me why you do this," I say. "Why you run a club like this. I mean, you told me that you and your friends wanted somewhere like this, but that doesn't feel like the entire reason."
"Very perceptive of you."
"That's me," I sigh, still feeling a little high, "perceptive Christine."
He laughs softly. "Well, I'll tell you. I grew up in a really small town."
"Me too."
"Everyone there kind of knew how their lives would turn out, and I didn't. I chose to go to college in California. Everybody was so different there, and away from home, I felt like a whole new person. I met my friends-the other owners-there. And when you talk about being yourself, sex is really at the center of that. Sexuality is a huge part of what makes you who you are. And we thought that everyone was too uptight about it, so we wanted a place where everyone could be who they wanted without judgement."
"That's really nice," I say softly.
"And thankfully my family was supportive of the whole thing. They pretend they don't know what kind of club I run, but they do. The whole town probably knows. It's maybe six hours from here."
I look up at him. "So you're the reason the club is in Phoenix and not somewhere in L.A.?"
"Maybe a little, but we wanted somewhere that needed it and was also a tourist destination. L.A. has plenty of places where someone can find what they need."
The fire is mesmerizing and so is the sound of his voice. I want him to keep talking. "What did you want to do before this?"
"I never really knew, to be honest. People wanted me to be some kind of athlete, and I was good at it. But I knew it wasn't the right place for me. This landed in my lap and I never looked back."
I feel brave in this moment, like there's nothing between us and we know each other completely, even if we don't. Even if I can't ever really be myself with him. I want to share something with him. I want to open up because it feels right and powerful in this moment. "Hudson, I'm glad I spilled my coffee on you."
He smiles, and leans down to kiss me. "I'm glad too."
"I would never have done something like this on my own. Being here with you makes me feel alive."
"I'm glad."
We're silent for a second, and then, "You said you grew up in a small town too?"
"Yeah," I say, "Aguila. About an hour and a half from here. They're exactly like what you said."
"But you're here."
"I'm here. Even if they don't want me to be. Artists aren't exactly the pride and joy of the town." That's enough. I don't want him finding out any more about who I really am. I couldn't take it if it ended because the real me doesn't live up to the woman I've made him think that I am in here.
"What kind of artist?" he asks.
I pull him down to kiss me me, and I reach down and stroke him where he's still half-hard. "That depends," I say. "What kind of artist do you want me to be right now?"
Hudson rolls me onto the couch and covers my body with his. "How about an artist in pleasure?"
"I can do that."
8
A couple of weeks later, Hudson strokes his hand down my face as we lay together, sweaty and panting. "You're beautiful."
I blush at the compliment. I've never considered myself beautiful, and neither has anyone else. So I can't possibly believe that he really thinks that, even if he did say it the day we met. It's not me, it's this bold person I become when I'm here. Not the real Christine. It's the club Christine who takes matters into her own hands and dares to be sexual and wild. To let a man tie her up and fuck her in front of a club full of people. But even if it isn't true, it's nice to hear. "Thank you."
"You know, other than that you're an artist and you grew up in a small town, you've never told me anything about yourself," he says.
"You noticed?"
"Why not?" His voice isn't accusing, just curious.
I shake my head. "Why ruin it?"
His hand snags my hip and he pulls me closer. "Give me something. What do you do for a living?"
I swallow, my mouth going dry. "I work in a photography studio."
"And do you like doing that?"
"I do," I say, nodding. "Even though I prefer doing my own work."
"What do you photograph?"
I shift so I'm more full on my side, and touching him a little less. I've never been really comfortable talking about myself, and the way Hudson is looking at me-as if it's the most interesting thing he's ever heard-makes me nervous. "I do environmental photography. Most people would call it landscapes, but it's not just landscapes. Alleys, parking lots, rooms, whatever."
"Why?"
"Because you can tell a lot about a place from just looking. It's not just the people that make up a place. It has its own character. It influences you just as much as you influence it."
His hand strokes from my shoulder to my elbow. "I'd like to see some of your work some time, if you'd let me."
"Maybe."
"I can come to wherever you keep it."
I look at him. "You mean not here?"
He smiles that little smile that I love. "Yeah. As much as I like what we have going on here at the club, and I do, I don't only want to see you here."
"Oh."
"Unless that's only what you want?" His smile falters.
My heart is suddenly pounding. If he sees me when I'm not in this environment, it won't be the same. He won't like me the same way. He'll see my small, boring life. He'll see how utterly average I am. He'll see everything that makes my family want me to come home and exist in their bubble. I like-no, I love-what we have too much to let him see that part of me. Because I don't want it to end, and if he sees me for what I really am, then it will. I'm not ready for that.
Sensing that something is wrong, Hudson pulls me closer and presses a kiss to my hair. "I like you, Christine. A lot. I don't want this to be limited to just sex in my club. I want to take you on dates. I want to take you to the movies. I want you to take me with you when you photograph something." He pulls back and looks at me. "I want to know more about you than your body."
He hugs me close again, and I let him. I don't know what to say. I'm trapped between an intense desire to know him too, to want all of those things he just said, and the reality that those things can't ever happen. I'm not good enough, not glamorous enough for them. So instead I kiss him, and I let him kiss me back. He can interpret that kiss however he wants, but I'll know the truth.
I close my eyes as he rolls over me and starts to move down my body. If this is the last time I can have with him, I might as well enjoy it. But how can I when every kiss he presses against my skin feels like a kiss goodbye?
I don't usually fall asleep at the club, but I let myself this time. It felt too good to let him go. Especially since I know that I can't come back. It's better this way. We'll both be happier remembering the time we spent here together, instead of being unhappy with the clash our real lives will bring.
Hudson is fast asleep beside me, and I have to move slowly, carefully, so I don't wake him. I gather my clothes, skimpy as they are, and put them on. Looking at the clock, it's close to four A.M. The club is still open, but barely. I'll be able to get my coat and keys. Though I suppose if the club was closed I could just get them myself.