Screw baby steps. I’d like to get laid, thank you very much!
Seth let loose a faint, amused chuckle. “You’re killing me with your little lip pooching out like that. The last thing I want is to disappoint you but I…I know what I’m talking about. I want you to be able to smile at the memory of your first time and have no regrets.” He hugged her, and she noticed the large, hard ridge at his groin and felt a mixture of guilt and disappointment. The twinkle returned to his eyes as he gazed into hers. “I’m leaving before I do something I’ll regret. I’ll give you a call. Right now I need a cold shower.”
He kissed her forehead, and she found that although she was disappointed, her respect for him had only grown. She tried to make heads or tails of her jumbled emotions as she walked him to the door. She never would’ve guessed that she’d meet a guy unwilling to be coerced into sex. For a moment, it’d seemed as though he was reliving some old memory. Maybe he’d had a virgin before and hadn’t enjoyed it. Hell, if first-time sex was that bad, maybe she should just get it over with. The notion was worth considering but didn’t give her much comfort as the sound of his motorcycle faded in the distance and she turned out the lights.
* * * *
His fingers clasped with Tamar’s, Seth reluctantly followed their host down the dim, narrow corridor, echoes of whispering voices and moans bouncing off the walls. The narrow passage originally might’ve been used by servants or reserved for secret access to private rooms in the stately manor house. The corridor now served another purpose entirely. They passed small groups gazing into two-way mirrors at intervals until they were drawn to a halt behind their host, a little rat of a man whom Seth had taken a dislike to the moment Tamar had introduced them earlier that evening. A heavy beat throbbed through the walls as Tamar leaned close, the flesh of her arm cool against his, and whispered, “Henri has arranged something special for us to watch.”
Henri’s smile made Seth shudder as the little man tugged on a rope, drawing the drape that covered the mirror. “This is what I was telling you about, my dear Tamar. For a small investment, you could become very rich in a short time. This scene is a secret video shoot. I have clients willing to pay top dollar the world over.”
Seth knew nothing about this man’s clientele but guessed a lot when he viewed the occupants of the room. Three men, fitted with leather masks to disguise their faces. They were all completely nude and ready for action by the looks of their genitals. A door in the room opened and another nude, masked man walked in leading a blindfolded, naked young woman. Judging by her gait and the way she giggled, she was either high or drunk, or both. The man leading her directed her onto the bed, and his words were audible over a speaker mounted by the mirror. Seth wanted to walk away but found he was frozen in place, standing next to Tamar.
Unwilling to see what happened next, Seth squeezed Tamar’s hand to get her attention. She ignored him as she watched the men stroking their cocks.
He leaned toward her to whisper, “What is this? I thought you wanted to attend a party.”
Tamar smirked and laid a kiss on his cheek. Her brown eyes were lit with dark lust as she murmured, “We are, Seth. Don’t be a rube. Enjoy the show.”
According to rumor, the parties that occurred at this manor house, located on a country estate outside Paris, were legendary. Seth wondered if Henri made his money with blackmail or with the sale of pornographic material. Either way, this wasn’t Seth’s area of interest or the reason he’d come to Europe. He’d gone out with Tamar tonight to make her happy which seemed more often to be at odds with what made him happy.
She’d become bored with shopping and hadn’t practiced her craft at all in months. He’d realized that becoming a tattoo artist, no matter that she was talented, was one more way Tamar rebelled against her wealthy parents, whom he’d never met. He’d faced the truth that he was there mainly to keep her company at these events, many of which ended with her passing out drunk and spending the next day recovering from a hangover. Seth had already considered the possibility of returning home to the States, with or without her. He wondered what his parents would think of all this.
Tamar sipped her vodka tonic and smirked again as she gazed through the mirror and whispered a question to Henri. Her ultra low-cut white couture dress hung from her painfully thin frame, a stark contrast to the dark tattoos that sleeved both arms, her shoulders, back, and her rib cage. She’d always tended toward thinness, but her lifestyle the last twelve months had caused her to drop even more weight. Designers cooed over her frame, but he’d begun to worry. Ingratiatingly, Henri whispered a reply.