Wicked Favor Page 4

  As I'm doing that, I take the measure of the man before me while we're in the bright lights of his office. He's insanely tall. I bet he tops out around six-six. He's built and the tailoring of his dress shirt is so precise I can see the shape of his biceps under the silk material. So yeah, Jerico has the body. But what makes him so striking is his face. His eyes are the first thing I notice, and I have a tough time looking away from them.

  Crystal-jade green.

  Amazing.

  Pair that with his midnight-black hair, which includes perfectly slashed eyebrows of almost the same color and thick lashes, his eyes become hypnotizing. That hair is something to behold. It looks like he walked straight out of a fashion magazine as it is cut in various layers. It's not too short, but not too long, and it looks like he did nothing more than run his fingers through it to style it. Finally, he wears a five o'clock shadow well. It's dark and gives him a rough-and-tumble look, which is very contrary to the stylish way he dresses.

  He gives me a curt smile as he walks out from behind his desk, and my inspection is over. I watch as he opens a closet door and pulls out three hangers, each holding a different outfit.

  He holds one up to me. I immediately recognize it as the bartending outfit. For the females, it's a black miniskirt that's not too obscenely short--I've worn shorter--and a camisole that's sexy but not too revealing.

  "Here's your bartending uniform," he says as he hands it to me. "You brought black heels as I instructed, right?"

  I nod, because it is the only thing he said I needed, so I'd grabbed one of only two pair I had. These had a modest heel of only three inches, with a pointed toe and a thin silver chain around the ankle.

  Jerico holds up the second hanger, which also holds black clothing. "This is the uniform of a cleaner. I still want you in heels, though. You're not meant to be seen but if you are, at least the heels add some sex appeal."

  The uniform looks very concealing, but very tight. Black stretchy pants with a slight shimmer and a small, extremely tight-looking black turtleneck with long sleeves. I suppose covering most of the skin in black is to camouflage the cleaners so they could be discreet when they swooped in to clean up the vinyl.

  My eyes slide to the last hanger in his hand and there is a tiny scrap of flimsy silk folded over the bar. He hands it to me and says, "This is your uniform for the condiment tray. It's brand new."

  My hand shakes as it takes the hanger from him. I swallow hard and ask, "And which job will I be performing tonight?"

  Please don't be the thong. Please don't be the thong.

  My breath comes out in a massive rush when he says, "We're going to start you easy tonight with cleaning duty. I'm going to be the one to train you."

  My jaw drops open and my stomach flips at the thought of spending the evening with him in the midst of people having wild monkey sex. Talk about awkward and scintillating at the same time. My voice is raspy when I ask, "Why would you even bother training me?"

  Jerico laughs, and there's no mistaking the taunt in it. "Relax, Trista... It's not because I think you're special or anything. It's just that you're a temporary employee and you're specifically working for me since I'm personally loaning you the money. I'm not going to waste any of my other staff's time to train you when it won't benefit the club in the long term."

  It made sense. I guess.

  Jerico turns toward his office door and issues a curt, "Come. Follow me."

  "Please," I mumble softly under my breath so he can't hear my backhanded rebuke for not being polite. I turn around and jog to keep up with him, clutching the three hangers to my chest. From his office, we turn left. Stopping, he points to a door that says Locker Room.

  "It's unisex, but I have dressing rooms in there that are private," Jerico says. "Go get dressed. You can put your stuff in a locker. They have programmable digital locks. I'll wait here for you. We'll get started after that."

  Jerico leans back casually against the wall and doesn't give me a second glance. I watch for only a moment as he pulls his smartphone out of his breast pocket and starts working it.

  Not eager in the slightest to get started, I still make myself turn and walk into the locker room, my nerves humming with nervousness and some other emotion I can't quite put my finger on, but it's making me feel like I'm walking on a razor's edge.

  I had thought cleaning semen and other fluids off the furniture would be a completely humiliating task. What I found out, however, is that no one watches the people who do the cleaning. It's ingenious how the rooms are set up to accommodate that. For example, here in The Orgy Room, there are a multitude of beds and lounges covered in black vinyl and set into black acrylic and chrome frames. They sit low to the floor and are spread around the room in what appears to be a haphazard design. The floor is made up of large, square, frosted panels set into steel supports and run at a diagonal across the room. The colors change from a dusky rose to a cream color, which can enhance the mood of the music playing. From the ceiling, massive silk lampshades colored ice blue and formed into quirky shapes hang down. There are dozens of them, some wider and some longer, giving a very multidimensional look. The lampshades are fitted with muted lightbulbs to keep the atmosphere intimate but not completely dark. People definitely want to see what's happening in this room.

  What isn't visible among the multitude of the lampshades hanging from the ceiling are very small but very bright lights that are aimed in a critical fashion on the beds and chaise lounges to provide a spotlight on any action that might occur there. When a couple or group is done with that piece of furniture, the light goes out. It indicates to the staff that the furniture needs cleaned. My job is to sweep in like a ghost to sanitize and dry the furniture. When it's clean, the spotlight is turned back on and it's opened for more fucking.

  I'd asked Jerico about this last night as my curiosity was going to kill me. I was surprised about the semen. I mean... it's a public sex club and I assumed people would wear condoms. To his credit, Jerico didn't laugh at me. He explained that many of the couples here don't swing. Their pleasure is either having sex with others present or doing fetish stuff and as such, they didn't use condoms because they were monogamous. But he assured me the bulk of people suited up for protection, which meant I was mostly cleaning up sweat and perhaps lipstick if a woman was pushed facedown or something.

  At least, that's how my imagination works.

  But more importantly, no one watches the people who are cleaning the vinyl because they're busy ogling each other or other couples having sex. It becomes quickly apparent to me I am virtually unnoticeable in this job position, and I am freaking so grateful for it. Grateful to Jerico that he gave me an easy, inconspicuous job on my first night.

  On the flip side, it's not a job that keeps me busy at all times. When there's nothing to clean, I have to stand at the perimeter of the room in the shadows and just watch the action. Looking away isn't an option because I have to be ready when a spotlight goes out. I make a mental note to myself to bring extra panties tomorrow.

  Jerico has not left my side all evening, even though I've pretty much got the job down pat. Let's face it... it's not that hard to squirt the cleaner to get the nasty stuff up, and then wipe it away. I carry two towels. One to wipe the cleaning solution up and the other to dry the vinyl. When these towels reach their maximum usage, I go to the supply room and I restock. And thank God latex gloves are provided because otherwise, I would've had to politely decline this position.

  I'm cleaning up other people's spunk and sweat and while it is not the most humiliating job in the world, it's certainly not something I would ever aspire to do for the long term. It makes me wonder why the other cleaners in here are doing this job, and I can only figure they are in desperate times or something.

  Jerico and I enter The Orgy Room. We'd spent a fair amount of time in The Waterfall Room--with its circular pool and platform in the center where people can have sex while a waterfall pours from the ceiling down onto them--as well
as The Deck--with its acrylic see-through floor that gives the illusion of walking on air--before coming here.

  So far tonight, I've been able to keep my wits about me. I try to concentrate on the fact that this is just a job. I've been pretty much able to tune out the noises, and I try not to keep my gaze focused anywhere for any length of time. Not only would it feel weird to stare at some of the things going on, but I don't want to inadvertently get drawn into it.

  Let's face it... this club is filled with scenes that most people never see in their lifetime. I honestly can't imagine a more provocatively interesting place to people watch. While I'm currently single, I do wonder what it would be like to come with a serious partner. I would never consider coming as a single woman, but the thought of being with somebody I trusted in this environment has me curious. It's simply fascinating to me that many of the members here are in committed relationships with each other and this is a normal part of their sex lives.

  I follow Jerico over to a far wall in The Orgy Room. We stand against it, taking an initial assessment of the activities. Jerico casually leans back against the wall, clasping his hands in front of him. Throughout the night, he has been approached by no less than a dozen different women trying to get him to join in their fun. It didn't surprise me. Jerico is one of the best-looking men I've ever seen, and I would imagine he partakes of the benefits of his club quite frequently. But he merely shook his head and politely declined, saying he was training the new employee. Of course, eyes would then turn to me in appraisal. Once they saw I was nothing more than a lowly cleaner, I was forgotten.

  While Jerico remains casually posed, I stand ramrod straight, almost at military attention. Armed with a spray bottle of bleach in one hand and a towel in another with my drying cloth hooked into my belt, I'm locked and loaded.

  My eyes scan the room and I estimate there are at least thirty pieces of furniture scattered about for people to use. On closer inspection, I see some padded benches and something that looks like a pommel horse in addition to the beds and lounges. There are also areas that are nothing more than an array of large stuffed pillows covered in a special type of vinyl that seems to be very lightweight and silky. Jerico assured me it could be cleaned with my solution.

  It's starting to get busy. Probably half the furniture is in use. As I learned in The Waterfall Room, when a couple--or threesome or foursome or however many people can fit on a piece of furniture--take residence upon it, the spotlight shining down leaves nothing to the imagination.

  I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear Jerico's voice near my ear. He's leaned over and although he's not actually touching me, I swear I can feel his lips move as he murmurs, "Tell me the difference between this room and The Waterfall Room."

  I turn my head slightly to look at him and every time I connect with his eyes, I feel a sizzling warmth go through me. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean," Jerico drawls as if I can't understand the English language. "What is the difference between the two rooms?"

  "Um..." I stammer as I shrug my shoulders. "One has water and the other doesn't?"

  "That's a naive answer, Trista," Jerico says softly. "This is a sex club. Tell me the difference you have observed between the two rooms."

  For the first time tonight, I allow myself a very slow perusal of the room. I had spent almost an hour in The Waterfall Room and while I didn't think I was paying that close attention to what was going on, I apparently absorbed more than I realized. Because as I look around The Orgy Room, an immediate difference is clear.

  Within The Waterfall Room, there is a much more apparent social aspect to the activities that go on in there. I'm not sure if it's because there is a pool where many of the patrons just lounge while sipping cocktails and talking, or the fact there are U-shaped seating areas that invite social intimacy. I realize there was less sex going on in there than in The Orgy Room.

  From where I stand now as I look around the expanse and take in the activities, I am hit with the blatant realization that this room is for people who just want to fuck. No one is engaged in conversation, and the only sounds are of moaning, screaming, groaning, and flesh slapping.

  Turning my head to face Jerico, I can feel my skin flush when I see how intently he is looking at me, waiting for my answer. My voice quavers when I tell him, "This room is only for sex. There's no socialization."

  I want to look away, but his gaze has me absolutely locked in place. He stares at me a moment before giving a slight nod. Then he pulls back and leans against the wall. I turn around and keep my eyes rotating around the room for the next spotlight to go out and call me to my duties.

  But Jerico isn't finished with the conversation. He's not leaning toward me, but he doesn't speak any louder when he says, "That's a very good observation, Trista. It's why it's my favorite room."

  I'm embarrassed that a full spinal shiver occurs from his words because if I had any doubts as to whether Jerico participated at The Wicked Horse, that has been dispelled. However, the shiver is more than likely because I can now picture Jerico on one of those pieces of furniture doing all kinds of amazing, kinky, and orgasmic things to women.

  Over the next thirty days, I wonder if I'll observe him doing that... and if I'll ever be able to get those images out of my head afterward.

  CHAPTER 5

  Jerico

  I stroll into The Silo Room, my gaze sweeping the patrons. It's early, so it's only about half full, which lets me easily lock eyes onto Steven and Helena. They came tonight at my request because after three days of Trista working as a cleaner, it's time to start pushing her boundaries a little. She's not only getting promoted up to the condiment tray, but she's also going to understand her boss a little bit better tonight. Because what I have planned for her can't come as a great surprise, so I'm going to start exposing her to the dirty side of Jerico Jameson.

  Joining Steven and Helena at the circular bar in the middle of the room, I quickly give him a handshake and press a soft kiss to Helena's cheek.

  Next to The Orgy Room, this would be my favorite spot to fuck. I don't do any of the BDSM or fetish shit, but I admit it's interesting and arousing to watch sometimes. Admittedly, I'm not down with some of it, but most of it is erotic, so I like the vibe here.

  This room is a smaller replica of Bridger's club in Wyoming. It's circular with little rooms on the perimeter done all in glass. Some rooms cater to fetishes, BDSM, or various other kink. Others are for members who just want to star in their own personal porn show. The main difference between this Silo and the one in Wyoming is that two of the rooms here offer privacy by long curtains that can be closed along the glass. This is usually done by a couple who comes in together and want to perhaps have a threesome. Their kink is the threesome and not in being watched, so I thought it was a nice touch to add.

  "Want a drink?" Steven asks before he lets the last of his bourbon slide down his throat. I shake my head in the negative as he sits his glass back down. Helena's wineglass is empty, but I bet it's her second as I told her I only had limited time at seven, so I know she's ready to go.

  It just so happens that seven is when Trista will come on duty. My cryptic text to her should have her showing up in this room in the next five minutes or so. All I texted her was, New duties tonight. Find me when you get here.

  I've not seen her much the last two nights as she was able to work on her own and any more "training" by me would probably be considered stalking. So she worked, and I ignored her for the most part.

  But not tonight.

  "So what's your pleasure?" Helena asks in a husky voice as she steps into the front of my body. Steven comes up behind his wife and presses in tight, grinding his dick against her ass. I think it's a subtle suggestion I fuck her pussy while her husband gets her ass.

  I smile at her, but then lift my eyes to Steven to get his permission. "I'd just love Helena's beautiful mouth on my cock tonight. I don't have a lot of time to play."

  "I still think I'll take your a
ss, love," Steven whispers in Helena's ear. She shudders because that woman loves ass play.

  "Then let's get to it," she murmurs as she takes my hand to lead me over to a low, black bench covered in buttoned vinyl. It sits directly in front of the glass room that houses the stocks, which are currently in use by two men. One has his neck and arms firmly enclosed in the hinged, swinging board while he's sucking his partner's cock. I've learned over the last year that Helena loves watching two men together, so it's no surprise she decided to set up shop in front of this room. I know she'd love for Steven and me to get physical with each other during our threesomes, but that's not my thing. Nothing against it, just not my cup of tea.

  Because time is of the essence, Steven takes control of getting his wife ready. While feathering kisses along her neck, he removes her dress, bra, and panties while leaving on her high-heeled shoes. My dick doesn't start to get hard until Helena crawls onto the bench. With a sultry look, she crooks her finger at me to step closer. I do as requested. Coming to her knees, she starts to work at my belt and zipper. While I don't pay close attention to him, I can see Steven moving behind her with a bottle of lube in his palm.

  Helena makes short work of pulling my cock free and with a few hard strokes of her hand, I'm ready to go. My eyes stay glued on her mouth as she takes me inside it, and I can't help the groan that rumbles out of me when the head of my cock slips into her throat. She hums in appreciation, and I feel that sensation straight through to my balls.

  Helena bobs up and down on me for a few moments, but then her entire body jerks forward and my gaze rises to see Steven behind her with his dick against her ass. He rotates his hips and gently works himself into her before he sets up a leisurely pace as he is never in any hurry to get off. Because he always wants his wife to get off first, his fingers go between her legs and she makes more moaning and groaning sounds that feel amazing on my cock as she sucks me slowly but very deeply. She is a fucking master at blowing a guy.

  My hands come up to cradle Helena's face so I can hold her in place. Because she has no problems with taking me deep, I take over and start to thrust, going faster than the pace she set. Helena breathes in through her nose to ensure she has adequate oxygen, but I know this isn't completely comfortable for her as her eyes start leaking tears. Had this been the first time I've been down her throat, I would be worried, but this is normal for her.