Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
My last term in secondary school, we got a new art teacher, Ms. Banff. She got the school to buy a wheel and taught us pottery. I suppose it was another way to flip my dad the bird–show him I’m the useless, brainless, waste of space he apparently thinks I am–but I decided to become a potter. I totally fell in love with it.
I like the feel of the clay in my hands. The spin of the wheel. The way a bowl takes shape and collapses with the touch of a finger. So now I would do anything to stay in England and keep studying art. I crave the pottery wheel as much as I crave these dance parties. Or a big, muscled guy who scowls and never shows you that he likes you.
It’s finally my turn to use the toilet, and when I get out, Shellee has already disappeared. Which is fine, since I didn’t come here to see her anyway.
I’m not sure why I came, actually. It’s more of an addiction than anything else. I crave the sensuality of the place. I like to dress up and feel sexy and maybe hook up with a hot guy. Preferably one who’s into a little kink. I love a big rough guy who will hold me down and choke me. Or spank me. Or tie me up. I’m a little maso at heart, and the endorphin release and thrill I get from acting out my fantasies is what I need to get through the week.
Let’s be honest, though. That big, rough guy doesn’t actually exist. Or when he does, he comes with a slice of danger I really shouldn’t tempt.
Yet tempt it I do.
I make my way out of the bathroom. The warehouse is packed with people now. Probably more than a legit club would allow for fire code. I soak up the energy like a drug. Looking for trouble, I climb on top of a platform to dance again. I bounce and swirl to the music, scanning the crowd. I spot the Russian up against a wall watching me. He has dark hair, brown eyes and wears what looks like a permanent scowl.
Why would he be such a dick if he’s interested? I could’ve sworn he was interested before, which was why I went over to him. He has the right vibe. Definitely my type. Surly. Rough. Tattoos that probably mean he’s done bad things. His shoulders are broad. It’s hard to tell under his leather jacket, but they look well-muscled. I bet he could dish out a spanking that would make me cream my panties. I totally pegged him as a sadist.
Guess I was wrong.
It’s not like I’m really good at picking the right ones. I’ve had a half-dozen fails in the last three months alone.
I keep my gaze on my Russian while I dance, but he looks away with a scowl. I know he feels my gaze. I swear he’s looking away on purpose. What is it about hard to get that just makes a girl want to try more? I check my tits–the double D’s I had by age twelve. They are perfectly displayed by my blouse. I definitely look hot. No reason for him not to respond. Unless he’s here for someone else. But why does he keep looking at me?
There. He looked again.
I turn to give him a view of my ass as I take a slow swivel to the floor and back up again.
“Kat!” A guy calls me from the floor below.
Oh great. David, one of my past mistakes. I blow him a kiss but keep dancing.
He grabs my ankle, forcing me to stop dancing or lose my balance. Yeah, this was why he was a mistake. I mistook his disrespectful vibe for dominance. Truth is, he’s more of a bully.
“Come here!” He reaches for me.
“No, I’m good,” I say. Just because we hooked up once doesn’t mean I’m your go-to, buddy.
He flashes a tiny Ziploc baggie at me. “Wanna roll?”
I shake my head again. “No thanks. I have a test tomorrow.” He wins no points with me for offering free drugs. I’m not fooling around again with him even if I’m not sober. He was sloppy and only in it for himself. Yech.
He shrugs and moves on, and I continue to dance. I’m joined on the platform by a few other guys who dance closer and closer until one settles a hand on my waist and connects his hips to my ass to grind against me. I let him because it feels good. I came here for male attention, and I’m getting it. Another guy moves in from the front, so I’m sandwiched between them.
The guy from behind palms my left breast. He’s not completely unskilled. He finds my nipple and pinches it through my blouse and push-up bra. I shove my ass back and let my head rest against his shoulder.