The Blue Room: Vol. 1 (11 page)

          At 8 pm I slip out of my
room and tiptoe down the hall, trying not to attract too much attention.
Already I know the others, girls like Scarlett and Brandi and Julie, are onto
me. The last thing I want to do is give them more scope for gossip.

          Roz's door is slightly
ajar. She's left it open for me.

          I don't bother knocking. I
don't want to attract any attention. I just push it gently open and slip in.

          And then I see her. Completely
naked, her back facing me, her long lustrous hair tumbling almost to the
sheets. Her back, arched. She's moaning.

          She's sitting on the side
of the bed, her legs stretched open wide; I can see the ecstasy shuddering
through her. I can see him only in shadow – the man she's with – on his knees
before her, his head between her legs.

         
He's going down on her.
I
flush in embarrassment, but my redness has another cause, too. I'm aroused –
without knowing why – by the sight of it: by Rita screaming in ecstasy, by the
man's tongue probing between her legs.

         
A surprise client?
It
shouldn't surprise me. Last-minute changes seem
de riguer
here in the
Blue Room.

          I know I should leave. I
know I should get out. But I'm frozen to the spot, watching the two of them,
watching how much Roz is enjoying herself.

         
Could I do this
? I
wonder.
Could I enjoy it
? My whole body is tingling with excitement just
thinking about it. For the first time, my body is so on fire I can't stand it.
This isn't just desire. This is passion: overwhelming, overflowing.

          Now Roz is raising him up;
they're kissing, devouring one another, while she slips her hand down to his
waist and begins massaging his member.

          The lights are off, and I
still can't see his face. Just his body: young, taut, handsome, as he thrusts
into her, as she cries out.

          “Oh, yes!” Her words run
together. “Yes, yes! Oh – I love you – yes!”

          It's just an act, I tell
myself. She's saying what prostitutes are paid to say. But as she cries out “I
love you” over and over, as she wraps her legs around his waist as he drives
deeper into her, she seems totally genuine – totally enraptured. Totally in
love.

          I remember what Roz said
earlier. Some girls fall in love. She'd looked so happy, then. Her cheeks had
been pink, flushed.

          Yes, I decide. Roz really
is in love.

          The man thrusts into Roz
one final time and they come together, as one, shuddering with joy.

          At last I am able to tear
myself away from the sight. I run down the hall and reach my room. I've never
been this aroused before. I can't stand it.

          Against myself, my fingers
search for my phone, scroll through for Terrence Blue's number, text him the
words that have been floating around in my head all day.

         
Come over, now. I want
you.

Chapter
12

         
D
emanding, aren't we?

         
I blush when he answers me seconds
after I text him.

         
What can I say?
I
write back.
I'm feeling...

         
Bored? Lonely? Turned on? All three.
I delete the words.

         
I'm in the mood for some
fun
, I write.

          Terrence arrives within
fifteen minutes.

          Immediately we are in one
another's arms, kissing passionately, devouring one another like there's no
tomorrow. Images of Roz and her mysterious patron flash through my mind: of the
arch of her back, of how her long hair tumbled down, of how she screamed with
the patron's tongue darting between that cleft between her legs. I want
Terrence to do all of that to me. I want it now.

          Terrence seems to know what
I want before I ask for it. Without words he's tearing off my panties, throwing
them across the room, stretching my legs wide with his palms before pressing
his lips against me, his tongue playful, teasing – bringing me so close to
pleasure, then letting me come down, so that I can never approach orgasm. The
feeling is exhausting, tantalizing. I want it to go on forever. My desire to
come mingles with the desire to make it last all night.

          At last he uses his
fingers, too, and then I'm over the edge. I come, so loudly that Terrence
laughs softly, his chuckle deep in his throat.

          “And to think,” he murmurs.
“When I met you, you were so...inexperienced. And now you're telling
me
to
come over.”

          He traces my cheek with his
fingertips, grinning. “Maybe
you're
the client?” he raises an eyebrow.

          “And you're the whore?”

          His smile darkens.

          “I don't like that word,”
he said. “Not for you. Not for any of the girls.”

          “What are we, then?”

          “Escorts? Professional
mistresses? Courtesans? Call girls?”

          “Does it change anything?
Except the price?”

          Terrence looks grave. “It's
more than a brothel I'm running here,” he says. “It's a fantasy. For men and
women alike. A chance for rich men and beautiful women to – mutually – make
both
their dreams come true.”

          “Is that what you're
doing?” I ask him. “Making all
my
dreams come true?”

          “I certainly hope so.”

          As he speaks, I feel almost
ill. Part of me wants to call the whole thing off – to run away – to go back
home to Vegas. I'm not interested in
fantasy.
I'm not interested in
dreams coming true. Right now, I realize with a sickening jolt, I'm interested
in a beautiful, unattainable boy with bright blue eyes and a wicked smile, who
drives me wild, who I'm starting to have feelings for. The kind of feelings I
can't trust. The kind of feelings that will make it really hard for me to sleep
with just another patron.

         
Maybe Roz will have the
answers,
I think.
Roz will tell me what happened to Rita – and then I
can leave...

         
I don't want the money, anymore. I
don't want the designer clothes or the lessons in the contemporary global
economy. I just want what Roz had with that man. Something like real, genuine
love. Something I can hold onto.

          “Staci?” Terrence is almost
tender with me. “What is it?”

          “What's going on, here?” My
voice is low.

          “What do you mean?”

          “With us?”

          His smile turns into a
frown.

          “What do you mean?”

          “I mean – is this part of my
job
? Is this – training for my patron? Or is this something else?”

          He is silent for a while.

          “It was easier to think it
was training you,” he said. “It was easier to think – that this was just a sex
thing. Or an almost-sex thing. I don't know. That's what I told myself when I
cancelled your meeting with – well, with the client.” He swallows. “But the
truth is, I'm jealous. I'm not sure I want anyone else with you. I'm not sure I
could stand to think about it.”

          “Can it be?” I try to sound
smooth, but my voice is shaking. “Does the great Terrence Blue
have...feelings?”

          “Maybe.” He shakes his
head. “I mean – I don't do monogamy, Staci. I don't do relationships. With you,
it started out as just attraction. But our chemistry is undeniable.”

          And it hits me.

          I want him. I want to be
with him. Maybe not forever – I'm smart enough to know he'll break my heart –
but right now, he's all I want. More than the cash. More even than answers.

          I don't want to sell my
virginity for money. The sex I want is based in feelings, in emotions. Dare I
say it – in love.

          “I want you to take me,” I
say. “I want you to make love to me – right now.”

          He looks at me in surprise.
“Are you sure?”
          “If I'm
ruined
for your client, I don't care,” I say. “I don't
want my first sex to be for money. I don't want the money. Not yours, not
anyone else's.” I smile. “This one's on the house.”

          “Financially,” he stammers.
“I mean – as a businessman, I should tell you that this is a very stupid
decision.”

          “And as a man?” I ask him.

          His smile is sweet and sad.
“As a man,” he said, “nothing could make me happier than to be your first.” He
swallows. “If not your only.”

          “Do you have a condom?”

          He nods. He reaches in his pocket.

          And then we hear the shot.

          One big boom. The
shattering of windows.

          I recognize the direction
of the sound.

          “Roz...” I whisper.

          We rush to room 238, but
we're too late.

          In Roz's hand is a gun. And
in Roz's forehead is a hole, gaping, bleeding, the blood trickling down into
her glassy, open eyes.

          Too many thoughts rush
through me all at once. Panic. Terror. Fear. And rage – bitter, wild rage. I'm
not seeing Roz's face there, there half-smashed with a bullet through the
brain, but Rita's – the face of the girl I knew, the girl I loved, the girl
whom I might have found, whom I'd
almost
found, and who was forever
gone.     

          What if I hadn't texted
Terrence? What if I'd waited outside her door for the client to leave?

         
Would Roz still be alive? Would she
have told me the truth of what happened to Rita?

          I'm screaming, screaming my
head off, barely aware of what I'm doing or why; I rush to her and then my
hands are covered in her blood, Roz's blood, and still I'm thinking that it's
Rita's. 

Rita…what’s become of Rita? Did she
meet the same fate as Roz?

*****

This is the End of Part I

Thank you for reading The
Blue Room Vol.
1.
  This is a
multiple novella romance series. Part two and three will be available for
pre-order soon.

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The Blue Room Series
also features some characters from
The
Never Knights Trilogy

For 17 and Up

A quick read, all three books in The
Never Knights Trilogy is available here:

http://www.amazon.com/Never-Say-Knights-Series-ebook/dp/B008X2NCT8

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