Holly J. Gill
Copyright © 2012
Stacie walked up the three wide steps leading to the large entrance porch of the imposing Georgian building. The bitter winter air made her nose hairs cringe and seemed to batter its way in between the buttons of her thick wool coat. She took a deep anxious breath wondering, not for the first time, why on earth she was there. She glanced back at the car park, overhung by snow-clad trees. Her little car glimmered in the pale light of the winter moon. She could just walk back to the still-warm haven and drive away. But her feet wouldn’t obey the sensible part of her brain that told her to go, and go now! The snappy wind blew her hair into her face. She brushed it away and turned her attention back to the innocent-looking door.
There was an intercom situated on the right hand side of the old oak double doors. Her life had to change—she knew that. She had to try, or she’d be forever wondering.
Stacie stepped further onto the porch and glanced at her reflection in the darkened glass pane inset into the door. She tried to peer through, but could see nothing. It’s like the privacy glass on celebrity limousines, she thought, then shrugged. She fumbled in her handbag, and brought out her lip gloss, applying a quick sweep. It did nothing to calm the expression of trepidation on the face she saw reflected back to her, but at least now she had shiny lips. She tried to gulp down the nervous lump in her throat, and pressed the buzzer.
There was a pause, then a woman’s voice came over the intercom. “Hello. How may I help you?”
She started to speak, but nothing came out of her suddenly tightened throat. She cleared it and tried again, whispering, “Stacie Clifford. I have an appointment.”
“Have you got your code?”
“Oh, um, yes, one second.”
Stacie began digging in her bag for her phone. She accessed her emails and found the reply they’d sent to her initial enquiry. She stared at the innocuous-looking four-digit code they’d included in the reply, and her stomach churned. Was it dread or excitement?
“Hello? Are you still there?”
The tinny voice brought her back. “Yes, sorry.” She read the code aloud to the woman and exhaled. It was done.
The door lock released. Stacie pushed on the heavy door and walked through, letting it swing shut behind her. The welcome warmth of the establishment hit her cold face as she stared around, ingenuously open-mouthed. She stood in a large high-ceilinged hall. The floor was ancient satiny polished wood, probably the original flooring. The walls were decorated in a deep warm red, lined with huge oil paintings. Small tables bearing large houseplants were tucked into corners.
Stacie made her way down the hallway, her footfalls echoing in the passageway. Several oak doors led off the hall on each side. She wondered what lay behind them. Hopefully she would soon find out. Then her attention was caught by a large picture. As the subject matter registered, her mouth fell open again. It pictured a group of people having what could only be described as an orgy. They sat naked around a table laden with food and drink, some sitting and eating, others embracing each other, or sprawled on the floor, doing what came naturally. Gluttony and lust exemplified. Well, what had she expected?
The hallway opened out into a lobby. Two women in black business suits were seated behind a large reception desk. There was a waiting area opposite the desk with two large, black leather couches and a coffee table bearing a fan of leaflets and a flower arrangement.
Stacie edged toward the reception desk. The pit of her stomach ached. One of the receptionists was flirting into the phone and ignored her. The other looked at her with a welcoming smile and rose from her chair. She was a pretty woman in her early twenties with long dark hair tied in a high ponytail.
“Good evening, Stacie,” she said. “Angel will be with you shortly. Would you be good enough to fill out this questionnaire whilst you’re waiting, please?” Stacie wordlessly took the proffered clipboard, made her way to one of the leather couches and sat down.
“Would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee?” Stacie heard the receptionist ask.
“No, thank you, I’m fine,” she managed to say.
She gazed around the eighteenth-century reception area. Twin staircases with black iron spindles curved down into the reception area from a balcony above.
Situated to her right and left were two sets of double oak doors with massive black iron handles and hinges. She could see another set between the staircases far behind the reception desk, and a corridor led off behind the staircases to both sides.
Stacie turned her attention back to the questionnaire. The first few questions were straightforward, name, address etc., but she paused at the next set.
· Why do you wish to join the club?
· What do you want to gain from your experience?
· What are your sexual likes and dislikes?
Stacie didn’t know. She didn’t even know what kind of experience to expect here, let alone what she was going to gain from it. That was what she was here to find out, wasn’t it?
She scribbled quick vague answers. The questionnaire probably didn’t really matter anyway.
Between questions, she looked up at the receptionists, who were talking to each other in low voices. She tried to listen in on their conversation, but they were speaking too quietly.
The young receptionist glanced up and arched a perfectly threaded eyebrow. “Is everything okay?”
She blushed, caught eavesdropping. Not wanting them to know she was baffled, she lied. “Everything’s fine, thank you.” Feeling like a kid caught slacking in class, Stacie dropped her chastened gaze back to the questionnaire.
As she continued with her non-answers, Stacie still felt numb with astonishment that she was actually here. It had taken her months to gain the courage just to contact the club.
Anxiety struck her again in the pit of her stomach. Was she doing the right thing? What should she expect? Maybe when she spoke to Angel it would help her make a final decision.
Then, Stacie heard high heels tapping on the dark wood floor. She raised her head. The noise was coming from the corridor behind one of the staircases. The sound drew nearer and Stacie saw a woman appear—young, slim, twenty-something, with a shimmering sheet of black hair rippling down her back. She wore a formal business suit, and black-framed glasses perched on her finely-shaped nose, but even in the severe attire, she was stunning. She was tall and her height was further enhanced by her towering platform heels. Stacie shrank into herself. This woman was the epitome of confidence, everything she admired, yet lacked herself.
She looks frightening, dominating yet beautiful. Is this Angel?
The woman smiled at Stacie. Stacie forced her mouth into a terrified rictus back at her. She took a calm deliberate breath as the woman approached her.
“Hello. You must be Stacie Clifford?” Her voice was soft and calming.
Stacie gulped and gave a jerky nod.
“Lovely, I’m Angel. May I have your questionnaire and then, if you’d like to follow me, we can have a little chat somewhere more private.” She held out her hand and Stacie handed her the clipboard, feeling more nervous than ever.
Angel walked to the reception desk, stopping to have a few words with the receptionists.
Stacie pushed herself up, with difficulty, off the squashy leather couch that seemed to have swallowed her bottom. She straightened her clothes and followed Angel. She walked like a model, her perfectly-shaped derriere swaying hypnotically.
As they walked down the corridor, Stacie saw more raunchy paintings on the walls. These were far more in-your-face than the ones in the outer reception area. Whip-wielding dominatrices wearing black leather cupless corsets and crotchless thongs stood over their willing victims, who lay bound and naked awaiting their punishment. Small spotlights shone on each picture, highlighting them further. A large stained glass window was situated at the end of the corridor, an incongruous reminder of this building’s more dignified past.
They approached another of the ubiquitous wooden doors. “Come in, please. Take a seat,” Angel said, holding the door open for Stacie to follow her through.
Stacie entered the office and her eyes widened at the room’s surprisingly masculine decor. Dark panelling covered all the walls, illuminated by several small lights placed strategically throughout the room. A large, old, oak desk dominated the space, sitting against the far wall. The only nod to femininity was several vanilla candles, which scented the room with their subtle fragrance. The office was immaculate.
The desk held only a phone and a laptop. Behind it was a large leather swivel chair that looked as if it would swallow the slim woman.
Angel indicated a leather couch, a twin of those in the reception area. Stacie went to sit down and sank further than she expected. She shuffled her bottom forward unobtrusively—she hoped—before perching uncomfortably on the front of the sofa. She looked at Angel sitting on her leather swirl chair, wearing an amused look. Stacie wanted to cross her knees, but when she tried she found her body sinking back in the seat, so she was forced to plant her feet firmly on the floor just to stay upright. She could feel the strain in her thighs already.
As she waited for Angel to begin, she took a further furtive look around the room. Shelves lined one wall—a few were filled with books and the others held a display of erotic figurines in compromising positions. Stacie found herself twisting her head to figure out what one particular couple, no, threesome, were doing.
“Right then, Stacie.” Angel’s voice snapped her back. Stacie turned to see her looking at the clipboard, which she had placed on top of her closed laptop. Angel leaned forward over the desk, the posture deepening her already impressive cleavage. Stacie found herself wondering if she was wearing anything underneath the jacket. “I’ve ordered some drinks for us,” Angel said.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Stacie replied.
Angel’s sharp glance made her uncomfortable. “I insist. I want you to feel comfortable. I don’t bite,” Angel said. She paused and glanced down at the clipboard. Stacie swallowed. Angel looked back up at Stacie and smiled. “Okay, Stacie. Firstly, welcome to Desires. You know what our club does, so I don’t need to give you any details about that. Secondly,” she tapped Stacie’s questionnaire with a long fingernail, “this is shit, and you know it.” Stacie flushed miserably. There was that back-at-school feeling again. Angel paused before continuing in a more gentle voice. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to upset you. But these questions,” she flourished the offending document, “are vital for me to give you the best experience of Desires I can, and your answers don’t really help me do that. I need to ask you, why are you here? What is it you are looking for?”
Stacie stared at her, dying with embarrassment, but knowing the awkward questions had to be asked. Maybe Angel would help.
“I am just wanting to…” Stacie paused to think hard about her answer. “I am looking for help in regaining my confidence in myself and in…in…” Say it, woman! “in…sex.”
Angel picked up a pen and wrote on Stacie’s questionnaire, after very obviously scoring through Stacie’s original answer. “What are your likes and dislikes?”
Stacie was unsure how to answer. “It depends what you offer me.”
“Well, we can come back to that one. So, you want to gain confidence in yourself and enjoy sex?” Stacie had barely begun to nod when a knock came at the door. She jumped and felt her pulse fluttering in her throat.
“Enter,” Angel called.
The young receptionist pushed open the door, balancing a tray bearing a bottle of white wine and two glasses. She placed the tray on the desk and poured a glass, before starting to pour a second.
“Sorry, I’m driving…” Stacie began, holding out a hand to stop the young woman, who glanced at Angel in enquiry.
“Trust me, it will relax you. Just make it half a glass for Miss Clifford,” she said to the receptionist, who nodded and obeyed before leaving the room quietly. “How did you find out about Desires?” Angel asked, folding her arms over the clipboard.
“I was clearing out some of my ex-husband’s stuff and I saw an advert in one of his magazines.”
“You were shocked, right?”
Stacie nodded. “Very much so. It was a, you know, one of those magazines.” Her face felt so hot she was amazed it wasn't setting off the fire alarm. “I only looked through out of curiosity. I’d never seen anything like that before.”
“And you saw our advert.”
“So what made you decide to make contact?”
“I was intrigued. I kept the advert in my underwear drawer for months. I kept taking it out and looking at it, then losing my nerve and putting it back.”
“Well, I guess I thought I needed a little fun back in my life.”
“But you’re still not sure, are you, Stacie?” Angel’s eyes were keen and all-seeing. Stacie gave a tiny shake of her head. “Why not?”
“I just don’t know if this is the right kind of fun for me,” Stacie answered, deciding to be blunt. “No offence, but it’s all a bit…well…icky.”
“I see.” Angel smiled. “Well, only you can decide on whether Desires is right for you. You’re right. It’s not for everyone. But you’ve told me what you are looking for and, if you decide to stay with us, we will make sure you receive it. You need confidence. I can clearly see that by the way you are dressed.”
Offended, Stacie glanced down at her work suit, seeing nothing wrong with it. “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?”
“You’re covering up all your best assets. Your blouse is almost around your neck, your skirt is far too long and I bet you are wearing tights rather than stockings.”
Stacie’s eyebrows shot up. How did she know?
“So,” Angel continued without a break, “tell me a little about yourself, your personal life and the last time you had sex, as well as your turn-on points.”
Sex. Even the word scared Stacie. She needed to answer Angel’s questions but her mind had gone blank. Maybe I should just leave. Just stand up and walk out. That’s the easy option. But if I give up now, that’s one more thing I’ve failed at. I have to do something.
Stacie gathered the courage to answer Angel’s questions. “I work for a fashion magazine. I’ve worked there since leaving college. I was married to a violent monster who drank himself stupid, and demanded sex. He also hit me till I was black and blue. I have no children, thank goodness, and no friends. I live for my work. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane. The last time I had sex was with the monster. What turns me on? I have no idea.” There, that should shut her up.
Angel didn’t miss a beat. “You must have some idea what turns you on.” Stacie stared at Angel, full of puzzlement. Angel leaned back in her leather chair and played with her pen.
“Do you like your breasts played with or do you like the man to dive straight into your knickers?” Angel gave as an example, staring at Stacie.
Stacie glared back at Angel’s abruptness. “First I have to get to know him.”
“Good point, so you like…what, chat?”
“I guess…No…yes…I like to get to know him before…you know.”
“So you’re not a quickie girl?”
“God, no…I like romance with a meal, dim atmospheric lighting, a bit of flirting and sweet talking.” Stacie’s eyes misted at the fantasy before Angel’s sharp voice interrupted.
“You like a bore, then?”
“No…I like chitchat. I am not the kind of girl to open my legs that quickly.”
“So you like the build up? You want respect?”
“I want to be respected. Yes.”
“Then what, chat, coffee and sex?”
“Not on the first date!” Stacie answered, annoyed.
“But why?” Angel fired back.
“Don’t you think that’s desperate?”
“Not necessarily. It depends who you are and what you’re after. Some girls aren’t bothered about who they are with, it’s what’s inside the trousers. Other girls, like yourself, prefer the build up. Also, it depends on whether you’re just after a one-night stand or a relationship,” Angel said, leaning back in the leather chair before continuing, “Now. Turn-on points, breasts or—”
Stacie decided it was like going to the doctor with something embarrassing. Best just to say it. “I like my breasts to be caressed.”
“Excellent. I need to make a few notes,” Angel started to write on the clipboard. “When was the last time you masturbated?”
Okay, now that really was too much! This woman was just too intrusive. Stacie stuck out a mutinous chin.
“I need to know, Stacie, or I can’t properly help you.”
Oh God! “Quite a while ago. I have completely lost interest.”
“Because of your ex-husband?”
“I guess so. In the beginning of our relationship it was okay, but then once the ring went on my finger he changed. Out went the romance and flowers. Along came the booze, drugs and violence. I guess I’ve forgotten what love-making is.”
“Sounds like he did an amazing job of messing you up. He’s made you feel worthless and abused you mentally as well as physically. I give you full credit for gathering the courage to come here and attempt to regain what I call the joy of life. Love-making is the most amazing feeling with the right person, and I promise you, we will help you.” Her brisk tone had gone, to be replaced by gentle compassion that made her seem an altogether nicer person. “However, there is one thing. You are here to be taught and not, and I repeat not, to fall in love,” Angel said, sitting forward and looking Stacie directly in the eye.
“I will match you with a tutor who will help to give you confidence in both self-stimulation and also intercourse. He will not treat you like dirt, but with respect. The tutors in this place are paid by sessions and won’t do the romantic build-up that you like, but I will chat with your tutor first, make him understand your feelings and relax your tension. He will treat you well and he will care for you. I have seen women in your position fall in love with their tutor, thinking he feels the same because he is caring. But he’s just doing his job. And the women are inevitably disappointed.”
Stacie found herself nodding. She could see how that could happen.
Angel continued more briskly. “Now, on a different note, everyone likes different things sexually and what works for one person may not work for another. If there is anything, and I mean anything, you are not happy with please say and it will be stopped instantly. You’re not here to be unhappy or feel as if you have to do anything. Your happiness and satisfaction is paramount to us. Let Desires bring back your life, fun, love and enjoyment of being who you are. It’s Stacie-time now.”
Angel then reached in her top desk drawer. “Here is our contract,” she said, pushing some papers across the desk toward Stacie. Stacie stood up and moved forward to take them from her, glancing over the paper as Angel continued speaking.
“You’ll note the clause stating no emotional involvement with your tutor or tutors. This is strictly forbidden. They are here to teach you only. You sign here…” Angel said, pointing on the contract where to sign.
Stacie skimmed the contract, sipping her wine, and then sat back on the edge of the sofa.
“The prices are listed on the second sheet. You can decide whether to book a whole course in one go, or book individual sessions. There is a discount for block bookings, but I expect you’ll want to see how it goes first of all. See how you feel later once you’ve met your tutor. I have put on your sheet that you need to start from scratch, which includes masturbation. Is that okay with you?”
Stacie swallowed the mouthful of wine she’d just taken, nodding convulsively. It was all so…business-like.
“It also states there will be no secret meetings with any of your tutors. Anything said outside could lead to court action. Payment is either up front or you can set up an account, which one of the girls can take you through later if you prefer. All equipment and all relevant instruments must be left on these premises unless you have permission from your tutor to have them. All items need to be signed out. Does that seem fair to you?”
“Totally.” Equipment? Relevant instruments? She hadn’t realized there was going to be homework! Stacie suppressed a hysterical giggle.
Angel stood up and walked toward the door. “I’ll just let you have a look through those. I’ll be back in a moment.” She left and Stacie leaned back on the squashy sofa for a minute, feeling somewhat stunned. She read through the contract and glanced over the price list. It wasn't cheap, but it would be worth it. If she did as Angel suggested and just did individual sessions to begin with, there was no commitment. She could just stop coming if it wasn’t working for her. She levered herself up off the sofa and walked over to Angel’s desk, contract in hand. She exhaled slowly and then quickly picked up Angel’s pen and scribbled her name on the dotted line. She left the contract on the desk, but kept hold of the price list. A minute later Angel came back, smiling when she saw the signed contract.
“Welcome to the Desires family. I’m so happy to have you with us.”
And my money, Stacie thought but said nothing.
“Okay. I’ll talk to you briefly about what you will encounter and then I’ll assign you your tutor. Firstly, you need help and guidance with understanding your body sexually and finding your way around it. You will learn your own likes and dislikes, how your body works, your turn-ons and turn-offs and, most importantly, your tutor will help you gain confidence. Each time you achieve a goal, you and your tutor will make the decision on the next stage.”
Stacey just nodded.
“If there’s anything you feel unsure about, just tell your tutor and he will advise or talk you through anything you don’t understand. Any questions?”
Overwhelmed with the information she’d been given, Stacie couldn’t think of anything to ask. “No, not at the moment.”
“Well if you think of anything please do not hesitate to ask either myself or your tutor…”
As Angel was speaking, something popped into Stacie’s mind. “Will I be treated like a whore?”
“Absolutely not. Well, not unless you want to be.”
“Want to be! Why would anyone want that?”
“As I said, everyone likes different things. But from what you’ve said that’s not your thing. Your tutor will look after you through your journey here at Desires and make sure you get the best treatment,” Angel reassured her.
“What if I don’t like my tutor?”
“You will, trust me. But if you don’t, I’ll assign you someone else. Here’s an information booklet I need you to read. It’s just some information about the building and where the fire escapes are, that sort of thing. Health and safety, you know. I’ll leave you for a few minutes while I talk to your tutor. I will give him your details and make sure the room is ready,” Angel said. She stood up and headed for the door, pausing to give Stacie a reassuring smile before leaving the room.
Stacie skimmed through the booklet, taking in the salient information before putting it to one side.
Indulging her curiosity, she wandered over to the bookshelves, glancing at a few of the books. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see they were variations on a theme. There was one on bondage, one devoted to masturbation, and one about sex positions. She opened the sex positions book, leafing through the pages. Every page was a full-colour photograph depicting men and women in various coital positions. And they weren’t just couples either. There was one woman being penetrated by three different men in three different orifices. On another page, a man was penetrating a woman while he himself was being penetrated by another man. Shocked and embarrassed, she put the book back.
Stacie trailed her finger along the long line of books about every possible aspect of the sexual act, from basic anatomy to fetishes she’d never heard of. The club was into serious business.
She sat back down on the edge of the sofa waiting for Angel to come back. At least she wouldn’t have to get into any of the weird stuff. Just simple nice sex, with, hopefully, a nice caring man.
Angel swept back into the office. Stacie had to admire her. She bet Angel never had a problem speaking her mind, or telling someone they were wrong, unlike Stacie. Maybe one day she would have an ounce of the confidence Angel seemed to ooze.
“I’ve met with your tutor,” she was saying as she rested her curvaceous bottom on the edge of her desk. Stacie snapped her awareness back to Angel. “He’s called Dan and he’s twenty-three years old.”
“Is there a problem?” Angel said, a look of concern flitting across her face.
“Don’t you think he’s too young?”
“No, not at all. He’s exactly what you need. Dan’s not your typical young immature man. If you have a problem with him, I will select someone else. But I wouldn’t worry. Dan is perfect for you. Trust me.”
There was that phrase again. Trust me. Stacie wasn’t convinced. Surely someone her own age, or older, would be more appropriate to teach her, not some kid eight years younger than her.
“Are you ready to meet him?” Angel said, standing up and walking toward the door.
“You don’t sound keen.” Angel turned back.
“Sorry…I’m just concerned.”
“Don’t worry. If you don’t like Dan, I can assign you someone else, or you can just leave. I won’t tie you down. Unless you want me to.” Angel waggled her eyebrows and Stacie couldn’t help but smile.
Stacie inhaled a deep breath, and stood up on wobbly legs. Angel held the door open for her and they went back out into the corridor.
Stacie’s imagination took over. Images of what her twenty-three-year-old tutor might look like filled her mind. He could be ugly, covered in tattoos, piercings, have weird hair or those stretched ears. Perhaps the fire exit might be the better option. And now she knew where they were, thanks to the health and safety booklet.
They headed back to the reception area and up one of the staircases. Stacie glanced down at the receptionist who smiled at her encouragingly. At the top of the stairs, there was a long corridor with many doors off it. Angel headed off briskly down the carpeted passageway. There was a chair outside each door. More explicit pictures decorated the walls with small wall lights highlighting them. There were no other lights in the corridor so the effect was warm and calming. Halfway down the corridor there was a statue of a couple embracing. The man’s hands caressed the woman’s breasts. One of her hands surrounded his impressive cock while the other was twined round his neck.
Stacie was staring at the pictures so intently she didn’t notice Angel come to a halt, and bumped into her.
“You okay?” Angel asked.
“Sorry, just admiring the artwork.” Stacie felt her face flush, but Angel just smiled.
“No problem. Are you ready?”
“I guess so,” she said. Her mouth felt dry and her heart beat so loud, she felt sure Angel could hear it.
Angel opened the door for her then called, “Dan.”
“Hello,” Stacie heard a male voice answer. His voice sounded sweet, not too deep.
“Dan, I would like you to meet your new client, Stacie,” Angel said.
Stacie moved closer to the door as it opened wider from the inside. The most beautiful, for there was no other word for him, and so very young man stood before her, with a smile so sweet and gentle her knees crumbled. Her body quivered at the sight of him. She felt embarrassed that she had worried about what he might look like, her embarrassment quickly replaced with worry over what he might think of her. What would such a stunning young Adonis think of having to service a distinctly average and ordinary woman like her whose bits had already started to head south?
Stacie tried to return Dan’s welcoming smile, but she knew it lacked conviction.
Angel continued the introduction. “Stacie, this is Dan, your tutor. I think you’ll be happy, but if you have any concerns, you know where I am.” Stacie only vaguely registered Angel’s words. She was lost in Dan’s eyes.
Stacie entered the room, holding her head low. She felt like such a fool. What had she been thinking?
Angel left the room without another word. The door closed quietly behind her. Stacie tried to look anywhere except at Dan.
“Hi,” he said easily. She glanced at him, making eye contact for as brief a moment as possible. He was perfect in every way possible. He wore black jeans and an open-necked purple shirt. His hair was such a dark brown as to be almost black. It had a little unruly curl to it, making Stacie want to wind those silky curls round her fingers. He had warm brown eyes, and pouty, sexy lips. He was lean in build, about eleven stone and about six foot tall.
Stacie couldn’t believe her luck. However, the memory that this angelic-looking young man had to teach her how to masturbate elbowed its way back into her conscious mind. Her face felt as if someone were blasting a blowtorch at her and she turned away to hide her cherry-red cheeks.
A few seconds went by and in the utter silence that fell between them, she heard the faint sound of him moving toward her. She kept her eyes downturned and shivered when she realised he was so close she could almost feel his body heat. He’d come round to face her—she could see his feet. She forced herself to look up at him, seeing only happy welcome in his gentle smile, not a trace of the half-hidden disappointment, resignation, or even revulsion she had feared she would see. He was a very good actor. Then she braced for impact as he came toward her and landed a gentle kiss on first one cheek, then the other. He smelled of chocolate and spices.
“It’s fantastic to meet you.”
Stacie’s mouth was bone dry as she tried to speak. “Nice to meet you too,” she managed to croak. “Could I possibly have a glass of water?”
“Of course.” He stepped away—Stacie felt both relief at the cessation of his disturbing nearness, and a keen sense of loss at his absence—and went to a small table on which stood a jug of water and two glasses. He poured her a glass and brought it to her and the relief she felt on his return shocked her. For heaven’s sake, he had only gone across the room. Gathering together her courage, she made eye contact and smiled at him as she took a sip. He smiled back. Then she started as he moved suddenly away from her toward the bed.
“I’ll show you round the room, if you like,” he said, not waiting for her to agree. He pointed to two large red round buttons situated on either side of the bed. “These are panic buttons. If, by any remote chance, you need urgent help, they will alert reception.”
Stacie couldn’t imagine under what circumstances she would need a panic button. It wasn't like he was going to rape her. But, once there, the thought persisted and uneasiness crept in. What might happen in here that would necessitate the installation of panic buttons? He opened the top drawer of a large dresser by the window.
“There is a phone in here.” He pulled it out to show her. “You can ring zero for reception or two for the kitchen. There’s also a menu for food and beverages if needed,” he went on, pulling them out of the drawer to show her.
Stacie gazed around the dazzling room. The large four-poster bed dominated. It was adorned with a deep purple duvet, shot through with black and gold. Matching cushions were arranged on the bed, and the canopy above was hung with purple and gold voiles. Heavier purple curtains hung at the large window. There were two black leather tub chairs with a small table between them, and buttery-gold wallpaper completed the look. There was no ceiling light. Instead, the room was illuminated by several wall lights which were dimmed to a cosy level. The aroma of vanilla permeated the room, presumably from the bowl of pot pourri on the table.
He continued. “There are two large wardrobes if you decide to book one of the weekend packages,” he said. Her gaze obediently followed where he pointed, and she cast her eyes over the wardrobes, which matched the lovely old oak of the antique dresser.
Dan moved to a door to the far right. Stacie followed him, noticing his cute, perfectly-shaped bottom enticingly encased in the black denim.
“The en-suite is through here and again there is a panic button,” he said, opening the door and allowing Stacie to step in before him.
The bathroom was spacious with a large Jacuzzi and a shower big enough to take several people. Now where did that thought come from? Stacie was shocked at herself and forced her thoughts back to a civilized level. The room was decorated with cream patterned tiles and earth-toned stone floor tiles. Soft luxurious cream towels were piled on a side table and candles were placed strategically around the room.
She followed him back out into the bedroom and Dan led the way to the seating area. He sat down in one of the tub chairs and indicated the other. “Please, take a seat.”
She sat down and turned her attention to Dan sitting directly opposite her. She tried her best to meet his direct gaze, but his eyes overpowered her. She gulped, and turned her head away, suddenly very, very uncertain.
“Angel told me you need to start with the basics.”
Stacie looked down at the floor in embarrassment, her cheeks flaming.
“When was the last time you masturbated?”
“I don’t know. Maybe five years ago,” she said miserably.
“Five years?” His perfectly-shaped eyebrows flew up. Did he wax them?
She felt such a fool, babbling in her haste to try to explain. “My husband didn’t like me to pleasure myself. He thought women masturbating was insulting. He wanted to do it all.” Not that he ever managed to. “So I never…did that…when we were married. And since my marriage ended, I dedicated myself to my work. I work overtime as much as possible and spend my time off doing housework or visiting family.”
“So you hardly make any time for yourself?”
Stacie tried to look at him without blushing. The furnace flaring in her cheeks told her she had failed. “No. It didn’t really seem important.”
Dan thought for a few minutes. “I have a few options here for you. Stacie, what your husband did to you was disgraceful and has left you in shreds. You are my client and you are paying for me to help you. Think of me more like a therapist than anything else. You will take the lead in everything we do. I might make suggestions, but the end decision is up to you. For now, we can either talk for a while and get to know each other a little, to build up your trust in me, or we can get down to business straightaway. It’s entirely up to you. I am yours to command.” He smiled and spread his hands out.
Stacie gazed at him, liking what she heard. Therapist, hmm? That sounded a bit better than anything else she could think of to describe his role. She focussed on her handbag where she had left it on the floor, wondering how much therapy she could afford.
“What would happen if I said let’s begin now?” she asked in a small voice, still staring at her handbag.
“What I was thinking, and I want to run this all by you, was that we would go back to the complete beginning. You would learn to touch yourself, stimulating your senses and enjoying your body, not being ashamed of it.”
She inhaled deeply, trying to listen to her heart. Stacie still felt acutely anxious about the whole experience. But she reminded herself of the final stimulus that had made her send that email—a hysterically giggly conversation between her work colleagues recently, sparked by a sexual survey in some women’s magazine someone had brought in. She’d listened to them burbling about their sexual acts both with and without their partners and she’d realized her sexual organs had been made redundant. That was why she was here. Yes, it was deeply embarrassing, but going to the doctor was embarrassing and if this young man, no matter how gorgeous he was, thought he could help her, then…
“Where would you begin?” she said, suddenly eager.
“That’s up to you. On your notes you said you liked your breasts being touched, maybe…totally up to you…but maybe we could begin there,” he said.
Stacie panicked. “You would see me?”
“That’s for you to decide. It would be better if I did, but it’s your choice, Stacie,” he said.
Stacie’s sudden bravado fled. “May I use the bathroom?”
Not wasting a second she headed into the stunning en-suite. She closed the door and pressed her back against it, feeling a total wreck.
Her head filled with concerns. She was wavering, not altogether sure of the right thing to do. Her breathing became rapid and panicky. She pushed herself off the door and sat down on the closed toilet lid, taking deep breaths to try to calm herself.
“Come on Stacie, sort yourself out. Yes, he’s gorgeous, nothing like you expected, but you’re paying for the session with him. This is a sex club. What did you expect?” she muttered to herself, keeping her voice low. She didn’t want him to hear her talking to herself. He probably already thought she was enough of a fruit loop.
Stacie headed over to the sink and stared at her own petrified face in the mirror.
“Right, girl.” She glared at herself right in the eye. “You’ve come here to get help. You either walk and be boring and alone for the rest of your life, or you have that nice young man out there teach you.” She gazed back at the bathroom door, with Dan the other side of it. Acid panic splashed about in her stomach, and a lump the size of Everest rose in her throat, but she knew what she had to do.
Stacie opened the bathroom door and stepped out. Dan still sat in the same place. He looked at her with a question written clearly on his face. She smiled and his face relaxed. He grinned back.
Dan watched Stacie make her way to the bed. She removed her jacket and sat down, wearing just her too-high blouse and too-long skirt. He stood up and walked toward her. “Are you sure?” he said.
“I am. Let’s do it.”
He pulled out the stool from under the dresser and sat down.
“Put out your arm,” he instructed her.
Stacie gazed at him, feeling like an idiot. She did what he asked, however, and held out her arm. “Now, lightly place your fingertips along your arm and feel the sensitivity.” Stacie did so, drawing her fingernails along her skin.
“How does that feel?” he said to her.
“Did you like it?”
“Yes.” She looked into his deep brown eyes.
“Good. We can begin there. I want you to lightly touch yourself across your hips, waist, thighs, and your breasts.”
Another surge of embarrassment flooded her face. God, she was going to have to get over this.
“Are you okay?” he said.
“It’s just weird.”
“Having another man look at me.”
“Don’t think of me as a man. Think of me as a professional. I’m here to help you achieve your goal.” He paused and his eyes flicked over her body. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed about, you know. You look great, you’ve just got a little side-tracked in your life and forgotten about number one.”
Stacie jumped as he rose up from his chair and came toward her, but he just sat down beside her on the bed and took her hand.
“Look, I do understand what you’re thinking, but I really want to help you. I want you to be confident about yourself and enjoy who you are. Don’t allow your ex to win, Stacie. You are a very attractive woman who needs help in regaining her self-esteem, and I am more than happy to get you back on track.”
Oh my God…how sweet are you?
She knew he was right and her ex had wasted her life, but she struggled to believe the words he said. Did it matter if he was lying about her being attractive? Did it matter if he was just saying it to make her feel better about herself? That was his job, right? And he was just doing it.
“Do you feel you can begin?” she heard him say.
Stacie glanced into his eyes, seeing them filled with concern. For her? Or for potentially losing a client?
I can’t allow this chance to slip away. Her heart pounded as she gave a tiny little nod of assent, wondering what the gorgeous Dan was going to do with her. He smiled, a big wide happy smile and stood up. Stacie grinned back slightly hysterically, feeling more sorry for him having to tutor her. I hope I’m not going to be his worst client.
“Right, let’s begin.”
He sat back down on the stool opposite her but pulled it closer, so their knees touched.
“Close your eyes, Stacie,” he said softly.
Stacie closed her eyes tightly and awaited further instructions.
“Place your hands on your tummy and slowly move your hands around your body.”
She obeyed, moving her hands gradually across her stomach and gliding them toward her waist. A crop of goosebumps spread out over her skin under the thin short-sleeved blouse, and she shivered. She kept her breathing steady, allowing her own touch to relax her. She slid both hands down over her thighs and back up again.
Stacie glided her fingertips over her naked arms, the sensation sending quivers throughout her body. Her tension trickled away, her shoulders dropped and her breathing slowed down. Stacie felt her inner vaginal muscles tighten of their own volition.
She began to move her hands more quickly over her body.
“No, Stacie, take it slowly and enjoy the sensation,” she heard him say in a quiet voice.
She listened to his command, placing her hands back on her tummy to knead the area. The lower part of her body jiggled with pleasure. How could she be turned on just by touching her own stomach and arms?
“Where would you like to touch yourself next?”
My breasts, was her immediate thought. Here it is. Can I really play with my own breasts in front of a total stranger?
Pretend he’s not there, she advised herself. But he is, she argued back. In the end, her hands, despairing of her pathetic indecisive brain, decided the matter and headed north by themselves. One brush of her fingers against her sensitive nipples and she wondered why she’d ever doubted Dan. Her breasts were swollen and responsive. She let out a tiny involuntary noise as she cupped both breasts together, squeezing them, sending pulses running around her body like shockwaves. An image came into her head of Dan moving behind her, taking over, touching her, fondling her. The thought shocked her to the extent that she almost stopped, but after a second, decided to go with the fantasy. Fantasy Dan placed his hands on either side of her waist, sliding them across her stomach and up to her breasts. He caressed her breasts and lifted them up, rubbing his thumbs over them.
Then she nearly jumped ten feet in the air when she felt real, warm, man’s hands on her waist. “Keep your eyes closed,” she heard him say. She felt Dan’s fingers stroke her waist through her blouse, then his fingers moved away. She almost protested, but then she felt him start to unfasten the buttons of her blouse. Her own fingers froze.
“Are you okay with this?” he said, pausing.
Am I? Stacie wasn't sure, but her head nodded all by itself and Dan continued with the buttons. Her only thought then was that she wished she’d worn a sexier bra, but then she’d thought she was coming here for an appointment. She hadn’t expected to start straightaway. The blouse slithered off her shoulders and she wondered if Dan would take off her bra also. Dread and hope warred within her, and the disappointment when he made no move to do so cut deep.
Stacie kept her rhythm, moving her fingertips over her lace-encased flesh, the sensations even more intense through one less layer of material. Her nipples poked hard through the bra cup and she tweaked them between her fingertips. She found herself grinding into the bed, pussy twitching, whilst her fingertips ran over her ultra-sensitive skin.
She wished Dan would come back. She wanted to feel those warm hands on her again. She half-opened her mouth to ask him, then chickened out.
But there was no stopping her fantasies. Her mind ran crazy, as she continued to touch and knead and caress her breasts. She heard Dan moving away from the edge of his stool and her heart almost leapt out of her throat. Stacie held her breath.
She felt him move behind her on the bed. Touch me! her mind screamed. She felt his hands on her back, unclasping her bra. Stacie moved her hands from her breasts, allowing the bra to drop onto her lap. Now. Touch me now! She leaned back into him, feeling the heat of his body behind her. But he still made no move to touch her so she seized her own breasts, imagining him lowering her to the bed and taking her. She floated her fingertips over her aroused nipples sending white-hot sensations bolting around her body. She pinched harder, the pain pleasurable. Her pussy throbbed almost unbearably, seemingly on a direct link from her breasts.
She couldn’t stop one hand from dropping to her pussy, rubbing wildly through her skirt. Instantly, her body was overwhelmed with arousal. She lunged her hips forward, shuddering with eruption. Stacie ground her lower pelvis against her hand whilst pinching her nipple with the other. Her hips lunged high off the bed and sweat prickled over her body. Her entire body was on fire and out of control.
Stacie let out a shuddering exhale as the peak died away and she flopped back against Dan, trying hard to catch her breath. She felt her racing heartbeat begin to slow.
She felt Dan’s hands patting her upper arms, then he put her forward slightly and moved away from behind her. Stacie could hear him rummaging around. She lay on her side, taking deep breaths to calm her body down. With reluctance, she opened her eyes, staring directly in front of her. How could she look at him?
“I think you need this.” Dan sat back down on the little stool opposite the bed and passed her some water. “How was that?”
Stacie took the glass from him. She had a sip of the water, and let her gaze flick briefly to his before resting on the floor again. There was no repugnance on his face, no ridicule, just a soft, happy smile.
“It was amazing. It blew me away.” Stacie found her embarrassment draining.
“Good. You did really well.”
The Desires Series
Stacie Clifford’s only desire is to regain her sexual confidence after her recent escape from an abusive marriage. She joins Desires looking for re-education in the joys of her body. There is only one condition; her contract states emotional attraction between tutor and student is forbidden. Stacie is fine with that; her heart is so battered she has no desire to give it to anyone else.
Then she meets her instructor, Dan. Instantly attracted, at first Stacie thinks it will help to make her sexually comfortable with him. But when she realises she is falling in love, she can’t tear herself away, contract or no. Stacie knows that, no matter how kind and caring Dan appears, he’s just doing his job. Can Stacie overcome her own Desires and walk away?
When vulnerable abuse survivor Stacie Clifford tentatively approached Desires for help getting her sexual confidence back, Angel had no qualms about assigning her secret favourite Dan McVeigh as her tutor. Gentle and sweet, Dan was just what Stacie needed.
Angel hadn’t realized just how powerful her suppressed feelings for Dan were until she noticed Dan and Stacie were getting on a little too well. Despite Dan’s insistence that all was strictly professional, maybe it was time to persuade Stacie that Desires was not for her. Just how far would Angel go to keep Dan to herself?
No one touched Angel’s Desires.
Desires Secrets Blurb
But events soon take a dramatic turn, threatening to shatter Stacie’s new, happy life. What secrets lurk inside the walls of Desires?
Dan and Stacie are preparing for the biggest day of their lives and everything is perfect. Stacie has her Hen night; Dan his stag night – both in Desires. Angel is being the wonderful host, but all is not what it seems. Five days before the wedding Dan and Stacie find themselves, devastated and destroyed, and on the brink of separation. Stacie feels that her life is falling apart. She cannot breathe or think because of the agony of losing Dan, the man she thought she could trust and spend the rest of her life with. Her world has been shattered. But Dan wants her back. Stacie longs to embrace what is important in her life. When she finds out the truth of what happened will it be too late to save the biggest embrace of all?
You tube. Embracing Desires The Movie
Dan, a devious, hot, sincere young man, preys on women like a vulture. He takes up escorting before entering a world of sexual fantasy in a club called Desires, being paid to have sex. He loves being a naughty boy without conviction, even having sex with the boss, using any means to have his wicked way.
Then he meets a new client, Stacie Clifford. He needs to drop the boy act and become a man, yet remember the club’s emotional contract. He makes it his responsibility to protect Stacie from Angel the boss of the club. He’s in love.
He has almost everything: a wife, son and a baby on the way, ownership of Desires, yet something is missing from his life, Sapphire his daughter. Unable to move on, feeling destroyed, his marriage is uneasy. Day after day he fights his heartache, wanting to be happy and be Dan, the man he once was. Will Dan ever be complete again? What will it take to get him there?Where to buy both books.
My Publisher Secret Cravings Publishing. Holly J. Gill