Behind the mask

ROSALIE

Nolan took me to the dressing room and put the little pile of clothes in my hands. It was not really clothes. It was black lace that would cover almost nothing. A tiny bra that was more string than fabric, with a matching pantie.

“Put this on,” he said. “The client paid for a show. You look like you just left an office. That will not work.”

I held the lace and my fingers would not stop shaking. Celine took my arm and pulled me into the dressing room.

“Sit down,” Celine said softly. “I will only do light makeup. You still have to look like you.”

I sat down and she dabbed cream under my red eyes and brushed a little color on my cheeks. In my head I kept seeing Zara on that thin bed, her chest going up and down so slow. I was not doing this because I wanted it. I was doing this because I had no other door left to open.

“You can still say no,” Celine whispered.

“I can’t,” I said. My voice sounded small. “If I say no, Zara suffers. That is all I can think about.”

When she finished, I put the lingerie on. The lace scratched my skin. My breasts sat high in the little bra and the panties sat low on my hips.

“I have to go,” I said.

She hugged me hard. “I will wait. If anything feels wrong, you come back to me. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

Nolan walked me down a quiet hallway. My heels clicked on the floor and every step made my stomach twist. He stopped in front of a tall dark door, typed a code, and pushed it open.

The room was huge. I had never stood in a room this big in my whole life. The lights were low and gold. A shiny dance pole stood right in the middle of the floor, like it was waiting for me. A huge bed sat on the far side with dark sheets. Think of Zara, I told myself. Think of the fifteen thousand dollars.

Nolan cleared his throat. “Sir. This is Rosalie. She is your entertainer for the night.”

The man was already sitting in a wide black chair near the pole. He wore a dark shirt with the top buttons open and black trousers. A mask covered only his eyes. His mouth was full and pretty. His jaw was sharp. His eyes behind the mask were dark and still, and they felt like they were measuring me, piece by piece. He did not stand. He did not smile. He only looked at me.

“Enjoy your evening,” Nolan said. Then he walked out and the lock clicked behind him.

I just stood there. My heart was hitting my ribs so hard I thought he could hear it.

He watched me for a long time. Then his voice came, low and calm.

“What are you doing in this room?”

I swallowed. My throat felt dry. “I… I am here to please you.”

“Then why are you standing there like a lost child?”

I forced the words out. “It is my first time.”

He tilted his head a little. “I do not care. I am paying you. So earn the money.”

Heat rushed to my face. Not shy heat. Angry heat. He said it like I was nothing. Like I was a thing he bought.

I walked to the pole, my legs felt weak. I put my hands on the cold metal and pulled myself up the way I had seen girls do in videos. I tried to roll my hips. The pole was slippery and my feet kept missing the right spot.

For one short second I saw his mouth move. A small smile, like he was trying not to laugh at me. When he saw me looking, the smile died. His face went hard again.

“Enough,” he said. “That is rubbish. Come here. I want a lap dance.”

My cheeks burned. I let go of the pole and walked to him. He sat back and spread his knees a little. I stood between his legs, lowered myself onto his lap and put my hands on my knees.

“Move,” he said.

I started to roll my hips. Slow at first, because I was shaking. The thin lace of my panties dragged over the front of his trousers. I felt him. He was already getting hard under me. I ground down against him in little circles.

Then his hand came down on my ass. Hard.

The smack cracked through the room. I gasped. Sting spread across my skin, hot and sharp, and right after the sting came a dirty rush between my legs. I was wetter than I was a second ago and he had only hit me once.

“Again,” he said, like he knew.

He spanked the other side. I bit my lip so I would not make a sound, but a little moan still slipped out. He gripped my hips and pulled me tighter against the hard shape in his trousers.

“You like that,” he said. It was not a question.

“I… I am just doing what you paid for,” I whispered.

“Lie better than that.” His hands slid up my sides and covered my breasts over the lace. His thumbs found my nipples and rubbed them in slow circles until they went tight. Every rub sent a pull straight down to the wet place between my legs.

“These are nice,” he said, squeezing my breasts. “They fill my hands. Do they get this hard when you are not scared?”

I could not answer. He pinched both nipples through the lace at the same time. I jerked on his lap and my panties slid over his cock again. He was fully hard now and thick. I could feel the line of him even through his clothes.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “You are already soaking that cheap lace. Grind harder. I want to feel how wet you are.”

I pressed down and rolled my hips like I was trying to ride him through the fabric. The friction made my clit throb.

His fingers slipped under the edge of my bra and tugged the lace down. My breasts spilled out. The cool air hit my nipples and then his warm hands were on them again, squeezing and rolling until I was shaking on his lap.

“On your knees,” he said. “Unbuckle my trousers. Take my cock out. I want your mouth.”

I slid off his lap and down to the floor. The carpet was soft under my knees. My hands shook when I reached for his belt. I pulled the buckle open and dragged the zipper down. His cock was pushing against his underwear, heavy and thick. I hooked my fingers in the waistband and pulled.

His cock sprang out, hard and long, the head already shiny. I wrapped my fingers around him. He was hot. He filled my hand.

“Do not just hold it,” he said. His voice was rougher now. “Suck it. And listen to me carefully, Rosalie. You do not stop. You keep that pretty mouth on my cock until I cum. I do not care if your jaw hurts. I do not care if you choke. You earn every dollar with your throat. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Then open.”