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It's him.
It's all him.
Jackson looks up at me with equal parts surprise and awe. His green eyes fill with the perfect mix of control and release.
It's like he lets go by taking control.
No, it's not like that. It's exactly what he does.
And I can do the reverse. I can take control by letting go.
Something in him shifts. He stands a little taller, studies me a little closer, breathes a little heavier.
He's the guy he is in my head. Only he's real. He's here. He's in person with me.
The man I trust and the man who fills my fantasies.
All that awe, yes, and a desire to win and a drive to take care of me.
"What are the stakes?" he asks with a sure, steady voice. He knows this role. He knows how to slip into it.
And just like in my imagination, I know how to slip into mine. How to give into my desire.
A million things race through my mind.If I lose, you take over spankings. If you lose, I sit on your face. Whatever happens, you tie me to your bed, and or I ride you like a pony.
One.
Then the other.
I want all of it. Everything. Now.
My body is buzzing with want and need and satisfaction.
I can't believe I'm here, in the back room at a shady strip club, after three songs with a dancer, after showing my tits to the entire room, playing with a stripper, letting her play with me—
Letting her spank me—
And instead of feeling awkward, I feel horny as hell.
I want more.
I want to drop to my knees and beg for Jackson's cock.
What the fuck has gotten into me, and why don't I care?
Will we get kicked out of the club and arrested as sex offenders?
Or maybe management appreciates a free show.
Probably not. Las Vegas is a tightly regulated city. That's the only way sin actually works these days.
Maybe Jackson has it right. Rigidity somewhere leaves room for freedom elsewhere.
That's what we're doing here.
Rules are fun sometimes.
"The winner gets three minutes to do whatever they want with the loser," I say.
