Hard to argue with that logic, but Emma had tried, countering with, “I don’t need a man.” Even though, over time, her need had grown distractingly intense in the presence of certain men.
Intuitive Sadie had seen right through the lie, and once she got an idea in her head... Seeing no other alternative, Emma had ordered another round of drinks determined to set such stringent criteria for her blind date, Sadie would never be able to meet them.
Unfortunately, in her then soused state, she’d failed to adequately assess Sadie’s enthusiasm for the project or her determination. Over the next six weeks Sadie had diligently met every single one, including the full physical exam and STD screening.
That’s how she, Emma Masters, wound up at The V-Spot, a voyeur motel. Who knew such a thing existed? Apparently her best friend did. Note to self: Never trust Sadie when she emails you an address for your GPS—at the last possible minute—accompanied by the words: The location is a surprise. You’re going to love it!
Even though, upon arrival, Emma had been assured the enterprise was completely legit, every time the door to the VIP reception room opened she half expected to be rounded up in a police raid, shoved into the back of a windowless van and taken off to jail. But curiosity regarding who had agreed to Sadie’s scheme kept her rooted in place.
A size-fourteen woman—well, a size sixteen Spanxed-down to a fourteen—in a sea of pert, scantily clad sixes.
A single surrounded by at least twenty couples, not one friend among them.
The clichéd fat chick, standing alone at the snack table.
On her twenty-fifth birthday.
Emma adjusted the nondescript black eye mask she’d been given to ensure anonymity of all V-Spot visitors and did a quick scan of the reception room, noting all the men who’d managed to show up on time for their dates. Concern that Sadie’s mystery man had changed his mind started to build.
She did her best to ignore it, focusing in on her surroundings instead. The place had a summer camp feel, clean and well-kept but rustic and no-frills. Large, tastefully done, black-and-white prints of naked men and women engaged in a wide variety of sex acts lined the natural wood walls. The frames hung at eye level equidistant apart. She resisted the urge to fan herself at the vivid memories of a few of those detailed drawings. Mesmerizing and arousing, a few discomfiting, each was a beautifully done work of art suitable for display in an upscale gallery.
Seeing everyone around her occupied, Emma snuck a handful of potato chips, stuffed them in her mouth and, turning away from the crowd, closed her eyes to block out any distractions as she savored the yummy goodness. A greasy, salty, crunchy consolation she hadn’t allowed herself in years. A vice she may have to reconsider because they were just as delicious as she remembered.
Luckily she’d cracked open an eyelid in time to catch Angie, The V-Spot VIP room hostess, walking in her direction. Emma still couldn’t believe she’d managed to keep her jaw from hanging open when Angie had explained how the evening would work. Exhibitionists. Voyeurs. Oversize windows. Dark pathways.
It had taken a few minutes, and a few hearty gulps of wine, but once her initial shock had worn off, every time she thought about watching others having sex, her heart broke into a gallop of excitement. And, well, other parts of her were experiencing a little tingly anticipation, too.
Except, with each passing minute, it seemed more and more likely she’d be leaving without ever getting to sample the erotic decadence hidden behind the high walls of a faded wooden privacy fence a few short yards away.
She swallowed down her mouthful of chips, and her growing disappointment, with some cabernet, placing the half-full glass on a tray. No more of that if she’d be driving herself home in the next few minutes.
“Maybe your date had car trouble,” Angie offered. “Cell service is horrible out here.”
Out here being rural upstate New York, a good three hours from her home, an hour and a half of narrow, windy roads from the highway, and at least forty-five minutes from any signs of civilized life.
Emma forced a small smile and a polite nod acknowledging the statements. After all, it wasn’t Angie’s fault Emma had been stood up. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’ll give him another couple of minutes.” She’d about reached her limit of pitying glances and had only stayed as long as she had because Sadie insisted ‘B’ was crazy attracted to Emma and eager for their date. And because he’d been so sweet and thoughtful by having a dozen red roses delivered to her at work yesterday—her actual birthday—with a card: Looking forward to tomorrow night. Happy Birthday, B.
“You don’t need a date to walk the viewing paths,” Angie offered. “Plenty of people do it alone. Once the sun goes down and more guests arrive no one will even notice you.”
As if that didn’t scream Total Loser Incapable of Getting a Date.
“And your upstairs, private room has already been paid for.”
Her upstairs, private room. She had an upstairs, private room! For birthday sex. With her blind date.
Who was he? Would she find him attractive? Would he find her attractive? Would the sex be as fantastic as she hoped? That is, of course, if Sadie’s birthday present actually showed up.
A couple who’d been looking at her oddly for the past fifteen or so minutes came over to join her conversation with Angie. “We couldn’t help but overhear,” the tall, red-haired, disgustingly slender, perfectly proportioned, probable underwear model said.
“Yes.” The man, a tall, thin, wannabe ‘50s crooner in a retro black suit and wingtip shoes, looked Emma over as if she was a vintage guitar and he was a collector. “It’s a damn shame to drive so far and not get to experience all The V-Spot has to offer.”
Angie introduced them. “Nick. Sugar. Meet Emma.”
Emma got the feeling Nick and Sugar were V-Spot regulars.
She shook each of their offered hands, Nick holding on long enough to make Emma feel uncomfortable. “Two’s fun,” he said. Then tugging her closer while leaning in as if to share a secret, he added, “Three’s an adventure,” loud enough for Sugar, Angie and everyone in a ten-foot radius to hear.
Emma had to be reading this situation all wrong.
But Sugar nodded, looking hopeful.
Angie shook her head, looking apologetic.
Emma could just imagine what her face must look like. Stunned, probably. Although once again she’d managed to keep her jaw from dropping open. And the firsts of the night kept on coming. First blind date. First visit to a voyeur motel. And her first, if she wasn’t mistaken, invitation to join up with a couple for a threesome.
As much as Emma enjoyed reading about them, actually participating in one? Um, no, thank you. Watching others having sex was about as far outside of her comfort zone as she planned to stray on this fine June evening. So what if it was her birthday and she’d mentally prepped herself for a night of adventure doing things she’d never done before? A girl had to draw the line somewhere. Emma chose to draw it with her on one side and Nick and Sugar on the other.
Time to get going.
“Thank
