Stepdad and His Friends Bred Me During the Birthday Blackout novel · Chapter 10 of 48

Chapter 10: Whatever She Says

Abram's hand went to the elevator lever.

"We're going down," he said.

"No."

I fixed my strap and stepped out of the cage onto the Third Floor in my black dress and no mask.

The hall went quiet the way a panel goes quiet right before it trips.

Duane swiveled on his stool to face me.

"Well, look at that," he said. "You look just like your picture."

Two masked women at the bar turned away from him.

"Who let him up here?" Breck said, too loud.

"A member sponsored me in June," Duane said. "I'm paid in full. Same as everybody."

Rand put his hand on Breck's arm.

I looked at the brass plate beside the doorway.

Whatever she says.

Somebody had polished it so many times the letters had gone soft.

"Rule one," I said. "I pick the room."

I walked right past Duane's stool.

I didn't look at him. I could feel him watching me go, and I let him.

The hall was long and dim, with doors on both sides and small brass numbers.

I chose the corner room at the end, because the door was open and the lamps were on.

A wide leather daybed. Two armchairs against the wall. A long window over Old Town, every bar on Scottsdale Road lit up gold.

"This one," I said.

The three of them came in behind me.

"Rule two." I turned in the doorway and looked back down the hall.

A woman in a silver mask sat at a table near the bar with a man in a black one. Forties, maybe. Wedding rings. They'd stopped talking when I walked past.

"You two," I said. "You can watch. From the chairs. Hands to yourselves."

The woman looked at the man. The man looked at me.

Then they stood up and came, and sat in the two armchairs.

Breck shut the door.

The lock clicked. Duane was on the other side of it.

"Rule four," I said, and looked at Abram. "Call it."

He took off his steel watch and set it on the windowsill.

"Lights stay on," he said.

Abram opened his mouth and I stopped breathing before he even spoke.

"Rand," he said. "Take her dress off."

Rand's hands found the hem without a word.

One pull and the black sundress went up and over my head and landed somewhere on the daybed.

I stood in nothing but the gold light and the eyes of the room.

The woman in the silver mask leaned forward one inch.

"Breck," Abram said. "Her mouth."

Breck came at me like he'd been waiting two weeks to hear it.

He got a fist in his own sport coat and shrugged it off, then his T-shirt.

His chest was broad and hot and sunburned at the collar.

He kissed me hard, his beard rough, his big hands on my bare waist.

Then he sank to his knees in front of me and put his mouth on my pussy.

I grabbed his hair.

"Fuck," I said.

He laughed against me.

"That's my girl."

Abram stayed by the window with his arms crossed.

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