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“Roulette” © Jessica Gadziala, 2016
Not to be reproduced or distributed without permission.

It was official. I was a freak.
The cab came to a stop out front of the building, ending the
ride that had my heart lodging itself fully in my esophagus. There

was nothing worse than a New York City cab ride, except maybe a New York City subway ride. I reached in my purse, fishing out the money for the ride and the tip before taking a deep breath and opening the door. My heels hit the pavement and I pressed my thighs together as I scooted out as to not flash anyone with the insanely short hemline of the dress my friend had talked me into wearing.

I’d like to say that Tuck was the reason I was there, that it was all his idea, his prodding, his unrelenting nagging that got me into a little black dress I would never normally be caught dead in, teetering on five inch heels I was bound to make a fool of myself in, my hair straightened in a

sleek dark brown sheet down to my butt, my makeup heavy on the eye smolder. Yeah, I’d like to blame him. But the fact of the matter was, Tucker just opened up the possibility to explore something I had been secretly interested in for years.

The operative word there being: secretly.

I was a good girl. I did things by the book. I didn’t sleep around. I didn’t hook-up with inappropriate partners. You wined and dined me for at least a couple of weeks before you got close to getting near my panties. From there, I followed your lead. You wanted it vanilla; I was vanilla. You wanted to spank me, pull my hair, and call me your dirty little slut; well then, I was your dirty little slut. You had a kink you wanted to explore, I’d explore it with you.

That being said, I didn’t explore my own.
Hell, I didn’t even talk about having them.
That was until Tucker and I were sitting in a cafe one
afternoon and he informed me that he had spent his weekend in the

city, hitting up a local swinger club with a friend of his. I choked so hard on my coffee that I spurted it all over the table, wiping frantically at it with a napkin while Tuck sat back in his chair, hands behind his neck, grinning over at me.

“You alright there, Iz?” he asked, chuckling.
“Yep, fine.” Just mortified and shocked and, worst yet, interested.
“I just told you that I went to a sex club and you’re not even going to

ask me about it?”
Oh, I wanted to ask him about it alright. I just didn’t want to let on

that it was something I had wanted to do.
“Okay. Tell me about it,” I shrugged, waving a hand, going for casual.

The problem with that was… I could never do casual. I could do awkward and bumbling and foot-in-mouth, but never casual.

So, yeah Tucker figured me out.
And then he insisted I go with him.
“Who better to go with? We’ve known each other forever. You don’t

want to fuck me. I wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to fuck you, but I think we’re better off as friends. There’s no pressure. We are just going to


So, that put me out front the inconspicuous brick building wedged

between a bodega and a coffee place. The sign was a swirling muted pink boasting the name: Roulette. I ignored the idea that naming a swinger club after a game of chance sort-of implied that the chances were equal that it could be the best experience of my life, or a complete and utter mistake.

“Really? A cardigan?” Tuck’s voice asked from my side and I turned to find him in a pair of black slacks and tucked in slate gray dress shirt and black belt. Sleek and sophisticated, that was Tuck. It was something I always liked about him; he always looked good, put together, like he gave a shit about his appearance. It was refreshing when I was surrounded by guys in jeans and tees like every girl was supposed to drop to their knees in awe of the fact that they saw Metallica in concert and got a shirt to show for it.

“It’s cold,” I defended, tugging at the sleeve of the crimson sweater in question. “It’s February for God’s sake.”

“You’re dropping it at coat check,” he told me, putting a hand at the small of my back and leading me toward the door.

“Yes, sir,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes at him, trying to focus on being annoyed at his alpha bullshit so I didn’t have to think about how completely and utterly anxious I was about the door that was getting ever closer.

I was steered inside and breathed a sigh of relief when, at first glance, everything seemed like it was a normal club atmosphere. No one was fucking in the corners or anything. Aside from some very revealing dresses and very suggestive dancing, it was just a club.

“Fun stuff happens upstairs,” Tuck whispered in my ear as I reluctantly handed over my cardigan, making me self-consciously tug up the bodice of my dress.

“Stop it,” Tuck said, slapping my hand away from my chest. “Your tits are fine.”

“Oh my God, you’re not allowed to talk about my tits.”

Tuck rolled his eyes and led me over toward the bar, ordering us each a drink. “Loosen up,” he suggested, eyes on the dance floor in a very


apt way, making me suddenly wonder if going to a swinger club with a good friend was such a great idea after all. I mean, we’d be watching people have sex… together. And, well, it stood to reason that he would like it. As in, he’d be turned on. As in, he’d be hard. While standing next to me.

Jesus Christ. What was I thinking?

Tuck and I were close, but, um… that was… too close. I looked up to see him smiling down at me. “What?” I asked, trying to sound calm, unaffected. “You’re blushing.”

“Am not.” I so was. “It’s just… hot in here. There are a lot of people on the…”

My words trailed off as the front door opened, bringing a gust of cold wind that sent goosebumps up my arms and across my chest, but also ushering in the most gorgeous man I had ever seen in my life.

Six-two, easy, filling out his slacks and black dress shirt in a way that suggested what was underneath was strong and solid. My eyes slid up from his broad chest and shoulders to find his face. He had a strong, square jawline covered in more than a few day’s worth of dark stubble. He had straight, low, dark eyebrows that gave his eyes a sunken sexiness that they didn’t need, given that they had the unfair advantage of being some shade between the lightest possible shade of green and a honey-type of brown that was startling against his otherwise dark features. His hair was the darkest possible shade of brown, cut in a way that made it look mussed but in a wholly intentional way.


I wouldn’t mind getting a peek at what he looked like underneath his clothes. And I realized with more than a little bit of excitement, that that was an absolute possibility.

The door opened again, drawing my (and Random-hot- guy’s) attention. And in walked, well, the female equivalent of Random-hot-guy’s attractiveness. Her blond hair was light and had soft waves that made it look tousled, bed-sexy. Her oval face was all sharp angles: high cheekbones, a straight nose, pouty lips, pointed chin, and her eyes were the lightest ice shade of blue I had ever seen. I didn’t even want to get started on her body- super thin with just the right amount of hip and boobs, all


wrapped into an impossibly tight red dress that made my bodice and hemline look practically matronly and displayed toned legs that seemed to go on forever.

It didn’t surprise me in the least when she breezed in, blinding white smile at the ready, and draped herself around Random-hot-guy. They suited each other. I fought the lip-curl I felt when she laid a big, wet, long kiss on his lips, his hand landing at the small of her back and pressing her body into his chest, giving me a none-too-subtle reminder that men like him chose women like her. And that women like me, far from ugly, but kinda girl-next-door pretty: soft features, long brown hair that didn’t have a hint of sexy tousle, and unremarkable dark brown eyes, with a figure that was heavy on the hips and boobs and lacking in the long-leg department… did not, under any circumstances, land guys the caliber of Random- hot- guy .

I felt what little bit of enthusiasm I had left for the night slip away. Sure, it’d be cool to see Random-hot-guy naked. But seeing him naked meant probably seeing Random-hot-girl naked and, well, my ego felt bruised enough seeing her fully clothed.

“What’s with the dark cloud?” Tuck asked, waving at the bartender for another round.

“Nothing. I’m just…”

Random-hot-guy’s gaze slid my way and my words trailed off, feeling pinned under his intense gaze. The impact was physical- hitting hard to my chest, knocking my breathing off tempo, but also… lower, settling with a pressure to low in my stomach that there was no mistaking it for anything other than desire. His eyes focused on my face for an unsettling moment before slowly dipping lower for another, even more unsettling, moment before they drifted away in a way that felt completely dismissive.

“That chick totally just checked me out,” Tuck said, making me snap my attention back to him. “What?”

“That blond in the red dress. Totally eye-fucked me,” he said with a charming lopsided grin.

“Just remember,” I said, taking the fresh martini off the bar, “that is as


close to actual fucking as we are getting tonight.”
Tuck laughed. “Buzzkill,” he muttered, but in a teasing way. “Let’s go

upstairs. See if anyone has gotten started yet.” Oh, boy.

Tuck led me over to the stairs and I felt a clenching of my sex in anticipation. Despite the best-friend-boner situation and the fact that Barbie and Ken kinda sucker-punched my confidence, I was still intrigued; I was still excited to give one of my kinks a try.

I didn’t always know I would be into voyeurism. I started off as vanilla as the next girl. But when I was eighteen, still a virgin, I had gone to a house party with friends. Not a drinker, I had kinda teetered out early and went with my very new boyfriend to watch a movie in a bedroom, lying on (and under) a pile of blankets on the floor. At some point, I had fallen asleep and hadn’t been aware that anyone else had entered the room. I did become aware when a loud giggle woke me up, my eyes shooting open and finding my boyfriend’s eyes on me. It was then that I realized it wasn’t just a normal giggle I had heard, because what I heard next was the bed squeaking, flesh slapping, and moans. Virgin or no, there were some sounds that you didn’t have to experience yourself to place. Someone was having sex in the same room as us.

My boyfriend gave me a coy smile, his hand moving around my back, stroking up under my shirt, moving over my hips then across my lower stomach as the sounds behind me got louder. And, well, let’s just say that by the time they came, I was so turned on it was physically painful.

That boyfriend lasted five weeks (good riddance) but a fetish was born.

The hall up the stairs had rooms off to each side. To the left, the doors had giant keyhole cutouts in them. “To watch,” Tuck explained, unnecessarily as there were already several people engaged in… watching.

“What about those?” I asked, gesturing toward the right, pretending I didn’t just see a couple standing at one of the keyholes, the man’s hand hauling up the back of the woman’s skirt and revealing her ass for all to see.

“Well the keyhole rooms are for couples who want a little more


privacy. These ones,” he said, leading me confidently toward a wide open doorway, “are for the less shy couples,” he said, giving me a wicked smile as he pushed me ahead of him and into the room.

And there in front of me was what I could only describe as beds made out of dark gray gym mats. Inwardly, I thought that was probably good for… cleaning purposes as I let out a strange, strangled laugh.

There were three of those type of mat-beds and two couples had occupied them. One couple must have just went in, still fully clothed, just making out. The other couple were fully engaged. Meaning… they were fucking – girl astride, her head thrown back as she rode her partner hard and fast, her groans and the scent of their sex filling the room with a heady mixture.

Tuck had taken a step ahead of me, watching the woman with a fierce sort of fascination that made me realize that I was right downstairs – it was weird.

Instinctively, I took a step back in retreat, wanting a little space from the friend who I shared chaste coffee dates with every Tuesday afternoon who suddenly had tented pants and intense eyes.

My back slammed into someone else’s front, making my whole body jolt as my body stiffened.

“Relax,” a deep, smooth voice said low into my ear.

“I’m sorry. I… I need to go…” I started, not having any kind of excuse prepared. I was pretty sure it would be insulting to other club members to hear me say it was making me super uncomfortable to watch people having sex with my friend at my side.

“Relax,” the voice said again, a hand moving to slide across the front of my belly, stilling my retreat, making my already stiffened body go ramrod straight.

Two things came to me at once. One- I needed to get out of there, find a bathroom and take a minute to calm myself down so I could come back out and try to enjoy myself. Two- the hand was nestled at the lowest part of my belly, pushing down on the area where I already felt held too much pressure, but somehow it seemed to ease the clawing desire there a bit.

“I have to go get…” I tried again, my eyes darting from the couple


fully going at it and landing on the other couple, hoping for something safer to look at. What I was met with was a woman on her back, legs spread, her partner buried between them.

Then the hand wasn’t at my belly anymore, it was sliding toward the side, snagging my wrist and pulling backward, a silent plea for me to turn. Deciding that facing the hands-y guy was probably going to be easier than meeting my friend’s eyes, I turned.

And I found Random-hot-guy standing there, his hand still holding my wrist, his hazel eyes focused on my face that I was sure had taken on a whole new level of blushing.

“Don’t like the show?” he asked, jerking his chin to the people groaning loudly behind me, sending a rush of wetness between my legs.

“I, ah…” needed to stop mumbling. I’d spoken to hot guys before. I needed to get a grip. But suddenly, his thumb was stroking over the pulse point in my wrist, sending goosebumps up my arm.

“First time?” he asked and I felt my head nodding, not trusting my tongue to not twist itself into knots if I tried to talk to him. Why was he even wasting his time talking to me? Where the hell was Barbie? On that thought, my neck turned over my shoulder and I spotted her. And she was… all over Tucker. I guessed he was right about the eye-fucking comment earlier. His hands were on her too, stroking up her sides, landing just under her breasts, his thumbs stroking upward over the swells. He was into it. He wanted to partake in the…

Oh my God.
My head snapped back to Random-hot guy.
They wanted to… swap.
That was why she was all over Tucker and her guy was talking to

My lips parted, looking for the right thing to say. Um, I think you’re

super hot and all, but I don’t do public sex? Yeah, that would never work. Maybe if…

“Sadie likes your boyfriend,” he said, nodding over my shoulder. Sadie. What an appropriate hot-girl name.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said automatically, knee-jerk. I’d had to


correct countless people over the years about my friendship with Tuck. “Your husband,” he corrected himself.
“Friend,” I said, shrugging a shoulder. “He’s… just my friend.” I

paused, chancing a glance over my shoulder to see that Tucker already had the bodice of Sadie’s dress slipped down, his hands covering her bare breasts. I turned away again quickly. “So, um, your girlfriend is… um… totally welcome to him,” I said, waving my free hand dismissively.

His lips twitched for a second before the smile started to spread, making a few small crinkles form next to his light eyes. My eyes were there when he spoke again. “Friend,” he said, making my gaze fly back to his.

“Sadie is a friend,” he explained.
“Right. Sex friends,” I mumbled, only meaning to think it, but there it

was- all out there. Freaking typical Izzy. God I was so… Then he threw his head back and laughed and the rumbling sound settled with a warm fluidity in my core, making my already overly stimulated system jolt with another current of desire. I really, seriously, needed to get out of there.

But then his gaze leveled with mine again and his smile softened slightly. “Nate,” he said in that too-sexy-for-anyone’s-good voice of his.

“My name, sweetheart.”
Right. Nate. That was better, if less accurate, than Random- hot-guy. “Oh. Okay,” I mumbled, nodding at him.
“You have a name, doll?”
Oh. Right. Duh.
“Izzy,” I said, wondering if I was supposed to use a fake name. Was

Nate even his real name?
“Izzy,” he repeated, his hand slipping from my wrist to entwine his

fingers with mine, drawing my attention down to our hands, my brows drawing together. “Can I get you a drink?”

A drink. A Prozac. A lobotomy. Literally anything to make me stop being so awkward. “Ah, yeah.”

With that, my hand wrapped in his, I was led back out of the sex room, into the hallway, then back down the stairs into the club. Each step


down, I felt more of the anxiety slipping away. Never mind that my best friend was upstairs probably fucking Sadie and that my hand was in Nate- too-hot-for-words’ hand, at least no one was going to expect me to have sex in the downstairs club.

“Martini,” he called to the bartender. “Scotch neat.” He paused, dropping my hand as I got onto one of the stools pushed up against the bar. “Looked like you wanted to escape,” he observed accurately as he pushed my drink toward me.

“Yeah, um. I just… thought I’d be a bit more… eased into it all I guess,” I said, sipping my drink, praying it would do more good than my first two did. My legs crossed, drawing his attention as he sat at the edge of a stool, his hand moving out and landing on my thigh. It wasn’t exactly chaste, but it wasn’t altogether inappropriate either. Then again, was there even such a thing as inappropriate in a sex club? But regardless of all that, there was one thing that it was, and that was distracting. My eyes watched as his fingers stroked up to play with the hem of my skirt. His middle finger sneaked up underneath the material and my thighs pressed together automatically. Not to stop his exploration, oh no, but because I felt like there was absolute chaos between my legs and it was the only way to relieve it. “So, ah… do you…” I paused, swallowing hard, “come here often?” Oh, Jesus. That was positively… corny. I needed to get out of there, five minutes ago. I needed to leave before I embarrassed myself more than I already had.

Nate’s soft airy laugh drew my attention back upward. His lips were turned up slightly at the side. But it wasn’t a sneer; it wasn’t teasing. If anything he seemed… amused.

“I’m not a stranger around here,” he said a bit cryptically. Right, well. Okay. That left me absolutely nowhere to steer the conversation. And his hand was still just stroking away at my thigh and the arousal I was feeling was actually bordering on pain. I sipped the rest of my drink, racking my brain for literally anything I could talk about. The silence was driving me absolutely… “I know you’re new and this is probably all really strange for you right now, but I am just going to go ahead and put this out there…” he paused, the smile slipping away, leaving his face almost severe in its


intensity .
Was he going to finish that sentence? Where could he possibly be

going with something like… “I want to fuck you.”

Okay. Well then.
He said that.
I felt my jaw slacken and forced it closed. “Um. Okay. I mean… what?

His lips twitched and he made a visible effort to make his face almost

blank. Why, I had no idea. But his lips went into a straight line and his gaze was unsettlingly intense. “Why does anyone want to fuck someone? I find you attractive. You’re beautiful.” Well, that wasn’t true. His friend was beautiful. But still… that was nice and it settled with a warm feeling in my belly. “Do you find me attractive?”

“Does anyone not find you attractive?” I blurted, my eyes shutting immediately. Why, why why did my mouth run away with me like that all the time?

“That’s not an answer.”
I took a slow breath, opening my eyes. “Yes. I think you’re attractive.” “Do you want to have sex with me?” he asked and the jaw- slackening

thing happened again but I couldn’t seem to get my mouth to close like I wanted it to. Did I want to have sex with him? Um, well, if my panties were any indication… But, no. No. I wasn’t that kind of girl. I didn’t have sex with strangers. “You know what I think?” he asked. I felt his breath and looked up to realize he had moved off his seat and was standing right in front of me, his thighs pressed into my crossed legs as he bent down to talk to me quietly. When I didn’t answer, but shook my head, his hand moved upward and brushed across the skin on one side of my neck as his head bent down and I felt his breath on the other side of it. His lips were almost pressing into my ear when he spoke again. “I think you wanted me the minute I walked through that door tonight. I think you were getting turned on in that room upstairs, but I think your panties are drenched right now because of me. I think you want me to pull you out of here, find somewhere private, lift up this skirt of yours, rip off your panties, and bury


my cock deep in that wet pussy of yours.” Holy hell.

My entire body jolted at his words, making my balance on the stool become unstable, causing it to rock ominously. My hand flew out onto his chest automatically, feeling steely strength even through his shirt. God, I bet he looked like a freaking male model naked. I bet he…

“Izzy…” his voice called, my name rolling off his tongue in a way that felt way too intimate for a complete stranger.

My eyes moved hesitantly up to his. “Yeah?”

“You want me to back off, tell me to back off,” he said simply, giving me an out. And, somehow, that just made him all the sexier.

“I don’t want you to back off.”

What? Oh my god. Yes I did. I totally wanted him to back off. I wanted him to back off and then I wanted to get my sweater from the coat check and then I wanted to grab a cab, catch a train, and forget I even knew that Roulette existed. Actually, they could keep my cardigan. I just… I needed to go. I needed to get away from him.

Then there was a low, growling sound from somewhere deep inside Nate’s chest and his lips closed around my earlobe. A shudder coursed through my body almost violently at the sensation. My hand curled into his abs as an involuntary little groan escaped my lips. The pressure between my thighs felt positively unbearable as his lips sucked hard on my lobe before his tongue slowly stroked up and down the edge, then moved down the side of my neck.

All I could think was: never before. Never, ever before had I felt more turned on. Every inch of my body felt like it was buzzing, like the nerve endings were poised for touch, like they would fizzle out and die without it.

His lips pressed into the dip where my clavicle met my neck. “Nate,” I whimpered, my other hand moving out to grab his arm.

“Say yes,” he urged, his voice sounding husky.

I would like to say that there was a little voice on my shoulder telling me to say no, telling me to push him away, take my self-control by the reigns, and get the hell out of there. But, well, that would be a lie. Fact of


the matter was, every inch of my body was screaming out yesyesyes! “Yes,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Thank fucking Christ,” Nate growled, flying away from me,

grabbing my wrist, and dragging me with him.
Free of the close contact, and seeing him lead me back up the stairs, I

felt the uncertainty welling back up inside, strong. What the hell was I doing? I was not, was absolutely not going to have sex with a stranger in a swinger club. No way in hell. I couldn’t do…

As if sensing my walls going back up, halfway up the staircase, he turned, grabbing the sides of my face and shoving me back against the wall. My breath hissed out at the impact but then his mouth was on mine. There was nothing soft or hesitant about his kiss. It was hot, scorching, it burned through my body like a wildfire, setting everything inside me ablaze. I was going to be ashes on the floor, but my arms went up around the back of his neck, pulling his body tighter against me as my lips responded to his. If I was going to go out, I wanted it to be from his heat. There would be no better way to go.

His tongue slipped into my mouth, stroking over mine with a sort of exquisite interest, like he wanted to explore every bit of it, like nothing else in the world mattered but our tongues teasing each other.

So caught up in the sensation, I didn’t even notice one of his hands had slipped from my jaw until I felt it close over my breast, squeezing with perfect pressure before stroking over the already straining nipple, drawing a whimper from my mouth.

He pulled backward slightly, his eyes opening slowly, his eyelids looking as heavy as mine felt. “Say yes,” he urged again.


My arm got snagged again and I was being pulled down the hallway. I didn’t see the couples milling around. I didn’t hear the sounds coming from the rooms. Every bit of me was focused on the man in front of me, his body taut as a bow as he dragged me down the hall, all the way to the end where he finally stopped outside a door where a man with ‘security’ written across his black tee was standing, arms crossed, looking completely unaffected by all the depravity taking place around him.


“Mr. Grant,” the guard said, nodding his head at Nate.

If I hadn’t been watching Nate so closely, I would have missed it. His head jerked ever-so-slightly toward me and the guard’s eyes found me for the barest of seconds before he nodded, pulled out a key, and opened the door behind him.

Before I could open my mouth to object, because I was totally going to object at that point, I was pulled inside a dark room and the door slammed and locked.

My back was slammed up against a wall again, but Nate’s lips didn’t find mine. They found my neck and sucked hard, making my legs almost buckle unexpectedly. But I didn’t have time to think about that because it wasn’t just his lips on my neck driving me to distraction. His hand slid up my thigh, not even pausing as he slipped up and over then inside my panties. His fingers slid up my slick cleft for a second before his finger found my clit and started rubbing over it- expertly, unrelenting. My groan felt wrenched from somewhere deep inside, somewhere primal and unfamiliar to me. My hands grabbed at his shirt, trying to hold on, trying to anchor myself to something.

“Nate, I…” I started, not sure what I was even going to say. That I was afraid? I felt afraid. I felt more vulnerable than I ever had before.

Nate’s other hand moved from where it was pressing into the wall beside my shoulder and then, suddenly, the light flicked on. The brightness was blinding for a moment and I blinked against it. His hand moved to my jaw again, but slid backward and his fingertips brushed into my hair. “It’s okay,” he murmured quietly as if sensing my distress. “I’ll take care of you. Just let go.” His finger worked over my clit again and, without much choice, I did. I let go.

My orgasm felt like a free fall through my system, like the rush of a drop over a cliff for a excruciating moment before I crashed down into it, my back arching, my entire body going tense, my legs going numb as the pleasure shot through my system, the pulsations strong and frantic. I couldn’t even cry out. I couldn’t do anything but hold onto Nate and let it overwhelm me. And that was exactly what it did- it overwhelmed me.

The pulsing lessened and I sucked in a greedy breath I hadn’t


realized I had been holding.
“Fuck yeah,” Nate said, nodding a little. “Need to see that again,” he

told me and the words came at me as if from far away. “But this time, I need to feel it too,” he said, his lips crashing down on mine again, hard, demanding. Without warning, his finger plunged deep inside me, drawing a gasp of surprise from me before he curled it upward and started stroking it over a spot I was convinced was mythical. But, apparently, it existed… and Nate knew exactly where it was. “You gonna give it to me again?” he asked, biting hard into my lower lip.

Anything. I would give him anything in that moment. I was completely mindless. All there was in the world was his body and what it was doing to me. I felt my head nodding and his hand moved away from me.

I heard his zip then the telltale crinkle that said he was being safe for the both of us. It took less than a couple seconds and then his hands moved up my thighs again, but this time they didn’t sneak into my panties; they pulled them down. His eyes weren’t on mine and I felt the uncertainty working its way through me again.

What the hell was I doing? I didn’t do crazy things like let strangers finger me in private rooms in clubs. I damn sure never had sex with them. That was crazy. I needed to put a stop to things before I did something I would regret.

My skirt was hauled up, bunched around my belly as my thigh was simultaneously lifted, leaving me spread open for him. I swallowed hard, feeling the pounding of my heart seemingly through my whole body and I could swear that in that moment, I could feel the blood pulsing through my veins. Head to toe, I felt over-sensitive, I felt like my system was poised to explode. I felt like…

His cock pressed between my slick folds, making my body convulse in surprise and anticipation. Because there was no denying it- my mind may have been torn, but my body wanted it. My body wanted him with a fierceness that felt akin to need. Like if I didn’t feel him, if he didn’t fill me, I wouldn’t be able to go on. My sex was clenched tight, my hips moving of their own mind, shameless in their seeking for the fulfillment my body


knew it needed.
The head of his cock pressed at my entrance hard and I felt my hips

press down slightly, taking him in the barest amount and a gasp rushed out from between my lips. At the sound, his eyes finally flew to mine, pinning me with their intensity. And just like that, any doubt there may have been, any objection, dissolved. My hands dug into his shoulders and my mouth answered the question in his eyes. “Yes,” I whispered.

He thrust forward, filling me to the hilt, filling me like no one ever had before- completely, and for a moment, the sensation was almost that of pain as my body stretched to fit him.

“So tight,” he told me, tilting his pelvis a bit and I felt his cock hit a place so deep it ached. “You like that?” he asked, a small smile playing at his lips as he watched my surprise.


“God damn right you do,” he said, the smile stretching a bit before it slipped away completely. My eyes stayed on his as he started moving within me. They were unhurried thrusts, withdrawing almost completely each time and pushing back in, tilting, and hitting that new spot each time. My leg went up and wrapped around his lower back, my fingers moving up into his hair and holding on. I tightened around him, holding on greedily and he let out a deep groan. “Fuck, baby,” he ground out before crushing his lips to mine.

Then, there was no patience, no exploration. His thrusts became wild, almost frantic, but controlled as his mouth swallowed my desperate moans. His hand moved to my other leg, forcing it up around his waist as his hands moved down to grab my ass as he drove me closer and closer to an orgasm that I was pretty sure was going to make me fly apart. But even with that threat, that knowledge that nothing could ever compare again, I wanted nothing more than to let him do that to me; so I held on tight and just… let go.

As if sensing the impending oblivion, his mouth pulled from mine and his eyes pinned me. “Come, Izzy,” he said, the sound of my name on his lips being the final push I needed.

And I splintered apart. The orgasm felt like it started at the base of


my spine, a white, hot, spark that quickly burst outward and consumed my entire body. I cried out his name in a sort of joyful agony as the waves kept washing over me, my entire body paralyzed by the sensations as he kept thrusting through it all.

“Izzy… baby… fuck…” he groaned, burying deep and coming on the final wave of my climax.

I felt like I slowly sank back inside my body, every inch feeling tingly, almost foreign. The arms wrapped around his neck and the legs around his waist were shaking they were holding on so tight. His hands were bruising into my ass and his breath was ragged and hot on my neck.

My heartbeat evened, my breath followed, the wiring of my brain was next. Which meant, of course, my better sense, my wits came flying back.

I slept with a stranger. I had sex with a stranger. I had sex with a stranger in a swinger club.

Oh, good God.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Nate’s lips pressed into my neck and sent an unexpected shiver

through my body.
I’d never done anything even remotely like this before. I was a good

girl. I did not, I absolutely did not ever do anything as reckless as a one- night stand. How were you even supposed to navigate a one-night stand? Did everyone just tuck their naughty bits away, slip into their underwear, and… go their separate ways? Were you supposed to exchange contact information? Did you, like, thank them for the sex?

I was so caught up in my internal battle that I hadn’t even realized the hands had moved from my ass until I felt them pulling my legs from around his waist. I followed obediently, keeping my gaze locked on his collar. My feet hit the floor, sending pins and needles up my legs. He slid out of me as I untangled my arms from around his neck, readjusting my skirt back into place.

I didn’t even look up when I heard his footsteps. No, I didn’t dare raise my eyes until I heard a door slam close. My head shot up, confused. I hadn’t noticed another room. But it had been dark and then when it wasn’t


anymore, well, I had been occupied. But there was a door and from behind it, I could hear water running.

I didn’t stop to think. I didn’t try to rationalize things or analyze the best move. No. In fact, I didn’t even stoop down to grab my panties. I made sure my skirt was low and my breasts were tucked in then reached for the door and ran. I tore into the hallway, half knocking into the security guard outside who tried to reach out for me with warm, concerned eyes. I wrenched away, tearing blindly down the hallway full of half-naked people and sex noises that before had seemed foreign, a little scary, but intriguing, but now felt taunting and seedy. My heel caught the edge of one of the stairs and I had the spiraling sinking sensation in my belly. It was quickly overshadowed by the unfamiliar burning feeling of shame before I grabbed the railing, righted myself, then flew the rest of the way down.

The February air hit my overheated system, sending pinpricks over every inch of exposed skin. My arm was flung up into the air as I edged the sidewalk. A cab pulled up and I threw myself inside, barking out Penn Station with a shrill tone that couldn’t have belonged to me as I buried my face in my hands.

“It’s okay,” I murmured to myself, trying to suck in deep breaths.

It wasn’t okay, but it would be okay. I needed to get myself into a train. I needed to get into a vehicle moving as fast as possible away from my mistake. Because that was exactly what it was; it was a mistake. Telling Tuck about my fetish was a mistake; letting him talk me into going to Roulette was a mistake; engaging Random-hot-guy was a mistake. And, more than anything, having sex with a man who didn’t even know my last name was a mistake.

My hands shook as I reached for my cell, shooting out a typo-ridden text to Tucker telling him I wasn’t as into my fetish as I thought and decided to go home early. I told him I would catch him for coffee. I told him to have fun.

I didn’t tell him about Nate. And I never planned to. That was my secret.
My dirty little mistake.


I slipped into my seat on the train and felt it lurch to life a few minutes later, the lights of the city fading away behind me. My hand moved up to my lips. They felt swollen from his demanding mouth; my skin felt raw and sensitive from his stubble; there was a exquisite ache between my thighs. My head shifted to the window and I caught my reflection staring at me. I wasn’t shocked by what I did see: the unmistakable sex hair, what looked like a hickey on my neck, the beard burn on my face. No. I wasn’t shocked by what I did see; I was shocked by what I didn’t see: regret.

I should have regretted it.

But, the fact of the matter was, it was the most raw, pure, animalistic, erotic thing I had ever experienced. There had been nothing but want and need and fulfillment. There had been nothing but a pleasure so deep I could have drowned in it.

And all that was ripped from me, all that was given to me by the tall, dark, sexy Nate Grant. If that was even his real name. Not that it mattered. To me, he was Nate Grant with his whiskey-voice and his hazel eyes. He was the face I would see in my mind, the hands I would feel on my body, the sounds of words whispered in my ear. He was what was going to make me wake up in a sweat at night. He was a memory to remind me that maybe games of chance paid off once in a while.

But there was something I wasn’t considering in that moment. I wasn’t factoring in exactly how addictive gambling could be.

“Roulette” © Jessica Gadziala, 2016
Not to be reproduced or distributed without permission.



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