“Oh yes,” he said, his hands gliding down my sides and grabbing my butt, giving it a tight squeeze. It sent a rush of excitement through my chest.

“Shall we?” I said, and slid off his lap. He followed immediately, taking his drink while I took mine. I led him through the lobby, past clusters of people and around stages, until we reached the doors leading to the strippers’ private rooms. Two security guards stood post, and when they saw me, one unlocked a door and opened it for us.

“Thank you,” I said, and Viktor followed me inside. The door shut behind us, which shut out the pounding music. The walls still vibrated with the heavy bass, but everything else was muffled significantly.

“Ah,” I exhaled in relief. “Much better. Now we can actually hear each other.”

“Mm, I thought the music gave us a good excuse to stay a breath apart,” Viktor remarked. I continued down the hallway, past the VIP lounge, and showed him to my private room.

“Who says we need an excuse?” I countered. Viktor stepped inside, and I shut the door. The music was even more drowned out now, leaving us in near-quiet. I set my drink on the vanity, but Viktor held on to his, taking a sip.

I leaned back against the vanity, looking over the room. Normally I didn’t much care what my clients thought of my space, but in this moment, I wondered how Viktor saw it. On par with the club’s theme, there were long draping curtains of deep blue and purple spanning from the ceiling to the floor above the king-size bed, which was adorned with deep blue sheets. Red and orange accent lights framed the vanity mirror, the wall-sized mirror, the closet door, and the door to the bathroom. The modern chandelier hanging above basked the room in warm light, and there was a remote somewhere around here that could change the colors of the lighting.

As myself, outside of my sex worker facade, I didn’t much like the style or the color scheme. But it wasn’t tacky and it wasn’t sterile, so it was tolerable. The few possessions I owned were stowed away in drawers. There wasn’t much of me in this room at all, but that was fine by me. I liked to ponder the idea of someday having my own space to spread out and truly be myself, but I was a long way from getting decent footing in this city.

Viktor finished off his drink. I stepped over to him and splayed my hand over his stomach. “So, Viktor,” I prompted, gently taking the glass from his hand. “How can I be of service?”

Viktor turned his attention from the room to my eyes, a small smile playing at his lips as he slid a hand around my waist. He seemed to understand the question was rhetorical, because he let me set aside his empty glass and guide him towards the bed.

He found my mouth along the way, kissing me deeply. His cold hands slid up over my ribs and under my crop top, where he found my nipples and gave them a quick pinch. I whimpered into his mouth, followed by a giddy giggle as he tripped me and sent me tumbling onto the bed. He wasted no time in tugging off my shirt, tossing it aside. His thumbs rubbed over my nipples again and again as he continued to kiss me, teeth nipping and tongue gliding with mine.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and ground my groin up into his. He responded in kind, letting down some of his weight on me to gain more thorough friction. I moaned as heat brewed inside me, our erections growing thick and wanting together.

“Where do you keep your rope, sweet treat?” Viktor asked between kisses.

“Second drawer of the nightstand,” I told him, panting. He landed one more searing kiss, and broke off to retrieve the rope.

I crawled up onto the bed and flopped down in the middle. Viktor dug out two piles of soft cotton rope, dyed black, from the nightstand. He set them on the bed next to me, and gave me a teasing show of his own as he stripped off his clothes. He took his time, maintaining eye contact with me as he peeled off piece after piece. I bit my lip as I watched him shed his boxers, which revealed his thick erection. I moaned despite myself; he had to be at least five inches. Perfect.

“Your turn,” he said. Obeying, I lifted my hips up and slid my fishnets and panties down, but I made their descent down my legs gradual. The cash I had tucked away fluttered out onto the sheets. I rolled over and spread my cheeks, releasing the two folded twenties that had been tucked between them.

Viktor watched, and raised a brow at me. I gave him a toothy grin. “What can I say, I have limited places for safekeeping.”

“I feel sorry for whatever vendor takes that money from you,” Viktor said, his tone lighthearted. I shrugged and balled up the cash in my fist, opened the top nightstand drawer, and chucked them in. I tugged off the fishnets and panties from my feet and tossed them onto the floor.

“Show me what you got,” I said. Viktor didn’t need any other direction. He seemed to already have an idea in his head about what he wanted to do with me, because he unraveled the rope and set to work with precision and readiness. The way he took charge had me biting my lip and discreetly rubbing my thighs against my member. I always loved it when a partner took charge; it was both hot, and meant that I didn’t have to do all the work.

Viktor positioned me as he saw fit. He placed me on my stomach and pulled my rear end up, so I was resting on my knees. He tied the rope in a cage around my hips and butt, drawing the rope just tight enough to be snug, just tight enough to feel a squeeze. I moaned softly at the feeling. His fingers worked with a certain level of skill and practice that hinted at familiarity. He had clearly done this plenty of times before.

With the other spool of rope, he folded my legs together and threaded a diamond pattern around them to keep them that way. The level of tightness left no room for squirming. I could only rotate my ankles.

There were quite a few anchor points for bondage around my bed and the ceiling above. Viktor found one hanging from the ceiling and slid the rope through it. And with a strong tug, he pulled the rope taut and lifted me a couple inches off the bed. I gasped, growing ever harder as I felt the rope take on my weight. I tried to wiggle my legs, my knees barely brushing the sheets below. My rear end was now suspended.

“Oh, Viktor,” I moaned, balling the sheets up in my fists.

“Uncomfortable anywhere?” he checked, nudging his fingers underneath different sections of rope to test their give.

“No… No, I feel fine. I feel good,” I breathed.

Viktor’s hands grasped my waist, where his thumbs massaged my lower back. “You look beautiful like this, darling.”

I bit my lip again. Viktor must’ve seen the other supplies I kept in the nightstand, because he reached over with confidence and took out a bottle of lube. I shivered with anticipation as I listened to him squeeze some out onto his palm and coat his member with it.

“Don’t bother with prep,” I told him, reaching forward for a pillow and hugging it tightly. “I don’t want to wait to feel all of you.”

“As you wish,” Viktor obliged. Without further ado, he pressed his member to my entrance, and eased himself in. I moaned at the stretch, feeling my walls expand and glide over his girth as he pushed inside. The lube smoothed the intrusion, and within no time, Viktor was all the way in. He pressed his hips up close to my butt and took hold of the rope.

The way Viktor fucked was unrushed and thorough, using a pace that kept the friction going at just the right amount. No rough movements, no desperation, just calculated thrusting, deep and wanting. I closed my eyes and dissolved into the feeling, moaning breathlessly. None of it was for show, either. Viktor coaxed these noises out of me with his own skill, his own care, and I loved every bit of it. I relaxed against the bed, letting the rope hold my weight, swaying slightly with Viktor’s rhythm. He kept up his pace until the rush of pleasure reached its peak in both of us, and I shuddered in his hold as he came inside me. I left a mess of my own on the sheets, but I had plenty of spares, so I didn’t care.

I thought Viktor might’ve had his fill, but he only paused for a minute to let me catch my breath, and then he started a second round. “Oh…” I moaned, burying my face in the pillow. “A little… harder…”

Viktor heeded my request. He drew out louder moans from me as he thrusted more intensely, making sure I really felt it when he shoved himself inside. My mouth hung open with abandon, moaning and begging for more. Viktor brought us to another orgasm, and I squeezed his member tightly as the pleasure rushed through my body.

“Another, my insatiable sweet treat?” Viktor asked, brushing his chilled hands down my back. I took a moment to catch my breath again.

“Maybe a break,” I replied. Viktor stayed where he was, buried to the hilt inside me. He didn’t move, he simply let me cockwarm him as he continued to stroke my back, his fingers featherlight and soothing along my skin.

Sometimes, after a sex session, the feel-good hormones and levels of desire dwindled faster than I anticipated. Most clients didn’t like it when the mood died so quickly, so I was trying to teach myself how to push through it without making it seem forced.

“Okay,” I said, exhaling heavily. “Take the reins.”

“I can feel you loosening. Are you sure you want a third round? I have no issues with simply cuddling for the rest of the night,” Viktor replied. My eyebrows rose, a quick quirk.

“I don’t want your money to go to waste. You paid for a night,” I said.

“I did,” Viktor agreed. Nonetheless, he gently slid out and began untying the rope.

“Viktor,” I said.

“Why don’t we take an extended break, and later, if you feel up to it again, we can go again,” he offered. The rope around my legs fell away, and I stretched my legs out despite my protests.

“I don’t quite think you’re understanding this dynamic,” I pointed out.

“I don’t quite think you’re understanding that I don’t wish to treat you like an object of desire. You are a sex worker, yes, but you are also a person. You’re allowed rest,” Viktor countered. He slackened the rope from the anchor point, allowing me to settle fully onto the bed again. From there, he unwound the rope from my hips and butt.

Now this part was different. So far I had only one other client who had ever tried to talk to me about self-respect, about treating myself like a person and not a commodity. But I had quickly realized he wasn’t doing it out of genuine concern for me, he was doing it to make himself feel good about what he was doing with me, a sort of remorse. I still spotted him in the club from time to time, and the way he looked at me made me angry. Like I was something to pity, or like I was his own little savior-complex project.

Viktor felt different from that man. His words sounded sincere, not pitying. If anything, his tone was somewhat demanding, firm, leaving no room for excuses. In the end, I decided not to argue with him. He was the client, and I had to do what he wanted.

I kept quiet as he slid the remaining rope off my body. He took the time to wrap up each bundle neatly, and placed them back in the nightstand drawer. From there, he settled between my legs on the bed and began to massage my lower back.

I groaned softly at the pleasant ache. “Aren’t I supposed to be doing something like this to you?”

“Perhaps. We can switch when I’m done,” Viktor suggested.

I wasn’t going to combat that. I shut my mouth and let him work as he pleased. His hands moved diligently, but also carefully, and I found myself dozing off into the feeling of his fingers working out knots in my back. He made his way down, moving to my butt, then to my thighs, then my calves, and then to my feet. I couldn’t help the long groan that escaped me as his thumbs dug into the muscles there.

“Dare I say you have a foot fetish?” I queried, just to say something.

“Not I,” Viktor replied with a small chuckle. That deep and quiet sound helped to settle the minor amount of anxiety in my chest. He continued to work for a few more minutes, and then lied down onto the bed next to me.

“Your turn?” I said.

Viktor shrugged a shoulder. He didn’t seem like he was yearning for a massage, his gaze content as he stared at me, and a small smile on his lips. I sighed. Viktor reached up and brushed some hair away from my forehead.

Viktor had brought me to a place of calm relaxation, and I found that I didn’t want to move from my spot. Instead, we just stared at each other for a while. I wondered what he was thinking.

I wasn’t entirely sure when I had dozed off— probably somewhere between Viktor’s warm wine-red eyes and his soothing touch on my head. But the next thing I knew, I was roused by Viktor’s hand on my shoulder. The vampire was dressed already, his long hair fixed. I sat up, rubbing the grogginess from my eyes.

“I’m afraid I have to go now,” he said.

“I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you miss out on your money,” I said. “I can have the manager get you a partial refund.”

“Don’t worry about it, darling. I enjoyed our night,” he replied. As he spoke, I rose from the bed and found my panties, tugging them on so I at least had my groin covered.

“Let me at least walk you out,” I said. Viktor didn’t protest that, and he followed as I guided him out of the room. Instead of taking him all the way down the hall, through the VIP lounge, and through the lobby, I led him down the other end of the hallway, which led to an emergency exit door that opened out onto a small side street outside the club.

I paused at the doorway, pushing it open and holding it for him. Viktor remained where he was, however. “I’m sorry again,” I said. Viktor must’ve seen something in my eyes, maybe the disappointment in myself, maybe the discomfort at a slightly botched night. He reached a hand up to my cheek and caressed it.

“I told you not to worry,” he said. He leaned in close to me, tilting his head and brushing his nose over the side of my neck. I heard him take a deep inhale, gathering a lungful of my heavy scent. “You haven’t lost my interest.”

“No?” I questioned softly, resting some of my weight against him. I placed a hand on his arm. “That makes me feel better, because I haven’t lost interest in you.”

Viktor leaned away, and I was able to see the smile on his face. “May I have a kiss before I go?” he asked.

I tilted my head and kissed him. I made sure it was long-lasting, to help make up for the time we’d missed. I licked and bit gently at his lips, and he made a soft noise in response. “So…” I whispered, breaking away. “Hopefully I’ll see you again?”

“Certainly,” he replied, and I watched him step out into the night.