7
Zane
* * *
I sip an Old Fashioned while waiting at a bar in the Sanctum compound. The space is luxurious with low hanging pendant lamps, dark furniture, and of course, a bar made from a slab of oak so long that it’s rumored to be one tree.
But I’m not here for the ambience. I scan the room, but there’s still no sign of the woman who has flooded my thoughts for a week. Where is Jemima? I’ve been thinking of her non-stop for what feels like every minute of every day, and I’m itching to get my hands on her again.
“All good, Zane?” the bartender growls. Chris is much younger than me and dressed in a white button down with the sleeves rolled up, as well as an old-timey waistcoat. He’s got a pristine white towel thrown over his shoulder and grins.
I down the rest of my drink and hold up the glass. “I’ll have one more. Thanks, man.”
“Coming right up.”
He muddles a sugar cube with bitters before pouring bourbon into the glass. The amber liquid slides into the tumbler before he pushes it towards me.
“Bottoms up.”
I nod my thanks and take a sip of my cocktail before scanning the room again. But then, a curvy figure appears at the entrance, and my body immediately goes on high alert. It’s her. Jemima.
The woman is absolutely gorgeous in a cocktail dress that probably shouldn’t even be called a dress. It’s made of dark green fabric, but the problem is that there’s barely any fabric. Her nipples are barely covered by the strapless neckline, and the hem hardly hides her pussy. Paired with fuck me heels, it’s a perfect outfit. After all, the Sanctum compound is private and so anything goes. In fact, some of the other female patrons here are dressed in even less. If I’m not mistaken, a woman across the way is wearing a sheer bikini top with her short skirt while chatting with a man who can’t tear his eyes off her hard nipples.
Fuck yeah. This place is worth every penny of its astronomical membership fee. They provide everything, and that includes the most lush, gorgeous girls who cater to my every whim.
But right now, I need to get my date’s attention. Jemima continues to look around like she’s waiting for something. Her eyes pass over me twice, and my first instinct is to be offended, until I realize I was wearing a mask during our last meeting. Of course. She’s never seen my face so how would she know what I look like?
In just a few long strides, I’m in front of her and holding out my hand.
“Jemima?”
She blushes prettily.
“Yes, please call me Jem.”
I flash a charming smile.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Zane Cathcart. Thank you so much for coming.”
The young woman blushes again and it’s cute. She’s wearing subtle makeup, just a little eyeliner and maybe some mascara which gives her a positively doe-eyed look. Not only that but the curvy brunette is naturally beautiful with smooth, creamy skin and a wide-eyed innocence. Oh fuck. How old is she? I know Sanctum would never introduce me to someone below the legal age limit, but she must be pushing the limits. Nonetheless, I proceed with the date.
“Here, I have a couple seats at the bar. Let me buy you a drink.” She nods shyly while clutching a tiny purse. “That sounds great.” With that, we take our seats as she shyly studies the cocktail list. “Just a martini please,” she murmurs to Chris who immediately nods and gets to work. Then, the beautiful woman turns to me, and I’m floored by how wide and trusting her brown eyes are.
“So, Jemima, did you enjoy the Chase last weekend?” I growl. “I was told it was your first Sanctum event. Thank you for coming.”
Her cheeks go pink.
“No, it’s no problem because I had a lot of fun. Maybe fun isn’t exactly the right word,” she says with a sparkle to her eyes, “but you know what I mean.”
The image of the lush woman, nude and on her hands and knees flashes before my eyes, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat as my shaft hardens. Fuck, it was fun alright. More than fun. It was fucking Heaven. But Jemima continues with a sweet smile.
“Honestly, I was disappointed when Melissa blew the whistle because it was going to be my only Sanctum event potentially forever.”
I shake my head.
“Because you’re not from around here, right?”
She nods.
“I’m from Wyoming, and I came out to New York to interview with the club. I was lucky that another girl twisted her ankle, so I got to take her spot.”
I nod.
“Ah yes, Alison. Well, one woman’s loss is another’s gain. And I gained as well,” I add in a smooth tone. “You do know that this Virgin Hunt was different from all the rest, right?”