Fallen Angel (Club Burlesque) (17 page)

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Authors: Logan Belle

BOOK: Fallen Angel (Club Burlesque)
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She climbed off of him, and he squeezed her hand. She grabbed her hastily discarded coat and her bag, and he walked her wordlessly to the elevator banks.
“Monday, okay? I’ll see you Monday,” he said.
“See you Monday.”
Violet was waiting for Poppy behind the door. But it was a Violet that Poppy barely recognized, dressed in a pink rubber nurse’s costume, with red latex gloves up to her elbows, and a rubber old-fashioned nurse’s hat affixed to her head.
“Hello, Ms. LaRue,” Violet said, with odd formality. “Did you pay the receptionist? I don’t take insurance.”
“What? Um, yeah.” Poppy tried to ignore the nervous squirming in her gut, the nudge that there was still time to leave.
“Then, right this way.”
Violet led her down a narrow hallway lined with closed doors. Poppy didn’t hear any noise and wondered if the rooms were soundproofed. Finally, at the end of the hall, Violet opened a door with a set of keys and held it for Poppy.
Poppy stepped inside. She didn’t know what she had expected, but certainly not this place that looked like a gynecology examination room, complete with a table and foot stirrups, an anatomy chart of the female reproductive system, and a tray full of latex gloves, lube, and some very official-looking instruments.
“I . . . I think I should leave,” Poppy stammered.
“Don’t be silly.” Violet handed her a pink paper gown. “Put this on, open in the front.”
Poppy couldn’t believe the scenario she was in and was both freaked out and oddly turned on. Violet’s cheeks were flushed, her green eyes bright, her lips lacquered to an impossible sheen.
Poppy undressed, her hands shaking too much for her to fold her clothes, so she ended up tossing them on a chair. She kept her back to Violet while she nervously stepped out of her panties and pulled on the paper gown.
She slowly turned to face Violet, who was busy arranging items on the supply tray.
“Get on the table,” Violet said, without looking at her, her voice emotionless.
Poppy climbed onto the examination table, the tissue paper covering crumpling underneath her. It was surreal. She half expected to find a stack of magazines next to her.
“Ms. La Rue, please slide down and put your feet in the stirrups.”
Poppy complied, placing her bare feet against the cold metal, her legs spread apart.
Violet stood and moved next to the table. She peered down at Poppy and began feeling her breasts with her gloved hands. Her touch was rough and clinical, and yet Poppy felt a surge of excitement pulse between her legs. Violet’s touch had little to do with an actual breast exam, but the detachment and brevity of her contact made it clear that’s what she was supposed to be doing.
She moved away and took a seat at the end of the table.
“Come down closer,” she said. Poppy slid her ass down more, feeling very self-conscious that her pussy was splayed open in front of Violet’s face in that bright room.
Violet busied herself slathering lube onto her gloved finger, then inserted it inside of Poppy, as clinically as she had felt her breasts, then removed her hand. She straightened up in her chair.
“Have you experienced any sexual dysfunction lately?” Violet said.
“What?”
“Any trouble having an orgasm?”
“Uh, no.”
“I thought you said you were having problems. That’s why you made the appointment,” she said.
“Oh, um, yeah. I’m having problems,” Poppy said, playing along.
Violet slowly removed her rubber gloves. Poppy shifted her feet against the cold metal.
“You can’t even come when you masturbate?” Violet said.
“No?” Poppy said, wanting to get the answer right.
“Hmm. This sounds serious,” Violet said, rubbing Poppy’s clit roughly with her thumb. She massaged, rubbing gently and then more firmly, pressing until it was almost painfully swollen. Poppy squirmed on the table. She was afraid she was going to moan, but didn’t want to make any sound. She felt that if she did anything wrong she would ruin the script, and the thought of this somehow terrified her.
“You don’t feel anything?” Violet said.
“No,” Poppy whispered.
Violet shuffled through the items on the tray next to the exam table, and Poppy nervously shifted her ass against the paper underneath her. Her palms were wet with anxiety, her pussy throbbing with the need for release.
“Turn around and get on all fours,” Violet said.
“What?”
“I’m going to cure you. Get on all fours—face the opposite direction from me.”
Poppy had no interest in putting her ass in Violet’s face.
“I don’t know. I . . . I think I feel better all ready.”
“If you’re not going to let me treat you then you can leave.”
“Leave now?”
“Yes. Do you want to come or not?”
“I want to come.”
“Then get on all fours. Doctor’s orders,” she said with a wicked smile. She moved to the side of the table, adjusting it to make it flatter. “Oh, and take off your gown.”
Poppy slowly pulled off the paper gown, dropping it to the floor. Despite all of the times she had taken her clothes off in front of a room full of strangers, she had never felt as self-conscious as she did getting into the position Violet demanded. But she dutifully turned around and got on her hands and knees, her ass in front of Violet.
She felt Violet’s hand, once again in a latex glove, gently tracing the curve of her ass. Her finger moved down, brushing her labia so lightly it was as if Poppy were imagining it. She longed to feel that finger press deep inside her, to trigger the release she needed so badly it was like her entire body was becoming a coil of tension.
And then, nothing. She held the position for a few minutes, resisting the impulse to ask Violet what was going on. And then she felt Violet’s gloved hands spread her ass cheeks and then push something slippery and hard into her anus.
“What are you doing?” Poppy said, turning around and feeling for the object. Violet slapped her hand away.
“I’m treating you. It’s just a butt plug. Relax. Now get on your back again with your legs spread.”
“This feels weird. . . .”
“Keep it in there. Get on your back.”
Poppy turned around, taking deep breaths, trying not to think about the sensation of heat and pressure in her asshole. She spread her legs and lay back on the table. Looking up at the ceiling, she wondered what was wrong with her—why she was in this situation. Surely, this was not healthy behavior.
And then she felt Violet’s bare fingers skimming her pussy lips, then the flick of her tongue against her clit and her fingers pressed inside of her. The combination of the pressure in her ass and the touch on her G-spot made her come so violently, the wave of pleasure was almost like pain. She cried out, calling Violet’s name, saying nonsensical things, shamelessly pressing her pussy closer to Violet, begging for more.
When the last tremor of orgasm subsided, Violet stopped touching her.
“You’re cured,” she said. “You can get dressed now.”
Poppy was too spent to move. She was dizzy with the aftermath of intense physical sensation and the confusion of the encounter. She was vaguely aware of the foreign object still lodged in her rectum. As she raised her pelvis to do something about it, Violet pulled her hand away.
“Leave that in until you get home,” she said.
“It’s uncomfortable,” Poppy said, realizing she sounded like a child.
“I don’t care. It’s part of your treatment. Doctor’s orders. I’m going to sit here and watch you get dressed to make sure you don’t disobey me.”
Poppy stood from the table, her legs shaky. She pulled on her panties, conscious of her anus working to hold the butt plug in place. When she was completely dressed, Violet walked her wordlessly to the door of the room, and sent her down the dark hallway alone.
 
Mallory’s lips still felt slightly bruised from Gavin’s kiss, and this distracted her enough as she opened her apartment door that she didn’t notice the lights were on in the bedroom, when she had most certainly left them turned off.
She flopped down on the couch, leaning back and smiling. Kissing Gavin Stone. This was insanity.
And then she noticed Alec’s shoes at the edge of the couch.
“What the hell?” She jumped up, the light in the bedroom finally registering with her. “Alec?” she called, hurrying into the bedroom. Sure enough, he was at the edge of their dresser, folding clothes into his suitcase.
“Hey,” he said, looking up at her. There was a calm neutrality to his expression that was more alarming than any anger.
“Hi! When did you get here? I thought you weren’t coming back until Sunday.” She resisted the urge to throw her arms around him.
“Kendall got called to New York, so I wrapped things up there sooner than planned.”
Mallory couldn’t help but feel a surge of jealousy at the casual familiarity in the way he called the starlet just Kendall, not Kendall James.
“Oh. How did the interview go?”
“It went well. She’s not jaded enough to stonewall every question, which was lucky for me.” He stood up and closed the suitcase.
“Are you packing, or unpacking?” Mallory asked. Suddenly, the kiss with Gavin seemed as trivial as a prolonged glance exchanged with a stranger on the subway platform.
Alec didn’t answer her, but carried his suitcase to the living room. She followed him, swallowing a lump of despair in her throat.
“Sit down for a minute,” he finally said, after he had already taken a seat on the couch. She sat next to him, both in the same places they had been in when she raced home from the Plaza to find him. But this time he took her hand. “I was thinking a lot while I was gone. I missed you,” he said. She sensed a “but,” and didn’t want to hear it.
“I missed you, too.” Unable to hold back another minute, she put her arms around him. When his circled around her, she started to cry. It felt so good to be close to him, she almost couldn’t breathe.
“Mallory, the thing is, as much as I missed you, at the same time, it was a relief to be away from the constant tension between us.”
“What tension?” she said lamely.
He looked at her as if to say,
Come on
. “I don’t know why you did what you did the night of the Plaza, but I know you’re not a reckless or promiscuous person. There’s something going on in our relationship that led us to that point, and maybe it’s my fault. Maybe in the past I challenged you to push your boundaries, and now you reflexively do that to get my attention. Or maybe I pushed you to open your view of your own sexuality, and now it’s more open than I can handle and it’s my own fault. Either way, I just don’t know what else to do but take a step back. Spend some more time apart. And maybe then we’ll get the answers.”
Mallory reflexively wanted to argue with him, to tell him that was ridiculous, that she didn’t want time apart. But she knew how wrong that would be considering where, how, and with whom she had just spent the last hour. She was scared to admit it, but Alec was right. They needed to step back and see what they really wanted, if they were capable of being in a relationship that didn’t make both of them crazy. So all she said was, “I’m scared.”
“Me too,” he said. He hugged her again, and she breathed him in deeply. She wished she could stay like that forever. But after a minute, Alec patted her leg.
“I’ve got to go,” he said.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“I have to, Mallory.”
“Where are you going to stay?”
“Billy said I can use the
Gruff
corporate apartment for a few weeks.”
Of course he did. And she was sure Billy just loved hearing about their drama. She wondered if Billy Barton knew what it was like to feel such anxiety and uncertainty. Had he ever cared about someone enough to make him or her the center of his world? She doubted it. He seemed emotionally bulletproof. It must be nice.

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