Indecent (The Cage Sessions Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

say.
    Damien leans forward, laughing, and puts his
hands together. Then he gives me that damned Lord Byron underlook
again.
    "You know you want to come," he says.
    He had to phrase it like that, didn't he?
    I search my brain for a word, but I can't
find anything in English. Just grunts.
    "In fact," he says, "you're wet right now
just thinking about it."
    My mouth hangs open. Still no words.
    "But who am I kidding?" he says. "You've been
wet ever since I walked out of the house and talked to the girls at
the pool, haven't you? They're nice, aren't they? Not much in the
boob department, but as I'm sure you know I'm an ass man. They've
all followed the rule. That's why they're allowed to stay and play
in the pool. Funny thing is, once they succumb to the rule, they
never seem to want to leave."
    Damien Cage or not, I'm not just a dumb
number. My inner bitch comes alive, overriding my pussy. Thank God
I do have some self-respect.
    "I think I'd better go," I say.
    "You need it," he says. "You'd be happier. I
can bring you there."
    I look over at the bouncing nymphs in the
water. One screams as she falls trying to grab the ball.
    "And become one of them?" I say as I tuck my
notepad into my bag. "No thanks, Mr. Cage. That's not the life for
me."
    I throw my voice recorder in my bag. I stand
up and extend my hand.
    "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr.
Cage."
    He stands up and takes my hand. He pulls me
closer to him. I can smell his breath. It's fruity with a hint of
rum.
    My knees go all wobbly.
    "You could never be one of them," he says.
"Not even if you tried. You're worth a thousand of them. Girls like
you are rare."
    He leans in and whispers in my ear. I am
paralyzed.
    "The most intelligent girls respond best to
the rule," he says. "It opens up something in their souls. They
start to think better. They create better. They expand their minds.
It's like a smart drug. One hit and you can see the matrix."
    "I..." I say, "um... really... ought...
to..."
    He lets go of my hand and pushes me away. He
picks up his drink and turns toward his house.
    "Friday night ten p.m." he says. "Think about
it, then come."
    I watch him walk away, his calf muscles
flexing with each stride. His back is a monument of stony rippled
delight. There's a new tattoo on his left side. I didn't notice it
before and now he's too far away for me to read it. Looks like
writing of some sort. I know he's an avid reader so I bet it's
something literary.
    I take a deep breath, pick up my bag, and
attempt to teach myself how to walk again.
    I stumble to my car like an old wino, shaking
all the way.
    God, I need some water!
    I get in my Toyota Corolla and just sit there
for a second staring up at the house.
    Shit, can I? Would I?
    Fuck, I think I might.
    I start my engine.
    Friday night, huh?
    But I know his rule. Shit. I can't imagine
doing that.
    But his words come back to me.
    The most intelligent girls respond best to
the rule. It opens up something in their souls. They start to think
better. They create better. They expand their minds. It's like a
smart drug. One hit and you can see the matrix.
    I pull out of his long driveway and take a
right.
    God, I want to see the matrix!
    But the rule scares me.
    I know what he teaches girls. I've heard the
stories. And most of them say the way he does it is a life-changing
experience.
    But I'm not ready for that.
    Or am I?
    Could I?
    Maybe.
    Damien Cage's rule is "Everybody must get
fisted."
    Anally.
    Shit.
    Once I hit Main, instead of taking a left to
go home I take a right and head downtown.
    I need to get fucked.
    And fast.
     

Chapter 4
     
    My ex Jared works in one of those glittery
shiny skyscrapers downtown. I park in the big garage
underneath.
    I get in the elevator with a tall black man
in a suit carrying a briefcase. He holds the door for me and
presses the button for Floor 13.
    "Floor?" he says with a smile.
    "Twenty-six," I say. He presses the button
for me. "Thanks."
    "My pleasure."
    Shit, what if Jared doesn't