Secrets- Part 1
○Pairing: Office!Mark x Reader (Female) x Jungwoo ○Other Members/ Characters: brief mention of a character named Doyoung. ○Genre: smut ○Warnings: no smut in part 1 ○Word count: 6,007
→Summary: Who says office workers can’t have a little fun? There’s a secret sex party that your whole office can’t stop talking about. At first, you’re not sure if you’re someone that could have sex in front of strangers, but there is something that keeps drawing you in. Trying to face your fears, you get dressed up in your prettiest dress and attend the masquerade ball without fully committing, telling yourself that you can just bail if you can’t do it. When you arrive, a mystery man takes your hand, and pulls you deep into a world you never dreamed you could be a part of.
→Notes:
An anon requested a Jungwoo, Reader, Mark threesome & this is the result of that.
This was only meant to a one shot, but it was so long that I had to divide it into three parts.
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Friday
You’d never heard of anything like it. There was something naive about how you perceived the world, your wide-eyed stare, and your metaphorical pearls clutched in your good-girl fists. You liked to think you were beyond being a prude since you kissed Kim Doyoung at your middle school’s playground, your tongue jammed halfway down his throat, but there was much to the world you still didn’t know about. You had liked the way he made you feel, a bit like you were on top of the world. It was the last time you had taken control like that, the last time you had felt any passion. Since then, you’d entered relationship after relationship, having sex with men quietly, all while letting them come and go as they pleased.
Word traveled fast through the people at your office, their excitement dribbling down their chins, and into their coffee cups. It wasn’t a company affair, but it felt like everyone was attending. You thought a sex party was only for a certain type of person, and you definitely didn’t think Janet from accounting was one of those people. At first, your co-workers mentioning the word ‘sex’ so casually in a workplace setting threw you off. Your cheeks grew red, and it took everything in you not to cover your face with a stack of papers. After trying to escape the talk for weeks, it followed you everywhere until you decided to give in. You were a sex positive person, and you could take a little of the heat.
You cornered your office bestie one afternoon, and asked her what exactly the party was about, and how many people would be attending. She was a wife, a mother of newborn twins who sneaked off into the bathroom to breast pump when she could. You knew it was a long shot asking her, but she was also the nosiest person you knew.
“How would I know?” she asked. “It does sound like a lot of fun. I’m kind of sad that I won’t be able to go. Do you think there is a kink for mothers who--actually, you know what, I don’t want to know.”
“It’s for single people?” you asked.
“It’s for anyone who likes and wants to fuck.”
The word ‘fuck’ always made you wince; it felt harsh coming from peoples mouths, especially yours. You smoothed your pencil skirt and tried a different tactic.
“Do you think someone like me could attend?” you said, adding “hypothetically” at the last moment.
At that, she laughed. She wasn’t pitying you, just wasn’t taking you seriously enough. When you didn’t smile, her mouth fell into a frown. She looked around her and leaned in so that no one could hear your conversation. Your work floor was full of like-minded people who eavesdropped, and with the latest news, everyone was trying to find out who was attending the party. You didn’t love the thought of Monday arriving, and finding out which of your co-workers liked to be spanked.
“Do you think you could handle something like that?” she asked. “You don’t seem the type.”
You sat on the edge of a desk and tried to look like you were a relaxed person that wasn’t fazed by much. You pushed your hair to the side and stuck your chest out, but stopped when her mouth started to break out into a smile. There was a con to having a young face, and you were sure that was part of it.
“I’m sorry, “ she said. “I don’t want to offend you, babe, but this hardly seems like something you would do. Maybe I don’t know you that well. We all have our secrets.”
You hunched over and looked all around the room. It was Friday, and people were gearing up for the weekend. You tried to imagine what everyone would look like in full Masquerade formal wear, the masks on their faces hiding their true selves. Everyone knew the masks didn’t hide much, but you thought the thrill was in pretending that it did.
“I’m not sure what happens at those things,” you said. “Does everyone meet up and decide who they want to be with? Do they date? Is it just sex and no dating at all?”
“Oh, you poor misguided child.”
“I’m not a child. Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m sorry, again,” she said. “Look, you can go and check it out. You don’t have to sleep with anyone if you don’t want to.”
“Won’t people be angry if I don’t participate?”
“Consent is important at things like that,” she said. “Ask Regina from sales. She’s been to a lot of sex parties. I think she met her boyfriend at one.”
Your office bestie left you soon after to go home. You felt just as confused as before you talked to her, your mind pulling you in all different directions. You were very curious about the party, but in a way that you didn’t want to be involved, you just wanted to see how everything went down. Your thoughts made you feel aimless, so until you were dismissed, you walked around the office trying to overhear conversations you weren’t a part of.
“The girls don’t get to choose who they fuck,” someone said. “That is where the fun is.”
Another chimed in, “No, it’s the men who don’t. It’s ladies choice.”
You tilted so far into their cubicle that someone's calendar fell to the floor. Everyone looked at you, waiting for you to say something. You acted like you were just shuffling through papers in your hand, oblivious to everything. Luckily, Mark, the copy boy, came by and grabbed your elbow, spinning you around.
“Hey!” he said, “How are you? I haven’t seen you all week.”
Mark led you through a back hallway, his fingers still on your elbow. You liked being around Mark. He was fairly new to the office, but he brought an interesting vibe to the place. He was only a copy boy, but everyone adored him like he was the most important man on the floor. There was always a smile on his face, and he brought in pastries for people without asking. Word around the office was that everyone had a crush on him.
“I’m okay!” you said, matching his excitement.
“Happy for the weekend?”
“I am. Are you?”
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s nice to rest my hands. I’ve gotten so many paper cuts since I’ve been here.”
Mark let go of your elbow and showed you his hands. They were small and veined, with a brush of light hair across the top. You smiled, your eyes practically lighting up as if he showed you a pot of gold. It wasn’t odd for you to have a little office crush every once in a while, but Mark made you feel like you were back on that playground again.
“Ouch,” you said. “You have to be careful.”
“I’m always too rough with my hands.”
You looked down at the floor, the nerves getting to you. Mark bent over and tried to get you to look at him. When you locked eyes, he broke out into a smile.
“You’re still shy around me?” he asked. “That’s sweet.”
“I’m not-”
“-It’s okay,” he said. “I like it. Anyway, I hope you have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Okay, “ you said. “I’ll see you.”
You watched Mark walk away, your eyes going straight to his firm ass. He turned back once to give you a little wave, which you returned lamely. When he was gone from view, you banged your head against the wall, keeping it there for a whole minute before you returned to your desk.
Saturday
You knew the address. You knew the time. You knew how to get there by car. You knew what you would wear, what you wanted your makeup to look like. You knew all it took was a bit of courage, and maybe a dash of tequila.
You stood in your apartment staring at The Dress. It hung on the back of your door on a hanger, it’s fabric nearly reaching the floor. You were meant to wear it on a fancy date once, but the date had bailed on you last minute. The dress had sat in your closet ever since, just begging to be let out and loved. You tried it on only once, in the store, the sales clerk helping you into it. It was burgundy and made of imitation silk, with a plunging neckline, cinched in waist, and a long slit up the right leg. It was much sexier of a garment than you would usually wear, but it made you feel expensive.
You planned on going to the party, or rather, the ball, as it was called. You weren’t going to participate, just walk in and see what everything was about. You knew that if you weren’t comfortable, you could easily reverse your decision and everyone there would respect you. Still, even with the safety net in place, you felt fear clawing up your spine like a cold hand.
You went into your kitchen and took another shot. It didn’t go down smoothly so you scrunched up your face. Before you could fully chicken out, you removed your clothes and bra, and slipped into the dress. Everything seemed to come together from there, your hair falling in loose waves around your shoulders, your makeup dramatic all the way down to the dark red lipstick. You didn’t want to look in the mirror and assess yourself in case you saw the little office girl staring back at you, so you left and caught a cab.
When you arrived, you couldn’t stop staring up at the building. It loomed overhead like a palace, pretty gold pillars and stained glass windows as far as your eyes could see. There were people milling around, designer bags on their arms, masks on their faces, and their hair adorned with jewels. You couldn’t imagine your average office worker attending, let alone yourself. You looked down at your dress and suddenly felt out of place. You hugged yourself and walked towards the entrance, moving your legs forward like a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time.
“Name?”
You stopped behind a line of people trying to get inside the ball. A big burly man stood at the doorway, with a tablet in his hand, and his fingers scanning down a list of names. You tried inching closer to hear what the people at the front were whispering to him, but you were too wobbly in your heels. A few people walked out of line looking dejected, which made you start to sweat. You weren’t aware there was a list to get inside, and you weren’t that great at handling rejection. You looked around you and thought about dipping out, but the line behind you was so long that any movement would make all eyes watch you. Very slowly, you moved to the front of the line, your heart sinking down to your asshole.
“Name?”
With one person left to go before the man asked you your name, you felt a hand around your wrist. Before you realized what was happening, you were whisked out of line and through the door. The hand attached to you belonged to a man in a black suit, but all you could see was the back of his head. The man at the door let both of you pass through without looking up from his tablet. You were brought into a dark entryway, and before you could get a better look at the man, you were left in total darkness.
“Oh, you’ve been picked.” a female voice said.
A woman came walking out of the dark. She was wearing a tight, white dress and heels so high she towered over you. Like everyone else, there was a masquerade mask on her face, its edges decorated with white pearls and lace. Her red hair was scraped up into a neat bun that sat on top of her head. Her voice was higher than any you’ve ever heard before, which could have been annoying to some, but you found it oddly addicting. You felt too googly-eyed around her, too new and too young.
“Picked?” you asked.
“Is this your first time?” she asked.
A few women entered behind you. When they opened the door to the main hall, a light so brilliant illuminated everything. If you were that kind of person, you would have believed you were getting ready to walk into heaven, but the door shut as quickly as it had opened, and you were brought back into the dim room, back into the conversation with the mysterious woman.
“Yes.” you said.
She sat down in a chair and crossed her legs. It was then that you realized you weren’t wearing the mask you brought, and that everyone could see who you were. You rummaged around in your bag and pulled your mask out. You had found a plastic one at a party store, the kind you decorate yourself. You ended up putting a few black feathers and sequins around it just to blend in, but it was clear that your mask looked like a child made it.
“I’m surprised,” she said. “Not a lot of virgins get picked their first time. Darling, don’t take offense to that. We call first timers virgins here. It’s no wonder someone snatched you up so quickly. You do look like a scared little baby.”
“I’m not sure I’m supposed to be here.”
“That’s what they all say,” she said. “Some of them don’t even make it through the second door.”
“Is that why you’re here?” you asked. “To coax virgins who want to run?”
She laughed, her laugh like the cracking of glass. “Me? What makes you think I have the patience. I don’t work here. I’m just a surveyor. I like to watch the fun.”
You looked back towards the first door and thought about leaving. No one had come through the door since the last group of girls. Everything was feeling too quiet, too still. You looked back at the woman and opened your mouth to speak, but closed it just as soon as you did.
“Go ahead,” she said. “What do you want to know? Better yet, what do you know?”
“My work,” you started. “They said it was a sex club, a sex party.”
“Office work?”
“Yes.”
“We get a lot of those types,” she said. “They’re lazy and don’t put in the work. A lot of them go through rooms acting like idiots who have never seen a tit in their lives. The thing about these kinds of..what did you call it? A sex party? Is that it always attracts the wrong people. “
“Am I the wrong person?”
“That’s not for me to judge,” she said. “You were picked before you even made it inside, so that tells me that someone thinks you’re the right person.”
A loud bell interrupted your thought process. It rang three times before the woman raised her eyebrows and stood up. She went to the door and put her hands on a handle that looked like a stemmed rose. Before she opened it, she stopped and looked at you, giving your body a once-over.
“They smell fear,” she said. “It’s important to know that.”
When she opened the door, you were gifted with the light again. She held it open for you and you walked on through, not daring to look behind you.
The ballroom was gorgeous. At first glance, you felt blinded by the beauty in every corner. A giant marble staircase with lush red carpet running down it stood in the center, it’s steps leading both left and right as if guests were given a choice of which way they wanted to go. The floor you were standing on itself looked so delicate, as if it would crack as soon as you dug your heel into it. The room was set up like a party, with food and drink being served, and round tables everywhere for guests to sit. Music was playing softly, acting more like the soundtrack to the guests chatter. There were so many people mingling on the floor, their outfits perfectly pressed and masks perfectly crafted, that you felt overwhelmed. You looked around for the woman, but she had disappeared into the sea of people.
“Drink?”
A man with a tray came over and offered you a flute of champagne. You were getting ready to take it until a man sidled up to you and told you that it would be easier if you just sucked one down. You moved away from him, losing yourself in the black suits and ties, the ball gowns and their satin. You didn’t know where you were going or what you were going to do, but it seemed like the right move to make. You found yourself by a table of food, grabbed a little pig in the blanket and shoved it into your mouth. You chewed nervously, looking all around for a sign of what to do next.
You still had no idea what would happen at the ball. As far as you could see, it looked like any normal formal party, with people too rich for their own good talking out of their asses. There wasn’t any talk of sex, no table full of condoms, or people fucking in the middle of the floor, just a bunch of investment talk and showing off.
“You’re supposed to talk to people.”
The redheaded woman came back. Her voice made you jump and drop your fifth pig in the blanket on the floor. You ignored it as it rolled underneath a table.
“I’m shy.” you said.
“You’re in the wrong place,” she said. “Come on, these people don’t bite, well, unless you want them too. Aren’t you curious what person chose you?”
“I guess.”
You tried to remember if you saw any part of his face, but all you could remember was the back of his head and the way his hand felt: warm and familiar. Everything happened so fast that it was impossible to know who he was. With the masks, it was even more impossible.
“It’s not for everyone, darling.” she said.
There was something about the way she said ‘Darling’ that made you feel angry. You didn’t want to be someone's first choice, someone's darling, someone's virgin. You could easily belong with these people, even with your shitty mask.
“Alright, I see some fire behind those eyes,” she said. “I’m just saying, you don’t have to feel guilty if you want to back out. But by all means, go get yourself some sweet cock.”
With that, she disappeared again. You thought about grabbing another pig in the blanket but thought better of it. You walked to the other end of the room, loving the way the slit on your thigh revealed your smooth leg. You could feel the burn on your skin from the eyes that watched you as you passed, mostly men’s eyes. The embarrassment about the mask washed away, and what was left felt like a steely determination to make the best of things. You scanned the room for your man, but everyone melted into one person.
“You’re beautiful.” a man said.
“Thanks.”
When you didn’t pay him as much attention as he paid you, he gradually faded away. You kept your eyes on the crowds of people arriving and leaving, arms linked with arms, hands dipping underneath skirts. You didn’t know how long you had to listen to strange men telling you how pretty you were, but there was something about it that began to build onto your confidence. You straightened your posture a little and thought of yourself as the baddest bitch around. It was a little silly, but it really helped ease the nerves.
“Hi,” he said. “Can I stand here?”
The timidness of the voice coming from your left startled you. You turned and thought you would find someone small, but the man beside you soared over you, his body seemingly going on for miles. He wore a dark blue suit, with a casual white t-shirt tucked into it, and no tie. His ash gray hair was curly and stuck out in all directions. He reminded you a little bit of a dog, which made you instantly feel comfortable.
“Yes,” you said. “I would love that.”
You were sure he wasn’t your man because he was much too tall, and his hair wasn’t the same color, but that didn’t stop you from talking to him. In that moment, you desperately wanted it to be him. You could tell he felt the same way by the way he let his breath go as if he had been holding it in. He smiled and offered you a sip of his drink, which you accepted.
“I’m nervous.” he said.
“Me too.”
“I’m a virgin,” he said. “Well, I’m not actually a virgin but…”
“It’s okay, “ you said. “By their standards, I am also a virgin.”
There was a little bit of awkwardness in the air as you revealed what kind of people you were. You didn’t think you would meet anyone like yourself so early, but it was like the heavens were giving you a chance to interact.
“Do you know what happens at these things?” you asked.
If he was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it. Like a manual, he read out a list of rules that made no sense to you. He stated it so matter-of-fact that, after he was done, he looked at you like you would give him a treat.
“Wait,” you said. “The men choose?”
“The women can choose, too,” he said. “It’s whoever gets there first.”
“How does anyone else know who's been chosen?” you asked. “Is there some kind of name tag I was supposed to get?”
“No,” he said, wide-eyed. “Everyone here has been chosen. Well, some just watch.”
The little bit of information he gave you was blowing your mind. You tried to make sense of it all, tried remembering the rules he told you, but everything felt fuzzy.
“So…,” you began. “Were you chosen?”
“I was.”
You felt sad at the thought of someone else claiming him. You didn’t want to leave his side. There was something about his presence that made you want to be around him.
“A woman chose you?”
“A man,” he said. “I didn’t get to see his face, but he was shorter than me. He pulled me out of line and brought me inside. I didn’t get to say much to him before he disappeared.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“My name,” he said. “He said my name like he knew who I was.”
It occurred to you to ask him what his name was. When he told you he was named Jungwoo, you told him your name back. He blushed when you told him you liked the way he said your name.
“We both have a mystery man and we don’t know who he is,” you said. “How do we find him?”
“We don’t. We wait.”
“We what?”
“Didn’t you read the rule book?” he asked.
You shook your head no. “Coming here was a spur of the moment thing.”
“That’s brave,” he said. “I’ve been talking myself out of it for weeks. I only came tonight because I lost a bet. Is this something you’ve been wanting to do?”
“Have sex with a random stranger? Not exactly.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked.
“Sure.”
Jungwoo leaned down closer to your ear. “I wish it were you.”
Before you could respond, the lights went out and mood lighting was set. You looked up at the massive chandeliers and felt the way the excitement buzzed through the air. During this, Jungwoo’s hand reached out instinctively to hold yours. The music got a little louder, the drunkenness a little bit more apparent. Jungwoo removed his hand from yours and watched you looking from face-to-face.
“We don’t have sex here, do we?”
“No. There are rooms.”
“Can everyone watch?”
“If they pay,” he said. “Typically it’s about 10 people a room, plus the people who put on the show. It’s all done voluntary, and with complete consent. “
“Are there private rooms?”
“Not here on the ground floor ,” Jungwoo said. “But people choose to go upstairs to the hotel rooms for the night.”
The nerves were coming back. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your hands were sweaty. You felt exposed in your own body, though you were wearing a mask to give your identity some dignity.
“You never have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Jungwoo said.
“What do you want to do, Jungwoo?”
“I want to participate.”
“I think I do, too,” you said. “If you excuse me, I’m going to find my man.”
Jungwoo didn’t say anything as you walked away from him. You felt like you glided across the floor, touching shoulders as you went, looking at every mask to find any details of the man who brought you inside. You thought about shouting for him over the noise, but you weren’t sure that would be taken well in a place so organized. Your other choice was to wait. You were deciding what to do when you saw Jungwoo being led somewhere by a woman without a mask. You didn’t have time to wonder where he was going when you felt a body press against yours. Instinctively, you tried turning around, but a hand around your wrist and the other on your waist stilled you.
“Don’t move,” a deep voice whispered in your ear. “Do you want me?”
You knew it was him. You didn’t have to look him in the face to know it was the same person who brought you inside. His body was so close to yours that you could feel all of him, the bulge in his pants against your ass, his heart racing against your back. After you said yes, he snaked his hands down your thigh, his fingers pausing just an inch inside the slit of your dress. With the other hand, he unclasped your wrist and brought it up to your neck.
“I’ve been watching you.” he said.
“Isn’t that kind of creepy?”
You didn’t care if people were watching you, but of course they were. His hand on your thigh made you feel so good that you struggled to keep your eyes open. You leaned your head back a little, and you let his hand grip your throat lightly.
“Maybe.” he laughed.
“Why me?”
“First, it was the dress,” he said. “It doesn’t leave much to the imagination, does it?”
You felt his hand cup your pussy over your underwear. His fingers were feather light against the lace, your pussy lips practically quivering as he drew circles, tracing the pattern with his fingertips. He brought his other hand from your neck and slid it between your breasts. You both swayed in place, dancing to music that no one else could hear.
“And second?” you asked, your breath getting caught in your throat.
His hand went up your throat again and grabbed your chin. He pulled your chin down so that you could see all of the people looking at you, all the men staring with envy in their eyes.
“Look at how much they want you,” he said. “Look at how much you’re all mine.”
His fingers went underneath your underwear. He swiped his hand against you to feel your wetness. His hand came up to show you how you glistened in the light.
“Am I yours?” he asked. “Tell me, and it all begins.”
He let go of you and you could still feel his touch on your body. You rocked backwards, but were met with air.
“You’re mine.” you said.
He moved a stray hair from your neck and kissed you. His lips were soft and wet, his kiss sweet. Before leaving, he whispered in your ear and told you someone would be along shortly to collect you.
Waiting felt like an eternity. You hadn’t felt that excited in a long time, like you would explode from the anticipation alone. Being touched like that in front of all of those people felt thrilling. They knew how your face looked with fingers inside of your pussy, and hands at your throat. They knew how fast you would crumble, and they would pay to see it. Going along with it felt too crazy of a thing for you. People from your work were probably watching your every move, and soon they would see what you looked like spread eagle on whatever surface you would be fucked on.
About twenty minutes later, a different woman than the one who collected Jungwoo came for you. She was taller than you by a good five inches, and her face was all business and all pleasure. You didn’t know what to say to her, so you just stayed quiet and followed her out through am unmarked door off to the side.
“You need to sign a few forms,” she said. “Nothing too scary, just for legal purposes. You understand?”
“Yes.”
She brought you into a room that operated as an office. You sat in chair with a yellow light bringing out the worst tones in your skin. You could pick yourself apart in the office and the woman would be none-the-wiser.
“Sign on the dotted line and on the next page,” she said, handing you a clipboard. “You can read it, if you want, but it’s just a guide to understand that all participants safety is our main concern. When you’re done signing, I need to ask you about personal matters such as contraceptives and stuff like that. Do you consent?”
After you agreed and signed the papers, she went over a few more things. Hearing her talk was daunting. She was fast and sure, her words spilling out like she had spoken them a million times, but you were struggling to keep up.
“All set,” she said. “The important thing is to have fun. If you’re not having fun, there is no point.”
“Okay.”
She stood up and you followed. She opened the door and you walked through. She escorted you down a long hallway with funky colored carpet and brown walls. The sconces on the wall looked like they belonged to a cheap motel, which was a far cry from the main ballroom. At the end of the hallway, was another door, but this one had a key code.
“This is serious.” you whispered.
“Safety is important to us,” she said. “We want our participants and our surveyors to feel safe. Nothing will be recorded for this purpose. Phones are taken away before they ever reach the room, which reminds me, give me your bag.”
You handed over the small bag you brought and watched as she tucked it under her arm. When she saw your face, she assured you nothing would happen to your belongings.
“Beyond this point,” she said. “You can choose to keep the mask on, or not. Most people like it on for the slight anonymity, but some do get brave.”
“I want it off.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
You whipped the mask off and handed it to her before you could change your mind. You’re sure she was used to ridiculous displays of bravado, and judging by the look on her face, you were also sure she didn’t take you seriously.
“Are you ready?”
“You make it sound like I’m being thrown to the wolves.” you said, nervous laughter following behind.
“Well, Mark did choose you,” she said. “And that boy likes to play.”
“Mark?”
The door swung open, revealing another long hallway with a bunch of rooms. Every room had a door with a number on it. The woman told you only participants can walk through those doors and that once they were all inside, the doors would lock for safety reasons.
“No one tries to get through,” she said. “But it’s an extra protection. This way, no one can just join in if they feel like it, or are too drunk to stop themselves. These rooms are only for surveyors.”
Where there should have been walls, there was a floor to ceiling sheet of glass so that people could easily see everything going on inside the room.
“It’s like a cage.” you said.
“We were going to do a two-way mirror type of deal but we realized that people find it sexier if they can see the people watching them.” she said.
The thought of people watching you have sex was finally sinking in. Even though you could opt out at any time, you felt like you were at the point of no return. You had felt him on you, felt his breath on your neck, and there wasn’t much that could tear you away.
“You’re in room four,” she said. “ Before you go in, I’m going to have to blind fold you.”
“What? Why?”
“Virgin rules.”
She turned you around herself and tied a red sash around your head to cover your eyes. Not being able to see made you feel vulnerable. She told you to stand in place while she opened the door with her keys. She held your hand as she directed you inside, her voice making you feel more anxious as you moved inside.
“Stand right here.” she said.
She pulled you to a spot and stopped you before you went too far. Standing there felt awkward, so you clasped your arms in front of you and tried to remain calm.
“Things will start shortly,” she said. “Any questions?”
“Am I the only one in this room?” you asked.
“I can’t tell you that,” she said. “Any other questions?”
“No.”
“Good. Remember to have fun, and use protection.”
You heard the door shut. The silence in the room felt uncomfortable. You could hear yourself breathing too heavily. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. You thought about removing your blindfold, but you didn’t want to get in trouble. All you could think about were the stacks of papers you signed and what the repercussions were for breaking a rule. After what felt like another eternity, you heard movement. When the door opened, voices poured into the room, which made you feel scared. As soon as the door shut, the voices vanished.
“Who’s there?” you asked.
You could hear the footsteps walk across the room, taking their time. They weren’t going to you, but heading further away. You could hear whispering, but couldn’t make out the words. When you put your fingers to the blindfold to tear it off, a voice suggested that was a bad idea.
“Going too fast could ruin the whole thing,” he said. “I like to take my time.”
“It’s you.”
“Of course it’s me,” he said. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“Are there people watching us?”
“They are, but they can’t hear us just yet.”
“Why can’t we hear them?”
“It’s the way things are,” he said. “They hear us, we don’t hear them. It’s just us in our little world.”
You swallowed. It was so loud that you swore he could hear it. His footsteps moved towards you and your whole body clammed up. He stopped in front of you and skimmed his fingers down your cheek.
“You really shouldn’t be so shy around me.” he said.
He reached up to untie the red sash around your eyes. It fell like ribbon to the floor, and you got to watch it land at your feet. You looked at his shoes, but couldn’t bring yourself to look up much further than that. He touched your chin and brought your gaze up to meet his. When you looked into his eyes, the world shifted.
“Mark.” you whispered.