All Eyes On Me

Note: Just a quick heads-up for readers who’ve followed stories of mine on various sites: this one has a very different feel. It was commissioned, with a specific style in mind and a target word count. Because of that, the pacing is faster and the scenes are shorter than what I usually write. The person who requested it has had the story for a while, and we agreed I could share it after a certain amount of time. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy something a little different from me!

I told myself it was a joke when he suggested, Let’s do something wild, something we’ll laugh about later. He’d said it grinning at me and at first I didn’t think that’s where he was actually going to take me.

That’s how I ended up walking behind him through an unmarked door, under a blue light on the edge of the industrial district, wondering if I was insane for agreeing to this. I braced myself for a bunch of sleazy guys, and something I knew I was going to be needing a shower after, to scrub off the idea of where we were.

What I didn’t expect was the way everything changed almost as soon as we stepped inside. There was music accompanying laughter coming from bodies in various stages of undress moving in dim lighting, and then there were eyes. So many eyes. It was pretty much purely older eyes of guys my dad’s age or more.

Men of all types from those with gray at their temples, in pressed shirts half-unbuttoned, to heavyset guys with their sleeves rolled up, and others in jeans and t-shirts. There were also women with curves, some that exuded confidence, and others that I found inspiring by their ability to put themselves out there regardless of how they looked, not to be mean. I stood there in my cheap black dress, at twenty-one and clutching my boyfriend’s hand, feeling like I’d wandered into another world.

“See? They’re all total creeps, just like I said,” he spoke into my ear, over the music. “All these old guys still think they’ve still got it. It’s pathetic.”

But they weren’t looking at him, they were looking at me, and he didn’t understand how that felt. At first I thought I was imagining it, but then I caught the way heads turned when I passed, or the way a man smiled over the rim of his drink. Another openly ogled me, with his hand draped between the thighs of the woman beside him, but his focus was solely on me. It sent a pulse through me with how openly they stared, making no attempt to hide appraising me.

I followed him to the juice bar, wishing to no end that there was **** allowed, and I barely registered it when he spoke to me. He kept mocking everyone around us, but I buzzed with the unadulterated attention. When the bartender leaned closer so I could hear him over the music to say, “You new? Pretty girl like you shouldn’t stay on the sidelines. Go have some fun!” I squirmed a little in my seat.

My cheeks were burning, and when I told my boyfriend, he barked a laugh. “Yeah, no shit he’s trying to get you to do something. Look around, these guys will drool over anyone under thirty. Don’t take it personally.”

But I did, because it felt good. I wandered later, dragging my boyfriend along with me, curious what was around I hadn’t discovered yet. There was a hallway lined with so many rooms. Some had curtains half-drawn, where moans drifted out of them. Others had no doors, and windows on either side of where you entered. There were a few with themes, and one that had devices to restrain somebody. The one thing that every area had, was the smell of sweat and sex that you couldn’t ignore.

I peeked in every room I was able to. Couldn’t help it. An older man was between a woman’s thighs, his salt-and-pepper hair was damp, while he gripped her hips. She was clinging to him, her head thrown back, and her mouth open in a silent cry. She didn’t look embarrassed when she saw us watching. She looked like she was enjoying being worshiped by the man between her legs.

My boyfriend yanked me away. “This is gross. Let’s at least go dance or something. I don’t wanna see some dude old enough to be my dad eating pussy like it’s his last meal.”

I didn’t say anything, but I couldn’t erase what I’d seen. By the time we left, the silence in the car was suffocating. He just focused on driving, while I stared out the window, replaying the night, thinking about every time someone looked at me with want.

“You liked all of that way too much,” he snapped when we pulled into my driveway. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you ate that shit up.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out, because he was right, and I wasn’t sorry. The next weekend, I went back without him. My nerves started to get the better of me, and I almost turned around at the door. I felt like my dress was too red, and tight, coupled with my heels suddenly being a mistake. But then I stepped inside and instantly felt all of those eyes turning to me.

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