Vitali watched from his vintage point as his wife swayed to the music only her ears can hear.
He grit his teeth as the men in the hall got excited at her swaying hips. They are not fools. They could see she is fresh meat, could see her innocence. And it gnawed his insides as they leered at her in lust.
As she turned to give a small dip showing her tantalising back he is not sure who is getting punished. Her or him.
How much far will she go? Where is her line?
He wanted to see. But also, he don't want to. Because, if he has learned any thing about his wife it is that she has a stubborn streak a mile wide. Just like him.
She could go to any length to prove her point. Or will she?
His eyes narrowed as few dared to bare their goods, stroking themselves while watching his wife.
With her each move, his anger mounted. Why is she doing this?
Sebastino stood beside him, his face aloof as he scanned the crowd abstractly. He could tell he is not paying attention to the woman who held the entire crowd in a spell.
When her slightly trembling hand moved towards the zip of her dress something roared inside him. Something primitive.
Something dangerous that screamed over the top of the roof to stake his claim. He didn't question it. His eyes turned red when her hand moved down bringing the zip with it.
They can only see the strip of skin visible through the gap but that is enough to throw his rage over the limit.
He stood swiftly, springing into action.
"Vitali." Sebastino's voice turned alert.
"Close the club."
He didn't have to say it loudly. Neither he had to repeat. Within five minutes, Sebastino along with two of the guards, escorted the customers and staff towards the door mentioning 'security hss been compromised.'
Vitali didn't give shit what Sebastino said to clear the club. He is only glad that it is done before hai wife pulled her gown down.
No one dared question his sudden command.
"Stay outside." Vitali informed the guards and turned towards the chair that gives the direct, clear view of HER.
He could hear the thud of the door but didn't turn around. His attention is ensnared by this sorceress.
She doesn't know that her audience has been dwindled down to one. She don't need to. The thought that she is going through this is humiliation enough. Still, he want to see will she go through this?
His question is answered in next moments when her slip of a dress pooled down on the floor lightly grazing over her skin on the way.
He could see her pebbled nipples from her, could notice the up and down of her breasts. Is it fear? Or is she secretly excited?
Is she someone who thrives on exhibiting?
A muscle on his jaw ticked as he saw her hands move over her body, caressing her smooth skin, enticing it to succumb to the thought of the pleasure it will bring.
His eyes hardened, imagining his hands over her skin rather than hers. He loathed his desire. He desire her even while loathing.
There is no end to it. He want her. At the same time, he don't want to do anything to her.
No. Not him. His body.
When her back arched at the obvious telltale of her peek point, he couldn't control himself. He stood suddenly, closing his eyes, imagining her scent; her taste on his lips. If he stayed one more second under her spell then he is sure he would have lost control of himself.
Clenching his jaw in a death grip, he marched towards the door.
The show is well and truly over. Yet, he don't know who was punished here. Neither does he care.
All he could think of is getting her to his house, to his bed and ravishing her, letting her know whom she belongs to.
His body heated just thinking about that pale skin writhing beneath his, moaning for more as he pounded into her.
By the time he is at the door, he has worked himself to such proportions that his body is taut with lust.
As he grabbed the handle, twisted it and opened the door wide, he came face-to-face with his wife who is already fitting herself into the gown.
But what bothered him more is the look in her eyes. He has never seen such struggle in them. Shame, anger and sorrow battled inside her.
He felt like some one has doused him with cold water. The lust that was simmering inside him, died a quick death inside him.
He took a step inside the room, raising his hand to touch her arm but at her flinch it's progress stopped. His hand hovered there, in the mid-air like a plane in the take-off.
Neither knows the reason behind this gesture. Whether it is to comfort her or to grab her completing her humiliation.
Because at that moment, he knows she wouldn't accept either of them. Suddenly, she stood straight, her face a blank canvas so similar to his that he is taken aback.
He doesn't like it on her. No. He doesn't.
His jaw worked overtime as he hovered beside her while she adjusted her dress. Seeing her blank look disturbed him more than the thought of her naked body before those men.
Has he succeeded in breaking her?
Somehow, it didn't fill him with the content he thought it would bring. To his surprise, he felt a pang of disappointment.
He felt like someone has cut the path short in the middle of a race. Unfinished and incomplete.
He thought he would have more chasing to do, more time to bend her will until she submitted. More time to play with her... just... more.
Well...
Hiding his emotions behind the twin of her mask, Vitali said, "let's go."
She didn't say a word. Not a peep. Neither did she lift her head. Her attention is solely captured by something on her foot.
He missed her defiant stare.
If only she had looked up, she would have known that the club is empty, that the silence is not because they are enjoying her walk of shame but there are none to see her.
If only she had looked up, she would have seen the grand gesture he made by escorting the high rollers out of his club without any explanation, the insult he dealt them for the sake of her modesty.
If only she had looked up...
If only...