Read Online S.E.C.R.E.T.: An Erotic Novel by L. Marie Adeline - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: L. Marie Adeline
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I wasn’t sure what it meant. I had
been assured I’d be safe, that I could stop anything whenever I wanted. I ticked the
box.
I want to be with someone famous
. What? How could they pull that off? This seemed impossible, interesting. Tick.
I want to be rescued
. Rescued from what? I put a checkmark in the box.
I want to be picked to be the princess
. Oh God, what woman didn’t want that? I was always considered the nice one, the smart
one, maybe even the funny one. But I had never been the pretty one, the princess,
never in my whole life. So yes to this. Sure. Even though it sounded childish. I wanted
to feel that. Just once.
I want to be blindfolded
. I imagined being in the dark might be liberating, so I checked the box.
I want to have sex in an exotic place with an exotic stranger
. Technically weren’t they all strangers, these men I’d be with, who I’d never see
again? With no talking, no speaking, just bodies brushing past each other, and then … maybe
he’d grasp my wrist … Keep writing.
I want to role-play
. Could I do that? Be someone else, not me? Would I have the guts? I could always
back out if I had to.
So this became my list: nine fantasies that would be followed by a final decision.
And, as instructed, I wrote them in the order in which I thought I could handle them.
I looked at them one last time. My head filled with all the wonder and worry and joy
and fear that these fantasies would release. Imagine getting everything you ever wanted
and more. Imagine being what other people want and desire—every inch of you—exactly
as you are. This was happening. This was happening
to me
. I had thought my life was winding down, but it was about to change forever.
When I was done, I called Danica.
“Hello, Cassie,” she said.
“How did you know it was me?” I asked, glancing uneasily out my front window.
“Er, call display?”
“Right. So I know it’s late, but Matilda told me to call as soon as I was done. So
I’m done—I have them … selected.”
“What?”
“You know … the list.”
There was silence.
“List?” she prodded.
“My …
fantasies
,” I whispered.
“Oh, Cassie. We definitely found the right candidate in you. You can’t even say the
word!” She giggled. “I’ll sendsomeone right over, sweetie. And hold tight. Things are about to get
very
interesting.”
Fifteen minutes later, my front doorbell rang. I whipped it open expecting to see
a scraggly teenage courier, but a lanky, good-looking man leaned against the doorjamb.
He had puppy-dog brown eyes, and wore a hoodie, white T-shirt and jeans. He looked
about thirty years old.
He smiled. “I’m here to fetch your folder. And I’m also instructed to give you this.
You must open it now.”
I couldn’t make out his accent. Was it Spanish? He passed me a small cream-colored
envelope. It had the letter
C
on the outside.
I slid my finger under the flap and ripped it open. Inside was a card that read:
Step One
. My heart sped up. “What does the card say?” he asked.
I looked up at this impossibly handsome man, this courier, or whatever he was, in
front of me. “You want me to read it?”
“Yes, you must.”
“It says …
‘Surrender.’
” My voice was barely audible.
“You will be asked at the beginning of every fantasy if you accept this Step. Do you
accept this Step?”
I gulped.
“Which Step?”
“Step One, of course.
Surrender
. You must surrender to the fact that you need help.
Sexually
.”
My God, he practically purred the word. He placed a hand under his T-shirt and touched
his stomach while he leaned on the doorjamb and took me in with his eyes.
“Do you?” he asked.
I didn’t know it would all begin
this
quickly.
“I … with you? Now?”
“Do you accept the Step?” he asked, moving ever so slightly towards me.
I could hardly speak. “What … what will happen?”
“Nothing, unless you accept the
been assured I’d be safe, that I could stop anything whenever I wanted. I ticked the
box.
I want to be with someone famous
. What? How could they pull that off? This seemed impossible, interesting. Tick.
I want to be rescued
. Rescued from what? I put a checkmark in the box.
I want to be picked to be the princess
. Oh God, what woman didn’t want that? I was always considered the nice one, the smart
one, maybe even the funny one. But I had never been the pretty one, the princess,
never in my whole life. So yes to this. Sure. Even though it sounded childish. I wanted
to feel that. Just once.
I want to be blindfolded
. I imagined being in the dark might be liberating, so I checked the box.
I want to have sex in an exotic place with an exotic stranger
. Technically weren’t they all strangers, these men I’d be with, who I’d never see
again? With no talking, no speaking, just bodies brushing past each other, and then … maybe
he’d grasp my wrist … Keep writing.
I want to role-play
. Could I do that? Be someone else, not me? Would I have the guts? I could always
back out if I had to.
So this became my list: nine fantasies that would be followed by a final decision.
And, as instructed, I wrote them in the order in which I thought I could handle them.
I looked at them one last time. My head filled with all the wonder and worry and joy
and fear that these fantasies would release. Imagine getting everything you ever wanted
and more. Imagine being what other people want and desire—every inch of you—exactly
as you are. This was happening. This was happening
to me
. I had thought my life was winding down, but it was about to change forever.
When I was done, I called Danica.
“Hello, Cassie,” she said.
“How did you know it was me?” I asked, glancing uneasily out my front window.
“Er, call display?”
“Right. So I know it’s late, but Matilda told me to call as soon as I was done. So
I’m done—I have them … selected.”
“What?”
“You know … the list.”
There was silence.
“List?” she prodded.
“My …
fantasies
,” I whispered.
“Oh, Cassie. We definitely found the right candidate in you. You can’t even say the
word!” She giggled. “I’ll sendsomeone right over, sweetie. And hold tight. Things are about to get
very
interesting.”
Fifteen minutes later, my front doorbell rang. I whipped it open expecting to see
a scraggly teenage courier, but a lanky, good-looking man leaned against the doorjamb.
He had puppy-dog brown eyes, and wore a hoodie, white T-shirt and jeans. He looked
about thirty years old.
He smiled. “I’m here to fetch your folder. And I’m also instructed to give you this.
You must open it now.”
I couldn’t make out his accent. Was it Spanish? He passed me a small cream-colored
envelope. It had the letter
C
on the outside.
I slid my finger under the flap and ripped it open. Inside was a card that read:
Step One
. My heart sped up. “What does the card say?” he asked.
I looked up at this impossibly handsome man, this courier, or whatever he was, in
front of me. “You want me to read it?”
“Yes, you must.”
“It says …
‘Surrender.’
” My voice was barely audible.
“You will be asked at the beginning of every fantasy if you accept this Step. Do you
accept this Step?”
I gulped.
“Which Step?”
“Step One, of course.
Surrender
. You must surrender to the fact that you need help.
Sexually
.”
My God, he practically purred the word. He placed a hand under his T-shirt and touched
his stomach while he leaned on the doorjamb and took me in with his eyes.
“Do you?” he asked.
I didn’t know it would all begin
this
quickly.
“I … with you? Now?”
“Do you accept the Step?” he asked, moving ever so slightly towards me.
I could hardly speak. “What … what will happen?”
“Nothing, unless you accept the
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