My heartbeat pounds against the cold wet pressure as my eyes struggle to focus on Penelope, forgetting everything I should be concentrating on.
I can’t give away exactly how I do it, but needless to say, I do embellish the struggle a little.
Usually, for effect. So the crowd has something to add to the suspense.
Today though, my struggle gets real, and pretty fucking fast.
I’ve got no idea how long I’ve been staring at Penelope through the three-inch thick glass. But once I feel the need for air, I figure now’s a good time as any to actually fucking escape.
My hands are first, the easiest. But I can already feel how unprepared I am, needing another twenty seconds of air and knowing I have about… none.
The act becomes pretty convincing as shit gets real, and I can already see some of the crew moving toward the tank.
They know something’s wrong.
What they don’t know is that it’s my damned hard on pressed so tight against the chains that I can’t use my usual ‘method’ to shimmy free of them.
I’ve still got my feet shackled, but it’s gone so far south I need out before those locks snap thanks to the digital timers.
Once they do, I’m done.
Finished.
I push up with all my strength, fumbling with the tank’s lid to get free.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Penelope, her hands over her mouth, and all the crew on stage now, frantic, ready to try to free me.
I feel myself relax fully, my eyes stinging under the water but I can see the one thing that matters most.
If this is the last thing I see, I can die happy.
Penelope…
CHAPTER FOUR
Penelope
I’m supposed to be here to debunk the guy, but long before he even leaves the stage and ends up right in front of me, I’m already thinking that magic really might exist.
I’ve never seen Jett in person, up close. But if magic had a face and a body?
It’s him.
Even from where I’m sitting in the front row, he’s huge.
Needing an arena to even try to contain his energy and charisma, as well as the massive crowd that’s come to see his show live.
My company for the evening isn’t exactly ideal, but Tony has given me the night off as well as paid for the cab for the both of us.
Both of which I know I’ll be working off. One way or another.
It’s a small price to pay for the experience of seeing Jett this close, plus I figure we’re sitting in the dark so what can go wrong?
It’s not like anyone’s gonna see me, right?
Jett’s eyes on mine make me doubt so many things.
Maybe he really does have some magical power?
Feeling the full effect of Jett in his natural habitat as I find myself shifting in my seat at the sight of him.
Not out of nerves so much as the need to have him come work some magic between my thighs.
Yeah right.
As if.
If I’ve got three hours of this ahead of me, I’m not sure how I’ll keep it together though.
The man is like pure electricity to my pussy.
But once he finally does appear on stage, apart from noticing his finale act all set up and ready for his opener, something else is gonna be very different about tonight’s performance.
I’m either imagining that he’s looking right at me most of the time, or he really is looking right at me.
But how can he see me with all those lights in his eyes?
Definitely my imagination.
Tony leans over, and gripping my arm with a sweaty hand, his ashtray-breath in my ear reminds me how big a fan he is of Jett Masters.
How lucky I am to be here.
Acting as if it was him who got us the tickets in the first place.
Asshole.
Despite my landlord’s fetid breath and his loudmouth remarks, I’m still glued to Jett.
It feels like I’m in some kind of dream when he walks down from the stage, through a few rows, and finally ends up standing right in front of us.
Choosing me over Tony to come up on stage and check things over. Make sure it’s all the real deal.
Oh, you’re the real deal alright, Jett. I can check the bulge at the front of your pants if you want? Make sure that’s not phony.
A part of me wonders if he maybe knows I’m with the press. Sometimes word gets out when a reporter, even an intern is coming to find fault or expose the truth.
But when he helps me up out of my seat and onto the stage, his huge body is close enough for me to smell his masculine, earthy cologne.
The kind I know you can’t just go buy anywhere.
When Jett assures me with a gentle squeeze of his huge fingers over mine, telling me he’s ‘got me’?
I feel like I’ve left my body.