Chapter 2: The Fetish of Anonymity
Genesis POV

As stated before, I've established a sort of… delight for sleeping with men that I've only known for a short period of time before bouncing to the next. The loose chain around my neck –the freedom of no leash- is invigorating. You could even say that I have a… fetish for this type of thing. Basically the game goes:

"You're hot, I'm hot, we know we're both hot, let's screw, no strings attached and we go on with our lives the next afternoon."

I make it a point, however, to lay with men with the same thought process as me. Never shall I pull someone along for a ride only to dump their –probably well placed- feelings in a notch on my belt.

No… I never do that. In fact, to make sure I never run across this problem, I make frequent stops to a specialized club for one-nighters like me. It's a uni-sex club for only those with the highest dollar and called 'the Silver Elite'.

It's a simple process; there are raised platforms all over the clubs with seats surrounding them. Those with an interest in the person that's standing on top of the platform bids the highest number and they're allowed to have their one night stand.

Sometimes the men and women in question are blindfolded by request; they want to keep their partners are mysterious as possible, right down to what they look like.

VIPs and long-term patrons, such as myself, need not worry about betting our way into bed. We're allowed two options. We COULD bet on whom we wish to lay with for the night or we could simply choose and pay afterward. I prefer to bid; it so much more fun to watch my potential partner work for his gil…

But tonight, I do not choose this option; I'm not in the mood to pay in order to get my fix. I only go to the Silver Elite to a guaranteed fix. No… tonight, I was a bit more, and when I want something more, then I make sure to go to a club or bar that I've never heard of before and dress completely different than the night before.

This way, no one dares recognize me.

Slipping my way inside after persuading the bouncer to let me in free, I look around for any potential, making sure that my energy won't be wasted. Sure enough, there are many many people here just itching to get their fix. Walking through the masses, I take a usual seat in a booth that's not too shaded with darkness, but just enough to let others see the best sides of me; my slender legs, my skin, and of course my face.

It's not long until a fellow one-nighter usually approaches around midnight, asking if he can take a seat after dancing...

We converse before becoming rather comfortable which each other. Sometimes we may exchange names, but there's an unspoken rule between those of anonymity that sharing names is a turn off. He may move from his side of the booth to mine or vise versa, taking a sip of my drink to 'sample' if he'll get one of his own. He'll make passes in touching any part of my body, the one-nighters ranging from the bold one that grope up my legs to the slow ones that like to touch my face or my hair instead.

Either way excites me.

Then… the dance; I know for sure weather I want this partner or not after we dance for a good ten minutes. Can he keep up with me? How flexible is he? How experienced is he? There are only a few questions needing answering before I pull him off to the side and towards a place where our whims can be fulfilled. Sometimes, it's in the infamous upstairs of a rave, or sometimes the private rooms hidden behind bars. Whenever we may lay, we don't stop until we've had our fill… which isn't until 3 that morning (or 2 if I have work in the morning; need my beauty sleep).

Nmmmm... he's touching me across my stomach, my body pinned between him and the wall (it's a wall tonight). I quiver as his longish fingernails pinch and grope underneath my shirt. My own hands grip at his hair, keeping those burning lips against my neck. We slid down to the floor, my back still against the wall. Pants first, then my shirt, my voice begging him to simply screw me to cloud 9.

And he does. He takes me against that wall over and over, his hips like a dog's that snap into my body over and over again.

It's amazing. It's like being blindfolded and allowing the rest of your senses to take over. Everything's enhanced when you're not worried about the other person and vise-versa. All that's there is pure unadulterated lust being fulfilled and it's amazing. I only wish it lasted longer… but if it lasted longer, what would be the fun of craving it that much sooner?

I wake up relaxed the next day, thoughts of how wonder the sex was the previous night. Some would think it cruel that I give no second thought to my partner, but why so when it's a mutual agreement between those with the fetish of anonymity? If you don't have the fetish, how would you be able to understand?

Unfortunately, my dreams consisted of that aggravating, yet so inhumanly sexy, Sephiroth again. This time, he was my mysterious partner in a spring bath, having 'accidentally' mistaken me for his lover. And –of course- I offer to fill in the gap until his return. He takes me over and over again until someone calls his name from behind and we're discovered. That's when I awoke… and I found myself somewhat wanting to go back to sleep.

That accused Sephiroth… how I hate him, but I lust after him so.