Just Friends: A Summer Fling With A Billionaire Heir

by Cynthia Dane

  “Go on,” he whispered into her ear, sending chills down her spine. “I dare you.”

  He wasn’t daring her to put up a new profile on the latest and greatest dating app. That was already a given.

  He was daring her to say she was looking for men and women.

  Until that moment, Rachel hadn’t been clear about how far her door swung. Let alone in which direction. It was none of his business. How was I to know how much he might fetishize it? It still really wasn’t his business, and he would probably still fetishize it, because what men knew any better? None, in Rachel’s experience!

  “Who says I’m looking for a female partner right now?”

  “Because it’s hot, duh.”

  Rachel couldn’t argue with that. When she hit the Women radio button, Zack let out a whoop and downed another drink.

  “You’re a fucking cad.” Rachel’s profile went live.

  “So here’s what you’re going to do.” He was acting like he didn’t hear her! “You’re gonna sleep with one of these hotties and tell me allll about it.”

  Was he always this bad, or only when half-drunk? “You want a threesome with me and another woman.”

  “I’ve had threesomes before,” he said much too quickly, “but I can guarantee that one with you in it would be the fucking best ever. You know what?” He woke his phone up again. “I know three women off the top of my head I could text right now and…”

  “We’re not having a threesome,” Rachel countered. “Especially not with your exes.”

  “All right, all right.” Zack said, gesturing to her phone. “Start swiping so we can see what kind of hotties are out there. Juuust for you.”

  “You know most of these hotties are going to be men, right?”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “You’re seriously okay with me going out with a guy while fooling around with you?”

  “You’re the one who keeps saying we’re not serious. Keeping it open.” Zack sucked the lemon Rachel had pulled out of her drink. He tossed the rind onto their shared plate of breadsticks. “As long as you’re cool with me going out with other women, I’m cool.”

  Rachel would see about that.

  “What about him?” She showed him one of the first men to show up in her app. Same age as them, brown hair, dark eyes, and a sweet Doberman pup nipping at his heels. “Jeff looks hot to smash.”

  “Swipe left. He looks like the kind of guy who looks up girls’ skirts.”

  “Ew.” Rachel turned her phone the other way. “What makes you say that?”

  “I went to college with a guy named Jeff who liked dogs and did just that.”

  “I don’t think it’s the same guy.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Skirt flippers.”

  “Got it. Every Jeff on Earth is looking up women’s skirts.”

  “No, just the ones who also like dogs.”

  Sighing, Rachel swiped left.

  So it went for fifteen minutes. Rachel was too buzzed to properly read people’s profiles and became the most superficial woman when she only went by pictures. Beside her, Zack set up his own dating profile, swearing that no man had ever looked sexier in his selfies.

  He wasn’t wrong. What was it about certain people that made them the most photogenic assholes on the planet? Zack could be wearing a leotard and passed out drunk on a frat room floor and still look like a rock-hard stud ready to seduce every woman he came across. It wasn’t fair. Rachel had dug deep into her older photos to find one where she wasn’t so bloated that she wanted to heave. She had settled on a photo of her in a fluffy black sweater and smiling at someone in front of her. Zack had given his thumbs up and decided she needed to add the picture of her standing in front of the Tokyo Tower. “People love swiping on others who look well-traveled.” He had added about ten flags to his profile. Were they countries he had been to, or countries he had yet to go to?

  “Know what would be awesome right now?” Rachel asked, both elbows on the table. “Strip club. I wanna go see some titties.”

  “The can of worms have been opened.” Zack put his phone down. “All you can think about is women now. God send a prayer circle for me to have a chance with you again now that you’ve remembered that women exist.”

  “What? Don’t you wanna go to a strip club?” Zack seemed like the kind of guy who would live in one if given the chance. “Don’t tell me you don’t have your favorite place here.”

  “I do.” Zack folded his arms on the table. “I’ve also slept with two of the women working there and maaaay have started a feud between them.”

  “Sheesh. You would.”

  “If it’s something hot you wanna see…” Zack sucked in his cheeks while he looked around the bar. “I know a very exclusive place willing to give us temp memberships.”

  Rachel gave him a dubious look. “Is that so? How exclusive are we talking about?”

  “Exclusive enough that we would need my name to get us in.”

  Sometimes Rachel forgot that Zack was the son of one of the richest men she had ever met. Granted, it was an awkward meeting, but Feldman Steel was worth tens of billions of dollars. The Feldmans themselves were worth only a fraction of that, but a fraction of tens of billions was still…

  An easy few billion.

  And they’re old ass money to boot. Maybe one of the oldest money families still around. Not that Rachel would claim to know any of the other families around there. She wasn’t even a native to the city. Nor did she read trash rags or give clickbait articles the time of day. They could be surrounded by local millionaires right now and she would have no idea.

  She admitted that the thought of going to a club exclusive enough to need Zack’s name appealed to her.

  “What about a strip club made you think about this place?”

  “Baby, there is a place in this city we could go to if you want to see the most expensive tits in America. We’re talking Grade A,” he clicked his tongue and made an OK sign with his forefinger and thumb, “Daddy Warbucks graduation present to his little girl boobage.”

  “So… Annie’s boobs?”

  “What?”

  “Daddy Warbucks’s little girl was Annie.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Her tits.” Zack shrugged. “You wanna go or not?”

  “Uh, yeah?”

  “All right.” Zack pulled out his phone. “Let me make a few calls while we go home and change.”

  “Change?”

  “We ain’t getting’ in dressed like this.” Zack glanced at her, smiling. “I have been waiting for this moment, Rachel Taylor.”

  She closed her dating app and put her phone away. “What moment?”

  “The moment I put you in a dress of my choosing.”

  That sounded ominous enough to give Rachel the shivers. Somehow, she was completely complacent with that answer. It was probably the booze.

  Too bad she didn’t start drinking more right there.

  ***

  Rachel would have never guessed that one of the buildings she walked by every day housed one of the most secluded, exclusive, and heavily guarded clubs in New England.

  She didn’t catch the name of it on their way there. She was too busy pulling down the skirt of the slinky black dress Zack happened to have on standby in his closet. Whose dress is this? She had to admit, though, that it fit her rather well. The skirt was the perfect length, hugging her thighs and falling high above her knees. At her modest height, most skirts either tripped up her feet or frumpily made her look much more modest than she would ever describe herself. There was also plenty of room for her chest and her shoulders. This must be tailor made! Or at least had enough adjustments to take a basic dress and give it enough room to make dear Rachel stand out. The only things that didn’t quite fit was the loose waistline and the baggy back area. My ass isn’t big enough for this dress… Zack had come to her rescue again, expertly pinning it as if he personally adjusted his dates’ dresses every day. He didn’t have sisters. His mom didn’t seem
the type of woman to enlist her youngest son to help her with wardrobe malfunctions. So what gave? Previous girlfriend experience? Seriously, whose dress was this?

  Once they stepped out of the back of the cab Zack insisted on taking – and what a gander he was in his three piece suit that was more bespoke than Sita’s wedding dress – a bouncer wearing sunglasses and a permanent frown stepped forward, speaking into the discreet headset wrapped around his face.

  “Mr. Feldman?”

  “Yes. That’s me.”

  “Right this way, please.”

  Rachel didn’t ask about anything she was told to do or where she was taken. For once they went down a flight of stairs and passed through a thick, metal doorway, they were swept up in an endless barrage of men and women in black uniforms making sure nobody saw them as they went through a front hallway.

  Zack wasn’t a formal member of this establishment, and Rachel was a nobody. He had used his name to get them a reservation for a guest pass, but that meant both he and Rachel had to sign a stack of NDAs and other legally bound statements that freed the club of certain liabilities. Rachel didn’t look at them. Zack wasn’t. He signed his name so quickly that she almost couldn’t keep up while a check girl offered to take their coats and jackets.

  “This is Tatiana.” The hostess at the front desk gestured to a svelte young woman with straight brown hair and smoky eyes. She instantly flashed the guests a tantalizing smile. “She’ll be your personal guide for tonight.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” She looked Zack up and down in his suit. A surge of jealousy that Rachel had not been anticipating almost choked her out.

  Then Tatiana looked her up and down, still grinning. I feel… like I was mentally undressed by her eyes!

  “Right this way. I know exactly where to seat you two.”

  Rachel had picked up enough hints to guess what kind of club this was. What she could not have anticipated, however, was the scale of what she was about to see on a Friday night.

  She expected a quiet lounge built around the promises of carnal pleasure. Personal strippers who danced on tables. Scantily clad waitresses flirting for more tips. Male guests, both stag and with their female partners, being catered to everywhere they turned. If this place was truly for the upper echelon of society, then maybe there would be under-the-table sexual services provided as long as the house didn’t officially hear about it.

  Rachel was right about that. Again, though, the scale was completely lost on her until Tatiana led them through a final pair of doors and into a large, thumping club full of family heirlooms and three-piece suits crafted by nameless European families that went back hundreds of generations. Italian. French. British. Norwegian.

  “Oh my God.” Rachel stopped in her tracks, not that anybody could hear her gasp above the blaring rock cover of “Dirty Dancer.” The whole bottom floor spread out an entire city block, housing both tucked away booths illuminated only by votive, diamond-studded candles and brightly lit stage areas surrounded by beautiful – and not so beautiful, but still rich enough – drunk socialites. Nobody threw cash in a place like that. Each stage was lined with small machines that guests could either swipe their credit cards through or punch in their member number to have their tips put on their tabs. “Wow!”

  Zack wasn’t kidding. There were fabulous tits – everywhere.

  The women on stage, ripping off their clothes to the shouts of delight and waving black AmExes. Women walking around in sheer lingerie that left nothing to the imagination. The young and old alike, who had no shame when the men they were with asked them to show a little more skin. Rachel had a plunging neckline that had made her self-conscious when she stepped out of the cab. Now she wondered if she was too covered.

  “What do you think?” Zack shouted over the music and the laughter surrounding them. “Wild, huh?”

  “Now I know what you do every Friday night!”

  “I’ve only been here twice before!”

  Now that Rachel couldn’t believe.

  Tatiana didn’t bother trying to communicate to them using her mouth. She used elaborate gestures that got them through the crowds and to a secluded table on the far side of the room. It was a little quieter there, so she said, “Let me know if there’s anything I can get you two.” She knelt beside the table once the guests were seated. “Anything.” She winked at Zack.

  He must have sensed Rachel tensing up next to him. “A room won’t be necessary yet, thank you,” he said. “But I’ll take a whisky sour and she’ll…”

  “A rum and Coke, please.”

  “Bacardi or Captain Morgan?”

  Rachel inhaled a deep breath. She was getting better at playing games. “Havana Club.”

  Tatiana nodded, impressed. “I’ve got an exquisite bottle that’s a nice and ripe fifteen years old.”

  “Sounds great.”

  The hostess slipped away into the crowd.

  “You’re going to drink my wallet dry, girl.” Zack leaned back in the booth, his silk shirt wrinkling against his abs. Hello, handsome.

  “You’re a billionaire. You can afford it.”

  “So I give you this nice dress and bring you to this nice club and suddenly you’re an expensive date?”

  “Duh?”

  Zack continued to grin. “You could’ve sprung for more expensive than Havana Club.”

  “It was the most expensive rum I could think of.”

  “You’re testing me, huh?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  Zack slung his arm around her shoulders, bringing her head closer to his as they crashed forward against the table. His other arm swung out before them, gesturing to half the attendees making fools of themselves with drink and sex. “What do you think? Know anyone here? Because I went to Winchester Academy with half of these bitches and bastards.”

  At least Rachel knew that Winchester Academy was the super expensive, super exclusive private school on the outskirts of town. Legend was that ninety percent of the kids who went there were from families worth millions – and more. The other ten percent were the scholarship charity cases in way over their heads. Of course you went there, Zack. Was probably the star art student of his grade – because it was the only school around that could afford to have the arts!

  “Nope. Can’t say I recognize a single soul.”

  “Shame. There’s already three tabloid scandals waiting to break out in here. You know, assuming anyone in here would dare leak shit to the paps.”

  “You never know. I might.”

  She meant it as a joke, but Zack shook his head and said, “All those NDAs you signed say they could sue your ass for a million dollars. They’ll do it, too.”

  “Good thing I’ve got you to pay my legal fees for me.”

  “Ha!”

  Rachel leaned in closer. “So, anyone in here I should know?”

  Zack perused the room again. “I went to college with that guy over there.” He pointed out his old frat brother James Merange and his tragically gorgeous blond girlfriend Gwen. The usually confident, boisterous woman was uncharacteristically quiet tonight as she stood beside her boyfriend while they talked with an older pair Zack only somewhat recognized. “He and his girlfriend are well-known names in the local kink scene.”

  “There’s a local kink scene? For rich people?”

  “What do you think rich people do with their time? Knit?”

  Rachel laughed. “You don’t seem super kinky to me. Something you wanna share?”

  “No. Not really into it.” One of the reasons Zack didn’t come to this place – besides, as he explained, having to adhere to the ridiculous dress code and dealing with people he usually wasn’t in the mood to see – was because it catered heavily to kinksters and swingers. Zack could only take so many stage shows of men having their balls electrocuted before he had to go home. “Been put off it by knowing some real assholes into the scene. I’d rather not associate.”

  “Assholes?” Rachel believed him,
but everyone was in such a good mood tonight that she couldn’t imagine them being anything but jovial to any pair walking through the doors. Is there some kind of hierarchy that Zack hasn’t bothered to get himself into? Zack definitely wasn’t the kind to kiss ass, unless he thought it was going to get him laid. “Like what kind? Abuse?”

  “Hmm.” Zack kept his eyes on a pair on the far side of the room. “Let’s not get into it. We should be having fun.”

  Rachel followed his gaze in time for Tatiana to return with their drinks. They toasted and knocked back a few gulps, Rachel instantly regretting it. I drink way too much around this guy! She had drunk more since knowing Zack than she had in her whole life! A woman could only build up so much tolerance in that amount of time.

  But the more she drank, the sillier the club became. Women in leather dancing onstage? Men leading around their best girlfriends in leashes? Women in crazy boots putting on masks and making shirtless guys swoon? What else was going on in there?

  “Lots of sex,” Zack responded.

  “Really?”

  “This is only the front end of the club. In the back, where all the real VIPs are, I guarantee you there’s more fuckin’ than, uh…”

  “Than what?”

  “I totally forgot what I was going to say.”

  Rachel took his glass away from him. “Think you’ve had enough to drink tonight.”

  “Aaah, I’ll be sober enough before you know it.”

  When Tatiana asked them if they wanted another round of drinks – no doubt she got a commission for each one – Rachel ordered a sparkling water on their behalf. Tatiana walked away with a clenched jaw. No more commissions for her.

  “Let’s get up and do something!” They needed to walk off some of the tipsiness anyway.

  Zack latched onto her arm and followed her out of the booth. “What? Finally saw a celebrity that you recognize?”

  No, but Rachel was enthralled by the beautiful women and handsome men surrounding her. They smelled like ancient scents locked away in Swiss vaults, and dressed in some of the most sumptuous, gratuitously sexy outfits Rachel had ever imagined. Her hand-me-down dress felt frumpier in comparison.