by Mika Lane
was hoping you’d come to the club tonight
Sipping my bubbly, I scoured the room again.
Tomorrow?
Tonight, I’d watch.
what time?
the usual
I dropped the phone back into my purse. The night was young, and I had more investigating to do. The trick was to do it without G identifying me. If he were still there.
I turned to see M with a small group of people, chatting as she stared at me from across the room.
Why was she always on my ass?
Smiling, I saluted her and headed for the stairs. Time to see what was going on in the playrooms.
It was my second night at the club, and I barely knew any more than the day the tattered business card landed at my feet. Well, except that I liked being finger fucked in public, enjoyed kissing another woman, and still hated port.
The club’s secrets were sealed up tight. Just as Miss M wanted it.
I needed to find a “friend” to hang with, someone other than G, who might answer some questions. I found a spot on a cushy love seat on the third floor, and figured that soon enough someone would join me.
“Hey,” said the bartender from earlier.
“Hi there, O.”
He plopped down next to me.
“You’re done working?”
He smiled, displaying some of the deepest, hottest dimples I’d ever seen. I hadn’t paid his looks much attention before, but I had to admit that his chiseled jaw and mussed hair were a treat for the eyes.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “My buddy’s got me covered for the rest of the night.”
Perfect. He could be my cover just long enough to help me fit in. And maybe provide some info this time.
“So, earlier, I asked you how long the club had been around. Why did you not want to talk to me?”
He shifted on the sofa, turning to face me. “Huh? Oh, I don’t know anything about the place, really.” He ran a finger down one of my bare arms, stopping at the crook of my elbow. My nipples sprang to attention.
I suppressed a shiver. The tickling drove me crazy.
He reached past my mask for a piece of hair and fingered a long curl, twisting it around his finger. “What’s your name again, gorgeous?” His eyes washed over me, leaving me weak.
“B. I go by B.” Shit, this guy was hot.
Remain focused. This is work.
“I mean, I have a real name. That I use in the real world.” Why was I babbling?
“Um, yeah, I figured B was just your club name.” He smiled. Goddamn those dimples. “B, I’d like to kiss you. Would that be all right?”
“I suppose so.”
“You want to take off your mask first?”
“No. No, I do not. But thank you for asking.”
He gave a small laugh and leaned in. He was so close the heat of his lips radiated, even though we’d yet to make contact.
Shit, what was he waiting for?
His velvety lips fell on mine, and they tasted so goddamn good. Sort of like good scotch and something minty. Falling into him, I parted my lips to taste his tongue.
It was beginning to seem like journalism was a great profession. I giggled into his kiss.
He drew back slightly. “Did I tickle you?” He looked so sincere.
“A little. It’s okay.” And my mouth fell on his again to do some exploring of my own. Heat rose all through my core, and all thoughts of work fluttered away. I squirmed in my seat, my panties soaking with my pleasure.
“Well,” the bartender said abruptly, looking at his watch.
Huh?
He stood. “I’ll see you next time, then?”
“Um. Yeah. Sure.”
“Super.” He smoothed back his hair. “Have a good night.” And he was gone.
What a weird freaking place.
Chapter 19
Varden
I pulled up to my building and locked my mask in the glove box, double and triple checking it. Yeah, I was that insane about my privacy, I’ll admit it.
On the way to the penthouse, I leaned my head back against the elevator wall. Why did I do this to myself, stay out late when I knew I’d be exhausted the next day?
Light glowed from under the guest room door, and the TV played some game show. I knocked lightly.
“Beau? You up?”
A stirring sound came from the other side. “Yeah, c’mon in,” he answered in a groggy voice.
He clicked off the TV and propped himself up in bed, running his fingers through his shoulder-length hair. He pulled an elastic off his wrist and gathered it into a short pony tail.
“Guess I fell asleep.” He looked everywhere except at me. “I’m sorry about this, everything.”
“Yeah. What happened?”
“I’m not sure. I felt really down, so stopped by a bar. I was gonna have only one…”
I sat on the edge of the bed. “You know it doesn’t work that way.”
He ran a hand over his face. “I know. I fucked up.”
“Well. You want some water or juice?” I offered.
“Nah, I’m good.”
The shit he’d gone through.
“Hey, I can pay for you to go back to that rehab place you liked. It was much nicer than that halfway house you’re in right now.”
“I know. I appreciate it.” He finally looked at me. “But you can’t just keep throwing money at me and my problems. It’s not that simple.”
This was a familiar conversation.
“I don’t throw money at you. I want to help.”
“Var, you are a fucking rock star, and I’m your loser little brother. It’s just the way it is. You can’t spend your way out of this.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” I said. “We might just as easily have ended up in each other’s shoes. You could have been the successful one, and I could have been the one who’s a mess. So much of life is a fucking crapshoot.”
I looked at Beau and saw the scared little guy I’d left behind when I escaped to college. At that moment, I hated myself more than he hated himself, if that were possible.
There was nothing fair about life. Not a goddamn thing.
“I’m not giving up on you. Even if you give up on yourself.”
Beau looked at his hands and said nothing.
“G’night, bro.” I switched off the light and closed the door. I had to get out of there.
Chapter 20
Saffi
I sat in front of a blank computer screen most of the day, unable to write a damn thing. Ed had inquired about my progress on the Club Silk story, but of course I lied. Aside from describing the setting, there wasn’t much to say yet. I’d gotten pretty much zero information from the folks I’d met there. ’Course, I could always share some of my personal experiences, but I wasn’t writing for Penthouse, was I?
Maybe I should be, though.
“Hey.”
My heart slammed against my chest and I shrieked. Christ, it was Tom. What did he want? “You scared the shit out of me.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Why the hell are you so jumpy?” He craned his neck to see what was on my computer monitor, but I switched windows.
“I was deep in thought.”
He helped himself to a corner of my desk, propping his ass right on the story I’d written about Little League.
“So,” he said, “Ed tells me you have something very special in the works.”
What. The. Hell.
My gaze wandered around my desk to make sure any revealing papers were out of sight.
“Really? Huh.”
“You don’t have anything up your sleeve?” He reached for a strand of my hair, but I smacked his hand away, rolling my chair until I was out of his reach.
“Nope. No idea. Don’t know why he’d say that to you.” I threw my hands up.
Disappointment ran across his face. “Oh. Okay then. I guess you’re just still doing your Little League and Garden Club bullshit.”
Why did he
have to be such a dick?
“So it would seem.”
He started inching away. “Well. I gotta get back to work.” He turned to go.
“Tom?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for stopping by.” I gave him the fakest sweet smile I’d ever mustered.
“Sure thing.” He paused by the entrance to my cube. “Hey. Some of us are going for drinks after work. You’re invited.”
“Oh. Thanks. I’d love to go. Let me check and see if I can pull it off.”
“Okay. Later, then,” he said.
I turned back to my PC, motivated by Tom’s fake interest and explicit insult. The jerk seemed happy I might still be stuck working on the same old crap I always was assigned.
Truth was, I had no intention of getting drinks with Tom or anyone else in the office. Getting ready for a night out at the club was a lot of work. I had a mani-pedi to take care of, and it took forever to blow out my hair. Fortunately, I’d gone for an excruciating Brazilian wax a couple days ago, my first and probably my last, so I was good in that department.
The phone killed my daydream.
“Hey, girl,” I said when I saw it was Nelle.
“You will not believe this…” Her voice was breathy.
“Believe what? Tell me.”
“Remember I told you about that guy in my office? Around the same time you told me about the guy in your office you were crushing on?”
“Yeah, but I’m not into that guy any more—”
“Well,” she said, “he asked me out!”
“Oh my god, that’s awesome. I’m very happy for you, sweetie.”
She’d liked that guy for so long I thought they’d be in nursing homes before he took her frequent and obvious hints.
She let out a long, relieved breath. “We’re going out next week. I’m so happy. I have to figure out what to wear. Hey, what are you doing? Wanna get a drink after work?”
“Ohhhh. Can’t. Sorry.”
“Why? You got something going on?”
“Yeah, I gotta do some work.” It was only a partial lie. I was obsessed with my story and couldn’t think of anything else.
“All right. Well, that sucks. Call me tomorrow?” she asked.
“Of course. Talk to ya later.”
I swiped the phone closed. I had to stay focused. I’d created a big expectation with Ed, and coming up empty-handed would be worse than bad. Especially when he had his own healthy dose of curiosity about Club Silk. I needed to get the story done before he insisted on going there some night. With me.
On my bus ride home after work, the butterflies started. What the hell was I doing? Trying to make a name for myself with a story about a sex club would certainly put my name in the spotlight—but would it be the right kind of spotlight?
I couldn’t very well go in there with a notebook and tape recorder. That would not be undercover. And if I weren’t undercover, they would never let me in, and if I didn’t blend in and experience the club like a member, well then how the hell would I report on it?
Okay, a lot of reporting was done by observing. I didn’t have to play in the Little League to cover their season. I didn’t have to belong to the Garden Club or even have a garden to write about those old blue-haired ladies.
I suppose I could go to Club Silk and just sit in the corner and watch. Was that what I should be doing?
By the time I reached my stop at the end of the line, the lurching of the bus and my nerves left sweat pouring down my temples. I’d never been so happy to step into the blustery San Francisco fog. Time to get in the house and get ready for a night out.
“Hey there,” my dad hollered when I slammed the front door.
I poked my head into his study. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.
“Hey, Dad.”
“How was work today?” he asked.
“Good. You know, just starting to work on my story about that…club.”
“Oh yeah. How’s that going?”
I hated lying to my dad. “Well, the story is different than what I initially shared with you. It’s…a bit more involved.”
“Oh? Tell me.”
I looked down at my fidgeting hands. “I can’t really share much. It’s kind of undercover.”
“Wow. Exciting. I can’t wait to read it.”
“Dad,” I asked, looking up at him, “do you miss Mom?”
He gave me a small smile and rocked his head back and forth. “Every day. Why do you ask? You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. I just hope she’d be proud of me.”
“Are you kidding? I know she would. I think she’d be proud of both of us, and how we kept each other moving forward after she passed.”
The lump in my throat choked my words. “Thanks. I think so, too.”
“Hey, do you want to go out for a bite to eat? You hungry?”
I cleared my throat. “Oh, thank you. You know, I’m going out in a bit. Gonna…meet some friends.”
“Okay, then. I might get a burger.” He stood and grabbed his jacket. Walking around his massive desk, he gave me a kiss on the head. “If I don’t see you later tonight, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thanks, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Saffron.”
Only my mom had ever called me by my full name.
Mom, can I do this?
Chapter 21
Saffi
A couple hours later I headed across town in the direction of Club Silk. My nerves were firing at full speed, suggesting that bailing on the evening seemed like it might be a good way to go.
But I couldn’t do that.
No. I had to go. If I didn’t, I might be stuck as the office gopher for eternity, covering “breaking news” from Little League and the Garden Club. I might get stuck doing those things anyway, at the rate I was going. But at least if I tried, could come away with a new friend. Or two.
G’s mask flashed across my thoughts.
A replay of Miss M’s kiss of the previous night sent a shiver down my spine. She was mysterious, even scary. But I had to admit, the kiss had been hot as hell.
Then there was G. Why was I eager to see a man whose face I’d never laid eyes on? Sure, he was sexy and knew his way around a woman’s body. And yet, he kept wandering in and out of my thoughts.
I left my car in the closest spot I could find to the club’s front door. I was already tempting fate enough—why risk trouble in a dicey neighborhood?
As usual, Miss M answered the door in all her dramatic glory.
“B. My beautiful friend.” She welcomed me with a broad sweep of her arm. “So good to see you tonight.”
“Thanks M,” I said as I pulled on my mask. I was beginning to understand why G wore his. It really was like a security blanket. Or a wall, depending how you looked at it.
“You’re not going to cover that face of yours, are you?” M asked.
“First of all, only half my face is covered. As you’ll see, my lips are still available.”
Damn, I was getting good at this.
I stepped closer to her. Time to lay it on. “And second, I like being somebody different for a moment in time.”
She smiled and ran a hand around my waist. “I know exactly what you mean.”
I looked around the first floor at the party already in full swing. People dancing, flirting, making out. My heart pounded in time to the bass-heavy house music and the sexy buzz in the air. An expensive perfume drifted by.
M fluttered off to greet another guest.
I wasn’t exactly an old pro at this sex club thing, but at least I pretty much had the lay of the land down. I got myself some bubbly, which gave me time to scope out the happenings. G was supposed to be there, but I doubted he’d recognize me—he hadn’t the other night—which gave me time to snoop around untethered. I’d make myself known to him when I was ready to, and in the meantime enjoy the party. And of course, gather information for the story. Don’t forget about th
e story.
Drink in hand, I squeezed between the packed bodies on the first floor. As usual, there wasn’t a ton of playing going on; most people seemed to save that for the smaller rooms. Perhaps the intimacy of those spaces, like the one where I’d seen G, lent themselves to really getting down and dirty. In the open space of the first floor, people for the most part mingled, aside from the few couples kissing in dark corners. Hardly anything to waste one’s time watching.
Was I becoming jaded or what?
As I climbed the steps to the mezzanine, I had an unspoiled view of the crowd below. M stood chatting, all Hollywood glamour in her cream-colored gown, watching me from the far side of the club. She raised her glass to me. I raised mine back.
Once upstairs, I scanned for G. I wanted to see him before he saw me, and I waved at the bartender who’d run off the night before.
No G, at least not yet.
I roamed past the dance floor and toward a small room I’d never seen. My mouth fell open.
In it, there were eight or so women in various stages of undress—some of them with thigh highs and boots, others with leather bustiers, and still others with lacy boy shorts and sky-high stilettos. They lay on silky tufted mattresses in a tangled pile of limbs—fingers and tongues exploring. I drifted in for a closer look.
Two women were doing sixty-nine. The woman on top buried her tongue in her partner’s sex, causing the woman on the bottom to scream and thrash.
Another woman, on her own, slid a clear glass dildo coated in lube up and down her wet slit, her head writhing in delight.
I turned as a woman stepped into something with straps and buckles, tightening both to take up the slack. Holy shit. It was a strap on, and she began to stroke like it was her own cock.
Chapter 22
Varden
I slipped the Audi’s gearshift into park and unlocked the glove box to grab my mask.
If it ever got out that I went to sex clubs—well, San Francisco was open-minded, but understanding only went so far.
So I was always careful. Very careful.
And I had to watch myself around Saffi, too.