Heat

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  Max hurried up so they were walking side by side. “Are we still going to the mall?”

  “Do you still want to? I mean, that was a pretty intense scene back there.”

  “I’d rather be with you.”

  She stopped dead in her tracks. “Come on,” she scoffed.

  “I’m serious.”

  “How much is my sister paying you that you’d rather go shopping for shoes than watch two men screw around with a redhead with big tits?”

  “Shoe shopping?” He grinned. “I was in it for the totally authentic Chinese food.”

  A smile flickered around her face.

  “Besides, what you saw back there is commonplace. I’m not missing out on anything I can’t get again tonight or the next day. That’s not the case with you. I like being with you.”

  “Why?” she asked. “I’m broken.”

  “Nah.” Max took her hand. “You’re just a little cracked. I’ve got some duct tape in my truck.”

  “Kinky.” They walked hand in hand toward the garage.

  “Not really—it takes the skin off. I prefer silk rope.”

  She arched a look at him. “You got some of that in the truck too?”

  “Never leave home without it. Why? You want me to tie you up?” He tried to ask the question lightly.

  Her soft “Maybe” sent his pulse into overdrive.

  Chapter Five

  Mallory had read the story about Blackbeard and his wives, and she knew she really shouldn’t snoop around in places she wasn’t welcome. However, after a very pleasant shopping trip, when Max finished carrying her bags up to her room he shouldn’t have said, “Tonight, Happy Buzz is sponsoring a party in the Hot Spot. It’s not Club Inferno—the members-only dungeon—but it’s still going to be pretty hard core. You wouldn’t last a minute.”

  That got her back up. It didn’t matter that he was probably right. She was fascinated to know what a man like Max would call hard core. It couldn’t be too bad; otherwise it would be in the dungeon, on the erotic side. Although from what Max had said, Club Inferno wasn’t a dance club. It was a sex club. Mallory lay back on the bed, kicking her shoes off and staring at the ceiling.

  The Happy Buzz purple vibrator on the bedside table kept catching her eye. It was her own fault. She should have left it in the box. But she was curious. The instruction manual was very informative. Mallory had tossed the vibrator in the drawer, but then decided it added to the room’s ambience. She even named it Winky—although it didn’t have one eye. She needed something to distract herself.

  The Hot Spot.

  Safer to stay in her room, though maybe she should go and at least thank Happy Buzz in person for the welcoming gift. Or maybe she should send a card. Did Hallmark make one that said “Thank You for the Vibrator”?

  Hard core. If pleasuring two men while people watched wasn’t hard core, just what the heck was?

  When the headboard from the room next to her started to knock against her wall, Mallory jumped up. “That’s it,” she said, rifling through her shopping bags for the nice new jeans she’d bought. Was there a dress code in the Hot Spot? Heck with it. She was wearing her good bra and her underwear that didn’t have holes in it, so she was going for it. It beat sitting up here and wondering.

  Would Max be in the Hot Spot? Mallory felt a thrill of anticipation shiver up her spine. They’d had a nice time at the mall. He graciously let her take her time and even had an opinion on some of the outfits she tried on. He didn’t ask her any more questions about how she was reacting to the scene or about being tied up. Which was good, because she didn’t trust her answers. She had been turned on, that was the honest truth, but she could never have all those men touching her. Even in a fantasy, she would be too shy. No, she’d just want one man and she wasn’t sure if that was kosher around here.

  When he texted her about an hour later, her heart had leapt in her throat. She didn’t really expect him to come out and invite her to the Hot Spot, but it certainly was a letdown to see a detail of her schedule for tomorrow—including what to eat for breakfast. It wasn’t as if she had anything against an egg white, spinach, and feta omelet, but screw him, she was going to have bacon also. She didn’t want to be good.

  And that was exactly what was wrong with her life—well, aside from a drug-addicted ex-fiancé. Mallory had spent so much time trying to be the perfect girlfriend and the perfect employee that she never got the chance to do stupid stuff like the things Colleen based her career on.

  When Mallory was on Long Island studying to be a doctor, Colleen had been in Las Vegas taking her clothes off. When Mallory graduated cum laude, Colleen had just missed being busted for running an escort service for the “whales” at the Diamond Dreams Casino. While Colleen was dating football players and oil magnates, Mallory had been going steady with David, a lawyer from the Bronx who was understanding about her long hours at the hospital because he worked like crazy too. When Colleen’s romance hit the skids, she married up. When Mallory’s romance imploded, she ran for cover. She lived her whole life being the good girl, and what had it gotten her?

  “A broken nose,” she said, running her finger down the bump. David had pushed her and she broke her nose on the door. “A broken life.” She scowled at herself in the mirror. Well, no more. Who was Mr. Max “I have two black belts” Hottypants to tell her she couldn’t handle the Hot Spot?

  “I earned my shot at the Hot Spot.” Mallory pointed a finger at her reflection. “Right, Winky?”

  The purple vibrator didn’t respond, which was probably for the best because, as she got ready to lock up her room and head toward the forbidden place, Mallory wondered if she had lost her mind instead of her inhibitions.

  The last time she’d visited Colleen, Mallory had gotten arrested for soliciting. She had dropped by her sister’s condo and walked in on a bust. The charges were dropped once the cops realized she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. It didn’t hurt that Mallory’s fiancé was a prominent attorney who raised holy hell. But not before she got to sit in a jail cell next to two of Colleen’s employees for a few hours. She got quite an education that night. Who knew some men would pay $5,000 an hour for a threesome? An hour! Colleen managed to avoid any charges as well, and she promised Mallory that the close call had scared her straight.

  Mallory looked at the artwork on the walls of her room. Coupling lovers and erotic, tantalizing images. Yeah, right. She trusted that Colleen would keep her safe from David; her security was better than the president’s. But she didn’t quite trust her to be running a legitimate business. She needed to see for herself the den of iniquity her sister was running—if only to bear witness so she knew what to expect when the police bashed through the gates. It was a thin excuse, but she was going to run with it. With a final look in the mirror, Mallory nodded to herself. She was ready for this.

  Maybe.

  When she got to the Hot Spot’s door, she expected that it would be locked or at least guarded by two shirtless men with more pectoral muscles than brains, wearing lots of leather. Mallory checked her forehead. No, she wasn’t running a fever, but she felt shaky and unreal, as if she were about to take a trip to Wonderland through the looking glass. But the door opened up into a banal hallway, with industrial gray carpet and beige walls. She felt disappointed and almost turned around to spend the evening with Mr. Winky and the Seven Magical Brothers on the television set when the door to the far end opened. A man in black leather chaps and a tiny G-string stood in the doorway.

  Hallelujah!

  The hallway must have been soundproofed because as soon as the door opened, the music hit her like a blast wave. The techno beat would have annoyed her on any other night, but she felt drawn down the hall.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” the leather wonder grumbled pleasantly at her. “This party is invitation only.” The room behind him looked like a nightclub, but all she could see were the strobe lights and some people dancing.

  “It’s okay,
Axe,” Colleen said from inside the club. She moved into the hallway. “She’s with me.”

  Axe nodded and bowed. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “That outfit has to go,” Colleen said. “We have a dress code to uphold.”

  “I’m not wearing that,” Mallory said, pointing a finger at her sister’s red bustier.

  “It wouldn’t fit you.”

  Mallory slitted her eyes at her sister. “That’s because mine are real.”

  “Mine are real too,” Colleen said airily. “They may just look like figments of your imagination.”

  “Not my imagination.”

  Colleen guided her past Axe, who gave her a good-natured leer as they walked through the door. The music was deafening, prohibiting any further conversation. The dance floor was filled with writhing bodies and neon flashes of gold and silver.

  They walked straight to a raised dais that was separated from the masses by a velvet rope. Two empty thrones sat in the middle, with a naked man and a naked woman kneeling at the foot of each of them. Mallory tried not to gape as her sister stepped around the naked people without batting an eye and led her to a room behind the thrones. When the door closed, the nightclub noise immediately ceased. They were in the foyer of a small apartment.

  “Whoa.”

  “Mind blown, Dorothy?”

  “Not only are we not in Kansas anymore, but I saw more ass out there than a toilet seat.”

  “When was the last time you got laid?” Colleen said, walking deeper into the apartment.

  “Gross. Not a topic I want to discuss with you.” She followed her sister and flopped down on the living room couch.

  “Sex isn’t gross. Or if it is, you’re doing it wrong.” Colleen went into another room, while Mallory stared around her at the opulent décor.

  “Too long,” Mallory muttered to herself. But maybe that would change tonight. She felt a thrill at her daring. It was hard not to think about sex, surrounded by all this excess.

  The couch was the same buttery leather as the one in her sister’s office. Deep white carpeting almost begged her to kick off her shoes and socks so she could bury her toes in its softness. Gilded frames held watercolors of nude men and women engaged in various acts of pleasure. The television looked like a movie screen and there was a fire cheerfully crackling in the fireplace.

  “How about I stay here instead of the vanilla suite?” Mallory bet the police wouldn’t find the secret door if they raided.

  “Because this room is a thousand dollars an hour, and that’s before the entertainment.” Colleen came out with an armful of skimpy, colorful clothes.

  “Are you sure the cops aren’t going to raid you?”

  “Why would they raid a fashion house?” Colleen asked.

  “Because I’m assuming the hourly rate doesn’t involve pay-per-view?”

  Colleen cocked her head. “It could.”

  “I don’t think that’s legal,” Mallory said and primly picked up a lime-green thong her sister had dropped.

  “You’re a doctor, not a lawyer.”

  “I’m not wearing anyone’s underwear,” Mallory said.

  “These are all new. The used ones are in a different room.”

  “Ew.”

  “Some men have interesting tastes.” Colleen chuckled.

  “I don’t want to know.”

  “There has to be something here that will fit you.”

  “Are you calling me fat?”

  “No, I’m calling you picky, stuck up, and tight-assed.”

  “Well, that’s okay then,” Mallory said, mollified. She rooted through the clothes and held up a leather skirt and electric-blue silk shell.

  Colleen nodded. “That’ll do. Your shoes have to go.”

  “I like my sneakers.”

  “We’re not playing basketball.”

  “I can’t wear heels. They hurt my feet.”

  “Of course they hurt your feet. But they’re worth it.”

  “I don’t like pain.”

  “Do you want cheese to go with that whine? Look, I’ll compromise. You and I probably still wear the same size shoes. If I give you a pair of my low-heel”—she sneered—“boots, will you wear them?”

  “Sure.” Mallory smiled. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d rifled through her sister’s closet. It would be the first time Colleen knew about it, though.

  “I’ll see what I can find.”

  Colleen went into another room and Mallory heard her go downstairs.

  “This place is like Hogwarts for adults.” Mallory shucked off her clothes and put on her new duds. As far as her comfort level went, this outfit was pretty tame. She was looking forward to the party and dancing. Although she wished she could keep her jeans—the leather skirt wasn’t really her style. She was in the bathroom looking at her reflection and tugging on the hem of the skirt when the deafening noise of the dance floor flooded the apartment and was instantly cut off. She walked out to greet the newcomers, but the sight she encountered stopped her dead in her tracks.

  The couple was clenched tightly together. The woman’s legs were wrapped around her partner’s waist and they were kissing as if it were better to suffocate than to come up for air. He carried her into the living room, his hands cupping her curved backside before he ripped her thong off with a sharp jerk of his hand.

  Mallory closed her mouth and swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. The man turned and she saw his finely muscled back was tattooed with a dragon. She watched the beast flinch and move as the muscles of his body clenched. He was wearing fight pants and for an instant, she thought it was Max. But this man was a blond. The woman unhooked one leg from around his waist and pushed down his pants with her foot, revealing a taut ass that made Mallory’s knees weak. She sagged against the doorframe and tried to get the words “Excuse me” out. But when the woman impaled herself on the man, tightening her legs back around him, Mallory skulked back into the bathroom and pressed her hands to her flushed face.

  Now what? Did she hide until it was over? Did she interrupt them? What was the etiquette involved?

  Unable to see the pair coupling didn’t make the experience any less tame. Mallory gripped the sink as she listened to their grunting sounds of bliss and the thud of a wall where he slammed her into it. The woman keened affirmations and Mallory slid to the floor to wait it out. Still revved from this afternoon, the hard slap of their bodies and the man’s muffled groans of encouragement had Mallory trembling. But for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t from fear. She took a moment to revel in that triumph. She couldn’t say this was normal, but it was the closest thing to that she’d felt since the whole David ordeal began.

  I don’t want to think about him.

  Mallory leaned back against the wall, where she could just make out the man’s fine ass as he pumped in and out of the woman. She saw the woman’s toes curl in satisfaction.

  I want to think about this.

  Slowly, Mallory slid her hand under the miniskirt. Her panties were damp when she plunged her fingers in. Gliding through her thick, wet folds, she tickled her tightened bud in response to the enthusiastic pair in the living room.

  Mallory moved her fingers to the man’s rhythm as he pounded into the woman. They were kissing again, as if starved for each other’s mouth. His strokes were longer now as he went up on his toes to enter deeper. Mallory pushed two fingers inside herself and her eyes half closed as she pictured being the one against the wall.

  The man’s breathing became harsher. Loud guttural moans stretched out until his lower half thrust into the woman in a frenzied pace. Mallory matched it and her muscles clenched in ecstasy as the orgasm hit her. He shouted in triumph, and for a moment the only sound in the apartment was the three of them breathing.

  “Oh Sam,” the woman said. “That was incredible.”

  Mallory watched him ease out of her and set her gently on her feet.

  He kissed her again. “I aim to please, Angie. I’d take you on the floor nex
t, but the damn rug would give you rug burns.”

  Holy crap! That was Angie from Max’s scene.

  “I don’t mind,” Angie breathed.

  “The bedroom is much more comfortable.” Mallory darted back away from the door, but not before Sam had turned and looked right at her—and gave her a saucy wink. “And big enough for three.”

  Mallory hid in the bathroom until she heard the bedroom door close. Scrambling to her feet, she fixed her clothes and splashed some water on her face. Instead of feeling shame, she felt exhilarated.

  I guess Max isn’t the only one who likes to watch.

  Chapter Six

  Colleen came back up the stairs about fifteen minutes later and Mallory was waiting for her.

  “There are people having sex in the bedroom,” Mallory hissed at her sister, grabbing her arm.

  Colleen frowned. “How many people?”

  “Two.”

  Colleen’s face cleared. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “You could have warned me.”

  “I thought you were going to follow me downstairs instead of staying up here like the Queen of Sheba.”

  Mallory grabbed the boots out of her sister’s hands and sat down to zip them up.

  “What did you think of Sam?”

  “Hubba hubba,” Mallory said.

  “He’s a dear. But don’t take him too seriously. He’ll break your heart.”

  “I’m not planning on taking him at all.”

  “That’s a shame. He really is a good time.”

  “Is he one of your ‘instructors’?” Mallory said the last word twitching her fingers in air quotes.

  “Not tonight he’s not.” Colleen looked her up and down. “I suppose you’re presentable.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Mallory stuck her tongue out at her sister behind her back.

  The music hit her in the face when they walked back into the club. Mallory looked back, but she couldn’t find the secret door at first glance. She was trying so hard, she almost bumped into the thrones, which were no longer empty.

  A woman with plum-size breasts, naked as the day she was born, waved a penis-shaped scepter at her before sucking on it—much to the delight of the cheering crowd. She could see that the Happy Buzz people spent a lot on advertising. There were company banners up, and more than a few people were wearing T-shirts with their logo on it.