It was time he showed her what she’d been missing.
Chapter Two
The club sported a couple of bars, each offering a respite from the frenetic activity. Though sex wasn’t prohibited, it was more discreetly engaged in. The salon Stacy chose was relatively small, yet the mirrors on the walls and ceiling gave the room a larger feel. The tables were surrounded by leather stools, the bar itself shiny chrome with lights running along the glass top, illuminating it from beneath. It was beyond her how the surface seemed perpetually clear of smudges and spilled alcohol. That was a testament to the club, which was always immaculate, its marble floors gleaming, its private rooms pristine.
It was also a testament to the club’s owner, Judson McCord, who was now behind the bar pouring champagne into a flute. The buzz of quiet conversation masked the tap of her stiletto heels as she wended through the mostly full tables. Her tight-fitting black cocktail dress riding high up her thighs, she climbed atop a stool, just as Jud pushed her champagne across the bar.
“Your drink, Serena, my love.”
“You’re such a charmer.” Sparkling bubbles glistened in the peach-flavored cocktail. That was another thing about Jud, he knew what his guests preferred, and he provided, right down to meaningless endearments that nevertheless made a woman feel special.
“So, Derek flaked on you again?” Glancing in the mirror behind him, she smoothed the spaghetti straps of her dress, liking the way Jud’s gaze followed her hands, even though she knew he had no interest in her.
He was a gorgeous specimen at six feet, his black tux molding to his muscled chest. He hadn’t an ounce of flab. Though he had to be in his late forties, his hair was still dark, dusted only with a distinguished smattering of gray and a streak at his temples. She suspected his ancestry included Italian descent, his skin swarthy and his nose patrician. Laugh lines flirted at the corners of his eyes, and he had the most amazing lashes for a man, long and thick.
He put his hands flat on the bar. “Derek’s got issues. So I make certain allowances.”
She’d never understood that. Jud impressed her as a man who demanded perfection. “Why do you make allowances for him?”
She truly wanted to know. She’d been coming to the club for almost two years, and rather than sleep with Jud, she preferred to keep him as her confidant, a man she didn’t have to impress, pacify, or tame. After a session, she liked to unwind in Jud’s company. He was funny, insightful, and attentive. He could, however, be closemouthed about things, and one of them was Derek, who’d started as a bartender about a year ago.
God. Jud wasn’t gay, was he? It would explain why he’d never made a pass at her. No. No way. He was too...manly, too virile. Plus, she’d seen him eye the ladies, mostly younger women in their thirties. If, however, he nipped off for a quickie, Jud was the epitome of discretion. She’d never seen him partake of the club’s many pleasures.
Jud wiped down the counter in front of her, buffing it dry, then tossed the rag under the bar. “I feel a certain kinship.”
She propped her chin on her hand. “Kinship?”
“In Derek, I see a lot of myself when I was his age. He needs direction. A mentor. He’s wild and undisciplined, but he’ll go far if someone offers him a hand.”
That was the most Jud had ever said regarding his own past. She felt a little thrill of victory that he’d given her this additional revelation into his character. “So, you were undisciplined and wild. Interesting.”
He cocked a brow, and she saw the devil in that look.
“Very. Someday I’ll tell you the story of my wild days.”
She almost laughed. He owned and managed a sex club, for God’s sake. How much more wild could it get? She was suddenly dying to know. “Come on, reveal all.”
He smiled. He had a wicked grin that intoxicated most women. “Later. Tell me how you think I should handle Derek.”
That floored her. Jud always listened, and they’d had many an interesting political, ethical, or moral discussion, but this was something else entirely. “You want my opinion?”
“I value your opinion highly. Derek’s had troubles. A bad home life when he was a kid, drugs, run-ins with the cops. He’s lost his belief in himself, not that anyone could ever tell him that. There’s a fine line between offering him helpful advice and telling him what to do. He’d listen to the former and ignore the latter.”
“And you were a lot like him, huh?”
One side of his mouth quirked. “Let’s just say, if someone told me I needed to get my life in order, I’d have told him to take a flying leap. I thought I was controlling my life when in reality, life controlled me.”
“And now it’s the other way round?”
“Yes. Exactly. I make my own destiny.”
There were dimensions to Jud she’d never fully explored. He’d been a bad boy, but he’d turned around to take life by its tail. Not that she’d ever doubted that about him for a minute. Someday, she’d love to hear more, but right now, she basked in the fact that he’d asked for her help. “Maybe it’s time for a little tough love.”
“As in get your shit together, or you’ll lose this job?”
“Yeah. Or maybe just tell him that out in the real world there are no second chances. And here at the club, he’s on his last chance with you.”
Jud leaned in and chucked her under the chin. “Lady, we’re of like minds. I’m glad you approve of my choice of action, because that’s exactly what I plan to do.”
“Right. Like you needed my approval.”
He cocked his head and stared at her for a moment. She shivered under his suddenly intense gaze.
“You’d be surprised what I need.”
Now, that was deliciously mysterious. And just a bit frightening. Jud was her friend, and asking the meaning of that statement might be moving into dangerous territory.
“Well, I’m glad I could assist, and I have to say I admire you for helping the kid out.”
He winked, and the odd tension she’d felt melted away.
“Now, tell me about your evening. How were the young men?”
She let her lips curve as she thought of her encounter. “Very enjoyable, thank you.” If she sometimes wished for a bit more of a surprise, it certainly didn’t diminish the pleasure.
“Good. Your satisfaction is my greatest desire.” He brushed her hand, shooting a tiny spark of electricity up her arm. “Excuse me while I fill this order.” Then he moved down to attend to the waitress at the end of the bar.
He was such a gallant, always checking on her pleasure. He’d set strict rules for his club, affording his patrons a feeling of security. Men required an invitation, and the first time they had to be accompanied by an approved female guest. Though a stickler for his rules, Jud made exceptions for what he deemed a worthy cause. Brett, Virginia’s husband, had been one such worthy cause, as if Jud somehow knew how well that would turn out. Still, if anyone misbehaved, they were out for good, even women. In other ways, though, women were given a different treatment. Stacy had secured complimentary invitations for friends, like Debbie, she felt might benefit from the club’s offerings. Ladies could also be awarded a standing invitation, meaning they could arrive at any time on any evening and join in anything they chose, free of charge. Few were granted, but Stacy had received her coveted standing invitation long ago.
Sipping her champagne, she glanced in the mirror behind the bar, perusing the guests reflected in the glass. Someone had been watching her tonight. Who could it have been? Though she liked not knowing, it was always delicious to speculate. She surveyed the men at the tables but failed to make eye contact. Maybe her voyeur was shy, observing her only when she wasn’t looking. What about him, the thin, lanky-looking one? He seemed like a watcher. Light hit his glasses, disguising his eyes and any intimate knowledge that might have been in his glance. She let her gaze move on to another table.
Hmm. Her two studs were back in the bar, stopping at a table occupied by two older wome
n dressed in stylish suits, one in navy blue, the other in a bright shade of fuchsia. As Stacy’s lovers took the empty barstools, the two women smiled in unison, their lips hopeful, their gazes needy.
Those young studs would make their wildest dreams come true, and really, Stacy felt happy for them. The club was all about female empowerment, about rejuvenating a woman’s lost spark of desirability brought on by ignorant husbands and busy lives. A woman needed to be wanted, to feel special, incomparable in a man’s eyes. These women deserved to feel like that. All women did. It was a God-given right.
Of course, it was an illusion. But who cared? The two ladies didn’t. Stacy didn’t.
Though it was a bit of slam that her two young men were prowling for fresh meat so soon. That was the problem with sex: it was like Chinese food; it tasted good at the time, but ten minutes after eating it, you were hungry again.
A warm hand caressed her bare arm. “They didn’t please you, so you tossed them back into the sea. Tell me how they disappointed you. I’ll revoke their club privileges.”
“No, they were fine, Jud. I was just...tired, I guess.” She smiled. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him she was a bit disappointed to find Erik and Caesar in the bar. “I preferred coming down here for one of your special champagne cocktails.”
He looked her over with a penetrating gaze. The lights shining up from the bar cast a shadow across his cheekbones, making his brown eyes seem deeper. He pinned her with that dark look as easily as he held her with his hand on her arm.
“They aren’t what you need.” His voice was barely more than a husky whisper, and tingles sped along her nerve endings.
“And what do I need?”
“You need a real man. A man who knows his way around the subtle nuances of every feminine curve. A man who has all the time in the world to lavish a woman’s body with attention. A man who knows how to excite with a look.”
Good Lord. That’s exactly what Jud was doing to her. Her skin felt flushed, her nipples tight and achy, her body hot and wet. With just his gaze on her lips and his fingers on her arm. He made her forget all about her boys making time on the other side of the bar. But this was Jud. Their friendship was sacrosanct. The club was about sex, but the time she spent with Jud was something else. At the moment, she couldn’t define what that was, only what it wasn’t. It wasn’t supposed to be about wanting him to drag her up to one of the private rooms and make her come until she was delirious.
“I told you they were fine.” The faintest tremor flowed through her voice.
He didn’t let her go. “They’re too young. They don’t have a clue. They might be able to fuck the hell out of you, but they’ll never touch you the way you should be touched.”
Stacy was shocked into silence. Jud rarely employed gutter talk. He was too refined. Yet the words sent another tremor through her she was sure he could feel.
“You need a real man, not a boy playing at being a man, someone who knows how to provide the very thing a woman doesn’t even know she needs.”
He sounded like the kid in The Sound of Music who claimed his girlfriend needed someone older and wiser. Jud was older, and oddly, he exuded an aura of wisdom. He was a mentor, as his dealings with Derek indicated, having experienced wild times and learned from them.
Still, she’d found that some older men were pathetic, used-up has-beens who could only get a younger woman by dangling the scent of money. Or lying. Yet, she’d given older men a chance, more than once. She still remembered the “nice” man who’d insulted her and her friend within the first fifteen minutes after their arrival at a downtown bar. First, he’d informed her he didn’t like her language (she’d used the word screw), she was rude to the waitress (not), and her friend needed to lose weight (get out!). Older men could be very judgmental.
Not that Jud was any of those things. He was the farthest thing from a has-been. Used-up? Oh no, he had quite a few more washings left before his stitches fell out. And judgmental? Jud lived by the motto, judge not lest you be judged. Jud was an anything-goes-as-long-as-no-one-gets-hurt kind of man.
But she wasn’t in the market for a sexual lesson.
“I know exactly what I need,” she said, refuting his claim.
“Do you?” He tilted his head, his long lashes effectively hiding his expression.
“I want fun with no entanglements.” Monogamy was good for some of her friends, very good, in fact, but the idea of it didn’t do a thing for her. “I want to leave what happens at the club behind and go home to my business and my life.” Which truly was more important than any surprise she might wish for.
“I beg to differ. I think there’s a lot more you need.”
“Really? Why don’t you tell me?” She felt a certain coolness enter her voice, as if he’d stepped over some invisible line between them. She didn’t like being under his microscope.
Before he could answer, a blonde wriggled onto the barstool next to Stacy’s.
“Ju-ud.”
“Me-lo-dee,” Jud mimicked in return. Then he turned to Stacy and mouthed, “Excuse me a minute.”
“I really, really need a drink. I’m simply parched. What do you recommend? Something...tart.” Melody fluttered her eyelashes and puckered her lips as if she wanted far more from Jud than a glass of wine. Which she probably did.
Stacy was glad for the interruption, except that Melody could be a trifle boring. Though close to thirty, the woman affected an annoying little-girl whimper when she wanted something. Pretty, with blue eyes, loads of blond hair, which Stacy was sure didn’t come out of a bottle, she had a body that epitomized the current model-thin style. Except for her breasts. Melody had an immense chest that made men drool.
Polite to a fault when it came to his guests, Jud gave the blonde his attention. “How about a Campari and soda?”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s bitter, not tart.” Then she pointed at Stacy’s glass. “I want what she’s having.”
Jud shook his head. “You can’t have what Serena’s having. That’s just for her.”
He made peach champagne cocktails exclusively for her? Hmm, how sweet. She hadn’t known that. She felt the ebb of her earlier coolness toward him.
“That’s not fair,” Melody whined.
“Life’s not fair.”
She pouted. Prettily. But Jud didn’t give in.
“Then I want a Long Island iced tea. Make sure it kicks.”
“Yes, ma’am. One kick coming up.” And Jud moved down the length of the bar.
“He’s hot,” Melody whispered. “I wonder when he gets off?”
“Jud gets off exactly when he wants to,” Stacy murmured.
Melody didn’t so much as crack a smile at their dual double entendre. Though Melody had been to the club several times over the last year, maybe she didn’t know that Jud was not an employee but the club’s owner. Not everyone knew, not that Jud hid the fact, but he also didn’t make a display of it.
Melody licked her lips. “I want another bite out of him.”
Another? Stacy felt something inside her lurch. Jud had been with this...okay, she didn’t want to think anything derogatory about Melody. Surely the girl was the sweetest thing since apple pie and maybe not a ditz at all. But Jud had bedded down with her? It was unthinkable. It was repulsive.
Jud returned with the prepared drink, sliding it across the counter on a coaster to sop up the condensation.
Stacy felt as sweaty as the mug. Surely Jud availed himself of the club’s delights, but she’d never focused on the idea. Until now. She didn’t like her thoughts at all, experiencing a proprietary feeling to which she had no right. Dammit, did Melody have a standing invitation, too?
“There you go.” He smiled graciously, then turned back to Stacy. “Can I get you a refill?”
Her glass was only half-empty. Or was that half-full? “I’m fine, thanks.” As possessive as it might be, she wanted to cut Melody out of the conversation. “So, what were we discussing?”
“Oh, tell me, tell me, I love discussion,” Melody clamored.
Stacy just wanted to tell her to get lost. She wasn’t usually uncharitable, and she didn’t allow jealous thoughts to gain a foothold. She abhorred competing for a man’s attention. It was beneath her. So she backed off, only to find it was almost voyeuristic watching Melody hit on Jud, her breasts brilliantly displayed as she leaned on the glass bar top, eyes roving over every inch of Jud’s chest.
Jud merely smiled indulgently. “It was private. Sorry.” The apology was added almost as a courteous afterthought.
That startled Melody, and the sparkle in her eyes dimmed. But only for a moment. “Let’s start a new discussion. Are you boxers, briefs, or commando?”
God, she was so young. Stacy had her own immature moment of triumph realizing Melody didn’t know the answer. Which meant Jud hadn’t...
“That’s private, too,” he answered, still with a tolerant smile on his lips.
Melody trailed a finger along the back of his hand where it rested on the bar. “Oh, come on, you can tell me.” She glanced slyly at Stacy. “I mean, you can tell us.”
Pulling away from Melody, Jud held up his hands. “A man has to have some secrets.”
Melody leaned on the bar, the outline of her breasts lit from below by the row of lights. “Then let’s play another game. Which do you prefer, hand jobs or blow jobs?”
In the midst of a sip of champagne, Stacy almost spewed the fruity concoction across the counter.
Invitation to Passion: Open Invitation, Book 3 Page 2