I was more than interested in what Sawyer got up to. No one, not even my best friend, knew about my never-ending crush on him. She wouldn’t understand. Hell, sometimes I didn’t even understand.
When we were younger, he seemed to get sadistic pleasure out of teasing me, but I idolized him, loved him. When he brought girls home, I’d always wish it was me in the basement making out with him.
He was two years older than me and had busted his ass to make a success of his life. Smart investments and flipping real estate had left him on the brink of billionaire status.
“Earth to Harlow.” McKenna waved her hand in front of my face, shaking me from my thoughts. “You’re thinking about going to the club, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t deny it. The thought of seeing Sawyer parading around a sex club was more than appealing. “Only because I’m curious.”
Chapter Two
If McKenna knew I’d arranged a night at the club without her, she’d kill me. But it was something I wanted to do without her oh-so-sweet words of encouragement and hand-holding.
Through online research, I’d found out the club I needed to get into was called Acquiesce—the one above Succumb.
One of my contacts had somehow secured me an invitation. There was no other way I’d ever get in. My yearly paycheck would barely cover a month’s fees.
Over the years, I’d thought about calling Sawyer, but I wasn’t sure what I’d say. “Hey, it’s your long-lost stepsister, the one whose diary you read. The one who said you were to never ever speak to her again.”
I strode down the bustling street with a confidence I didn’t feel. I would walk into the club and behave as if I belonged there. I wouldn’t show my nervousness. Most likely, Sawyer wouldn’t even show up, but because it was a Friday night, I hoped he would.
My usual uniform of yoga pants, messy ponytail, and t-shirt wouldn’t get me past the door. Instead I’d gone for skinny black jeans, knee-length boots, and a black leather bustier, which I’d hidden with a jean jacket. I’d dried my hair so it hung down my back in curls. And I’d even taken time with my makeup.
What would I say to Sawyer if he were there, if he recognized me? “Imagine seeing you in a place like this! I hear you’re good with a whip.” I shook my head.
If he did recognize me and did say anything, my reply would come out as stuttered gibberish. Staying in the shadows was for the best.
Outside the club, a winding line snaked down the street, and I wondered how many people were waiting to get into the members-only area. I glanced around. No one else seemed as ridiculously dressed as me. Most of the women had on dresses short enough to show the world their vajayjays or shorts that skimmed the creases of their butts. The guys wore a uniform of button-down shirts and slacks—a little too preppy and clean-shaven for my tastes.
A limousine pulled up outside and after a few seconds, Sawyer stepped out. My breath whooshed out and my heart pounded. He wore the fuck out of a dark gray suit. Beneath that was a light blue shirt unbuttoned at the neck, which showed a smattering of dark chest hair. I ached to call his name. Ached to feel his skin against mine. Ached to kiss him long and hard.
He leaned into the car and offered his hand to someone. A pair of endless legs curved out of the car, followed by a willowy brunette whose red minidress contrasted with her milky white skin. They were dressed as if they were going to a red carpet event. I was dressed as if I was going to walk the streets looking for tricks.
Envy burned through me, and I wanted to pummel whoever she was with my clenched fists. But, I shook it off. Getting into a cat fight over a man wasn’t something I would ever do.
The crowd murmured, and I squinted. My stepbrother was on a date with Bailey Dixon! The world’s number one box office draw. Disappointment sucker punched my gut. I should just turn around and go home. This was pointless.
Before going into the club, Bailey waved at her fans while Sawyer inspected the line. I tried to look away, to avoid his gaze, but his penetrating blue eyes were too mesmerizing. He was striking and stunning and sexy, and for a tenth of a second, his eyes landed on mine. A flicker of recognition flashed across his face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.
Bailey hooked her arm through his and without acknowledging me again, he disappeared into the club. How dare he ignore me like that. If I were vindictive—which I wasn’t, but was sorely tempted to become—I would write a scathing article about him and Ms. Movie Star. But blaming her was wrong; it wasn’t her fault Sawyer was a jerk.
The crowd shuffled along and, feeling more than a little dejected, I shuffled with them. Did I expect him to sweep me into his arms and declare his love? Confess that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what he read in my diary all those years ago?
My legs urged me to go home, to accept he wasn’t part of my life. But my brain convinced me I needed closure. What sort of closure, I didn’t know. Maybe I needed him to see I wasn’t seventeen and pathetic. Maybe I needed him to treat me like a human being. Or maybe I just wanted to hurt myself by having him reject me again.
When I reached the door, a security guard who was the size of three normal men welded together, held his hand to his earpiece and eyed me head to toe and back again. Screw him—I’d interviewed terrorists, and killers on Death Row. His tough-man act didn’t intimidate me. I held out my invitation, he scanned it with a disinterested glance, and, without saying a word, he waved me through.
I mumbled my thanks and strode into the already-crowded club. Music and voices hit me in waves. Bodies undulated on the dance floor, and the line at the bar was five deep. Pushing and shoving, I made my way to the back of the club until I came to a roped-off area. This security guard, just big as the one at the main door, scowled at me.
“Hey! Hi!” I shouted over the music. “I have an invitation for upstairs.” To emphasize my words, I pointed up. He didn’t look convinced. In a bid to prove my worthiness, I shoved the invitation his way and waved it around. “See, I’m not lying.” Part of me expected him to laugh in my face and inform me I wasn’t allowed in, that the invitation was a forgery. He didn’t; he opened the velvet rope and growled, “End of the hall, take a right.”
The hallway wasn’t what I expected. I imagined red walls decorated with instruments of torture, maybe even a few signs that said, “ Beware, all ye who enter the pits of debauchery and decadence.” Instead, the décor reminded me of an upscale hotel—light and airy with gold damask wallpaper.
At the end of the hallway, as instructed, I took a right, and was greeted by yet another wall of a man standing in front of an elevator. This giant seemed friendlier. When he spotted me, he crossed his hands over his genitals as if protecting them. From what, I wasn’t sure.
“You’re new,” he said with a genuine smile.
“Yes”—I glanced at his name tag—“Heath, I am. Well, I’m sort of just visiting a friend.”
I handed him what now felt like a priceless Golden Ticket. “Master Simon invited me. Is he here yet?” Simon was in the Bahamas for the rest of the month, but Heath didn’t need to know that.
The protector of the elevator shook his head and examined my invitation beneath an ultraviolet light. “Not yet. Too early for him.”
He handed the invitation back and swiveled an iPad in my direction. “Sign on the dotted line.”
“What am I signing?”
“A confidentiality agreement. If you break it, you’ll eat ramen noodles until you die. After that, your children and their children will eat ramen noodles, too.”
“Well, that’s good to know, I guess.” My journalistic curiosity kicked in. What sordid secrets did they hope to hide from the world? What would I find behind the proverbial curtain? And what would they do to keep me silent? But I wasn’t here in a journalistic capacity, so I pushed those thoughts right out of my head.
Using my finger, I scribbled my name across the screen and hit enter. “Can I go up now, or do I need a cavity search?”
He g
ave me a wicked smile that would make the Cheshire Cat envious. “Only if you ask nicely.”
“Oh, well, um, maybe next time.”
He guffawed while pressing the call button and almost immediately, the elevator pinged opened. I was on my way to Oz.
Chapter Three
I don’t know if I was expecting to see people openly having sex on the dance floor? Or women writhing in pain as men whipped and spanked them to within an inch of their lives. If that was what I’d imagined, then I would have been severely disappointed.
Sensual jazz music played in the background, and most people sat at tables chatting and drinking cocktails. The place looked like any other elite members-only club. Not one piece of leather clothing anywhere. As well as leaving my skin sticky, my leather getup was wholly inappropriate.
A few men passed by and gave me appreciative glances, but I held my head up and didn’t show them any interest. I didn’t want some Dom tying me to the bar and commanding me to call him Sir. That wasn’t what I was into. I occasionally liked rough sex, but I didn’t want a man taking control, demanding I call him Sir, Master, or My Liege. No thank you. With my head held high, I strode to an area of the bar that would give me the best view of the club.
As soon as I sat down, a stunning bartender leaned towards me. “I’m Tess. Can I get you something to drink?”
She looked like a runway model. Blonde hair cascaded down her back, and she wore a blue silk dress that rippled every time she moved.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll have a Pinot noir.”
“Coming right up.”
While Tess poured my drink, I examined my surroundings. Lots of familiar faces—two Democrats, one Republican, a newscaster, a game show host, a shock jock, and a few sitcom actors. Where were Bailey and Sawyer? A jealous voice in my head snarked a reply: They’re in a private room fucking each other’s brains out.
Tess placed a glass brimming with wine in front of me. “Enjoy.”
“That’s one hell of a glass.”
She shrugged and wiped the bar. “You looked like you could do with an extra helping.”
My brow furrowed. “That bad?”
“I didn’t mean you look bad, not at all. Whoever invited you should have told you we’re not a leather-and-lace kind of club. You seem a little out of place.”
I would kill McKenna and Simon. “Some friends gave me the wrong information. It’s not what I expected.” I picked up the glass and took a welcome gulp.
Conspiratorially, she leaned over the bar. “There’s another club upstairs. Your friends were probably talking about that one.” She resumed wiping the spotless bar. “Most are high rollers. There’s a secret entrance they use. Some of the celebrities prefer to come in front, hoping to get papped.”
“How do I get up there?”
She shook her head. “You don’t. I work here, and even I can’t get up there. Last week someone managed to get in. Since then they’ve tightened security.”
“Thanks for letting me know.” I set down my glass. “I guess I’ll get going.”
She nodded in understanding. “Sorry, sweetie.”
“No worries.”
As soon as I slid off my stool, someone tapped my shoulder. And this is where I’m thrown out.
I rolled my shoulders and glanced back. The smile was as devastating as ever and just like that I was fifteen and in love with someone unattainable. “ Sawyer! Um, imagine seeing you here. In a place like this.”
He leaned an elbow on the bar and regarded me with narrowed eyes.
“Mr. Elliot,” Tess said. “It’s nice to see you down here. Can I get you anything?”
“No thank you, Tess. I’ve only come down for a few minutes. Thought I saw someone I knew in line, and it seems I was right.”
Sawyer turned his attention to me. Behind him, Tess’s eyes widened and she scurried away.
“Why are you here, Harlow?” There was a hint of annoyance in his question. “Think you can get some sort of story?”
“What makes you say that?”
He shrugged. “You’re a journalist, aren’t you?”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve followed your career with interest.”
Stunned didn’t even come close to describing my reaction and I didn’t know what to do with that bombshell. “Well, uh, good seeing you. I should leave. This isn’t my kind of place.”
“No. I think you’re going to tell me why you’re here. I find it odd that we haven’t spoken in years and a few nights after McKenna somehow managed to get in, you show up.”
I grasped the stem of my discarded wine glass and picked it up. “Oh, so you saw her?”
“She didn’t do much to make herself inconspicuous. Having one of the senior members lick her feet wasn’t exactly keeping her head down. The chef who snuck her up was fired. How did you wrangle your way in?”
I was afraid if I told him Simon had secured me an invitation, he might get kicked out of the club. “I didn’t wrangle my way in anywhere. I have an invitation.” Nonchalantly, I sipped my wine and, even though my hand shook, I managed not to spill any. He didn’t need to know I was on the brink of losing it. “I hear there’s another club, a more exclusive club. Is that where Bailey is? Who knew America’s sweetheart was into kink? Fascinating.”
His lips turned up in a condescending smirk. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Is that so?” I set my glass on the bar and grabbed my bag. “Coming here was a mistake. I’m obviously not Acquiesce material. It was good seeing you.”
“Harlow, you’re not leaving.” His voice held a command that raised the hair on the back of my neck. “At least not yet.”
“You can’t make me stay.”
He wrapped a hand around my bicep, his touch searing my skin. “Can’t I? We need someone for a demonstration upstairs, and you’re the perfect choice.”
“Are you fucking kidding?” I yanked my arm away. “I’m not going anywhere with you. And I’m especially not being used for any kind of demonstration.”
“Your boss will want to know why one of his up-and-coming reporters was thrown out of a kink club. There are eyes—and cameras—everywhere. We can make it look very bad.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. But perhaps next time you’ll think twice about spying on me.”
Chapter Four
“You’re shitting me? This is part of Acquiesce?” I stared around the low-lit third floor.
“This part of the club is called Yield,” Sawyer replied.
“Succumb, Acquiesce, and Yield? Someone went a little thesaurus crazy.” If Sawyer heard the sarcasm in my voice, he ignored it.
People in various stages of undress strode around, behaving as if they were in a regular club. In several roped-off areas, couples performed contortionist-like acts surrounded by gawking club members. I’d read about such “scenes,” even watched a few videos for research, but hadn’t realized that in real life I’d find them so enticing and erotic.
“I was just about to explain the dangers of using handcuffs incorrectly.” Sawyer guided me to the center of the room where a chair sat in the middle of a circle of people. Very famous and wealthy people, I noted. A naked Bailey Dixon knelt on the floor in front of a man dressed head to toe in leather. Bailey was a submissive? If the public found out, I prayed they’d support her way of life. But she’d built her career on being a blue-eyed, God-fearing Southern girl, so I doubted it.
“Stop staring,” Sawyer hissed.
“I can’t help it,” I whispered. “Didn’t she come here as your date?”
“Now is not the time.”
If the daggers in my eyes were real, Sawyer Elliot would be on the floor in a pool of blood. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll leak something this juicy?”
“You won’t.”
“Is that so?” I attempted to pull away from him, but his grip was too tight. “A few phone calls to the right people would bring a t
ruckload of trouble right here.” I was bluffing and full of shit. I’d been on the receiving end of having my secrets uncovered, and it wasn’t something I’d wish on anyone.
“You won’t, Harlow.” He leaned down, and his warm breath caressed my cheek. “You’re not the kind of girl who’ll hurt others just to hurt me. I’ve followed your career. Your work with at-risk members of society is admirable.” He placed a finger beneath my chin and tipped my head up. “Unless…you’re here for revenge. To pay back everything I did.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why would I need revenge?”
He raised his eyebrows. “The way I treated you was inexcusable. The things I did and said…they were cruel and unwarranted. I’m sorry for everything.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Do you still feel the same way you did at seventeen? Do you still want me to fuck you against your bedroom wall? Or have those teenage fantasies developed the maturity and complexities of a woman’s?”
My heart pounded so fast and hard it was about to burst out of my chest. “Oh, please, I got over my teenage crush a long time ago.” No way would I tell him how I felt. No way would I give him that kind of power over me.
“Prove it.” There was a challenge in his words, his eyes. “Do this demonstration and if it doesn’t affect you, you can leave.”
I could do this, I could pull on my big girl pants and make him believe I didn’t love or want him.
“Everyone’s waiting.” Impatience flowed from his pores.
“Fine.” I firmed my lips and lowered my head. “Once this is over, consider us even. I won’t invade your precious life anymore.”
“Take off your jacket, Harlow.”
The room was stifling hot, or maybe it was my clammy skin, so without hesitation, I shrugged off my jacket and threw it to one side. The stoic expression on his face gave nothing away. I wanted to know if he liked what he saw. Did I disgust him? Thrill him?
“The first thing you must always do”—a hushed silence descended and Sawyer’s deep voice reverberated around the room—“is to make sure you have permission before handcuffing anyone to anything.” He turned toward me and smiled. “Do I have your permission?”
Nine Steamy Step Stories Page 20