Two large security guards met us at the top floor of the Bellmonte, one tall and bald, the other shorter but stocky, both setting my mind at ease. However, I was sorely disappointed when they didn’t bother to frisk me. Even a cursory glance would tell a professional that I was carrying. As we exited the elevators, I made careful note of all the entry points, thankful that at least there were only two. The one we stood at, waiting for them to find her name on a clipboard, and one at the far right, which had a chair beside it. “Where’s that guard?” I asked, pointing at the empty post.

The taller of the two guards looked at me closer. “Why?” His voice sounded laden with testosterone or growth hormone.

“Just want to be sure Ms. Gen— Vanessa is safe in your establishment.” I stood at my full height, still not quite enough to meet his eyes straight on.

“He’s tending to a matter. We have another event on the floor below.”

That did not instill confidence in me, and when Vanessa pulled me along toward the now open door, I resisted. She squeezed my arm, digging her nails into me. “Don’t start, Martin.”

Right after we stepped over the threshold and the door clicked shut behind us, Vanessa had a shot in her hand, pouring it into her mouth. A girl who didn’t look old enough to be there, or to be wearing that latex outfit, held out a hand to offer me one as well. I shook my head ‘no,’ and Vanessa downed it instead. “Woo!” she choked from the burn.

“Easy.” I nudged her away from the shot girl.

“You saw the security. It’s safe here. Let loose a little.” Vanessa turned abruptly, forcing me to bump into her, our bodies pressed firmly together. The closeness made my balls ache, I’m sure partly from the state we’d left them in earlier. She grazed the front of my pants with her leg, and the black skirt fell away. It was slit all the way to her hip. How did I miss that earlier? “Relax,” she purred.

“Quite impossible with you around.” I blocked the next leg from grazing and ushered her in the room. The noise was unbearable. An electronic beat thundered in my ears, rattling my eardrums. “This can’t be what passes as music,” I yelled in her ear.

“Careful, now. You might show your age.” Vanessa pulled me by my tie, and we wedged ourselves deeper into the crowd. I followed, close enough to see the shape of her ass jiggle beneath the sheer fabric.

She swiftly snatched a glass of some bright blue liquid off another shot girl’s tray and threw back her head. “Slow down,” I commanded again.

“Maybe you should try one. Take the edge off.” Vanessa took another from the second shot girl and offered it to me. “They’re sweet.”

“I can’t. On the job.” I tried to take it, just to keep her from drinking it, but she was too fast. She placed the empty glass on the tray.

“Come on.” She tugged my tie like a leash, and I tailed behind her obediently.

Just as my senses returned and I swatted at her hand, a drunk twenty-something jock type grabbed Vanessa and twirled her around. “It’s about time, V! Let me get a look at that ass!”

Vanessa lost her footing, tipping over her sore left ankle, and growled at the boy. “Chad, get off me!” She pushed him away, and he stumbled, beer spilling down the front of her shirt. “Dammit!” She shoved harder, and he landed on a plush couch. He stayed put, playing it off like he’d meant to sit down.

Passing by him, I kicked his foot in what could be construed as an accident by an onlooker, but we both knew it was wasn’t. Drunk Chad looked down at his lap and sipped the last drops of beer in his cup. I caught up to Vanessa in time to see her storm into the ladies’ room, still cussing. I barged right in, not even thinking. “Are you okay?”

She looked up at me, the front of her shirt soaked and clinging to her heaving chest. I could see the outline of her bra, and although she looked livid and dangerous, I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and pin her to the wall.

“Stupid, immature jerk!” Vanessa grumbled as she lifted the shirt over her head. “Help me.”

I didn’t move.

“Help me clean this up,” she clarified.

I ran some water and rinsed as much beer off the shirt as I could, then held it under the hand dryer. “Want my shirt?” I offered.

“No. I think the alcohol’s kicking in. I’m on fire.” She smiled, her cheeks red. Then she ran her finger up the bridge of her nose at her invisible glasses, and I almost lost my composure. “What?” she asked, noticing my own smile broad across my face.

“Just a thing you do. I like it.”

She furrowed her brow. “What do I do?”

“If I told you, you’d stop,” I admitted. I returned to my business of drying her shirt. A moment later, I felt her lean on me. I shuddered. The heat coming off her body was intense, and the softness of her breast pushing against my back was too much to bear. “Please, don’t. I can’t fight you right now.”

“I’m not,” she slurred. I turned around to see the glassiness in her eyes.

“Lightweight,” I laughed. I helped her get the still damp shirt over her head. “Let’s get you home.” I led her through the crowd, my body protecting her from any more drunk assholes.

The hot night air hit us as we exited the Bellmonte, but she shivered, the light breeze flitting across her wet top. I removed my dress shirt and wrapped it around her, wondering to myself what I looked like out on the street with a t-shirt and a blue silk tie.

It didn’t take long for Vanessa to become more inebriated, the full effect of four consecutive shots hitting her at once. I picked her up and carried her the rest of the way to the car. As I lowered her into the back seat, she continued talking, more to herself. “I don’t want to go home. There’s nothing there. You won’t make love to me. You make me go to bed alone every night.” Her voice trailed off. It pained me to hear her talk that way, but I had no choice.

My phone rang, and I fumbled to answer it before the Bluetooth blared it through the speakers.

“This is Nurse Hilliard from Carmichael.” My heart sank.