Smoothing over my short skirt, I step away from the taxi and glance around, trying to find Chloe in the thick crowd of people gathered on the sidewalk in front of the club.
But I don’t see her.
Nervousness settles in the pit of my gut.
Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I gnaw on it as indecision sets in.
What if I can’t find her?
There’s no way I’m going inside solo. If worst comes to worst, I can catch another cab home. No big deal.
Everything immediately settles as I catch sight of her rushing down the street in sky-high heels. For a moment, I was worried that maybe she’d forgotten about me. Chloe may be the oldest friend I have, but our friendship has been on hiatus for almost two years.
Maybe she’s changed.
I don’t know yet.
We’re still trying to find our way back to the friendship we once had. It takes a few moments before I notice the group trailing behind her. It looks like Chloe has invited about six other people to join us. I’ll get a chance to meet some of her friends tonight.
Ever since the party at Dominic’s, we’ve been texting back and forth, getting reacquainted. Chloe works at a law office about eighteen blocks away from my building. She’s a paralegal. They must have a lot going on, because she hasn’t been able to get away as easily as she thought she would for lunch. Or maybe her boss is just a demanding jerk. Which is kind of what she’s implied in our conversations.
I’ve spent the last week walking around Northwestern and ordering the books I’ll need for class. I bought a few more things for the condo. And I took Dominic out for lunch. I wanted to foot the bill as a thank-you for the wonderful party, but he wouldn’t allow it. I also spent the last week skulking around the building, hoping I wouldn’t run into my neighbor.
I haven’t.
The man seems to have disappeared.
Again.
Chloe rakes over my outfit with a critical eye. “You look amazing!”
I grin in response, feeling even more at ease. “I love your skirt!”
She’s wearing a very short red skirt paired with a black halter top. It’s a simple outfit, but she wears it well. Chloe is tall and thin. She can wear just about anything and rock it. Her thick strawberry blonde hair has been left long and wild around her shoulders. A pair of black high-heeled sandals completes her look.
Taking a moment, she quickly introduces me to her friends. Four girls and two guys. Everyone seems friendly.
With a smile on her face, she loops her arm through mine. “Ready to have some fun?”
I glance over at the long line of people winding around the side of the brick building. Are we really going to spend half the night waiting to get into some exclusive club? “Maybe we should go somewhere else. This place looks packed.” The bouncer hasn’t let one person in since we’ve been standing here.
“No worries. I know people here.” She gives me a little wink. “Come on.”
En masse, we move toward the brawny bouncer standing guard at the front entrance. It’s quite clear that no one is getting past him. Big, beefy arms are folded across a barrel-like chest. It’s ten o’clock at night, but he’s wearing black sunglasses that hide his eyes. Plus, there’s a no-nonsense expression on his face that looks like it’s been carved from granite.
I slant a dubious look in Chloe’s direction. She looks strangely self-assured regarding the situation.
Suddenly she shouts, “Hey, Lucas! Miss me, baby?”
I hold my breath, waiting for Lucas to laugh in her face before telling us to beat it to the back of the line.
But, in a shocking turn of events, that doesn’t happen.
He stares at her for a heartbeat before a big smile spreads across his face. Two muscular arms shoot out, grabbing Chloe and hauling her sandaled feet off the sidewalk. She squeals and slaps him on the chest.
“You better believe I did, sweet cheeks.”
Once he sets her down, she loops her arm through mine before making introductions. I’m still somewhat flabbergasted that this mountain of a man can smile. “This is my best friend, Grace.”
His head swivels towards me. Since he’s wearing dark shades, I have no idea if he’s giving me the once-over. I kind of feel like he might be.
“Hey, best friend Grace. Nice to meet you.”
I give an awkward little wave in response.
Without further ado, he unclips the black velvet rope in front of the door, allowing us entrance. As we walk inside the club, he firmly whacks Chloe on the ass. She doesn’t seem to mind.
“Let me know what you’re doing Sunday night.”
“Will do,” she calls over her shoulder.
I glance back at the people who are now loudly complaining because they’ve been waiting in line and still haven’t been allowed inside. If I were Lucas, I’d be worried that they might decide to storm the door.
“Is he your… friend?”
Catching my meaning, she smirks. “Sure, you could say that.”
That comment has my eyebrows rising, but I don’t ask any further questions. It’s not because I’ve lost interest in the kind of relationship they have, but more because I’m now scanning the night-club we’ve just walked into. From the outside, this place looks unassuming. In fact, I wouldn’t have even known it was a club, except for the long line of people outside.
My eyes widen as I continue taking everything in.
I feel as though I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole.
It’s like sensory overload.
On steroids.
This place is crazy!
Craning my neck, I glance toward the ceiling. It must be four stories high. On the ground level, there’s a huge dance floor with tables scattered around the periphery. A long, sleek glass bar stretches across the far wall. Hundreds of bottles of liquor line glass shelves. Lights flash and fog creeps low to the ground.
Three levels of balconies ring the dance floor. People stand one, two, or three stories above, watching what’s going on below. Platforms with scantily clad women dancing on them are scattered around the first floor.
I squint.
At first glance, it looks like they’re wearing colorful swim-suits. Or maybe lingerie. But the harder I stare, the more certain I am that my first impression isn’t correct.
I think their bodies are painted.
Music pumps from a DJ booth high above the dance floor. The women on the platforms twist and twirl around poles. One lifts her leg, and I’m half afraid of what I’m going to see. It’s like a horrific car crash. One I can’t look away from.
Chloe chuckles. “They’re wearing thongs.”
Skepticism laces my voice. “You sure about that?”
“Yup.” She waits a beat or two before announcing, “I’ve been working here for three months now.”
Eyes darting to hers, my mouth drops open.
She’s joking.
Maybe.
I level a disbelieving look her way. “No, you have not.”
I can’t see her working in a place like this.
Or maybe I can.
Chloe has always had a larger-than-life personality. And she has a fantastic body. When we were kids, Chloe spent countless hours in ballet and jazz classes. In high school, she was on the dance team. The girl knows how to move. I guess the idea of her working here isn’t as far-fetched as I originally thought.
Her eyes glitter. “We have a lot to catch up on, don’t we?”
“Yeah,” I admit, still feeling floored by the disclosure, “I guess we do.”
“Should we get a drink?”
That sounds like a good idea since my senses are still overloaded.
Strobe lights throw different patterns and colors across the floor. The beat of the music practically reverberates off the walls. It’s not obnoxiously loud, but you can feel it vibrating in your bones. Maybe other places as well. The pulsing seems to have settled in my lower region. I shift uncomfortably, needing that drink.
Slowly, the group makes its way to the bar. This place is packed. I notice that the bartenders, all women, have been painted alike. Kind of like a uniform. You’d think it would be obscene, but it’s not. The paint covering their bodies is beautiful. There’s an artistry to it that intrigues me. I can only imagine how long it takes to get ready for a shift. I make a mental note to ask Chloe.
“The money here is amazing,” Chloe says. “Totally worth it.”
One of the bartenders saunters over to greet us. She has a build much like Chloe’s- tall and willowy. “Hey, beautiful, what can I get for you?”
Ummmm… is she talking to me?
When I pause, her ruby red lips quirk before her eyes shift to Chloe. “A newbie? Aww, how sweet. I love club virgins.”
Chloe laughs before rattling off a drink order. I hate to admit it, but I can’t stop staring. I’m totally fascinated. She looks as though she’s wearing a shimmering gold swimsuit. But obviously, it’s not.
“Honey, you keep looking at me like that, and I’m going to take you home at the end of the night and have my way with you.” She gives me a wink.
I think she’s just teasing.
I am definitely out of my element right now.
But, surprisingly, it doesn’t feel like a bad thing. I’m enjoying myself.
After two rounds of some fruity concoction the bartender whips up for us, we all move to the dance floor. Two songs later, my eyes are closed, and my hands are sliding through the air. The low pulse of the bass thumps deep inside me. It feels almost sensuous. I’m not drunk, just pleasantly buzzed. I’m having the best time. I’m nowhere near the same caliber of dancer that Chloe is, but I love to shake my booty. It makes me feel lighthearted and free.
It’s the best feeling in the world.
I’m not thinking about my parents, the last two years, or all the unknowns I’ll face in the future. The music continues to wrap around me, insulating me in an alternate reality. One without a past or future. At this moment, I’m nothing more than loose limbs and body parts moving to the rhythm of the music.
Feeling more relaxed and carefree than I have in ages, I open my heavy-lidded eyes to gaze at the sea of strangers surrounding me. My hands twirl above my head.
I look up at the girls dancing on the platforms, and then higher, to the balconies wrapping around the floor. People crowd around the edges so they can watch what’s going on below.
There’s an eclectic mix of people present.
College-aged kids. Young professionals. Hipsters. Socialites. A crowd of edgier, alternative-looking guys. Men in suits. The only thing they all seem to have in common is that no one looks to be over the age of thirty. I’m wondering if Lucas, the bouncer at the door, has strict orders to keep anyone who looks middle aged out. This must be where all the young, beautiful people come to cut loose.
Again, I’m blown away that Chloe works here. As she mentioned earlier, we need to find some time to sit down and talk.
Really talk.
I’m about to close my eyes and give myself over to the pulse of the music again when the fine hairs at the nape of my neck rise. A chill sweeps over my entire body, which is ironic since I’m a sweaty mess.
I have the strangest feeling that someone is watching me.
There are three different levels with balconies. Someone could very well be staring at me from up above. Glancing around, I try to figure out if the feeling that has settled in the pit of my stomach is a simple case of paranoia or if I’m being watched.
It’s dark, and the strobe lights make it difficult to see, but I feel the moment my eyes collide with his. A jolt of electricity zips through my body, and just like before, I can’t look away.
My next-door neighbor’s eyes pin me in place. Even from this distance, they never release mine. I can do nothing more than stand in a mass of writhing bodies, my gaze held captive by his. His inscrutable expression never falters.
I’m so intently focused upon him, that I don’t immediately realize he’s here with someone. It takes a moment or two before I become cognizant of the woman clinging to his side.
I watch as she trails long, elegant fingers down his chest. Her mouth is at his neck, kissing and licking. But that’s a guess because her long, straight hair curtains the view.
Lord knows that if I were her, I would do the exact same thing.
He’s not paying her any attention, though. His eyes are still boring into mine. There’s a tumbler wrapped in one big hand. Not breaking our stare, he brings it to his lips and takes a drink. My heart pounds almost painfully against my ribs.
His lips are so full and sexy.
The music is still thumping, but I’m no longer aware of it. It’s drowned out by the deep, rich voice in my head.
How much do you want to be fucked?
God, so badly.
Do you like that, baby?
Yes!
My panties flood with heat as I continue staring at him. His husky words, laced with dark sensuality, ring throughout my head.
When someone shakes my shoulder, I rip my eyes from his.
“Grace, are you all right?”
A small frown mars Chloe’s face.
When I say nothing in response, she continues, “You were just standing in the middle of the dance floor like a statue. I’m not going to lie, it was weird. I think you need some water. Too much dancing.”
It’s not the dancing, I want to tell her.
But I don’t. I keep what happened to myself.
When I glance back toward the balcony, the spot he’s just occupied is empty. For a second, I wonder if he was ever there to begin with. Did I conjure him up?
Have I finally become unhinged? Maybe Chloe is right about needing something ice-cold for my parched throat. I’m sweaty and probably dehydrated.
Not waiting for an answer, Chloe grabs my hand, and we weave through all the gyrating bodies. When we arrive at the bar, the same bartender makes a beeline for us. There’s a raw sexuality and confidence about her that’s almost impossible to ignore. The fact that she’s wearing nothing more than body paint just ups her hotness factor.
I’ve never been attracted to a woman before. And I certainly would never consider experimenting now. But I’m beginning to think I have a harmless girl crush here.
“Two waters, please,” Chloe says.
When the bartender turns to grab our drinks, I’m able to see that she truly has no clothing on. The dancers wear thongs, but the bartenders apparently don’t. Spinning back around, she catches me staring again and gives me another flirty wink before grinning.
“That’ll be six bucks.”
Chloe is just about to dig through her pockets when I say, “I’ve got it.”
Pulling out a ten, I slide it toward her. She grabs it. Before I can tell her to keep the change, she hands four singles back to me.
“Keep it.”
A roguish smile curls her red lips upwards. “You want to give me a tip?”
Leaning against the bar, she beckons me forward with one elegant finger. Her eyes turn seductive. “Come here, newbie.”
Not quite sure what’s going on, I lean toward her. I expect her to whisper something in my ear, but when our faces are scant inches apart, she says, “Give me your tongue.”
Surprised by the request, I blink in confusion.
The edges of her lips tilt up further. “Stick out your tongue for me.”
Maybe it’s the drinks I’ve had or just plain curiosity. Or maybe it’s what just happened on the dance floor, and my brain still isn’t functioning properly. I don’t know.
But I do as she commands.
Almost cautiously, I stick out my tongue. My pulse continues to hammer under my skin. Chloe stands at my side, not saying a word. Very slowly, the bartender moves closer until she’s able to draw my tongue into her mouth.
Her eyes are locked on mine the entire time she sucks.
It’s not a rough action. In fact, it’s unexpectedly gentle. Soft, even. No more than fifteen seconds slip by before she releases me. Instead of backing away, she places her lips to my ear and whispers huskily, “Now imagine that’s your clit.”
Those five words reverberate throughout my entire body.
Especially my clit.