Saffi

I found a private corner to read my text from G.

how r u tonight?

My heart thumped in my chest, and I casually looked around. With the mask, I had to be safe, right?

I readjusted my disguise and casually looked through the room. He was nowhere in sight. Was he still there? Had he recognized me?

hello!

Was he getting his dick sucked and texting me at the same time? Was that considered appropriate in a sex club?

was hoping you’d come to the club tonight

Sipping my bubbly, I scoured the room again.

Tomorrow?

Tonight, I’d watch.

what time?

the usual

I dropped the phone back into my purse. The night was young, and I had more investigating to do. The trick was to do it without G identifying me. If he were still there.

I turned to see M with a small group of people, chatting as she stared at me from across the room.

Why was she always on my ass?

Smiling, I saluted her and headed for the stairs. Time to see what was going on in the playrooms.

It was my second night at the club, and I barely knew any more than the day the tattered business card landed at my feet. Well, except that I liked being finger fucked in public, enjoyed kissing another woman, and still hated port.

The club’s secrets were sealed up tight. Just as Miss M wanted it.

I needed to find a “friend” to hang with, someone other than G, who might answer some questions. I found a spot on a cushy love seat on the third floor, and figured that soon enough someone would join me.

“Hey,” said the bartender from earlier.

“Hi there, O.”

He plopped down next to me.

“You’re done working?”

He smiled, displaying some of the deepest, hottest dimples I’d ever seen. I hadn’t paid his looks much attention before, but I had to admit that his chiseled jaw and mussed hair were a treat for the eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “My buddy’s got me covered for the rest of the night.”

Perfect. He could be my cover just long enough to help me fit in. And maybe provide some info this time.

“So, earlier, I asked you how long the club had been around. Why did you not want to talk to me?”

He shifted on the sofa, turning to face me. “Huh? Oh, I don’t know anything about the place, really.” He ran a finger down one of my bare arms, stopping at the crook of my elbow. My nipples sprang to attention.

I suppressed a shiver. The tickling drove me crazy.

He reached past my mask for a piece of hair and fingered a long curl, twisting it around his finger. “What’s your name again, gorgeous?” His eyes washed over me, leaving me weak.

“B. I go by B.” Shit, this guy was hot.

Remain focused. This is work.

“I mean, I have a real name. That I use in the real world.” Why was I babbling?

“Um, yeah, I figured B was just your club name.” He smiled. Goddamn those dimples. “B, I’d like to kiss you. Would that be all right?”

“I suppose so.”

“You want to take off your mask first?”

“No. No, I do not. But thank you for asking.”

He gave a small laugh and leaned in. He was so close the heat of his lips radiated, even though we’d yet to make contact.

Shit, what was he waiting for?

His velvety lips fell on mine, and they tasted so goddamn good. Sort of like good scotch and something minty. Falling into him, I parted my lips to taste his tongue.

It was beginning to seem like journalism was a great profession. I giggled into his kiss.

He drew back slightly. “Did I tickle you?” He looked so sincere.

“A little. It’s okay.” And my mouth fell on his again to do some exploring of my own. Heat rose all through my core, and all thoughts of work fluttered away. I squirmed in my seat, my panties soaking with my pleasure.

“Well,” the bartender said abruptly, looking at his watch.

Huh?

He stood. “I’ll see you next time, then?”

“Um. Yeah. Sure.”

“Super.” He smoothed back his hair. “Have a good night.” And he was gone.

What a weird freaking place.