Chapter 25
Asher
“What kind of club is this?” she whispers the second we walk through the red steel, nondescript door. It’s unmarked and looks more like the entrance to an industrial building than to a club. Since it’s for members only, they don’t want flashing neon signs drawing the general public in.
“The private kind,” I reply, giving my name to the receptionist behind the glass booth.
When you enter Curieux, you are enclosed in a small ten by ten brightly lit space and met by a beautiful, but usually conservatively dressed woman behind the protective barrier. Anyone who happens to stumble across this by accident is easily sent on their way or escorted by security if they prefer the hard one.
But when you are granted access into the club itself, the entire atmosphere changes.
It’s dark.
It’s seductive.
The vibe is intoxicating. Liberating. Decadent.
While I’m not a member of Curieux, I do know the owner. He’s one of my most important clients and a good friend, so I have an open invitation. I don’t like to take advantage of my friends, however, so I don’t come here frequently. And now I’m glad I don’t. I want to share some first-time experiences with Alyse. If the night goes well, maybe I’ll even consider becoming a member.
“Mr. Colloway, you may place your personal effects in here.” The hostess opens a small twelve-inch door to her right where she slides out an intricately designed wooden, plum velvet-lined box. Cameras are a big no-no, so everything, down to pens and lapel pins are locked safely away until you leave.
I remove my cell phone, wallet, and money clip. I signal for Alyse’s small clutch, which she silently hands over, but I see the dozen questions written all over her face. I shut the lid and lock and pocket the small key. I also remove our coats, giving them to her.
“Thank you, sir. You and your guest are free to enter.”
I hear a buzz and the latch of the door to our right unlocks, as it has no handle on this side. Placing my hand on the small of Alyse’s back, I usher her forward and push the steel entrance open, holding my breath.
As soon as the door closes behind us, I pin Alyse to the wall, taking her mouth in a hungry kiss. She moans, twining her hands through my hair. Her bare leg winds around mine as I palm her ass through the short, sexy, brilliant blue dress she bought this afternoon after wedding dress shopping with her sister. I want nothing more than to fuck her right now.
I force myself back and search her eyes, hoping she’ll see my appeal. “Before we go any further, I need you to be open-minded.”
“Okay,” she answers tentatively, drawing out the word into almost a question.
“This is me letting you in.”
Her eyes soften and she reaches up to cup my cheek with one hand. “Judgment-free zone here. Promise.”
I nod, hoping she feels that way in a few seconds. Kissing the tip of her nose, I grab her hand in mine. We make our way down a dimly lit hallway until it spills into the guts of the club. The pounding thump of the sultry bass thrums through our bodies, setting a new rhythm for our hearts. There is an unmistakable sensual vibe that permeates every one of your senses, erasing inhibitions. I swear pheromones are pumped through the ventilation system.
“Wow,” Alyse breathes beside me. She grips my hand tighter probably without even realizing she’s done it. The first time I saw this, I felt the same way.
The club has two levels and while I’ve been to the lower level, it’s pretty hard-core exhibitionism and not really my thing. I’m more subtle about my taste, not minding if someone happens to see or watch, but I don’t go out of my way to fuck women in front of a room full of people, either. That doesn’t get me off; that just feels like a performance.
This level of the club is very open with a dance floor taking up the entire center. It’s still fairly early in the evening, but there are several couples twined and grinding on each other. The one rule on this floor is any sexual activity has to take place in a booth, not out in the open.
The whole place is black. The walls, the tile floor, the leather booths, the bar stools. All black. The right wall houses the long black marble bar and is dimly lit with purple florescent lighting.
Two-dozen booths take up the remaining three walls. They vary in size, from those for more intimate encounters to others that can accommodate a larger group. Every booth is secluded with walls that round slightly in the front and go all the way to the ceiling.
Each contains the same soft ambient lighting as the bar, which can be turned off by the occupants if they would like additional privacy, and translucent curtains, which provide a modicum of discretion. Due to the placement and situation, some of the compartments offer more isolation than others, as everyone has a different level of comfort and desire.
Tonight I’ve requested a rather secluded area toward the back of the club, because while I want to be here, I don’t want to share her with the entire place either. Maybe that’s the natural possessiveness coming out, but regardless, I still have this pulsing need to show her this side of me.
As Alyse stands quietly beside me taking it all in, I spot John, the club’s owner, headed our way.
“Asher, glad you could make it again.” John shakes my hand, but his attention is all on Alyse. I can honestly say I don’t blame him, but I still don’t like it. Even though I realize I made her buy the sexy dress she’s wearing today after she sent me a picture from the dressing room.
“And who do we have here?” John asks, turning his body toward Alyse.
I pull her closer. “She’s mine,” I warn. John’s a good friend, but he’s also a player. I would not put it past him to make a play for her.
“Asher, stop.” Alyse slaps my chest. “Alyse Kingsley,” she answers, holding out her hand. He takes it, bringing it to his lips. I growl and John laughs.
“John Weaver, owner of Curieux. I guess you’re off-limits. Too bad.” He winks at Alyse and I’m about one second away from knocking his ass into next week when Alyse wraps herself around me, hands roaming underneath my suit coat, up my back.
Her touch calms my raging jealousy. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Maybe Conn was right.
“I’m yours,” she whispers in my ear. When her lips touch my neck, those thoughts flee and I harden painfully, one hand snaking up to fist her hair, while the other pulls her flush against me.
“Looks like I need to get you both to a booth,” John says wryly.
After a quick, hard kiss, we follow him to the back of the club. Alyse keeps her head forward, but I can tell she’s scanning the place without trying to look too obvious. I’m dying to know what’s rolling through that pretty little head. I’m about to find out as John stops at the furthest table in the far northwest corner. It’s secluded, but still open to anyone who decides to walk by.
“Enjoy your evening.” He nods and winks as he turns and leaves.
“Come here,” I tell her gruffly. Sitting down, I hold out my hand. She stands there looking between my face and my hand and I anxiously wonder what her next move will be.
Will she accept me for who I am and stay?
Or will she tell me I’m a sick son of a bitch and flee?
Yes. I’m absolutely thinking I should have disclosed this aspect of myself before I fell hopelessly in love with Alyse Kingsley. In the next five seconds, I will either be the happiest man alive or I’ll be emotionally annihilated with my heart bleeding out on the dark floor beneath me, which is pretty apropos, considering that’s what will take up the space in my empty chest cavity if she leaves.
Eternal darkness.