“As for being off limits,” he says, taking an impossible step closer. “You know we have a strict no sex while working policy. But now you’re not on the clock, and anything that happens from now on has nothing to do with work. You’re not an employee, you’re a woman with the most tempting skin I’ve ever seen. I’m not your boss, I’m just a man who would like very much to introduce you to some of the things Club Deep has to offer.”
I raise an eyebrow. “There will be sex involved?”
“That,” he says, “is entirely up to you.”
Cole leans down and his mouth meets mine. That fire that I thought was going to explode earlier roars through me with searing need. His arms come around me, and we’re pressed together in all the right places. I open my mouth to him, allowing him to explore, and I explore right back. Fingers are at my hips, teasing the skin just above my pants. The ones that are still obscenely low. I’m wet again, wishing he would slip his hands inside my pants and find the place I really want him to touch.
There’s a scream from behind us, and I’m jerked back to reality. I turn back to the scene and find the man has reached her pussy with the wax. He’s letting it fall right on her clit, drop by drop. One of Cole’s arms snakes around my waist, and the other hand slides over my hip, over my pants, lower and lower until his finger is pressing against me. Right through the thin fabric, his finger is on my clit. He presses in time with the drops of wax.
“Every drop he brings the candle a little closer to her skin,” his lips are at my ear, and I shiver. “The closer the candle, the less time the wax has to cool. Every drop just has a little more bite.”
He’s caressing me, and I’m getting wetter by the second. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if I soak through my pants to his fingers. “The only games we play here are sexual ones,” Cole says. “If we want something, we’re direct. I want you, Andrea.” He punctuates his words with fingers, moving in circles, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through me. “Come with me?”
“Where?”
He chuckles. “One of the rooms upstairs. Your choice. You saw them earlier, which one would you like?”
My mind flashes through the themes: Orgy, dungeon, Victorian, medical, office, beach, and the desert room. The room that’s filled with silk and spices. Yes. “I don’t know what it’s called. Officially. The room like a desert.”
“You can call it whatever you like,” Cole says. “What’s the fantasy? Sold to a Bedouin who wants to ravage you? First night in the harem? Captured and given as a gift to the king?”
I freeze at his last suggestion, the story opening up in my head like my head like it was already there. Cole’s laugh is soft in my ear. “King it is then.” He spins me away from him like we’re dancing. “I have to check in with my partners, make sure our clients left and let them know I’ll be unavailable for the rest of the evening. Go pick out whatever you’d like. I’ll send someone to help you get ready.”
He kisses my hand, and then he’s gone, leaving me breathless and shaking. Oh god. This is happening. A day ago nothing like this would ever have been a part of my reality, and now there’s nothing I want more. I shake myself from the thoughts, making my way to the stairs and up towards the desert room.
5
Just like earlier, no one is in the desert room. I duck inside the little costume room, and look around. I assume that when he told me to pick out whatever I’d like that this is what he meant. A little thrill goes through me. This is so weird, and exciting. My heart is pounding in anticipation, thinking about what’s going to happen when Cole joins me here. A fantasy.
Those words he said, I’ve never…I haven’t actually had a fantasy like that. Not directly, but when he said that…
I don’t know. It’s like a pit of need opened up in my stomach. Everything about that—vulnerability, helplessness, and royalty. I want all of that. I want to live in a fantasy world for just a while where nothing is quite real and everything is fun and playful and sexy.
I flip through the racks of the clothes, from completely sheer outfits to outfits with so much detail and fabric that I’m sure I’d be swallowed up and invisible. I end up going for something a little in the middle. Blue and sheer, with just enough solid fabric that the essentials are covered and not much more. After all, if I were being given as a gift, I’m not sure modesty would be a consideration. I laugh out loud. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Even if I hate it, it’ll be a good story. The one time I tried to role-play…
I have the bottom half of the costume on—a glittery skirt with a slit all the way to my upper thigh—and nothing else when I hear the door open. I freeze. I didn’t think about asking Cole what to do if someone else comes in to use the room. Do we still use it? Does he get priority because he’s the owner? I’m not sure I want anyone else in the room. “Hello?” I call out.
A petite woman about my age appears at the door to the dressing room, and I pull one of the other costumes out from the rack to cover myself.
She smiles. “I’m Emily, one of the scene attendants here. Mr. Andrews sent me to help you get ready.”
“Oh.” I relax, though I don’t drop the costume that’s covering my breasts.
“I can do your hair if you like,” she says, “and I’m supposed to give you a quick rundown of rules and procedure.”
“Rules?”
She smiles again. “Don’t worry, there’s not many. The safe word is ‘red.’ If something happens, you shout that and security will be in here in ten seconds. I doubt you’ll have need of that with Mr. Andrews, but you need to know.”
I nod.
“Safe sex is required here at Club Deep. Even if you and your partner agree that it’s not necessary, it’s required here. Last rule, make sure you put your costume in the laundry bin.”
“Sounds easy enough,” I say.
“Good. Can I help you with the rest of the costume? Believe me, I’ve seen more naked people than I can count.”
I look down at the costume I forgot I was holding. “Right. Okay.” That makes sense, working in a place like this. I hold out the glittery top to her, and she helps me into it, cinching the ties in the back so that it fits properly. I remember that she offered to do my hair. “I think I want to leave my hair down, if that’s okay.”
“Of course,” she says. “The only thing Mr. Andrews asked is that I blindfold you and make sure you’re in place before I leave.”
“A blindfold? Why?”
She grins at me. “I think he wants to keep his entrance a surprise. Oh, and he’ll make sure you two are not disturbed in here. All the rooms are monitored by security, but no one else will play while you’re here.”
“Good.”
She retrieves what looks like a long blue silk scarf the same color as my costume. “He said something about not wanting it to be too overwhelming.”
I laugh. I’ll have to emphasize a different word next time and see how he uses it. I wonder what would have happened if I had told him that it was ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’ or any other word.
“Anything else you’d like for your costume?”
I look down at myself, and I love it. My skin peeks out from underneath the sparkling fabric, both mysterious and obvious at the same time. “No,” I say, “This is good.”
“All right.” She leads me out into the main room, which is much bigger than I thought from just observing the entrance. The silk hangings and strewn pillows are just the beginning. The silks are actually a tent, and Emily pushes them aside so we can enter what looks like pure luxury straight out of an Arabian fairytale. Oriental carpets cover the ground with cushions and there are a few low velvet couches. It’s warm, the low light coming from salt lamps filled with chunks of the rock, and the rich scent of incense fills the air. I would never know I’m in an underground club in the middle of Phoenix.
“Wow.” It’s the only word that comes to mind.
Emily is in the center of the room. “I think here will be the best view, if you want to do some surprising of your own,” she says with a wink.
“Sure.”
I kneel down on the thick carpet, and Emily wraps the scarf around my eyes. It’s soft, but I can’t see through it at all. “I’ll let him know you’re ready, and Mr. Andrews will be with you shortly,” she says with a hand on my shoulder. And then I’m alone and I hear the outer door click shut.
It’s weird to wait in darkness like this. The silence is loud, rich, and I imagine this game we’re playing is real. I imagine I’m the girl waiting for the King, and my gut begins to churn with nervousness. But there’s a thrill there, too. Anticipation. I imagine I saw the King earlier, and thought that at least he was handsome. That maybe he would be kind. That maybe this would be a good thing.
I’m not sure how long I wait—time doesn’t seem real when you can’t see. It could be minutes or hours, either one making me aware of the space around me until it feels like I can see without using my eyes. My toes brush the thick carpet, digging into the fibers. I feel wavering heat on the left side of my face from one of the lamps. I inhale the scent of the incense and try to figure out exactly that scent is. Oak, orange, earth.