Wild(5)

            I HAD A VAGUE recollection of a Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman movie Mom refused to let me watch but that I watched anyway during a sleepover at Bethany Grayson’s house (her mother let her watch anything) called Eyes Wide Shut. The movie featured a lavish, hedonistic sex club full of rich, beautiful people dressed in extravagant costumes. Annie’s kink club was a far cry from that.

            I should have known it after Emerson’s one visit. Amid laughter, she had shared her experience . . . which had included a man in an anatomically correct squirrel costume. Chippy was in attendance tonight, too, weaving among the rooms and bumping against females. After stepping off the elevator, I stuck close to Annie, letting her guide me. I drove my own car, the memory of Emerson being abandoned by Annie still fresh in my mind.

            Tonight’s kink club was being held at a large loft with few rooms. Just a single wide-open space with sparse furniture. Understandably there was little privacy. Not that that stopped people from getting down to business. Several made out. The bedroom consisted of a near-translucent screen that did nothing to shield the orgy happening on the bed.

            Couples occupied couches and ottomans. In a corner there was a threesome. They were making out in earnest, but thankfully still in clothes. Their hands were everywhere, diving inside shirts and under dresses. I looked away as I caught sight of panties being slid down one girl’s thighs.

            “Want a drink?” Annie asked loudly over the pump of music, stopping before a makeshift bar manned by a guy wearing nothing but a speedo, a Captain America mask, and a Superman cape. He was clearly his own brand of superhero. He danced as he shook, stirred, and poured, doing this crazy pelvic-thrust action that drew my eyes and then made me glance away. Repeatedly.

            I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

            Not that I was opposed to drinking. I could have used a cocktail to calm my nerves, but I was a little uncomfortable drinking the purple-colored concoctions Captain No Name was making. He nodded at me with a jerk of his chin and sent me a wink. I smiled back lamely. I wanted a drink to relax me . . . not a roofie.

            Annie took a drink from him. Bringing it to her lips, she muttered, “You’re a bucket of fun, aren’t you?”

            “What’s over there?” I pointed to where a group congregated on one side of the loft.

            “Let’s find out.” Annie wove through the crowd, smiling and stopping to greet people she knew. At one point, she halted and engaged in a long, sloppy-wet kiss with a guy. Gag. When they came up for air, a long string of spit connected them before breaking.

            He turned his attention on me, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hello, there, I’m Roger.”

            He extended a hand and I shook it. Smiling, he bent his head, tugging me closer by the hand, clearly intending to kiss me, too.

            I flattened a hand to his chest and pushed him away with a tight smile. Yeah, not happening.

            Shrugging, he moved on.

            Annie laughed. “Uh, you do know you’re at a kink club, right?”

            I nodded and then shrugged. “Yeah. That doesn’t mean I have to be indiscriminating, right? Besides, my tetanus isn’t up-to-date.”

            “You’re such a prude.” Laughing, she rolled her eyes and led us to the herd of people. Some stood and a few sat huddled cozily together in plump armchairs, cheering and chanting and holding their drinks aloft in salute.

            As we approached, I saw that they surrounded a pool table. I stood on my tiptoes and peered between the bodies, catching a glimpse of some movement on top of the pool table. Bodies. There were bodies on top of the pool table. Instantly, I cringed, hoping they didn’t tear the felt. Then I cringed again, shaking my head that my first concern was for the pool table.