Chapter 2
my imaginary friend
A Week Later
Rodney
a week later
My imagination ran wild with the idea of her and created a placeholder, only for the real thing to dismantle it in record time.
That was far from my first time on stage—but as far as I know, she’s never been in that crowd.
I need to know what led her to me this time, and how to make it a regular occurrence.
I’m a man who goes after what he wants, but I’m also a rule-follower.
Blame that on my attorney background and respect for boundaries.
My mystery woman has invaded my mind long before now, but she’s off-limits as long as her bracelet is black.
Though I couldn’t help but to notice she wore blue that night.
What persuaded her to change it up?
Blue bracelets are for self-pleasure, and I’ll never forget the sight of her legs spread, toying with herself how I would, following my every command from the other side of the glass.
I couldn’t have been more ill-prepared, on stage, in a scene with two beautiful women while she sat in the audience, touching herself to me. To them.
Anita and Bri are in a relationship of their own, but we’ve done scenes occasionally. Every time we do, we draw a crowd, but we’re just having fun and letting the members watch. The thrill of pleasing my partners before an audience is unmatched.
Thanks to the confidentiality rules set in place for Lilith’s, I indulge freely, taking full advantage of my membership.
As a corporate attorney, it wouldn’t be a good look if word of my “weekend activities” ever got out.
Since most of my work is for companies like the lounge, it’s a bit more lax.
Offering representation to and protecting Black-owned businesses that are dismantling societal norms is the best part of the job.
My friends, Desmond and Lila, are co-owners of the club, and it’s been in their family for generations. I first visited the club when I was twenty-one and needed to be dragged out of here because I couldn’t believe how incredible this place was.
Seeing so many people exploring their sexuality and deepest desires in an environment free of judgement—especially fellow Black members—changed my life.
From the kink courses to their safety protocols, I was utterly impressed and determined to not only further my education, but become a member myself.
Lilith’s Lounge assured me that I was in the right line of work to help protect establishments like theirs. Once I passed the bar, my first clients were the Maxwells, who raved about me to their industry friends, and before I knew it, I was living my purpose full-time.
By protecting these spaces created for pleasure, healing and self discovery, I am making a difference in my community. While not everyone agrees, my parents are proud of me, and that’s all that matters.
I pull out my phone to check in on Desmond, the only person who knows about the mystery woman, who’s been on a work trip for the past week.
Me:
You back in town yet?
Desmond:
Why? Miss me or something? I ain’t know you liked me like that, man.
Can’t say I feel the same.
Me:
Shut the hell up lol
I need to talk to you about something.
Desmond:
You should've just said you had tea, anticlimactic muthafucka.
Got back last night. At Lilith’s right now. What’s up?
Me:
Bet. I’m ‘bout to pull up on you.
He meets me at the employee entrance in the rear parking lot, holding the door as I step into the empty hallway. The lock clicks, echoing in the space around us. The eerie quiet of Lilith’s Lounge outside of business hours will never cease to amaze me.
He leads the way, and when he passes his office door, I peer around the corner, curious if he’s working alone today.
“Lila here?”
“Shh…I don’t need you summoning her ass. We got some shit to talk about,” he whispers.
I’ve known Desmond and Lila my whole life—our parents have always been good friends so we grew up together. Their parents retired a while back, leaving them in charge of the lounge, and they’ve made a hell of a team despite their constant bickering.
As the eldest of five, I can confirm that siblings will always fight, no matter how old they are, but when they get to arguing, it’s best to let them resolve it on their own.
Which isn’t much different from how they were when we were kids.
They’re in their thirties—and you wouldn’t know it sometimes—but I wouldn’t change a thing about ‘em.
When I think of my younger brother, Rome, and our adopted siblings, we couldn’t be more different, but we’ve all come to agree on enough. We’re all helping people and that’s how we were raised. Our younger siblings found their callings in healthcare, education and nonprofit organizations.
Rome and I were no strangers to arguing, and we wanted to be just like our dad, so it wasn’t a shock that we both became attorneys.
He took on criminal defense, and I maintained an interest in corporate law.
Now that we’re under the same firm, I understand exactly what it’s like to work with your family, but even we get along better than those two.
He stops at the end of the hall, pointing to the sign above us.
“I need a drink for this conversation. You want one?”
“Only if it’s Divin,” I say, referring to the brand owned by our friend, Darius Klarke.
He scoffs. “I’m offended you’d assume I drink anything else,” he says, opening the door to the bar and I follow him inside. “Deirdre and I worked out a deal, so we have an exclusive blend for Lilith’s and she slid me some limited releases,” he informs with a smirk as he rounds the bar.
“Oh, I need that,” I say, settling onto a barstool.
“Bet.”
He scours the backbar, retrieving several of the uniquely-shaped bottles Divin is known for. The glasses clink on the bartop as he lines our selections up, carefully pouring a finger of whiskey into each tumbler.
He slides one across the counter. I take a sip, my eyes widening as I swallow, relishing the apple aftertaste.
“It’s good, isn’t it? I told you.”
“Goddamn. That’s the best damn whiskey I’ve ever had.” I take a sip from another glass he hands me. “Speaking of, when was the last time you saw Darius?”
“Not too long ago. He gets into the same type of shit you do, by the way,” he says, raising a brow. “A few ladies on his arm at all times,” he adds, pulling up a stool to join me on the other side of the bar.
“About that,” I say, changing the subject. “What did you want to talk about?”
He sighs. “I think there might be something going on with my sister and one of our security guards,” he reveals, looking around to make sure no one heard him.
We are the only ones in this room. He’s so dramatic.
“Lemme guess. Pretty boy with the teeth.”
“Yeah, he’s always fucking smiling. Fuck is wrong with him?” he asks, knitting his brows as he takes a sip of his drink.
“Leave it to you to be mad at someone for being happy.”
“It’s just strange. No one smiles that much.”
“Maybe Lila’s giving him something to smile about?” I tease, knowing it’s only going to irritate him more.
I chuckle at the heated glare he tosses my way, certain it could light me on fire.
“Alright. I mean, Lila is a grown ass woman. She can do what she wants.”
“We work with him. What the hell is she thinking?” he grunts, shaking his head to himself.
“You don’t even know for sure. You said you think something is up, but have you actually seen anything between them?”
“Nothing implying that they’re…” He trails off, searching for the words he doesn't really want to say.
“Fucking?” I add, finishing his sentence.
He’s still glaring and I attempt to hold back my laughter.
“Ugh. I don’t usually get in her business, but she’s always in mine.”
“Des, you don’t have any ‘business’ outside of the club. Lilith’s is your life, and you refuse to reap the benefits of it.”
“That’s easier said than done, man. I can’t just fuck on stage like you do. Pleasure is for our members, not us.”
My head jerks back with an incredulous look. “Says who? ‘Cause I doubt your parents said that shit. They can barely keep their hands off each other. You really believe they weren’t doing anything at work?”
“Okay…” he draws out, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll leave it alone, but if I see something, I'll address it.”
“I think that’s the right thing to do. Give her a little grace, man.”
Desmond nods, sipping from his tumbler before clearing his throat.
“Anyways. What did you need to talk about?” Desmond asks.
“Lady Green Eyes.”
“Your imaginary friend,” he exclaims, setting his glass down to rub his hands together. “What happened this time?”
He refers to her as my imaginary friend because she’s a faithful black bracelet holder that he claims he’s never seen around the club.
“I was in the theater…on stage with Anita and Bri.”
“Oh shit,” he whispers.
“She was touching herself to us.”
“Bruh. I was in Chicago for a fucking week. This happens and Lila is—” He stops “I’m never leaving the office again. Next trip, I’m sending her in my place.”
“You needed that trip,” I admit.
“It was a work trip, not a vacation. I did enjoy myself though.”
The sound of heels clicking in the hallway steals our attention and judging by his expression, it’s Lila.
The door opens to reveal her tall figure, dressed in jeans and a tee with her long, dark curls flowing around her.
She often wears her hair pulled back in sleek buns that show off her friendly face, which shifts into a scowl when she sees us at the bar.
“Drinking on the job? The Desmond Maxwell would never. He’s such a professional,” she teases, rounding the bar to grab a drink for herself.
“The hell are you doing here? You’re off today.”
“You’re weird ass is supposed to be too, but here you are. I have a perfectly good reason because I needed some fountain soda.”
“And you came all the way here for that?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Damn right,” she says over her shoulder.
The hiss of the soda machine fills the awkward silence between us. She takes a sip and sighs before coming around to sit beside me.
“Hey, Lila. Got a question for you,” I say, curiosity taking over.
She sees more on the floor than Des does and I wonder if she may know something about my mystery woman.
“I might have an answer for you.”
It’s about a member. She’s Black, a little shorter than you, and has full curves.” I pause, thinking about more identifiers for her. “Long, dark hair and wears it natural, but sometimes straightened. She has light green eyes and always wears a black bracelet. Does that ring a bell?”
“Well, there aren’t many Black folks with green eyes running around here once you take out Desmond. So it does ring a bell. She wore a short black dress when she was last here. Nice girl. Funny too. What about her?”
“Rodney likes her, but she’s off-limits,” Des blurts, averting his eyes when I look his way.
This messy motherfucker.
“I’ve never seen her wear another color, so you've been waiting a while,” she says, pausing to sip her soda. “She’s stalling you out. I’m living for this.” She cackles. “Rules are rules, Rodney. You cannot approach her, and if you do, I’ll have to ban you. That would be so unfortunate.”
I know.
The painful reminder of why I have admired her from afar since I first noticed her a year ago.
“I am not breaking the rules, and I don’t mind waiting,” I assure, sipping the last of my drink.
I’ll wait as long as I need to.