Chapter 12
TWELVE
NELL
Hundred-dollar bills clung to Nell’s sweat-slicked skin as she lay on her back next to Sarah, limbs splayed out, their breathing gradually evening. Sarah exhaled beside her, still humming with satisfaction.
She stared at the ceiling, pretending her heart wasn’t still racing. What did you do?
This hadn’t been her plan. At all.
She had planned to come up here and fuck Sarah completely senseless—bend her over the bed, pull the strap tight around her own hips, and drive into Sarah over and over until she was breathless and begging and completely wrecked.
She had spent all evening imagining the exact moment she’d slide into Sarah, the sounds Sarah would make, and the way her shoulders would shudder at the feeling of taking all of Nell.
She had pictured herself in complete control.
But then something had felt different. There had been a moment of seeing Sarah standing there, naked and waiting for her instruction, with nothing but complete willingness to please, that unraveled something in her she didn’t know existed and definitely hadn’t planned for.
Her response to the feeling had been a reckless risk when she’d decided to crawl up the length of Sarah’s body, leaving kisses in her wake.
It had been pure impulse when she’d ground her desire against Sarah’s thigh, desperate for release.
And when she’d climbed on top of Sarah, feeling the fullness of her as she slid herself onto the strap .
. . all her calculations had gone out the window, and she acted on desire alone.
Fuck. It’s okay. We can fix this.
Nell closed her eyes, willing herself not to let her panic show.
Sarah turned toward her, hair perfectly mussed and a lazy, satisfied glint in her swirling hazel eyes. She wore a cocky grin like a badge of honor, and on any other occasion, Nell would have scolded her for it. She looked so damn pleased with herself. Drunk on power and approval.
It was almost cute.
“You’re staring,” Sarah said smugly, bending her arm at the elbow and propping her head up.
“I earned the right,” Nell countered, letting her eyes trace down the length of Sarah’s body, admiring the absence of insecurity in the way she seemed perfectly fine to hang about naked, chatting.
“By all means, please continue.” Sarah laughed, fingers ghosting along the sensitive skin of Nell’s ribs, tracing the spot right where her tattoo was. Nell shuddered involuntarily at the touch.
“My Latin is a little rusty, what does it mean?” Sarah said softly.
“True joy is a serious thing.”
Sarah blinked. “That’s . . . actually beautiful.”
“I’ve always felt like joy was this indulgent, frivolous thing, but you know how seriously I take my indulgences.” Her eyes swept over Sarah again.
But Sarah saw right through the mask of flirtation she had served instead of the honest answer.
“It’s fitting,” she said simply.
The silence that followed only intensified the rising feeling of panic inside of her. Nell sat up abruptly, the chill of the room blowing across her sweat-cooled skin.
Sarah giggled next to her. “You have about”—she counted quickly under her breath—“two thousand dollars stuck to you.” She reached up to peel a one-hundred-dollar bill from Nell’s thigh and another from the curve of her waist. “Can I make a withdrawal?” she teased, as she continued to pull bills from her.
Nell forced a smile and stood before pacing toward the edge of the bed to collect her shirt and slacks as bills continued to fall from her body.
“We’re going out,” she said, already moving. “You’ll find everything you need in your bathroom. Be ready in twenty minutes.”
“Wha—wait. It’s past midnight,” Sarah called, but Nell didn’t answer. She was already in the bathroom, where the clothes she had gathered off the floor fell from her arms as she gripped the edge of the pristine marble countertop, inhaling deeply.
You miscalculated. It happens. Pull it together, she took in her reflection in the mirror. Her skin still flushed, whisps of hair falling from her ponytail framing her face, and red lipstick smudged around her mouth. She looked undone in a way she had never seen herself before.
She needed an escape from this. From the feelings threatening to well up inside her.
She tapped her phone screen, typing quickly.
Nell 12:13 AM
Plan M. Ready in 25 mins
Nate 12:13 AM
OK
She set the phone down on the edge of the sink before splashing her cheeks with cool water, trying to rinse away the feeling that something—someone—had actually gotten to her and walked right through all the careful layers of composure.
Her fingers flew to her wrist. She unclasped her watch and placed it on the vanity. She wouldn’t be needing it because tonight wasn’t about business anymore.
Twenty minutes later, Sarah was waiting for her in the foyer.
Nell hesitated a fraction of a second when her eyes landed on Sarah, wearing the outfit Nell had added to her closet earlier this evening, just in case.
She looked incredible, and she was pleased to notice some of the “Sarah” flair she had added to the outfit in the way she left the top three buttons of the flowing silk shirt open, revealing the delicate skin beneath.
The addition of a series of thin gold chains caught the foyer light, drawing Nell’s eyes to them, and then lower, down her endless legs, bare beneath the miniskirt Nell had hand-selected with this exact moment in mind.
Sarah tilted her head, her eyes full of questions as Nell approached her. She had anticipated this, given how quickly she had left the bedroom earlier, and she had made a plan. As she drew closer, Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but Nell got there first.
“Come on.” She slipped her hand into Sarah’s. “I want to show you how I like to lose control,” she said, guiding her gently to the door.
After a short ride down the strip and into the private entrance of a large, unmarked building, Nate led them down a dark hallway illuminated in a muted violet hue, cast by a neon sign, which buzzed faintly.
The light danced across the trio, catching in the jewels that adorned Nell’s top, sending small refractions of light in every direction.
Have faith in control, the sign read, and Nell rolled her eyes at the irony as they passed beneath it through a blackened door, into a second room where a handful of people dressed in dark clothes mingled. Nate went to speak to two large men by the door on the opposite wall.
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing yet?” Sarah asked.
“You’ll see.” Nell gave Sarah’s hand the gentlest of squeezes. “Keep an open mind,” she said, her voice trailing off as she caught a glimpse of Nate waving them over.
The heavy door in front of them opened to a wall of bass that rattled her chest in competition with her heartbeat.
She led Sarah further into the building, following Nate around the outskirts of a large dance floor to a set of roped-off stairs discreetly tucked away.
An attendant unclipped the velvet rope, ushering them through as they ascended the stairs to the VIP area before making their way to the very back—the most private booth in the whole club.
It was shielded by curtains on either side, which created a layer of distance between themselves and the rest of the venue.
They each sank onto the plush cushion of the red velvet sofa, Sarah perched a little too stiffly—uneasy but going along with it anyway. Her eyes, though, said something different as they roamed hungrily around the space. Nell gave her a moment to take it all in.
Out of nowhere, a waitress appeared.
“Scotch,” Nate said, without looking up from his phone. “Neat.”
“A pitcher of cucumber-mint water, please,” Nell added.
The waitress nodded and disappeared.
“Just water?” Sarah asked, her curiosity rightfully getting the better of her.
She didn’t answer Sarah, simply looked at Nate, who slipped his phone back into his pocket and gave her a look that said, Are you sure?
She was.
She was more than sure that this was something she wanted to do with Sarah.
She nodded, and he slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket.
He produced a small metal tin that he placed on the mirrored table between the three of them, opening it with the ease of someone who had done this before, because he had—dozens of times.
Nell watched Sarah closely as she digested the revelation.
“Are you fucking serious? In your minimal free time, you do . . . Molly?” she asked, looking at the tin on the table.
“Molly. MDMA. E.” Nell shrugged, utterly unbothered. “Call it whatever you want, but yes. From time to time, when I’m feeling like I want to let go, this is what I do.”
“And you . . .” Sarah turned her attention to Nate. “You just, what? Play lifeguard?”
“Yup. I’m here to keep you both safe. I don’t touch the stuff anymore.” Nate shrugged. “We’re all adults here. Who am I to judge what a lady likes to do in her free time?”
“Nate isn’t a lifeguard. He’s our safeguard. His job is to ensure nothing goes wrong. And it won’t, because I control the dose, the environment, and the way out, if we need one.”
“Rule number eight,” Nate said. “Don’t do reckless shit unless you can buy your way out. Isn’t that right, Nell?”
She didn’t answer him, instead opting to jab the end of her heel into his shins under the table.
“Oww!” he yelped.
Sarah gave a dry laugh. “Your version of letting go feels awfully controlled.” She ran her fingers through her hair, looking around. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Nell. I’m someone’s mom. I can’t be casually doing Molly on a weekend like it’s Pilates or something.”
Nell draped her arm over the back of the couch and turned toward Sarah, tucking one leg under her. “It’s not about what you can or can’t do,” she said, her voice low and direct. “It’s about what you want to do.”