Chapter 3
Three
DARIA
Downtown Norfolk is beautiful this time of year. The late summer breeze sweeps between the buildings, carrying the scent of the sea along with it. I scurry along the sidewalk and meet up with Jane outside of the TowneBank. Like me, she’s in heels and bundled up in a coat, despite the heat. The packet of information included a suggested dress code—basically close to nothing—and while I have plenty of cute bras and thongs, I opted to wear a more conservative burgundy teddy, made of silk, over the black set I picked out.
“I brought two minis,” I confess as I stop in front of Jane and shove a cheap bottle of tequila into her hand. It’s all I could afford. We might be here to represent our marketing firm, but they’re not paying for drinks, and I can’t afford a fifteen-dollar cocktail, so cheap liquid courage it is.
“Thank fuck. Rent is due soon and I’m struggling.”
“Girl, preach.” I uncap my tequila and try not to think about how my fridge is almost empty and that I may not be able to buy groceries for a few days.
One lesson I’ve learned the hard way? Going to college doesn’t always mean you come out making good money. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not making minimum wage, but between student loan repayments, rent, groceries, and my bad habit of buying new clothes from discount stores, it’s a paycheck to negative bank balance to paycheck situation.
Why be poor and badly dressed when I can be poor and look hot as hell?
The American Dream, am I right?
Even if I cut back on the clothes, I’d still be struggling to make ends meet. I shouldn’t complain, though. My life is a lot better now than it was when I was growing up. My dads had good jobs, but with Mom’s gambling problem, she spent money faster than they could make it, and our electricity got shut off more than once.
“Cheers?” Jane waggles her eyebrows and holds up her plastic bottle.
Right. Sex club. Focus on that and not how much life sucks.
“To maybe getting laid?” I ask and tap my bottle to hers.
“Maybe? Let’s make it happen, baby.” And with that, she takes the shot.
Bottoms up, I guess. I wince as the liquor burns down my throat and settles into my stomach like a bad idea. A fresh wave of nerves flutter through me, and I take a steadying breath. “Shall we?” I ask with more confidence than I feel.
I don’t really get nervous, but as Jane and I push through the doors of the lobby and step onto the marble floor of the first level of TowneBank, my pulse jumps, my body thrumming with excitement. It’s been so long since I’ve had sex.
Jane drags me toward the elevator, and I laugh. I study my reflection in the shiny black doors. I left my blonde curls loose and opted for smoky eyes and pale pink lipstick. There’s no trace of my lavender scent, thanks to the pill and lotion. Forty-eight hours without my scent? I kind of hate it.
I don’t know how Quinn hid hers for so long. I’m already desperate for the scent suppressants to work out of my system. My scent is my security blanket. It’s part of who I am. A little too much, a little too loud. Intense. Beautiful. Alluring.
Okay. Maybe I’m the only one who thinks the last three, but if you don’t love yourself, who will?
When doors to the elevator slide open, Jane and I get in, pressing the button for the lower level. The tequila is warm inside my belly, and as the doors begin to close, Jane releases a tiny squeal of excitement. My own pulse flutters in anticipation. A big hand slides between the doors before they can shut all the way. The emergency stop kicks in, and the doors glide open, revealing quite possibly the hottest man I’ve ever seen.
Six feet tall, strong jaw, dark eyebrows, and full lips that are sure to be soft. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans, Timberlands, and his dark top stretches across his muscled chest. But it’s the tattoos peeking out of the neckline and running down his brown arms that catch my attention.
I’m a sucker for tattoos, and on him, they’re like fine art. From the line work alone, I know they probably cost a lot. They’re not the cheap kind of tattoo you get on a trip with friends; they’re intentional, well thought out, and seamless.
His rich brown eyes widen in surprise at finding the elevator occupied. He glances at Jane first, quickly dismissing her. The mystery man has no scent, and neither do I, but I’m suddenly desperate to know how we might smell together.
That’s the sort of trouble I’m trying to avoid.
Then his gaze collides with mine, and I can’t breathe. His eyes pierce through me, like they can see every embarrassing thing I’ve ever done, like they can see the worst of my damage. My thighs press together as his attention slips down my body before his gaze slowly lifts to meet mine again. Only, this time, they’re burning with desire. A hungry sort of need that calls to my own.
Though I’m still wearing my coat, it’s form-fitting, my curves obvious, and he seems to be the type that knows how to appreciate them.
That gives me a boost of confidence.
I lift an eyebrow, pointedly looking at his hands, which are still keeping the doors open.
He narrows his eyes on me, almost as though he doesn’t like being told what to do, but steps inside the little space. The moment he’s inside, the air changes, electrified by his presence and threatening to scorch anyone who gets too close. Because I have no sense of self-preservation, I have an overwhelming desire to step closer, to orbit around that intensity to see how hot I’d burn.
Jane scoots to the side to give him space, pulling me with her, but he stays against the side wall, jaw clenched as he leans back and pretends like we’re not there.
Right, he’s like all the others. Only interested when it suits him.
The short moment of attraction dies inside of me, and I scowl at myself in the reflection of the doors. Jane is lost in her own thoughts as the elevator descends. There’s no music, and for some reason, all I can hear is the steady and soft rhythm of his breathing, which is freakishly in sync with my own.
I hold my breath, purposefully destroying the cadence, and my frown deepens when he holds his as well.
What kind of mind fuck is this?
I cut an annoyed look in his direction, and my pulse jumps when I find his gaze on me once again. That strong jaw is still clenched, but there’s an undeniable hunger in the depths of his irises, almost like a beast is lurking, waiting to get me alone and destroy my entire being.
Or maybe he’s here for a good fuck. Isn’t that what this club is all about?
My stomach flips and heat scorches through my core as the elevator jolts to a stop. He pushes off the wall, pressing into my space, and I swear his gaze drops to my lips. I tuck my bottom one between my teeth to keep from saying something.
I’m not going to do the chasing.
One of his dark eyebrows lifts, almost as if he knows what I’m thinking. That’s okay, love, I’ll do the chasing.
Swallowing, I tear my gaze away, ignoring my fluttering pulse as the doors slide open. “Ready, Jane?” This time, I’m the one tugging her along a dark hallway illuminated by strips of red lighting. Sultry music fills the corridor and masks the clicking of our heels. Musk hangs in the air, but it must be part of the club’s atmosphere since scents aren’t allowed.
Damn shame.
Except, that might be my only saving grace. No scents mean my silly omega heart won’t get its hopes up. I’m here for fun, not to find true love. And I’ve already given up on that, anyway.
The more distance I put between myself and the tattooed god, the more I want to glance over my shoulder. But I don’t. Even without checking, I sense his eyes roaming over me as we stop at the coat check. He keeps his distance, though.
I hate and love that, all at the same time.
Jane quickly hands her coat over, but my fingers hesitate on my zipper. Once the coat is off, it’s real. I’ll really be doing this.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and gooseflesh races down my arms.
He’s right behind me.
I don’t know how I know it without turning around. I just do. He’s affecting me more than I should let him, but maybe that’s because it’s been so long since I’ve had a real person touch me in that way.
Only a few seconds have passed, Jane tips her head at me in question, wondering why I’m hesitating.
Fuck it. Taking a deep breath, I unzip my coat and pull it off. My knuckles brush over his body as I extend them back to get my arms out, and I ignore the way my thighs clench at his proximity.
I hear him hiss, almost like I burned him with my touch, but I refuse to give in first.
The silk teddy barely covers my ass, and the thong I’m wearing doesn’t give much coverage, either, so as I reach to hand over my coat, the soft material grazes along my skin, and cool air smooths across my ass. Every part of me burns, knowing he’s seeing it all, but I’m not embarrassed.
I have a nice ass.
“Perfect, ladies, one moment.” The guy helping us glances over my head. “Are you Vicente?”
Oh my god, even his name is sexy.
“Vic,” the deep and husky voice corrects.
“They’re waiting for you inside.” The guy at the counter gestures to the door. “You can go on in. Do you need any wristbands?”
I hold my breath, curious to see what he might like, what sort of kinks he might have. The colored bracelets will tell me everything I need to know. Do we like the same things? God, I hope so.
“Just the white one.”
The employee hands over the lone wristband. Vic slips it on, eyes drifting to meet mine briefly. Jaw clenching, he looks away and brushes past me, slipping through the door. I pull in a shaky breath, both relieved and a little sad at his departure.
“A white wristband?” Jane asks.
Bless her endless curiosity.
“Voyeurs get white, as they don’t participate, and sometimes people are simply curious.”
Disappointment floods through my system. My mysterious stranger isn’t here to play.
The employee continues, “The wristbands will help you find partners who may have similar interests, but there should always be a discussion before engaging. I think you’ll find everyone at After Dark to be more than courteous. What’s the name on the reservation?”
To ensure proper preparation and time to fill out the questionnaire and signing of all the documents, the only people allowed in are those who reserved a spot ahead of time.
“Daria.”
The guy nods at me and pulls up our files. His face gives nothing away as he reads through whatever he sees, but he starts to grab various glowing wristbands. “You read how these work?”
Jane and I both nod.
“Good, so as a reminder, these are a guide. Aside from the white which indicates a person is only here to observe, they help suitors easily identify hard limits. The red one”—he holds the glowing band up for both of us to see—“means that you’re not into blood play. The fewer bands someone has, the fewer limits they have. Red for no blood play. Blue for no heavy impact play.”
Jane glances at me when I notice her little stack doesn’t include blue.
“Whatever you’re into,” I tell her with a smile.
“For you,” the guy says to me, “if you’re into spanking, that’s something you’ll need to let your partner know, but the blue notifies them that you’re not into whips or paddles. Purple means no primal.” Jane gets a purple, but I don’t. “Yellow, no piss play.” We both get one of those. “As you should have read in your packet, After Dark doesn’t allow any feces play for health reasons. And green...oh wait, you guys were both okay with breeding kink.” He looks over the file again, and Jane and I trade nervous glances.
“Guess we’re really besties now,” she says.
I laugh and grab my bands, tugging them on. “I’ve never felt closer to you. Or more embarrassed.”
The guy tuts. “I know it can be overwhelming, but the most important thing to remember is everyone has their own interests, and there’s nothing wrong with liking something your friend may have a hard limit for. Understood?” He studies both of us to make sure we really get it.
“Understood,” I say with a nod. “This is our first time.”
His features soften and he smiles. “It’ll be fun, and if you have any trouble at all, just look for the people wearing red vests. Those are employees, and they are there for whatever you need...aside from pleasure, of course. They’re working, not playing.” He checks the computer screen again and nods to himself. “Okay, you’re all set. You can go into the playground whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” I turn toward the door the tattooed guy went through, my stomach fluttering with nerves.
“Are we doing this?” Jane asks, a little breathless.
“We’ve come this far,” I tell her. “May as well enjoy ourselves, yeah?” The wristbands are lightweight, but as I step forward, they feel heavy, like all my secrets are bared for the world to see.
When we get inside, though, any trepidation disappears because the dimly lit playground is full of people wearing wristbands. Steady, sensually thrumming music pumps through the room, not aggressive or overpowering, just enough to set the vibe. The walls are painted a dark purple, and long, black-velvet curtains act as partitions for the makeshift booths scattered along the edges of the room, with leather chaise lounges or couches instead of booths. Some of the curtains are pulled closed, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess why.
Others are open, and the occupants of a few of the booths couldn’t care less that I can see everything they’re doing. Or, perhaps, that’s the point. A woman is clasped against a man’s chest as his fingers work between her legs. Our eyes collide, and her mouth parts, almost like that’s all she needed to tip over the edge.
Holy. Fuck.
I tear my gaze away and take in the rest of the room. A long, elegant bar with glass shelves held up by golden pillars sits on the far wall, and a few patrons sit on stools, but most everyone else is wandering around, searching for a partner—or two.
There’s a hallway that leads to more of the club. From what I remember, private rooms and additional public-style settings—closed-off rooms with glass walls, where people can watch whatever fun you get up to.
Moving on from the hall, I take in the rest of the main floor. Most of it is meant for mingling. Aside from the booths , there are high-top tables scattered around the room, a wall full of a selection of toys—all contained in new packaging because safety first—and more leather couches and oversized chairs.
I’d wonder if the owner has a leather kink, but it’s obviously easier to clean.
A big stage in the middle of the room showcases a man wearing only boxer briefs being tied up, the vibrant green ropes crisscrossing over his dark skin in beautiful patterns. The woman working on him moves him around like he’s a doll, and he happily lets her have control of his body. I recognize the ropes as a Good Vibes product and take a few more minutes to really understand the dynamic.
Even though he’s trapped, it’s not about the restriction. His face is almost peaceful, a little smile tugging at his lips as he stares across the room. I follow his gaze, but there’s nothing there. No, this isn’t about being contained. This is about freedom.
“This is amazing,” Jane breathes. “Okay. Mandy said there’s a back room with tables full of promotional products. Let’s get that out of the way and have some fun.” She gestures to a group of guys who are checking us out.
They’re attractive, but I find my gaze skipping around the room, searching for the one person I should stay far away from. My chest fills with disappointment, and I try not to let it show. Though I’ve tried to steer clear of love, my heart still clenches when I can’t find Mr. Tattoos. I’m a hopeless romantic.
But tonight isn’t about romance. It’s about pleasure, and I have a feeling Mr. Tattoo would ruin my life, and I’d gladly let him.
Jane heads toward the hall that’ll lead us away from the main space of the playground. According to the packet we got from Mandy, the club is five thousand square feet. Beyond the private rooms is what the blueprints called The Chase Space , and beyond that is the Torture Chamber . Seeing as I’m not into punishment or blood play, I’ll be staying far away from the chamber.
I pass through the threshold of the hallway and suck in a deep breath.
Holy shit.