19. Lennie #2
My lips part slightly and Ren catches it. A blush sweeps my face when she laughs.
“Don’t worry.” She gives me a side hug. “We will not leave you unattended.”
Isolde coughs. “Unless you want to be.”
They help me get dressed into my black ballgown which makes me feel like a princess. It’s nowhere near as sexy as Ren’s and I opt for black sneakers instead of stilettos.
“That’s pretty.” Ren compliments the pearl comb I used to hold my hair back.
“Thanks.” I don’t mention it showed up this morning, a gift from Elijah.
He texted me most of the day and asked if I wanted to eat dinner. I said no thank you.
I’m not being petulant. I’m just not putting all my eggs in one basket. Elijah and I have an arrangement. It’s important I focus on my friends and not just the pretend fairy tale in front of me.
Isolde peers out the massive window, down onto the street. “So is Ivan coming or no?”
“What?”
I had Ferdinand drive me over, but I made him leave. I never once spotted when Ivan picked up the trail. But sure enough, when I come over to the window, the man is leaned up against a brick wall on the opposite side of the street.
“He’s kind of hot,” Isolde comments. “Maybe he should join us.”
This is not the time for flirting. “We can sneak out right?” I ask Ren.
She grins and opens a window.
“Why do I feel like this is where you smoke when you come over here,” I mutter.
“Hey!” Ren shouts. She might be a siren in her skintight black dress, but she’s very unladylike in this moment. She leans forward and Isolde puts a hand on her back like she’s afraid she’ll tip forward in her stilettos. “Your job is to protect her! Not spy on her, you understand!”
I slap a hand to my forehead. “You’re going to make the neighbors mad.”
“No, look, it worked.”
Ivan holds up a thumb, confirming he heard Ren loud and clear.
“See problem solved.” She smirks, and shrugs a coy shoulder. “Unless you wanted him to report back to Elijah.”
“No!” This is girl’s night.
Ren hired a car service to take us to the club. I have very few details on what’s going on and my nerves start to hum the moment we pull up to the curb.
“Come on.” Ren squeezes my hand, all but dragging me out of the car.
There’s a discreet entrance and Ren gives her name to the hostess or door greeter or. . . what does one call the person who checks your name off when you enter a sex club?
The only clubs I know are overly loud dance spaces serving overpriced but weak drinks. Part of me envisioned a big open space where people would drink and watch exhibitionist kinks.
Instead, we’re shown down an oddly quiet hallway. It’s dark and doors line either side.
The attendant opens the door and we’re ushered into a room. There are a few comfortable items to sit on. A chair, a bench. But the main focal point of the room is a large window glimpsing into a room that’s nothing less than a sex play space.
“Is this where we watch people?” I exhale.
“Okay, we’re not actually here to watch people have sex.” Ren must catch something on my face. “I mean. . . like maybe later if you want to?”
“You ever been whipped before?” Isolde asks. I’m glad the question is directed at Ren and not me since heat licks my face.
There’s a resigned expression on Ren’s face like she’s sorry she brought us along.
“I’ve never been,” Isolde admits while openly inspecting the equipment through the window. She’s so open and confident as she speaks. I don’t want to have to admit that I have no business being here.
Stop being ashamed of yourself!
“They serve drinks here?” Isolde asks.
“Alcohol would be lovely,” I agree.
Ren glances around the empty room and then through the window. The other room is still empty.
“This is normally where they like to be,” she says more to herself since I have no idea what’s going on in her head. “But yeah, let’s get a drink.”
“Hang on, hang on.” Isolde stops us and takes out her phone. “Take my picture.”
“You’re not supposed to have that,” Ren points out. It was the one thing they asked of us when we got here.
“Oh right, I’m sorry, wasn’t that your burner phone you locked up,” Isolde questions.
Ren rolls her eyes, whipping out a cell phone that she tucked God knows where.
I take my phone out of my dress pocket.
“Do you ever wear a dress without pockets?” she asks.
I wrinkle my nose. “No.”
I hand her my phone, stupidly excited to document this historic moment.
Isolde’s a tomboy but she knows how to pose like the best of them. Between the fierce look on her face and her sharp tux, she looks damn good.
“Here, your turn.” She gestures for me to take her place.
“Okay, Bambi eyes.” Ren’s been relegated to photographer. “Turn around and look over your shoulder.”
“Coy,” Isolde instructs. “You got that innocent thing going on.”
On cue, I blush at her words.
“Bite your lip,” Isolde says. They’re both acting like this is a legitimate photo shoot.
Ren smiles mischievously when she hands me my phone. “Post them on your Insta stories.”
“Then people are gonna know we snuck in our phones.”
“Yeah, because they’re monitoring your social media.” Ren looks at me the same way my sisters do. “Come on live a little.”
Maybe she’s not wrong. My Instagram is updated rarely and I never use stories. But for once I’ve got Saturday night plans and when do I ever dress up like this?
Isolde and Ren crowd around me, picking out which photos to post.
“Oh, hang on, wait,” Ren stops me. “You need a picture of the bar.”
“The bar?”
“Yes, it looks fucking amazing trust me.”
“People are going to know I brought my phone.”
“Oh my God and then what happens?” Ren throws her hands in the air. “They kick you out of the sex club.”
“It’s all about timing,” Isolde adds, opening the door. “Come on, I’ll help make sure you don’t blow your cover.”
“You two are a bad influence,” I tell them. But I trudge along, excited to see more of this sex club.