Chapter 12
RILEY
My heart is literally going to beat out of my chest before we even make it through the doors. He might be here tonight. I might actually get to see him again.
Holy shit. This is happening.
The line to get in is moving far too fast; Taylor is chatting with the people in front of us like she’s known them for years despite having met them about five seconds ago. My mask feels too tight on my face. Leave it to Taylor to forget to tell me this was a masquerade charity auction.
I guess these things never go out of style.
We make it to the front of the line, where a man with a sharp jaw, a wicked smirk, and buzzed hair greets us easily as he walks up to the bouncer checking people in.
“And here I thought I had a chance to win best dressed,” the man says, playfully as he motions for Taylor to do a little twirl.
Taylor giggles, her cheeks going pink as she plays along. Her strappy red gown flares at the base as she twirls, showing off her curves and the flow of her honey-blonde hair.
“Red’s your color, doll. Stunning, both of you.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Taylor says with a lascivious wink as she hands our tickets over. “I’m not sure if transfers are okay, but a friend of mine couldn’t make it, so she gave these to us.”
The man takes the tickets, double-checking something against the tablet resting on the desk in front of the bouncer.
“Normally I’d play by the rules, but your friend did email us, so as long as you two have your IDs, you’re good to go.” He flicks his tongue out to wet his lips as he smirks at Taylor. “Besides, I can’t say no to a face like that.”
I’ve never seen Taylor flustered when someone flirts with her before, but this guy seems to be ticking all her boxes. If I wasn’t so anxious about being here in the first place, I might enjoy watching her blush as we hand our IDs over to him.
He takes them and taps in our information before handing them back.
“Perfect,” he says, spinning the tablet around that’s attached to the podium so that we can scroll through the document. “Just some house rules and an explanation of the auction. Sign away your life at the bottom, if you please.”
Taylor laughs easily, scrawling out a signature at the bottom of the screen before sliding the tablet over to me.
I scan through the document briefly; nothing in particular jumps out at me.
It’s just a club, it’s not like there would be anything really specific in here.
I scratch out my own signature as Taylor shamelessly flirts.
The man flirts back with her, meeting her tit for tat as he gets our auction tickets ready. I can tell she’s going to be coming back for his number later.
“Please, do enjoy yourselves to the fullest, ladies,” he says, handing us our ticket stubs back as he rakes his bright blue eyes over Taylor’s body. “If you need anything, just ask for Tommy. I’d be happy to help.”
“I’m sure you would,” Taylor teases, dragging her fingers along his arm as we step past him.
I roll my eyes teasingly as a hulking man pulls the door to the club open, gesturing us inside.
My heart jumps into my chest at the realization that this is actually happening, that there’s a chance I’ll see my mystery man again after weeks of wanting and waiting.
I start scanning the room as soon as we step inside, hoping to see him immediately.
Maybe it’ll be like a fairy tale, where everything fades away and I run into his arms and live happily ever after. As soon as I start looking through the crowd, though, my mind stalls out like a broken record.
This is… not what I expected.
Taylor’s usual haunts are upscale cocktail lounges, all marble flooring and velvet seating, but this is closer to warehouse chic.
It’s lavishly decorated, low lights scattering a warm glow across the plush leather couches and armchairs arranged around small tables.
A bar stretches along the entire back wall, glittering bottles of alcohol and mixers resting on sturdy oak shelves.
A stage takes up the opposite wall of the room, with heavy black curtains serving as a backdrop and an announcement podium off to the side.
Tasteful black and white silhouette paintings and pictures line the walls, just a hint of sensuality without being overtly erotic.
Crystal chandeliers cast sparkling rays down on the crowd.
That’s not what really catches my attention. It’s the people.
I was expecting everyone to be dressed similarly to us.
It’s an upscale, private event, so it makes sense for everyone to be dressed to the nines.
Instead, several of the people I saw outside wearing long coats are now wearing what barely amounts to lingerie.
Bodies clad in lace and leather stand between those in satin gowns and others in low-cut clubwear.
The only thing that everyone has in common is a mask covering at least half of their face.
As soon as Taylor stops at one of the high-top tables at the edge of the room, I lean close to whisper into her ear.
“I thought this was a networking event! Where the hell did you bring me?”
Taylor laughs, the gold edges of her lacy mask catching the light and the eyes of several people around us. Despite my obvious attempt to be subtle, she doesn’t whisper back, instead propping her elbow on the tabletop and resting her chin in her palm.
“I’m trying to get you to relax, not stress you out more,” she teases. “It’s a lifestyle club. Nothing crazy is happening; don’t get your panties in a twist.”
I glance around at the decor and the crowd of people half decked out in leather and lingerie and half dressed to the nines.
“A lifestyle club,” I repeat slowly. “Which is… what, exactly?”
Before we came in, I assumed it was a social spot for people way out of my tax bracket, but this is nothing like my imagination conjured up. It’s still unbearably, perfectly elegant, but definitely not what I expected to walk into.
“Like, for swingers,” Taylor explains lazily, watching me with open amusement on her face. “And kinky folk in general, I guess. I don’t know the details, really, Lisa just said it was an upscale sex club and that her hubby knows someone who works here. Fun, right?”
Fun?
Jesus Christ, my best friend is insane. My mouth drops open in shock as my cheeks flare bright red.
I suddenly feel both incredibly overdressed and far too exposed.
Not to mention that my mystery man knows this place.
I guess that makes sense. He does love bossing me around, but what else is he doing in a place like this?
I’m not exactly the most experienced person in this sort of area. The only dirty things I’ve come close to are the words I read in my books! Oh my god… he’s going to hate me.
“Why would you bring me to a sex club to relax?” I hiss under my breath, fixing my eyes down on the tabletop to avoid staring. “Are you crazy?”
Taylor snickers, nudging me with her elbow unapologetically. She knows that if I were truly upset, I’d get up and walk out without a word, but that doesn’t mean I’m not utterly flabbergasted.
“First,” she says, self-important and grinning playfully, “you need to get laid. A sex club seems like a good place for that, since you won’t let me take you out to a normal bar.
Plus, your mystery man hasn’t tried to meet you, so you’re not exactly locked down.
And second,” she continues before I can argue, “I’ve seen what you read, honey. Don’t pull the innocent act on me.”
My blush only grows, and I know it undercuts the glare I send her. “Shut up. You’re not allowed to take me anywhere without giving me all the information from now on.”
She laughs but holds out her pinky.
“Promise,” she says, hooking our pinkies together.
I huff out a sigh but force myself to relax a little.
It’s not like she’s wrong about anything—I need to relax, and even if I don’t know much about it in real life, I’m definitely into this sort of thing.
And I do need to get laid, although I have no intention of sleeping with anyone but my masked man.
Or Nick.
Well, only one of them is attainable, so it doesn’t matter.
I glance around, wondering if my mystery man is already here, if he’s seen me yet, and if he’s waiting for me to be alone.
“Are you seriously planning on trying to hook me up with someone tonight?” I ask Taylor, a groan on my breath. “You said this was a charity auction. That wasn’t a lie, right?”
Taylor fixes her necklace with an all-too-smug grin even as she shakes her head, and I know I’m not going to like what she’s going to say.
“I wouldn’t lie about that,” she says, but the pleased glint in her green eyes doesn’t dissipate. “It’s a date auction. All the proceeds are going to a local charity that helps sexual assault survivors get legal representation and mental health services.”
That’s… good, then. It doesn’t explain why she’s still smiling like the cat that got the cream, though.
“What’s a date auction?” I ask suspiciously.
Taylor’s face lights up, telling me I’ve found the real reason we’re here. “They pick random audience members to go up on stage and then people bid for a date. Money goes to charity and you get to go out to a fancy dinner with some rich guy. Win-win!”
Panic slams into me as I rake my eyes over the crowd, the thought of all those eyes on me making my skin crawl.
“What if one of us gets called up?” I ask, looking at her with wide eyes.
What if I have to go up on that stage? What if my mystery man isn’t here at all or doesn’t bid on me? What if I have to go out with some creep?
Taylor reaches over to squeeze my wrist reassuringly, the chill of her gold rings a shock against my skin.
“Deep breath,” she instructs me. “Stop worrying so much. I’m sure they choose the participants before the auction even starts; we’re just here to play the audience. You’ll be fine. Plus, if you do get called, you can back out whenever you want. Didn’t you read the forms we signed when we came in?”