Chapter 17
Aida
Simone seems as happy as a pig in shit.
‘It’s such a shame I’m completely in love with my husband,’ she mutters, while shooting some guy a flirtatious grin. ‘The guys here are hot as fuck.’
We’ve had a few smiles, and nods, and whisky tumblers raised in greeting. I guess it tickles guys to see two newsreaders in a sex club, even if we’re just in the bar area. I take another peek at the heavy wooden double doors I’m told lead through to The Playroom.
It’s a horrifying thought, and I can’t stop craning my neck every time someone walks in their direction, because there’s no escaping the fact that they’re sauntering in there, casual as you like, to fuck.
We’re standing in little clusters around the table Cal and Gen and their friends were at when we walked in.
It seems more sociable than everyone sitting around on stools.
Easier to mix conversations. The reporter in me is loving it.
I’m observing. Analysing. Interpreting. Drinking in the well-heeled patrons and their dynamics.
It’s a fabulous atmosphere—buzzing and super fun—and I remind myself I’m in a sex club. There’s no room here for inhibitions. So why do I feel almost bashful that the gorgeous guy standing next to me is the same guy who finger-fucked me to a messy, moaning climax last week?
He looks fine. So fine. Tall and broad-shouldered in a black dress shirt and black pants that showcase what great shape he’s in.
He’s a slightly bigger build than his cofounders, Zach and Rafe, who are leaner, rangier, and it’s clear he works out.
A lot. Those pants highlight his trim, tapered waist and his fantastic ass.
His dark hair is raked off his face a little messily, a look that absolutely works for me.
His skin is fucking gorgeous. Golden and flawless and glowing with health.
Beard immaculate. But it’s his eyes that really get me, because they’re warm and dark and molten, and they crinkle whenever he smiles at me, which is a lot.
He stays close while we all chat. Like, shoulder to shoulder close, the heavy cotton of his dress shirt brushing the bare skin of my arm.
And when he’s explaining something about how the club works, or pointing someone out to me, he inclines his head and touches me lightly with his fingertips on my low back.
I like that a lot.
I mean, who wouldn’t like being gently, respectfully flirted with by a crazy hot younger guy who smells insane and seems determined to ensure you’re having a good time?
Simone and I had a quick catch-up with Anton Wolff, who we’ve both interviewed before.
Seeing him so transfixed by my new friend Gen is a lot of fun.
He’s one of the most devastatingly smart, cut-throat business moguls I’ve ever sat down with, but around Gen the guy is a drooling mess, and I love it.
We’re now chatting with Cal’s coworker Maddy, who I understand is also Zach’s girlfriend, and her friend Belle, Rafe’s girlfriend.
I say I understand, but it’s pretty obvious, because Zach is just as worshipful of her as Rafe is of Belle.
I wasn’t expecting all these sex club owners to be so infatuated with one woman, but who can blame them?
Belle and Maddy are young as fuck and outrageously hot. I eye Belle’s practically naked upper half with a mix of admiration and regret that my skin hasn’t looked that dewy or smooth for half a lifetime. Because these young women are literally half my age.
‘I’m obsessed with your cuffs,’ Belle says now, pointing to the chunky jewellery punctuating my forearms. They’re matching Chanel cuffs bearing bejewelled Maltese crosses, and they’re fucking fabulous.
‘Thanks.’ I shoot her a grin and hold out an arm to admire one.
‘A little divorce present to myself,’ I tell her and watch a pleased smile spread across her beautiful face.
She has Rafe standing right behind her, pressed up against her, his arm banded around her waist, holding her to him.
His dark head keeps dipping to her bare shoulder, his nose and lips tracing devoted lines to her neck and back.
I wonder how it feels to be so desired. So adored.
‘I love that,’ Maddy says, stepping forward and holding my arm lightly so she can see the detail. ‘Ugh. They’re amazing. You two are so chic.’
‘I’m pretty sure I wasn’t as chic as you when I was your age,’ Simone tells her.
‘So true,’ I muse. ‘Those Brooks Brothers suits I wore every fucking day at CNN. God. And so much Ann Taylor. Jesus.’
‘I hope you burnt them all,’ Simone drawls.
‘Well, I think you’re both fabulous,’ Maddy pronounces. ‘And we’re all so excited about your documentary.’
I risk a sideways glance up at Cal, who gives me a grin that’s the perfect mix of boyish and wolfish.
It’s a grin that says I’ve got you but also I’m gonna show you a good time, and I’m here for it.
He slides an arm around my waist and tugs me even closer towards him.
I nestle into his side, self-consciousness fluttering at the edges of the warm glow his gesture gives me.
After all, we’re not a couple. Not in the slightest.
But, equally, he’ll be fucking me six ways to Sunday if everything goes to plan, so what’s a little cuddle?
‘No one’s more excited than I am,’ Cal says in a tone just menacing enough to send a delicious shiver floating through my body, despite the heat of him at my side.
Maddy and Belle turn to each other and do that excited kind of smile where they beam and widen their eyes.
‘Listen,’ Maddy says, holding up her hand. ‘Girl to girl.’ She glances up at Zach, who has his arm slung around her shoulder as he converses with Anton and Gen, before continuing in a stage whisper. ‘You’re in good hands with this one. Belle and I can both vouch for that. You get me?’
Her meaning hits me loud and clear, a punch to the stomach, as my brain takes in everyone else’s reaction.
Cal’s grip on my waist tightens as his body stiffens.
Zach’s head whips around, and he presses his lips together in a thin, grim line.
And Rafe raises his head from Belle’s shoulder long enough to say, ‘No. No, no, no.’
Cal’s fucked these women? These girls? Because that’s what they are. They’re young and perfect and so fucking gorgeous.
I know he gets around. He’s told me in detail. I know he’s had sex with zillions of women, and I’ve been trying not to get intimidated by that while recognising his experience as a gift.
But that’s different from having someone hit you over the head with it. If Maddy and Belle reflect his usual standard of women, then I am in deep shit.
I attempt to laugh her comment off, because this is super awkward, and also because it looks like Zach and Rafe do not appreciate this history lesson. Not one little bit.
‘Good to know,’ I say lightly before burying my face in my champagne coupe. Nothing to see here.
Then Cal’s arm leaves my waist and he grabs my upper arms, turning me where I stand. ‘Bar. Now,’ he growls.