7. - – Laura
CHAPTER SEVEN
-
LAURA
We made it inside in good time, only standing outside in the heat for about thirty minutes. The bar gave off a club vibe and then a sex club vibe…
“Holy shit,” Claire whispered in my ear.
The things I was seeing right now with my actual eyeballs could never be unseen, and we were only in the entryway.
People ahead of us shuffled slowly toward a small podium.
The employee at the podium was an older woman; her name tag read “Jasmine,” and she asked a few questions and then handed out colored bracelets.
The couple directly in front of us stepped away with green bracelets, but I could see yellow and red ones on the podium, too.
Music blasted from beyond two metal doors.
“Welcome to Midnight,” Jasmine purred.
“Hi,” Clair responded. “Do we get a bracelet?”
“If you know what they’re for and would like one, then yes.”
“Do we know?” Claire turned to look at me and asked. I assume she hoped I knew the right answer to get us into the cool club. I had an idea, and if I were right, selecting the correct bracelet was important.
“Yellow, please,” I asked, holding my wrist out and elbowing Claire to get her to do the same.
Claire held her wrist out. “Yellow,” she said enthusiastically as Jasmine put our bracelets on.
“What does yellow mean?” she asked as we moved up to the line before the last set of doors.
“Remember the sex club thing?” I asked. Claire nodded. “Yellow is like saying we’re curious, but not here to participate in anything too wild.”
“So it’s like saying you can talk to me, but no, I will not join you in the dungeon?” Claire asked.
“Yeah, something like that. And you can't go into certain parts of the club without the right bracelet.”
“Wait, so now I can’t do any of the fun stuff?” Claire pouted.
“No, we’re gonna get tipsy and dance and have fun, but not end up tied up to a spanking bench.”
“Spanking bench?” Claire questioned. Her lips tilted into a wicked smile I’d never seen on her face before.
It wasn’t long before Claire and I were sufficiently tipsy and moving closer to drunk.
We danced our asses off, and a mix of country music and pop hits kept everyone happy.
Line dances broke out on the small dance floor, and no one here could hold Claire back from a good line dance.
We joined in on several, grabbed another round of tequila shots, then went back at it.
The vibe is more upscale than the usual bars around small towns.
No lasers or strobe lights, just mood lighting and music that makes you want to get up and dance.
“It’s demo time.” Someone announced over the loudspeaker. A woman in a bra and panties stepped onto the stage, followed by Drake fucking Shaw. I whimper, and Claire turns to me, but I shrug it off like I didn’t make the noise. I noticed even with the mask covering part of his face.
“Tonight, we have a sensual Shibari demo. These two are consenting adults who have agreed to all the terms of this demo beforehand. Please, a round of applause.” The music reclaimed the space as loudly as before, as Drake and the mystery woman began their show.
I can’t stop staring as Drake grabs rope and begins wrapping the woman’s body. He starts at her thighs and ass. I dropped my small clutch and stooped to find it, and I came up to Drake's eyes on me.
He definitely noticed. The tiny scrap of a black dress barely covers my ass, and he definitely noticed me bending over and showing half the club my cheeks.
For a moment, hunger flared up in his eyes.
My soul echoed that hunger, something deep begging to be dominated, like the woman on the stage.
To be on my knees with Drake’s words of praise ringing in my ears.
The bass and fellow dancers are the only things keeping me on my feet as Drake takes the rope and expertly wraps the woman’s body.
The black rope glides through his hands like silk.
I stare, mouth agape, at the scene playing out on the stage as bodies grind against me to the thumping music.
I’ve stopped moving despite the music and tequila coursing through my body.
We stopped counting after the third round of shots showed up.
Someone was buying us drinks, and the fuck if we were going to question it.
Laser lights and booming bass were an afterthought as Drake ensnared me without even trying.
“Earth to Laura,” Claire yelled directly into my ear. I spin to face Clair, who’s holding two more shots.
“Thank fuck,” I responded, grabbing a shot and downing the bright yellow liquid.
“Lemon drop,” Claire adds after drinking hers. I guess we’ve graduated from straight tequila to fancy shots.
“Is that?” I slam my hand over Claire’s mouth before she can finish the sentence.
Of fucking course it’s him, and the things he is doing on stage are so fucking hot.
I wander through more of the things we did that night.
He coached me through every orgasm, checked in the whole time, and even left me cold bottled water and snacks. Left me. Asshole.
And just like that, the panic attack hit, sucking the fun right out of the room, and dizziness swept over me, threatening to send the signal to empty my stomach all over the small dance floor.
“I need air. Save our spot,” I yell to Claire.
I don’t want to ruin her night. I’ll be fine out front with the bouncer for a few minutes.
Pushing my way through a crowd of people is one of my least favorite things to do.
I pushed the heavy metal door open before the doorman could get off his stool.
Jasmine wasn’t at the podium anymore, but there was still a line of people waiting to get in.
There is no way they were all from Gas City.
The streetlights felt as blinding as Drake’s blue eyes did inside.
What had come over me? The same thing that was propelling me further down the street and away from Midnight.
If only my wobbly ankles would get on the same page as me and keep the fuck up.
My heel catches on gravel and sends me down to my knees.
I can’t find it in me to stand back up. Like the fall itself was a sign that I just needed to stay the fuck down for once.