17. Chapter 17
Jasmine
My breath is ragged as I exhale while the elevator descends. If I had thought a phone call with my best friend would have led me straight to hell, then I would have never answered.
The black doors slide open, and the familiar notes pump through the place.
I had no idea music could turn someone on, but here I am, my body thrumming with desire.
When I exit, I’m greeted by the same woman as the other day.
Her blonde hair and ruby lips are a beautiful contrast that mimics her boss’s outfit.
“Welcome back, Miss Baker. Did they provide you with your pass upstairs?”
My hand shakes as I provide her with the card I was given earlier, but she’s kind enough to ignore it and offer me a small smile. “I don’t remember if I introduced myself the other day. I’m Valentina. Will Mr. Caruso be accompanying you again tonight?”
I shake my head. The last thing I need is for Dario to show up and see me here in Inferno after I bit off his head for bringing me here in the first place. “I’m alone.”
Valentina’s smile is soft as she gives me a knowing nod. “While we were able to bypass the application process with your call, we will need you to fill out a few things tonight before you can enter the club again.”
I nod, and she places a tablet on the counter in front of me. “You’ll need to check off each of these tabs. The first one is an overview of the rules and expectations we set here at Inferno. Make sure to read each one carefully, as there are consequences and punishments when rules are broken.”
The word punishment has my stomach flipping, but I give her a nod to continue.
“The next tab is a form stating you are of sound mind and able and willing to provide consent. Then we have a waiver to be filled out stating we are not liable in the instance you were to be injured during a scene you consented to with your partner. Of course, we have monitors positioned around the establishment, so it should never lead to that.”
My throat is dry, and I simply nod again to confirm I’m hearing everything she says.
“Finally, we have an interest form. While these are always subject to change, you filling this out provides us with information so we can best accommodate you.”
“Will other members have access to this form?” I ask, trying to mask my panic.
Valentina shakes her head. “Not at all. This is for the company’s use only. When we receive these forms from our members, we’re able to determine which workshops, theme rooms, and special events might be a good fit. It’s purely marketing.”
Her smile is gentle and warm enough to settle my nerves. She motions behind me. “You can take a seat on that bench while you look everything over. Feel free to take your time. Would you like me to get you something to drink? We have water, or I can place an order for you at the bar.”
I give her a shaky smile. “I think I may need something stronger than water tonight. Could I get a bourbon and Coke?”
“Of course.” She smiles at me again, and I head over to the bench to fill out the forms on the tablet.
I’m thankful for the strong spirit I toss back as I check off the items on the interest form.
The knowledge that nobody I would hook up with will see this gives me a little more courage to be honest with my answers.
I didn’t realize how much I could possibly enjoy, along with the items that were a giant hell no.
When I finish filling everything out, I walk the tablet and my empty glass back over to Valentina.
“All finished?” I give her a nod, and she sets the tablet aside, gesturing to the satin bracelets in front of her.
“We have a color system here at Inferno to help make intentions aware and keep everyone safe. The other night, you and Mr. Caruso wore black. This indicates that you are exclusive with your partner and nobody else has permission to approach you.” She looks up at me, checking if I’d like for her to continue.
Abso-fucking-lutely. Dario and I are not exclusive.
“And the other colors?” I ask.
Valentina offers me a soft smile. “The silver bracelet states that you are willing to participate in scenes and activities, but that you are the one in a position to make contact. When you wear this band, nobody should approach you, and you are only permitted to approach those with gold bands.”
She picks up the last band, a gold satin that reminds me of the beautiful casino next door.
“Gold bands signal that you are accepting of others approaching you. It means you are seeking a physical connection, but that doesn’t lock you into one.
You still have control to deny what they are offering.
If you select the gold band, you may approach others with gold bands and are very likely to be approached by those with them, as well. Do you have any questions?”
I shake my head as I process everything she says.
“Very well. So if not black, will it be silver or gold for you tonight?”
My eyes dart between the two bands, and my pulse quickens.
When Penny mentioned I needed help relaxing, I knew exactly what she meant.
Black is not an option; that completely defeats the purpose of my being here.
Silver is a safe choice. It places the ball in my court if I want to be intimate.
The problem is, I don’t trust myself to be bold enough to approach anyone.
“Gold,” I say, before I change my mind.
I watch nervously as Valentina slides the silk band across my wrist and tightens it. “Do you need me to provide you with a tour, or are you comfortable navigating things based on your knowledge from the other night?”
“I’ve got it,” I say, not wanting to spend any more time appearing nervous in front of this graceful woman. “Thank you for all your help.”
Valentina gives me another one of her small smiles and signals for me to scan my card.
When the doors open, I make my way across the dance floor, the same as I did with Dario.
As I stride toward the bar, several pairs of eyes linger on me—lions tracking the gazelle.
Being a single woman alone in an establishment like this is a bit unnerving, no matter how many safety precautions they put in place, and I suddenly wish the thorn in my side were present.
When I reach the bar, I’m a little more at ease when the face of the familiar bartender appears. He smiles with teeth that gleam almost as bright as his shaved head and oiled chest. I attempt to pull my lips into a small grin in greeting, but my nerves are making it difficult.
“Welcome back,” he says. His friendly tone allows me to relax my shoulders. “Here alone tonight?”
I track the way his eyes search for his boss. “Yes. Could I get a bourbon and Coke, please?”
His grin is somehow larger now, and I’m certain his cheeks are touching his earlobes. “Didn’t peg you for a bourbon girl.”
“What kind of girl did you peg me for?” I ask, genuinely curious.
The bartender cocks his head, and his blue eyes travel down my body. His method of tracking is different, however. There’s nothing predatory about his approach. He’s simply… intrigued. “Martini.”
“Are you calling me dry?” I ask, and he throws his head back in a laugh that makes me ache for my friend Skyla. He seems easy to talk to and like a good time.
The young man shakes his head. “Not exactly. I was thinking along the lines of serious. Sophisticated. Selective.”
I can’t hide my smirk. “I do enjoy a martini, but tonight I feel the need for something that reminds me of home.”
His huge smile reappears as he nods his head to my right. “Well, in that case, between the bourbon and the sound of your sweet accent there, I may be able to help you out.”
My eyes widen, drinking him in and thinking there is no way this man wouldn’t stand out like a sore thumb in my hometown. He chuckles, making it easier for my smile to grow.
“Not me. I don’t have a death wish.” He nods to the end of the bar. “There’s a cowboy over there who can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.” The friendly bartender gives me a wink and turns away to make my drink as I look over in the direction he indicated.
Standing at the end of the bar is a man with broad shoulders who absolutely fits the bill of a dark cowboy.
A beard covers his jawline, thick and matching the black button-down shirt that stretches against his large chest and stomach.
Dark, painted-on jeans are held up by a belt buckle large enough someone could have won it on WWE Smackdown.
My eyes drift down to black boots that complete the look.
On his wrist is a gold band that matches mine.
My eyes come up to meet him, my nerves causing my teeth to reach out and pull in my bottom lip. It must be the signal he’s been waiting for because the sexy cowboy lifts up from his barstool and heads my way. Maybe a taste of back home is exactly what I need tonight.