Chapter 5
ELODIE
My best friend Hannah wrinkled her pert, perfectly sloped nose. “You look like you’re going to a PTA meeting.” She laughed.
I looked down at my outfit: a black skirt, tight blouse, and heels. “What kind of PTA meeting are you going to wearing skirts this short and painted-on tops?”
“Dearest, that is not short. That’s just . . . normal.” Hannah unceremoniously pulled up my skirt so it was a centimeter from covering my crotch. “Now, that’s short. Much hotter.”
I batted her hands away, rolling my eyes. “Okay, okay, fine. What are your suggestions?”
“It’s a sex club. Are you supposed to wear anything at all?”
I shot her a look, but Hannah just laughed at me again.
Hannah was LA gorgeous—auburn hair, tall, leggy, with big boobs, and tan. She always had men looking at her, and I couldn’t remember the last time we were out at a bar when some guy didn’t try to hit on her.So it was pretty shocking that she worked as a nanny. What sane woman would let someone as beautiful as Hannah near her husband, I didn’t know. But Hannah’s current family adored her.
“How are the kids?” I asked Hannah, wanting to get the attention off my sartorial confusion. “Is Maverick still trying to get himself killed?”
Hannah lounged across my sofa. I’d invited her over to help me figure out what the hell I was going to wear to my second visit to The Scarlet Rope. Strangely, I didn’t want to wear just lingerie this time. Maybe I wanted to be subtler. Or it could be that my one set of sexy lingerie was the one I’d already worn.
“Did I not tell you that Maverick tried to climb off the balcony yesterday?” Hannah asked.
As Hannah liked to say, Maverick was the family’s completely insane two-year-old son. The kid had already broken both arms, given himself multiple black eyes, and had just recently bashed his forehead against the family cat. I couldn’t fathom how the kid had managed that last one.
I whirled around, aghast. “Seriously?”
“He somehow got around not one, not two, but THREE baby gates.” Hannah slapped her forehead. “I went to go pee—seriously, it was all of thirty seconds—and he was playing downstairs. Then I hear a shout, and he’s about to get over the second-floor balcony.”
“I guess you caught him in time?”
Hannah gave me a look. “Duh. And he screamed in my ear so loudly I think I have permanent damage.” She rubbed the ear in question. “Anyway, he has to sit in the bathroom with me from now on whenever I go. I’d rather he ripped open a box of tampons than break another arm or leg. Or his head. Plus, the hospital asked a lot of questions last time I brought in the little maniac. It’s not a good look when a nanny gets investigated by CPS.”
Hannah went on to tell me all about the older daughter—Stella—who was an angel who could do no wrong. Hannah groused that she’d had a false sense of security since she’d started nannying when it was only Stella. Hannah had made the mistake of thinking the second born would be just as easy a child as the first.
“I saw that Emma and Ryan went to Aruba for their anniversary,” I said, reaching for another appalling bright orange top.
“If you’re sniffing for intel,” said Hannah, “you’ll get nothing from me.” But her eyes still sparkled as she said the words. “And yeah, they did. They were hella drunk when they got back home. I heard the bed creaking even before I left the house.”
Emma Terrance and Ryan Foster were among the most prominent celeb couples and #couplesgoals on social media. Three years ago, Roy had given me an assignment to find any dirt on the two, which was how I ended up meeting Hannah.
When Emma and Ryan hired Hannah as Stella’s nanny, the Internet was agog, assuming there was no way Ryan would stay faithful to Emma with a gorgeous woman like Hannah around.
So I’d started researching, getting to know Hannah in the process. I talked to multiple members of their household, including both Emma and Ryan’s chef and personal trainer. I’d watched the family’s comings and goings for weeks.
And guess what? That assignment had been a miserable failure because there was no dirt on Emma and Ryan. They were shockingly boring—and stupidly in love with each other. And Hannah was just their employee who they paid well and respected. She just happened to be beautiful, a fact that didn’t bother Emma since she was so confident in her marriage.
Roy had been pissed at the lack of dirt, but I’d found a new friend in Hannah. She’d quickly become my bestie.
“I wish I could go with you,” Hannah lamented, tossing me a dress she’d brought from home. “I’ve always wanted to go to a sex club.”
I shimmied into the dress, wishing I had Hannah’s curves. Where she was an hourglass, I was just a rectangle. I also had tiny boobs. But when I was about to take the dress right off, Hannah made me stand in front of the mirror for a moment.
“Damn, I love this on you,” she said. She turned me to the side. “Look at this juicy booty!” She even squeezed said booty to emphasize her point.
“I look dumpy.” I crossed my arms across my belly. “You look way better in this dress.”
“No way. If we just shorten it a bit—” Hannah raised the hem a few inches. “And voilà. You look stunning.”
I wasn’t sure stunning was the right term, but I also knew Hannah was always honest. If I looked terrible, she’d tell me. I took off the dress so Hannah could put some double-sided tape on the bottom to create a faux hem.
I’d confided in Hannah about everything I’d uncovered about Mac, swearing her to secrecy. When I told her I was going to return to The Scarlet Rope Saturday night, she’d insisted on coming over to figure out what I was going to wear. I hadn’t thought it necessary, but now I was glad she did.
“I just hope I can get more info about him,” I said, pacing across my small living room. “He’s just such a mystery. He’s all over social media, yet it took me days to figure out the most basic information about him. What makes him tick, what drove him to get involved with a place like The Scarlet Rope . . .?”
Hannah raised an eyebrow. “This is all for your story ?” she asked, sounding skeptical.
I blinked. “Yeah. Of course. What else would it be for?”
“I don’t know, but you seem especially interested in him.”
I blushed, hating that my skin betrayed me. “He’s my assignment. Of course I’m interested in him.”
Finishing up the hem, Hannah placed the dress on a hanger before hanging it from my mantel. “I’m just saying. It sounds like you’re getting personally involved.”
Now I felt defensive. “I have a boyfriend.”
“Oh yeah. What’s his name again? Rod?”
I threw a pillow at Hannah. “Don’t be annoying. I know what I’m doing.”
“Then again, Mac won’t be there tonight since he has a game in Vancouver.”
“Exactly.” I downed the last of the wine I’d been neglecting. “If this were about me being obsessed with Mac, wouldn’t I want to make sure he was actually going to be at the club?”
After giving the password Mac gave me—Raven Blackwood—I was half expecting to be laughed out of the club. But the bouncer just ushered me inside without another word. Before I was allowed to mingle among the guests like last time, an impeccably dressed woman had me follow her into a room that was well-hidden behind a wall near the entryway.
“This way,” she said, very businesslike. She wasn’t dressed like she was going to enjoy herself at the club. She was dressed almost demurely, but I could tell by the cut of her jacket and the shine of her heels that her outfit was expensive.
“Have a seat.”
I sat across from her in a room that could only be called an office. It was . . . boring. At least compared to the rest of the club. It looked like your average techy office. It was only missing the huge panels of windows overlooking the bay, as in Todd’s office.
The furniture was luxurious but not gaudy. The woman sat at her desk before pushing a stack of documents toward me.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, The Scarlet Rope is all about our patrons’ privacy,” she said. It sounded as if she was going through a script for the millionth time. “That entails going over and signing a contract with the club.”
I started to go through the papers, my gaze catching the phrases NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT and PATRON RULES AND REGULATIONS, among a few others.
“Uh,” I said, feeling overwhelmed, “do I need a lawyer?”
The woman tittered. “You can consult one if you wish, but these are all standard contracts. Basically, keep the knowledge of our existence to yourself and behave appropriately. Meaning, everything—and I mean everything— must be consented to. If someone comes to us to tell us that you violated their boundaries, we’ll investigate and have you out on your ass in a second if you’re proven liable.”
I felt a little ill. Not because I disagreed—but it all felt so . . . intense.
But I’m not really joining. So what did it matter if I signed?
Then again, that NDA made me rethink everything. I’d already told Hannah about The Scarlet Rope. If I wrote about the club in my story about Mac, they could sue me if they wanted to.
I chewed on my lower lip.
“I need to speak with a lawyer first,” I said finally, knowing Roy would strangle me if I signed anything without handing it straight over to legal first.
The woman didn’t seem fazed. “You can do that, of course, but I can’t admit you without signing these papers either.”
Torn between wanting to stay and being cautious, I decided to sign the papers with a fake name. They hadn’t asked for my ID, which had surprised me. Maybe me having the password from Mac had automatically made me a little more legit.
Or maybe all of this was just a bunch of theater to scare people into keeping quiet.
Once I finally gained admittance to the club, I desperately needed a drink to calm my nerves. I kept looking over my shoulder as if the woman would discover I’d given her a fake name and throw me out on my ass.
I grabbed a shot of something and, after drinking it, nearly coughed it back up again. “What the hell was that?” I hissed between wheezes. A few people near the bar shot me looks. A woman wearing a black leather getup and a mask covering her face flashed a wry smile.
“Those are called fireballs,” she said, raising a beautifully waxed eyebrow. “First one?”
“What’s in them? Gasoline?” I grabbed a glass of water to wash down the acidic taste of whatever that had been.
“Pretty much.” The dominatrix—because she looked almost exactly like what I’d expect a dominatrix to look like—gave me a once-over. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
“It’s my second time,” I explained. Looking down at my dress, I realized I was actually overdressed this time. “Do I stand out that much?”
She smiled and held out a hand covered in a lacy glove, bright red nails shining from underneath. “Delilah. Nice to meet you . . .?”
“Roxy,” I said, realizing I’d been stupid not to give a fake name when I’d met Mac the first time.
I glanced around the bar, watching everyone mingle and drink together. Or if they weren’t talking, they were touching—kissing, caressing, their hands moving into dark unknowns.
“Do you have any tips?” I asked, feeling awkward watching a couple nearby get hot and heavy as if it were totally normal to hump in public.
“For one, don’t look so freaked out.” Delilah’s smiled. “Try to relax. You look like you’re about to get into trouble.” She leaned toward me. “And don’t feel guilty about liking whatever it is you like. When I first started coming, I used to feel ashamed, but life’s too short for that kind of bullshit. Just go have fun. You’re in a safe place with no judgment.”
I wanted to believe Delilah. And I hoped I could grow comfortable—but I was clearly out of my depth. I felt especially out of place as I wandered around, watching different “shows” through the glass.
One was a BDSM experience between five different people: three guys and two women. As I stopped to watch, one of the women was being whipped. The other was gagged and bound while the two men fucked her in her pussy and her ass.
I felt my body respond to the scene, my nipples peaking against the fabric of my dress. When I caught the heated glance of a masked man nearby, I nearly ran in the opposite direction—because I wanted to respond? Or because this entire thing scared the bejeezus out of me?
I watched a few other shows, including one that seemed to be a role-play room based on the woman wearing what looked like a Catholic schoolgirl outfit. The man wore a sports jacket with elbow patches and horn-rimmed glasses. It must’ve been a role-play of student and professor.
I watched as the professor took off his tie and used it to bind the student’s hands as she kneeled on the desk. He flipped her skirt up, revealing that she wore nothing underneath, and spanked her for her naughty behavior.
The moans the woman issued made goose bumps litter my skin. I felt like I was drunk and floating far away. Everything about this place was intoxicating, like a wicked dream I couldn’t believe was happening. I could almost swear I was drunk, although I’d only had that one terrible fireball shot earlier.
When a couple tried to get me to join them, I demurred and made my way back to the bar. Delilah was still there, but now she was surrounded by people, like a queen holding court.
Delilah spotted me, ushering me to sit beside her. “Now, boys, behave yourselves,” she purred, patting my knee. “Roxy here is new, and she’s a little shy.”
I could feel the men’s gazes on me, hungry and interested. But at the same time, I didn’t feel intimidated. Sitting there with these men watching me was strangely empowering, knowing they couldn’t do anything unless I gave them express permission.
“Did you go have some fun?” Delilah asked. She ordered me one of her favorite drinks, handing me the pink-colored cocktail with a smile. “You look a little flushed.”
“Just taking it all in.” I glanced at the men, who’d given us some space but were still watching. “Why do I feel like a gazelle about to be pounced on by a leopard?”
Delilah laughed. “They’re all bark and no bite. Believe me. But if you’re interested in any of them, you’ll have to be obvious about it. We don’t play hard to get around here. Either you want something, or you say no. And if you say no, the other person has to respect it.”
Her eyes darkened. “If some guy gets handsy with you,” she continued, “yell the safe word. You’ll have a dozen people coming over to pound the guy and throw him out.”
I raised an eyebrow. “The safe word?”
“Did you not read the contract?” Delilah clucked her tongue. “It’s ‘turkey.’”
I nearly choked on my drink. “Turkey? Like a Thanksgiving turkey? That’s not very sexy.”
“That’s the point. Scream the word TURKEY, and nobody will mistake that for screaming from an orgasm.” Delilah stirred her drink. “Then again, everybody has their kinks. I’m sure some people here are into role-playing some weird-ass, gobble-gobble shit.” She winked.
“So,” Delilah said, “who invited you here?”
“Hey, I found this place on Google just like the rest of you,” I joked. At Delilah’s look, I admitted, “Mac Mackenzie.”
“Oh really? Now, that’s a scrumptious hunk of a man. I’ve wanted to get my mouth on that man since I first saw him here.”
I felt myself growing hot. With jealousy? “Have you ever—?”
“With Mac? No, he mostly just watches. Besides taking the occasional woman home afterward, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him participate.”
My stomach twisted. Which was stupid because Mac could take home anyone he wanted. So why do I wish he’d take me home?
“Do you know what he is? I mean, what he’s into?” I asked.
Delilah smirked. “Now, what would be the fun in me telling you that? You’ll have to find out for yourself.”
Delilah’s words ran through my head as I wandered a second time, letting myself mull them over. I found it interesting that Mac preferred to watch more than participate. Was he into just voyeurism? From what Delilah said, it sounded like he enjoyed watching other people but wasn’t interested in people watching him.
A few of the men surrounding Delilah found me, flirting with me and plying me with drinks. But when one of them asked me to go to a room with him, I declined. To my relief, he nodded, saying he hoped he’d see me again soon.
When I got back home, I knew I wouldn’t fall asleep anytime soon. Besides, I was still aroused, like I’d been edging myself all night long. Strangely, the thought of getting out my vibrator didn’t appeal to me. In my mind’s eye, I saw Mac. Closing my eyes, I could imagine him taking my arm, pulling me close, his hand large and warm on the small of my back and—
And you have a boyfriend . Guilt assailed me. But even as I got into bed, wide awake, my thoughts were about anyone but Todd.