by Eden Summers
Jan rolled her eyes. “You already said that when I wanted to get started on your hair. Then again when I attempted to do your makeup. And when I tried to get you in the car. Not to mention the three laps around the block you made me do.”
“I’m walking into a sex club, not a Seven-Eleven.”
“Your husband is down there. You’ll be fine.”
“I think my husband is down there.” Cassie shoved the car door open with force. “I have no confirmation of that.”
“Then think of it as an adventure. Even if you don’t participate, you’re about to see more action than I have in years.”
Cassie grabbed her clutch and shoved from the car. “Still not comforting.”
“Don’t forget about your mask,” Jan cooed. “I love you, you naughty little minx.”
Still hidden behind the car, Cassie pulled her mask into place. “Thanks,” she drawled and closed the door on her friend’s laughter.
As Jan’s car drove from the parking lot, Cassie began to shake. She was on her own. Vulnerable. Looking like a whore and feeling like a clown in all her fake attire. The dark blue dress sculpting her curves was unlike anything she’d usually wear. It was tight. Too tight. And it was only there to save her thinly veiled modesty during the short walk to the back entrance of the sex club. Once inside, she would need to remove it and reveal the skimpy slip she wore underneath to fit the clubs scantily clad dress code.
Everything adorning her body was new, and the exact opposite of what she would normally wear. Her shiny heels were stiletto thin, the color perfectly matching the dark purple of her nails and the lace outlining her mask. There was no turning back. Not unless she wanted to strut her hooker-heels to the curb and call Jan to pick her up.
She glanced toward the back entrance of the club, to the couple standing at the door getting their ID checked by two men. They were tall, broad, burly males who seemed ominous under the dim glow of the outside light yards above their heads.
Their faces came into focus as she approached, her footsteps crunching against the asphalt. One guard was dressed in navy slacks and a white-collared shirt. His expression was friendly, comforting. The man beside him was not. His stare was lethal, his features tight as he scrutinized the people before him. Typical Brute. She’d never forget his critical stare, the one that hid the caring man underneath. Deep, deep underneath. His gaze wasn’t even upon her, yet she already felt the weight of it. Grueling, criticizing. Shit. She shouldn’t be doing this.
He was going to recognize her no matter how she’d tried to hide her identity. Her long blonde hair was now short and black, thanks to the excessively itchy wig. Her light blue eyes were dark brown from the contacts she’d purchased from her optometrist. And her lips, usually adorned with gentle colors, were bright red and glossy, standing out like a beacon in the dead of night. The only solace she gained was from the mask that covered most of her forehead, the area around her eyes and down to her cheek bones, giving her a sense of anonymity.
What if she had to take it off to prove her identity?
Hell. Heart in her throat, she came to stand at the end of the line and smiled at the woman who turned to greet her with a flash of perfect teeth. The bright pink mask she wore was covered in glitter with some of the shimmering glow resting on her cheeks.
“This your first time?” The woman’s gaze fell to the red band around Cassie’s wrist.
“Yes.” Her voice faltered, not only from nerves. She couldn’t fail at this. Brute couldn’t turn her away. She wouldn’t know what to do if he did.
“You’ll have fun, I promise.” The woman turned to her companion and stepped forward, offering Brute their identification.
Cassie’s throat tightened. Blood rushed through her ears in a painful thrum she was sure the whole world could hear. Then the couple disappeared, moving forward, out of sight, leaving her to stand face-to-face with Brute, his hand outstretched as she convinced herself not to run.
“ID,” he grunted.
She placed her fake driver’s license in his hand and hoped he didn’t notice the tremor in her fingers. She was sweating. The back of her neck tingled. Her scalp itched.
“Name?” he muttered.
Oh, no. He already had her identification. Her name was clearly written on it. He was testing her.
“Tanya Johnson.” Her voice broke. This wouldn’t work. Not in her meek, frightened state of mind. She had to place this in perspective. Her marriage was on the line. Her happiness. Everything that had ever mattered to her was dependent on reconnecting with T.J.
She raised her chin, cleared her throat and met Brute’s stare as he palmed a small electronic tablet in his hand.
“First-timer.” His gaze lowered over her chest, her stomach, then came to rest on her arm. “Make sure you don’t remove the wristband.”
“I won’t.”
He grunted, making her increasingly aware he hadn’t outgrown his arrogant attitude in the months since she’d seen him last.
“We have strict rules here, Tanya.”
“I know.”
Brute’s position at the entry was deliberate. Not only to check identification, but to give an unspoken warning to everyone who passed through the doors. If word got out about Vault of Sin, he would deal with it. Harshly. He was the brutality protecting the carnal pleasure beneath the Shot of Sin dance floor.
“Be sure to adhere to them and you’ll have a great time.” His lethal tone implied otherwise. “If you have any problems or concerns, there’s staff members dressed in full attire to help you—Leo, T.J. and Travis.”
The sound of her husband’s name sent a barb of fire through her chest. He was here. In a sex club. No longer needing to remain a voyeur as he would soon be single.
“And if you’d prefer to discuss any issues with a female member of staff,” Brute continued, “let me know and I’ll arrange it.”
She inclined her head and broke eye contact, unable to hold his lethal stare. “Thank you.”
He moved to the side, allowing her stomach to drop to the tips of her toes as she started forward into the darkness. A cement staircase came into view, the couple before her barely visible as they reached the bottom landing and turned left.
She focused on the path before her, trying not to let past experience taint this moment. T.J. would never align himself with sleaziness. She had to trust her memory of him. She had to trust the Vault of Sin. It was a mantra. A comforting acknowledgement she had to repeat over and over again to keep her feet progressing to the start of the stairs.
“Oh, boy.” Dizzying nerves, stiletto heels and a rapid descent. Not a great combination.
The sound of sex, chatter and clinking glassware entered her ears as she progressed at a snail’s pace, not allowing nausea to creep in.
“You’ll be fine,” a female voice spoke over her shoulder.
Cassie reached out a hand to grip the wall. She glanced behind her to the smile almost covered by the green feathers bordering the blonde’s mask, the color almost perfectly matching her eyes.
“Don’t panic.” The woman’s gaze lowered, her lips curving sweetly when she spied the red band adorning Cassie’s wrist. “The first time is always the worst. Just stay away from the bukkake ritual.”
Holy shit. Was she serious?
“I’m joking. I’m joking.” The woman chuckled and grabbed the crook of Cassie’s elbow. “I should know better than to tease.”
“It’s okay,” Cassie croaked. Sure it was. She just couldn’t get the image of a group of men poised over her kneeling body as they prepared to spray her face with their release. Shudder. “I’m a little nervous, that’s all.” And apprehensive. And nauseous. And scared.
“You came alone?”
They began to descend together, the woman’s gentle touch still resting on Cassie’s arm. “Yeah. Stupid, right?”
“Not at all. My first Vault experience was on my own.”
Cassie’s concern began to ebb under the woman�
�s comforting voice. There was no sexual inclination to her touch. Cassie’s intuition told her to trust this woman. To believe her friendship was genuine. Then again, her intuition had been nowhere in sight for the last twelve months, so what the hell did she know?
They reached the bottom step and the calming grip on her arm disappeared. The sound of sex and excited conversation had grown. Loud enough to ring in her ears. With trepidation, she turned on the tips of her sexy shoes and came face-to-face with her first glimpse of the Vault of Sin.
“Holy smokes.” Her words were a whispered breath.
She could only see the corner of what she assumed was a large room. And in that corner was a sex swing. An occupied sex swing. The woman was reclined on her back, her torso encased in black straps, her legs wrapped around a Greek god as he sank into her. Over and over again. Her dark hair hung in the air behind her, the glossy strands swaying with each thrust.
It was glorious. Stupefying in its perfection. They paid no attention to her fascination, or the other people within view who were also watching. It was as if they were alone. Immersed in their own bubble of pleasure.
“Are swings your thing?” The woman beside her asked.
Cassie shook her head, still unable to drag her focus away from the live porn before her. “I’ve never tried one.”
“Tonight might be your lucky night.”
Cassie coughed to smother a laugh. “No. Not tonight.”
There would be no sex for her, even though the tingle of arousal was already pulsing between her thighs. This was about getting to know T.J. again. Finding out where he was at. What he was thinking. Maybe she would reveal herself to him, maybe she wouldn’t. But sex wasn’t in the equation as far as she was concerned.
“You never know.” The woman chuckled. “I’m Zoe by the way.”
“Cas—” Shit. Cassie snapped her attention from the fornicating couple and pasted on a fake smile. “I’m Tanya.”
Zoe’s smile faltered, suspicion growing heavy in the narrowing of her framed eyes. “Come on, Tanya. I’ll escort you to the change rooms.”
Cassie wasn’t sure if her slip up had been a close call or the other woman had no curiosity to pry. Either way, she released a silent sigh of relief. Zoe strode from the darkened hall, her shoulders back, her head high with grace and dignity. Cassie tried to mimic the confidence, failing miserably with the awe assailing her as the full room came into view.
A crowd of people mingled along a long stretch of bar. They were all in different stages of undress. Some women were in corsets, others in bras and panties. A few were topless. The men on the other hand were in boxer briefs—Calvin Klein, Emporio Armani, Tommy John.
The area screamed with invigorating debauchery. There were chaises, a bed, maybe more than one. She couldn’t see much over the people constricting her view. Two doors were open to her left, with the shadows of people inside. And an archway was to the far end of the room.
It was different from what she’d experienced in the only other club she’d been to. The ambiance, although dripping with seduction, was classy. Everything was red and black—sheets, lamp shades, furniture.
The people surrounding her were young, fit and attractive. Complete contrasts to the old, overweight men who’d lined the walls of the previous club she’d run from. She turned in a circle, amazed and more than a little proud at the perfection of the atmosphere.
“It’s this way.” Zoe raised her voice and didn’t acknowledge the loud cry of, “Oh yes, oh yes, fuck me harder,” from the woman in the sex swing.
“I’m right behind you.” She was following, no matter how stunted her steps.
Curiosity had her enthralled, but there was something that began to concern her. She’d memorized every inch of the main room, taken a glimpse into the two private areas, and not once had she caught sight of her husband.
“Are you coming down to the party?”
T.J. squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his lids, ignoring the question for as long as he could. Shay wouldn’t leave him alone. She hovered. Everywhere. All the time. No matter where he went, she was in his tracks with a friendly smile and a comforting pat on his back. He loathed it. The old Shay, the one who’d talked smack and given him hell, was the woman he needed. Not this highly attuned, feminine ball of emotional support that kept him on edge.
“I’ll get down there when I’m ready.” The growl of his voice echoed through the empty Shot of Sin dance club. He liked the peace and quiet. And he deserved the loneliness.
“Did you think about what I said in the restaurant yesterday?”
He couldn’t forget. Shay’s idea of getting over his wife was to move on. Hop on the bike again, so to speak. Take a new woman for a test drive. Brute concurred, ever the heartless bastard.
The thought made him sick.
“Why don’t we talk about you for a change?” He dropped his hand from his face and straightened at the sight of her. She was adorned in a see-through black dress, her shiny red bra and panties visible beneath to match her glossy high heels. She wore a swatch of black lace over her eyes. Simple yet elegant. Beautiful.
“How are things with you and Leo?” He spoke to hide his discomfort. Seeing Shay like this wasn’t something he could get used to overnight. She’d been his friend for a long time. His employee even longer. Now he’d have to watch as she strutted her gorgeous body around the Vault on her nights off.
She rolled her pretty brown eyes. “You know, you could just tell me you don’t want to talk.”
Perfect. “I don’t want to talk about it, Shayna.” His glare was far harsher than his tone. He couldn’t help it. He was tired—his heart, his body and his mind. Enough was enough.
“No problem.” She raised her chin, the defiance of the woman he used to know coming back in full force.
“So how about you and Leo? What did I miss while I was away?”
She waggled her brows. “A lot of debauchery.”
No way. Leo was taking it slow, unwilling to risk scaring her away from the lifestyle. “Are you fucking with me?”
“Yes.” Her smile was bright. “We’re taking our relationship day by day.”
“But you’re enjoying yourself.” He could see it in the undiluted happiness of her features. She was no longer opposed to the Vault. The realization stung. Why couldn’t it have turned out this way for him and Cass? Why did he have to ruin what they could’ve been?
Because he couldn’t help fucking up.
“I’m glad the two of you are working things out.” He hadn’t been able to do the same with his wife. The guilt was too heavy, the weight of regret a constant punishment. Everything else that followed was like an avalanche burying the happiness he’d once had. “I suppose I better get downstairs and show Leo and Brute I’m not slacking off.”
He pushed from the stool and strode to her. “I hope you’re right about this masquerade party.”
She flashed him a confident smile. “I am.”
He followed her down the stairs to the Vault. They passed people in the hall, couples, singles, some dressed in evening attire, others already in lingerie and making their way back into the main part of the club. All of them wore masks to partially or completely hide their faces.
“Hey, Zoe,” Shay called out.
Zoe James, one of their regulars, sauntered toward them. “I’m loving this masquerade idea.”
She wore a flattering shimmery dress, her sexy attire matching her equally appealing personality. However, it was her companion, the dark-haired woman lingering behind her, that caught his attention.
Her inability to hold his gaze confirmed her club virginity before his focus had a chance to rest on her wristband. The poor woman was distraught, her wringing hands another indication of her anxiety.
If it were any other day, maybe he would’ve tried to offer support. A welcoming smile or an indication for Shay to show her around. But there was something about her that put him on edge. She was too nervous, her gaze lower
ing almost as if in submission as he scrutinized her.
Did he know her? Something inside him sparked familiarity, yet he couldn’t place her features. He usually noticed the blondes. Ones who didn’t need to bolster their confidence behind a mask of bright lipstick and dark eye makeup. This woman was a poser. The type to boost her esteem through a fake façade.
So why was he suddenly comparing her features to his wife? Fuck. He needed to ditch the matrimonial titles and remember Cassie was destined to be his ex.
A new wave of hurt hit him as he tore his gaze away and massaged his forehead to fight the lingering thoughts. “I gotta get going.” He maneuvered around them, not chancing another glance at the woman. “I’ll see you all inside.”
This was what it had been like all week. All month. Every woman reminded him of Cassie. Every shadow was hers. She was already haunting him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Not that he wanted to rid himself of her presence. The memories, although painful, were also a blessing. Without her, he was nothing.
He entered a four-digit code into the panel at the closed door at the end of the hall and yanked the heavy wood open. Pleasure bombarded him. Not his own, unfortunately. The fulfillment of others surrounded him as he strode through the newbie area and into the main room of Vault of Sin.
He inclined his head at guests, recognizing some and completely oblivious to the identity of others as he maneuvered around patrons. Beds were already in use, their occupants participating in varying degrees of flirtation, foreplay and sex.
Leo was behind the bar, dressed the same as T.J. in a suit and tie—standard attire for Vault staff.
Leo jerked his head in greeting. “I’m glad you came.”
“Was there ever any doubt?”
He hated the diminished respect Leo and Brute had tried to hide due to his time off. Since returning, they tiptoed around him, treating him like a casual part of the ownership team instead of an equal partner.
“Maybe a little.”
T.J. winced. “Well, I’m here. What do you need me to do?”
