by Mika Lane
My gaze shifted over his shoulder, and I saw M watching us from across the room. Our eyes met, and I quickly turned back to G. “I think we might be able to arrange that. Hey, can I ask you a question?”
“Nothing’s ever stopped you before.”
With my chin, I gestured in the direction of the watchful Miss M, now talking to some guests but with an eye on us.
“What is M’s issue with me? Do you have any idea?”
I could have sworn he twitched when I asked, but I couldn’t be sure. Glancing over his shoulder, he nodded to her in greeting.
“Um, I didn’t notice. Are you sure?” he asked, turning back.
Of course he’d noticed. It was impossible not to.
But no sense in being confrontational. I wanted to see him again and not just to get more info for the story. “Maybe I’m imagining things.”
On our way down the stairs, we stepped around a woman seated on the wide staircase. Before her was an enthusiastic man with his head between her legs, his mouth burrowing into her pussy. He held his exposed cock in a free hand.
Just as we stepped around them, the woman’s legs began to shudder. Her chest heaved and she screamed, exploding in orgasm. The guy’s hand pistoned over his dick and he shifted to shoot his load on the woman’s glistening pussy.
Damn. There was something about watching other people fuck that was beyond arousing, as if I were right in the middle of their play. I swore I could sense that woman’s ecstasy as she exploded. Almost as good as the real thing.
If I ended up being banned from the club, which could happen once my story was published—if it ever was published—I’d miss the place, for sure. I took one more glance around and actually felt a little sad.
With G’s hand on the small of my back, we maneuvered through the good-looking crowd, busy flirting with each other and making new friends.
Big surprise, M suddenly appeared in front of us.
“Hello M,” G said, wrapping an arm around my waist.
If I hadn’t known better, I’d swear he was being protective.
A benevolent smile spread across her face. She looked right at me as if G weren’t there.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” she said to me. “The night is young.” She placed a hand on my arm. Perhaps too firmly.
I shook it off.
“Our friend, B, has an early morning planned. She’s heading out now,” G said as we turned to maneuver around her.
But she stepped in our way, continuing to ignore him. “B, before you leave, do you have a moment to chat in my office?”
“She’s leaving now.” G pushed me toward the door.
M was trying to keep me, G was trying to rush me out. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but there was no doubt I wanted to get the hell out of there.
I looked from one to the other. “I am leaving now. Hope to see you both soon.” I bolted for the door, taking a look back before it slammed shut. G’s arms were crossed, and M leaned toward him with narrow eyes but an angelic smile, whispering.
I ran to my car and locked the doors once inside. Maybe Ed and Nelle had been right about questioning my safety?
Chapter 30
Varden
Thank god I’d been there to keep M from sinking her claws into Saffi—who knew what that crazy witch could have been up to. My gut told me not to trust her. And my gut was nearly always right.
M turned to me, daggers in her eyes. “I needed to speak with her,” she spat, trying to see my eyes beyond the mask.
I placed a hand on her arm to calm her. “She has an early morning, like I told you.”
“I heard you.” She turned to walk away, but before she could, I grabbed her arm.
“What did you need to talk to her about so urgently? What couldn’t wait for another time?” I knew the answer but wanted her to say it.
“You know why I wanted to talk to her. I want to find out more about her. Figure out who she is, and why she’s coming here. Something about her is not on the up-and-up.”
“Would you relax? She comes here to get off, like everyone else does,” I lied. “And now, I hope she’s coming here to see me.”
“Thanks for doing your part to keep the club safe from the wrong people.” She turned on her heel and left me standing there in the midst of the revelers.
Whoa. My head was reeling and the mask was suddenly blistering hot—hotter than normal. It was all I could do to keep from tearing it off. An enthusiastic couple running for a private room slammed into me, leaving me teetering and careening into others. No one took notice as I fought to regain my balance.
When had the place become so crowded?
I struggled for long, deep breaths in the noisy overheated room and pushed for the door, ignoring greetings from other guests. Bursting into the cool, San Francisco night, I was relieved to find the street in front of the club empty and quiet. I ripped at my mask to gulp some fresh air.
I was done with that place for the night and since it was early yet, I called Beau to see if he wanted to go for a bite to eat. I wouldn’t lie, it had been nice to have him around, both for the company and to make sure he stayed out of trouble.
On the short drive home I thought back to our younger days, before we could legally drink, when we’d go out for a beer at the local dive that wasn’t concerned about serving minors. Even back then, one or two brews would turn into ten or a dozen for Beau. That was the beginning of the end for him, and his life hadn’t been the same since. A beer once in a while turned into every night of the week. Several years on, I’d lost track of the number of times I put him in rehab, only to have him backslide. And yet, I’d never give up on him. Never.
“Beau! Watcha doin?” I called as I came through the front door.
“Whattup, bro?” Beau asked as he met me. “I just finished an online meeting with my AA sponsor.” The puffiness that had consumed his face just a few days earlier had subsided, and I could swear there was a lightness in his step that hadn’t been there in a long, long time.
“Wanna walk to that place around the corner?” I asked.
“Let’s do it. I’ll just go grab my shoes.”
A few minutes later, we settled into a booth in the back corner of a neighborhood place and ordered from a pretty young waitress. I watched Beau’s gaze follow her as she walked away.
“So, Beau. You’re doing really well. I’m proud of you.”
He nodded. “Thanks, man. I don’t know where I’d be with out you.” Shaking his head, his gaze settled on the placemat before him.
The waitress dropped off two non-alcoholic beers. I hated the things but always drank them with Beau. Brother solidarity and all that.
“So, Var. How are you? I see you working hard and going out. You meeting any nice girls?”
I sipped my fake beer. “You know me. I like to fly solo. But, there is this one woman I met not long ago. I’m kind of into her.”
“Yeah? Way to go. Keep up the good work.”
Yeah. She was proving to be some work, that was for sure. Her involvement in the club, and my involvement with her dad created a level of complication I usually ran from.
But this time was different.
Chapter 31
Saffi
Nelle was back from London, and I was desperate to talk to her. After a miserable day working on my Club Silk story, knowing full well I didn’t have all the details I needed and that I’d probably never get them, I needed a shoulder to cry on. I arrived early at the bar where we always met and dove into my first beer.
“Heyyyyyy!” Nelle exclaimed, running into the bar with open arms. She threw them around me.
“I am so glad you’re back,” I said.
“Well, I’m not. I freaking loved London and cannot wait to return. We have to go there, Saffi. It’s the most amazing city.” She frantically waved over the bartender. “And the guys’ accents are so hot. Oh my god. I am so marrying an Englishman.”
I was chomping at the bit to dis
cuss all that was on my mind, but just listened. If I waited long enough, she’d run out of gas.
And she did, chattering on for five more minutes before slowing.
“So, Saff. What’s up with you and the big story?” She leaned close to whisper. “And the sex club.”
“Glad you asked,” I said with patience. “I’ve hit some roadblocks. I think the club owner might be on to me.”
Nelle’s hand flew to her chest. “No way. Jesus. What will they do? I mean, could this be dangerous?”
“No,” I said, wishing I believed my lie.
“The problem,” I continued, “is that I’m having trouble finishing the story. Everyone there is tight-lipped and I haven’t been able to get even the most basic info. I can probably finish the story, but it won’t be that good.”
“Aw c’mon. There’s got to be a way. Won’t anyone there talk?” she asked.
“You would think. But it’s like they’ve been freaking programmed. They’re the Stepford Wives of sex clubs.”
“What about the guy you’ve been playing with? What’s up with him?”
“He won’t tell me anything, either. But I am kind of into him. It’s the strangest thing. I don’t even know what his face looks like.”
Nelle frowned. “Yeah…that’s kind of creepy.”
I shook my head. “What you’re saying makes perfect sense, and yet… I don’t really care what he looks like, I’m so drawn to him, and I think he might feel the same way about me. It would be nice if he were handsome, but it really doesn’t matter.”
She held her hands up in surrender. “All right…whatever.” She pulled out her credit card and waved for the bill.
“I gotta run. This was my treat,” she said.
“Where you going?” I asked.
“Got a conference call.”
“What? So late?”
“Yeah. It’s morning in Hong Kong, so we do our calls with them in the evening.”
She was doing business with the Chinese, and all I ever did was go for takeout.
She air-kissed me and was gone.
I was taking the last swig of my beer when my phone vibrated with a message from G.
Hmmm. I swiped it phone open.
r u busy? meet me at four seasons bar for a drink?
Wow. What was that all about? He couldn’t very well wear his mask at the Four Seasons. This was big. Something was up.
ok. what time?
in 15?
u wearing mask?
LOL. nope
how will I know u?
I’ll know u
c u then
Holy shit, I was finally going to see his face. Would he have dimples? No, he didn’t seem the dimple type. Would his lips be thin or full? Probably thin. Would his nose be straight or crooked? Best guess, crooked, but only slightly, from a fight as a kid.
I ran to the bathroom to smear on some glossy red lipstick and fluff my hair. I hustled to The Four Seasons.
The cavernous hotel bar, dark and masculine with wood paneling, was quiet. Other patrons were scattered about, but it had been designed so that nothing more than whispers and the occasional laugh drifted through the room.
Settling into my second bar of the evening, I ordered a fancy cocktail and began texting Nelle about this latest development.
There was a tap on my shoulder, and I spun to my left.
“Saffi.”
Oh.
It was my dad’s client...the one who’d asked about me. Varden. What was he doing here?
“Hi. How are you?” I kept looking around the bar for G. He was five minutes late.
“Good. You?” he asked.
I turned back to him with a polite smile. “Nice to see you.” I kept looking around for G. Normally I would have been happy to chat with one of my father’s clients. But now was not the time.
“What are you drinking there?” Varden asked.
“Um. It’s a negroni.”
“You look distracted,” he said.
I glanced toward the door again, but the man entering was too old and short to be G.
“I’m sorry to be rude,” I said to him. “But I’m expecting a friend. I do hope you have a good evening.”
His expression changed. Was that amusement?
“I’ll tell my dad you said hi,” I added, hoping he’d take the hint. I felt kind of bad—he did seem nice and was damn good-looking.
I was on the edge of my seat waiting, but Varden just stood there. He seemed to have no intention of leaving.
God, why doesn’t he take the hint?
Where was G? I reached for my phone and sent a text.
ur late. still coming?
I looked up from my phone.
Still Varden.
Shit.
“Varden, I’m really sorry but I have other plans tonight.”
“I know you do, Saffi.”
Huh?
“I know, because you made them with me,” he said.
“What? What are you talking about?” I craned my neck toward the door. G could rescue me from an unwanted conversation like this.
“Saffi, I am G. From the club.”
How the fuck does Varden know about the club?
What. The. Fuck.
“How do you know about the club?” I was confused, but my stomach sank as if it knew something I wasn’t ready to.
He slid onto the barstool next to mine and waved over the bartender.
“I wear a mask at the club to protect my privacy,” he said, looking at me intently. Just like G would. “But I wanted you to know who I really was, so I asked you to meet me here. We have something important to talk about.” He ordered bourbon. G always ordered bourbon.
A slow realization washed over me. My hand shook so much, my drink sloshed out of its glass.
“I…I don’t believe you. Who put you up to this?” I swallowed hard to hide my shaking voice.
“I can prove to you that we’ve been at the club together.”
No, no, no, no, no.
“I really don’t think this is funny.” Tears threatened to fill my eyes.
Get it together, girl.
The bartender brought Varden’s bourbon. “Last time we were there, you wore a slinky dress with no bra and high heels. Your hair was partially pulled back. Miss M tried really hard to get you to her office, but I intervened.”
G was also my father’s client, Varden, and the man I’d met at dinner? I’d been intimate with an associate of my father’s?
Please. It can’t be so.
Tears distorted my vision, followed by spots of white light, and my heart pounded in panic.
“We got, uh…intimate on the second floor on one of the sofas. It was amazing—”
“Shut up,” I screamed. The bartender’s gaze snapped my way, and he headed over, it seemed in slow motion.
Confusion had me seconds away from vomiting right then, right there. I reached for my cocktail, not sure why, because the last thing I felt like doing was consuming more alcohol. But my fingers slipped on the wet glass, causing it to tip and release my sticky cocktail all over the bar. An orange wedge sat in the middle of the puddle.
Varden put his hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry you’re upset. When I first saw you at the club, I thought we’d do a little harmless messing around, but…I don’t know…I found myself wanting to see more of you. And not just at the club.” He looked around as the bartender arrived. He leaned next to my ear. “I want to see you outside the club, here in the real world. In my real world. And yours.”
“Miss, are you okay?” the bartender asked.
I looked at him. “Yes, thank you. I’ll be fine.” I slid off my barstool, stepping away from Varden, but he only moved toward me.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
The disappointment washed over me like acid, causing searing pain in every pore and crevice.
“How could you?” I mumbled. My eyes filled with tears despite my effort to deny them. The disappointment—th
e goddamn disappointment—that someone I’d begun to fall for had taken me for such a fool.
I was a fool. A huge fucking fool. To think I could write a superstar story for the Post, and attract some mysterious and sexy man at the same time.
Fucking idiot. That’s me.
I hightailed it out of the Four Seasons. God I hoped I never saw G, or Varden, or whatever the hell his name was, again.
Chapter 32
Varden
Seeing how fucking devastating Saffi was in finding out who I really was—well that was one of the low points of my life. And there had been a lot of low points.
I had thought she’d be annoyed. Maybe even pissed. But not hysterical with pain at my deceit.
She hated me. And in that moment, I hated myself.
She ran out of the bar, and for a second I thought I owed it to her not to follow. But I ran after her, anyway, grabbing her arm as soon as we hit the hotel lobby. I didn’t want to attract the attention of hotel security or the well-heeled guests going about their business, but if I didn’t get her to calm down quickly, we’d be creating a scene that wasn’t going to be pretty.
“Saffi, dammit, would you wait just a minute?”
She whirled around and tried to shake her arm free. “Let go of me,” she hissed, tears dribbling down her face.
“I need to tell you something very important. Please, just listen. It’s for your own safety. After I’m done, if you want to take off, that’s fine,” I pleaded. “I wouldn’t blame you at all if you did. My not telling you who I was when I knew your identity was a shitty thing to do.”
“No kidding, you asshole. And why did you do it, then? Ugh, and to think you’re my father’s business associate.” She looked at the floor, shoulders shaking from her crying.
“Please, Saffi. Just sit here with me. I need five minutes.” I tilted my head toward the lobby’s only unoccupied seating area.
“Five minutes.”
“C’mon.” I led her to a chair and sat directly opposite her.
She looked at me impatiently.
“Saffi, I had a meeting with your dad recently, and he mentioned you’re working on an undercover story for the paper. I immediately figured it was Club Silk.”
