Fahrenheit

by Alex Rosa

  I pull in a deep breath, ignoring the weird pulse of anticipation that I feel, oddly enough, at that artery in my thigh, a little too close to the place that really needs the attention.

  Are you still up for that adventure?

  I press send. I think this is our shtick now.

  Always.

  I’m grinning like he’s just asked me to prom. I’m such a loser.

  Then, I’m open to be taught.

  I press send confidently, liking how sexy-clever isn’t as impossible as I once thought. This time there’s a longer lull between text messages, but eventually, it comes.

  I’ll pick you up tomorrow at ten. Meet me at the small cafe on the corner of Chestnut Avenue.

  I’m back to blinking at my phone. This is really happening. Luckily, Chestnut Avenue is only five minutes from here. I gulp and tap out another text.

  Okay, I’ll be there. Anything I should know?

  I press send, and it’s mere seconds before I get his reply.

  Yes. Don’t wear any panties.

  “You didn’t have to walk me here, Garrett.”

  His hands are stuffed into his jeans with his arms locked at the elbow. Just looking at him makes me anxious.

  He’s been uncomfortable ever since I asked him what kind of lingerie he prefers a girl in as a point of reference. It was an honest question. I didn’t mean to rile him up. I just had so many options to choose from since I sort of went berserk at Victoria’s Secret, charging it all to my credit card without looking at the total. He told me black is always hot, but wondered why I only had bras in my hand.

  I blushed so hard that I’m sure I was a puffed out like a swollen tomato when he put the pieces together that I didn’t need any underwear. We didn’t speak for a solid twenty minutes after that until he saw me walking out the front door.

  We’ve stopped at the cafe door by the time he huffs out a response to me.

  “Yeah, I did. Look at you, and you’re going to go meet a guy you don’t know to fuck. It has Law and Order written all over it.”

  I nudge him with my elbow, getting some sick pleasure that he’s so uneasy. It also helps me deal with my embarrassment. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, okay? Maybe I’ll chicken out, who knows.”

  “Wearing that dress doesn’t look like you’re considering chickening out.”

  I giggle, covering my mouth, looking at him as if he were a puppy, tempting to pet him. “What are you, my father? You want to meet him, too? Make sure he isn’t a thug, and has me home by a decent hour?”

  “Can I meet him?” he asks, perking up.

  “Hell no, Garrett. You’ve lost your mind.”

  “No, obviously you have. Just be safe, okay?”

  I tap my pointed, black stiletto when I hear his patronizing tone. “Ya know, you’re the one who told me I didn’t look like the type, and here I am, giving it my all, and now you want to play overprotective best friend?”

  He shrugs. “Yeah, I do. I never said you were unattractive. We’ve moved past this. It’s just—” He sighs, removing his hand from his pocket to brush it through his hair, unable to look me in the eye as he says, “You didn’t hold back with that dress, that’s all. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination, and I’d hate for some dude to take advantage of you.”

  My eyes drop to my dress. The hem hits the middle of my thigh, and the thin navy silk hugs my body. I straighten out the halter neck, getting self-conscious instead of focusing on the fact Garrett is caring too much for once.

  “You think this dress is too much?”

  He groans, placing his hands on my bare upper arms, holding me at arm’s length. “No. That’s the thing. It’s almost too perfect for your night. I should’ve known that when you set your mind to something you always seem to do it right.”

  I think that was supposed to be a joke, or maybe a compliment. I thank the heavens we both erupt into laughter.

  “It’s almost adorable how concerned you are for me.”

  “I’ve just heard stories about Fahrenheit. Nothing bad, necessarily, just that it’s a little out of your league.”

  I huff. “Okay, well, I almost thought you were being the nice guy.”

  He laughs, which continues to help the mood. “I’m just saying, it’s one thing for me or one of the guys to get themselves into this club, but you’re kinda innocent, ya know? Naive, even. Actually, you’re so naive that you actually agreed to this.”

  He’s ruffled my feathers. I peel his hands from my arms. “I’ll be fine. Let me have this. I want to try. I want that job, Garrett. Let me have fun along the way. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

  He grits his teeth, nodding. “I know. Just keep me updated.”

  “Of course. You better go.”

  He smiles, but it’s a sad smile before he blows out a low breath. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but, get lucky, okay?”

  I wink. “I’ll try my best.”

  He shakes out his shoulders and head, hiding another chuckle. “G’night, Lo.”

  I wave at him as he turns around, walking back home.

  Why was that so exhausting and entirely unexpected? What the hell is this club all about? And why are people so judgmental when it comes to it? Now I know why people keep their attendance there secret. Why would anyone want to go through the constant scrutiny?

  I smile, pulling my little notepad out of my purse, and scribble that thought down.

  A long strand of my hair falls in my face, and I forget how rarely I wear it down in a wavy mess. I run my hands through it, forgetting how soft it is when I blow-dry it, too. My instinct is to pile it into a bun on top of my head. However, from Garrett’s bizarrely defensive reaction this evening, I tell myself that maybe this look suits me. Maybe not in the nightclub-ready short dress, but overall. With my hair styled, and makeup done, I feel more put together, even if it’s just for a night. I might not need this every day, but I like it for the moment.

  I jot that thought down, too.

  “I guess that dress isn’t so suited for a coffee shop, huh?”

  My head snaps up from my notepad, and I place it back in my clutch, snapping it shut. I’m stunned by what’s before me. Nathan has ditched his jeans and Henley combo for sleek black slacks and a crisp white dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, fitted to perfection in all the right places.

  His hands are stuffed into his pockets, reminding me of Garrett, but he’s by far more relaxed.

  I grin, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “No?” I spin to show off the flowing fabric, and maybe to emphasize its shortness. “I was hoping to get a freebie from the barista.”

  Nathan grins, and it’s sort of glorious when I can see his pearly white teeth, and a hint of dimples under trimmed scruff. “He wouldn’t be able to refuse.”

  Nathan extends his hand to me, his eyes lifting to mine. “You ready?”

  I can’t tell what he means by that, because a part of me can’t take it at face value. Regardless, I have to play this as if I know what I’m into.

  “Yes,” I exhale, placing my hand in his. He holds it as he pulls me to a car waiting on the curb.

  The sleek white Mercedes is sharp, angular, and nice on the eyes. Kinda like its owner. It isn’t the flashiest of vehicles, but isn’t cheap, either.

  He opens the passenger door for me, and I eye him. He doesn’t flinch, but his eyebrow and mouth do that twitchy thing I like.

  I scoot inside, sitting on the plush black leather, tucking my feet inside before he closes the door.

  I examine the interior. Nothing notable but the stylish inside. Nothing that would give me a hint who this guy is.

  The driver’s side door opens, and he gracefully slips inside, turning the car on with a press of a button.

  “So, you’ve never been to Fahrenheit, right?”

  I’m still darting my eyes everywhere, trying to process the situation. My nerves finally make an appearance as I say, “Nope. Hey, you’re not, like, a seria
l killer, right?”

  He laughs, putting the car into gear, and begins our drive to who knows where. He lifts his right hand to give a bold, but gentle squeeze of my knee. “It wouldn’t matter since I have you now.”

  “What?” I shriek.

  “I’m kidding—kidding!” He chuckles. “Is that why you had to have your boyfriend walk you to the cafe?”

  My whole body turns in his direction. My eyes are accusatory again because a myriad of questions enter my mind, and it isn’t in my nature to rein them in. “You think I’d go to a place like Fahrenheit with you if I had a boyfriend?”

  He shrugs. “That wouldn’t be any of my business.”

  “Hm,” I quip, thinking his words over. It flings me back to the realization that this is nothing more than sex. He’s not here to build a relationship with me, or seek out some friendly chitchat. We’re only in this for one thing, and one thing only. I swallow the truth, and move on. “He’s my roommate.”

  “I see. Well, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention me or the club.”

  My body petrifies, knowing I’ve broken at least one of those rules. “He doesn’t know anything. He just didn’t approve of the dress.”

  “I thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend?”

  I laugh this time, which causes Nathan to flick his vision to me. “What is it with you? No. He’s not my boyfriend.”

  I want to add something like, “If we were friends, Nate, I’d tell you the whole sob story over expensive martini’s,” but I don’t, because we aren’t even close to friends, and I find it a shame.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” He flinches. “You asked me. It only feels like I should be able to ask you.”

  “No. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  He doesn’t say anything else. It ruins the flow of the conversation, and I don’t know why. I pull in a deep breath, my lips squirming and my eyes unable to stop looking at his long, lean profile.

  “What’s in store for me tonight, Nate?”

  We stop at a red light, and he turns to face me again. “All depends on what you’re up for. Have anything specific in mind?”

  “Just you.” I swear to God I want to fist-pump the air again, but I hold back, because I’m a lady. God, help me.

  “Good, because I have plans for you.”

  I’m so out of my element that I don’t know how to process this thrum of adrenaline that drives through my body like a jackhammer. Only because this adrenaline comes with a hint of fear.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care you. You can always say no,” he adds before turning back to the road when the light turns green, as if seeing my fleeting look that says everything I wish it wouldn’t. Even though his words soothe the fear, it spikes the adrenaline and I don’t like it. I don’t want him to think I need to be coddled, even if I do.

  I’ll never make it through this assignment if that’s the case.

  I scrutinize him since he’s not looking at me. I come to no conclusions, and only form more questions. I tug down the edge of my dress and turn my body forward, trying to get a grip.

  What does Nathan Sanders have in store for me, and why can’t I find it in me to be afraid? I’m more annoyed that he thinks I need to be reminded that I can always back out. Of course I know that.

  I don’t know where I am when we come to a stop.

  Nate exits the car and comes around to open my door.

  “You okay?”

  I lift my eyes to his. He laughs, and it only riles me up more. “Don’t ask me that anymore.”

  He brings my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. “As you wish.” The touch shoots a lightning bolt right to my core. I hide my breathy gasp.

  I have to turn away. He’s controlling my mood as much as he’s controlling my libido, and the idea of not having control on either makes me nervous.

  My eyes fall to the back of a building—a large building, a skyscraper, even. Because it’s not the front facade, I don’t know what building it might be in Los Angeles. We are at the back entrance where delivery trucks and employees might enter, but oddly enough, there is a young man in a red vest and pressed slacks waiting next to an unmarked gray metal door set in the unsuspecting cement building.

  Nate hands his keys to the guy.

  “Mr. Sanders, good evening.”

  Nathan doesn’t say anything, but nods. The man then opens the lone door.

  Okay, maybe this is when my nerves really do catch up. We stroll inside, and I attempt to keep my steps steady and sure. The door shuts behind us, and the moment it does, the lights inside flicker on. Tubes of neon purple and blue line the crevices of the walls, defining the space, and border the podium where a beautiful woman is standing. Her dark purple latex tube dress fits her to perfection, and matches the neon around us. It almost looks like a uniform. Even her dark purple lipstick matches the atmosphere.

  “Mr. Sanders, hello,” she says.

  “Hi, Nina. I have a guest tonight.”

  She smiles, but it doesn’t meet her eyes. “A room tonight, sir?”

  “Not tonight. Just a booth.”

  She looks down, and taps a few buttons on what I realize is an iPad. The glow brightens her pale face, and shines off her bluish-black hair that falls around her face. Once she’s done, she looks up. “Of course. You’re all set. Corner four is all yours.”

  “Thank you.”

  She smiles again, and finally her eyes fall on me, and her smile only grows. “Have fun,” she sings.

  Nathan tugs me forward. We enter a dark hallway, but the moment we round the corner, we’re in another long hallway. The walls are lined in spiraling neon tubes, giving the room a dizzying, acid-trip effect as we walk through, and I feel like I’m entering the twilight zone. My brain takes constant screen caps with each step, knowing I can’t pull out my phone to snap a picture for my notes. However, I doubt I’ll be forgetting this experience anytime soon.

  I don’t know what I expected, but this isn’t it. Although, I’m not sure if I’m surprised either.

  My heart rate picks up, and my breaths are shallow. I don’t have a place to seek comfort. I try not to squeeze Nathan’s hand. He isn’t my boyfriend. I should be excited. I should be thrilled—and I am! But I’m also terrified. Maybe I can’t do this.

  We trail through the neon until we enter an open room, and I try to mimic Nathan’s ease. One of his hands holds mine; the other is stuffed nonchalantly in his pocket.

  The farther we walk, the more I can hear—mostly vibrations of bass—but soon, a thick synthetic beat fills my eardrums. It isn’t until we hit a wide-open room that more sounds assault me—chatter, laughter, and moaning.

  I rub my face, feeling the heat there, and I try for another pull of oxygen, but the air here is thick and sweet. It’s almost cozy, but also teeters on suffocating.

  The space is large, but there’s an almost claustrophobic feel to it among the shadows, especially with no windows to the outside. A crystal chandelier hangs in the middle, reflecting the purples, pinks, and blues of the neon that line the room, keeping the atmosphere sexy, but still managing to exude a sense of class. The swirly designs in the border inlays where the neon is and the intricate crystals of the chandelier scream money, and they are perfect for setting a sensual mood. The booths look cushioned and extravagant. High walls divide each area, and I can’t define the details within each private space, which is probably the point. A small blue flickering lantern sits on each table, giving a sinful glow to the patrons sitting there. The space is chic and mysterious, while oozing upscale comfort.

  It’s not packed, but the walls are lined with booths, and some circular tables in the middle. Large speakers also line the walls, belting out electronic music.

  I shouldn’t stare. I’m sure it’s a faux pas, but as we walk, I get distracted by a man and woman in a booth to my right. She’s sitting on his lap, and his face is buried in her chest. She catches me staring and winks.

  I gasp and turn away, but
catch another couple. They’re talking, but the woman’s attire catches my attention. She’s barely covered, with nothing but stringy leather and buckles covering her most private parts, and the only remarkable part of her clothing is a thick collar around her neck attached to a leash that the man is holding. I note that not everyone is like that. Actually, the majority of people are not decked out in leather, or dressed scantily. I see business suits and cocktail dresses, lots of lipsticked women and eager men. Regardless, I try not to wince, but I don’t know if I manage to hide it.

  Nathan yanks me forward, and I stumble into his arms. I want to ask him why he keeps smiling like that, like he’s making fun of me. It reminds me of Garrett, and I don’t like it.

  “How you doing, Lauren?”

  “I thought I told you to stop asking me that.”

  “Just checking. You just look a little overwhelmed.”

  I want to say something like, “For being a sexual deviant, you’re quite considerate,” but I bite my tongue. I’m too focused on not hyperventilating.

  I’m confused by my surroundings, and curious about what Nathan might do here, or whom he might do here and how often.

  I don’t say anything. I scoot into the booth. The corner is secluded, and I’m sure the veiled lighting keeps us hidden. The leather of the seats curves around a table. Nathan takes a seat next to me. I wonder if he can hear the loud thumping of my heart that feels as if it could easily compete with the thumping bass reverberating through the speakers.

  “This isn’t going to work unless you talk to me,” he says to fill the space between us.

  A loud moan erupts through the crowd, and it’s obvious that it’s some woman releasing in pure ecstasy. It has me pressing my thighs together, and my eyes going wide. I scan the room, but no one has even flinched. They just carry on as if someone didn’t just have an orgasm at one of these tables. My ears feel like they’ve been dipped in hot wax over the embarrassment I feel.