The atmosphere completely shifted the second we entered the club. Where the hallway had been quiet and warm with the wooden accents along the walls, this room was huge, dark except for the bursts of random neon lights, and thumping with music. A long, sleek bar took up an entire wall to the right, some scattered high-top tables around the area, and the rest of the room was a dance floor. It was packed, too, with couples dancing in every inch of available space there was, including the upper level that was sectioned off with a simple black bar.
I motioned Presley over to the bar, ordering two vodka tonics. Presley leaned against the bar, scanning the room with those blue-green eyes of hers. I could see the gears turning, mentally taking notes, committing the details to memory. I was sure she’d scribble down pages worth of notes once we got back to our room.
Funny, if she were any other girl, I’d be thinking of drastically different ways to occupy her time once I brought her back to the room. The strain in my chest increased and I stretched my arms behind my back in an attempt to relieve it.
“You all right?” She asked, her cheek brushing mine as she spoke directly into my ear so I could hear her over the music. She touched the spot on my chest I kept pawing at. “Did the plane ride mess with your back?”
How did she remember how much trouble my back gave me—radiating straight to my chest—when it was out of alignment? “I’m all right.” I took her hand and squeezed it before letting it drop to the bar.
She surveyed me for a few moments before smiling at the bartender as she passed us our drinks. The bartender was a pretty brunette modestly dressed in a black polo T-shirt and dark jeans. Presley’s eyes jumped between us, and she waggled her eyebrows.
I paid for our drinks and pulled her to an empty high-top. “What’s that look all about?”
“What? She’s totally your type.”
“I don’t have a type.” I took a swig from my glass and cringed. “God, how can you drink these things?”
She shrugged and took a sip of hers. “No one said you had to order the same as me.”
“It’s easier in a place this loud. Now, back to the point. I don’t have a type.”
“You so have a type. Brunettes, big dark eyes, tiny enough to throw across a room.”
My eyebrows raised. “Just because that is who you’ve seen me pick up doesn’t mean it’s what I always want.”
She tilted her head, her long blond hair falling over her bare shoulder.
“And besides,” I said, stopping her before she could argue. “You are the object of my undivided affection. Remember?” I set my drink down and offered her my hand.
She took it hesitantly, clenching her eyes shut and covering her forehead with her free hand. “Right. I keep forgetting. I’ve got to get a lock on that.”
I guided her to the dance floor, weaving through hundreds of people letting loose until I found a spot we could squeeze in. I pulled her to me, not close enough to touch me, but enough that I could still speak to her while moving to the thumping beat that vibrated the floor.
“I get it,” I said, referring to her earlier statement. “It’s…”
“New. Different.” She filled in for me.
I shrugged, sliding my hands to rest on her hips as she swayed them back and forth while raising her arms over her head.
“I have to nail this,” she said.
“You will. There’s no way you won’t.”
“I won’t if I keep forgetting we’re about to get married.” She smiled. “Well, you know.”
I chuckled. “I do know.” I grabbed her hand and spun her in a tight circle, drawing her back against my chest. I put my lips near the shell of her ear. “Let’s make a deal.”
She arched her head back, exposing her long neck while she listened. “Yeah?”
“Starting right now—for the sake of your big break—we are officially engaged.” Her eyes widened before filling with laughter despite me looking down at her in all seriousness. “We have to fully commit to this or you’re right, one of us will slip. I don’t want it to be me. So after this second, I’m moving you from the friend zone to the almost married zone.”
Her body shook against me as she chuckled. “Thanks so much for the extra paperwork.”
“No problem. I’ll move you right back after this is over.”
“And nothing will change between us.” She said it like a statement, not a question which made me breathe easier. A roll of her hips in succession with the changing beat had me sucking in a sharp breath. We’d danced before—tons of times. It was one of the surefire ways to kill stress for her…but in this place, under these terms? We’d never gotten this close before, and it was hard for me to tell my body to stop reacting to her soft hips underneath my hands when I’d just told my brain to file her under new relationship.
Fuck this is confusing.
But it shouldn’t be. It was me. And it was Presley. We’d never crossed a line before. We had too much to lose—we were too perfect as friends. I just had to suck it up for two weeks and make sure she got the story she needed. Then everything would go back to normal.
“Agreed,” I finally said. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”
“No,” she said a little too quickly. “You?”
I pressed my lips together, shaking my head. “Nah, it’ll be easy. Fun.”
That was the first time I’d ever lied to Presley—I’d kept the David incident a secret from her, sure—but never flat out lied to her. Because in truth, I was nervous as fuck. It didn’t take a genius to see this resort turned up people’s libidos like Grant was a modern day cupid with his hand on the lust volume. And while Presley made the occasional appearance in my fantasies—I mean, the woman had a rocking body, gorgeous eyes, and the perfect sense of humor, how could she not naturally pop up now and then? Living one out? Seeing it in the flesh? I didn’t have a clue how that would change us. Maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe we wouldn’t have to participate too long, just long enough to get her story.
Either way, I’d never been more nervous in my life, and I fought people for a living—fought until one of us hit the mat.
Fuck. I wouldn’t sleep at all tonight.
5 Presley
My palms were sweating. Damn, that hadn’t happened since freaking high school. I quickly wiped them off on my pencil skirt before shaking Grant’s hand.
“How are you feeling, Presley?” He asked, taking a seat on the couch in his office. He wasn’t in yoga gear today but instead back to what I’d quickly donned his style—rocker—dark jeans, faded T, his long black hair down in a mess around his shoulders. Though, he had pulled off the man-bun yesterday surprisingly well. Glimmer had run a feature on man-buns recently, covering who look hot with them and how. Grant was definitely in the smoldering category, but the man exuded nothing but confidence and charisma. I’m sure he could pull anything off and assumed his candid personality had a lot to do with his vast success.
“Great,” I lied. My stomach was in knots. And flipping.
“Remember that honesty thing we discussed yesterday, love?” He eyed me and I sank onto the couch, sliding to the edge and keeping my back straight.
“I absolutely hate not knowing what to expect.”
“You are a bit of a control freak,” he said, smiling.
“How would you know—”
“It’s all in the tests.” He chewed on a toothpick, completely at ease when I couldn’t decide if I wanted a big ass drink or to bolt out the door. “When I founded this resort—after I left the band—I did so with a new idea in mind. I wanted to combine my background in psychology with my passion for love. The tests can reveal so much about a person, their deepest desires, what would get them off, but it also can tell me exactly what they don’t want. That’s how I can tell when something will work and something won’t.”
“And your success rate is high, isn’t it?” I asked, taking mental notes.
He smirked. “Yes. I’ve yet to be proven wrong on a call I’ve
made about a couple.”
“Not even in the beginning?”
“Nope.” He popped the P in the word and waggled his eyebrows. “Impressed yet?”
I chuckled. “I was impressed before I walked in the door, Grant.”
“Good. Impressed means respect. And respect leads to trust. I need you to trust me and my program. I know your boss sent you here to feature the resort, but I genuinely want you to leave here satisfied and confident about yours and Owen’s relationship.”
I shifted where I sat, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. He’d said he never had made a wrong call and yet he hadn’t called us out yet on being phony. That was either a sign that Owen and I were pulling this off way better than we expected, or it meant he wasn’t as good as he said he was. Either way, it’d make for one hell of a story.
“I know something that will set you at ease,” he continued, patting my knee before standing up. “Let’s talk about your first fantasy.”
“Oh thank God,” I said, breathing out a sigh.
He laughed. “You didn’t think I’d just throw you in a Wonderland room and say good luck, did you?”
“Well…”
He grabbed at the center of his chest. “I would no sooner throw a bunny to the wolves.”
I cut my eyes to him. “Am I the bunny in this scenario?”
“Oh no, love. You’d most certainly be a wolf.”
My lips parted in shock. The man was nothing if not surprising. “All right. I’m listening.”
He paced across the room and tapped on his closed door. A few moments later a pretty lady in the resort uniform stepped in. “This is Jessica, she’s going to sit in as I explain the scenario. Is that all right?”
“Sure,” I said. “Not that I’m bothered but is there a reason for that?” I made sure to ask any question that popped into my head for the sake of the massive story I was compiling. No detail was ever too small for a spread this size.
“She’s here to make sure you are comfortable with the fantasy as well as offer…pointers.” He raised his thick black eyebrows at me, pinning me with those crystal blue eyes. “Not that you’d need them but if you do, she’ll be able to prep you before.”
“Okay,” I said, and didn’t mean to drag the word out.
Grant absently stroked the gruff of a goatee on his chin. “From your file I gathered—like we just spoke about—you are always in control. It’s not necessarily a power issue with you…more like a simple state of being. You trust very few—if anyone—to handle business that is important to you. Especially with your personal life.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Damn he was good. “I just…well, my past has proven that people are hard to trust.”
He snapped and jabbed a finger in the air. “Exactly. And there is nothing wrong with you controlling your life, making sure everything happens the way you want it to. But…” he reclaimed the seat next to me, the excitement shining through his eyes.
He gets a sick pleasure out of flaying people open emotionally
“It lead me to believe that for your first fantasy—the one to wet your appetite—should be something you can control the exposure of.”
“Still listening.”
“How would you like to treat your dashing Owen to a little…show?”
Another flush raked my skin. “Meaning?”
“A striptease.”
I gasped, my heart racing. I didn’t lose Grant’s eyes as I went still as a statue. I’d once planned a sexy strip show for David—bought the skimpy outfit, set up candles and a chair, music, all of it—but he’d called to say he was working late while I stood in our living room with my ass hanging out of a school girl’s uniform. It had been the third night that week he’d had to work late and the news had taken all the wind out of my sails. I’d stashed the outfit in the back of our closest. He’d cheated on me before I could ever attempt it again.
The idea of being in the position of power—where he wouldn’t be allowed to touch me unless I moved his hands to do so—as I danced and touched him freely, was a total turn on. Or it had been.
“Breathe.” Grant gently clutched my shoulder and I let out the breath I’d been holding.
“Sorry,” I said, blinking rapidly to shove the memory back in the box I’d labeled asshole or formerly called You were a fucking idiot for falling for him.
“Jessica is professionally trained in the art of exotic dance. She can give you a crash course if you’d like and she’ll take you up to the wardrobe room where we have selected a limited number of personas in your size. All brand new, of course.” He stood up, grabbing my hands and hauling me to my feet. “Are you ready?”
I nodded a little too quickly.
“You’ll be fantastic. I know it. But if at anytime you feel uncomfortable there are a variety of safety buttons stationed throughout the room you’ll be using. Jessica will show you those as well. Push it once and Jessica will come and retrieve you.” He kissed me quickly on both cheeks and then patted my back, gently pushing me toward Jessica.
“Thanks,” I said, still more in my head than in his office anymore. Trying to memorize every detail of the experience for the story was super difficult when I was overwhelmed with nerves that vibrated all the way down to my core.
Jessica led me to the sixth floor of the resort and inside a room that in a normal hotel probably would’ve been a conference room available for rent to traveling business hopefuls. Not at Inhibitions though. This room had a modest stage connecting from the farthest wall which extended to the middle of the room, the centermost portion cutting off into a circle with a gleaming silver pole attaching it to the ceiling. There were booths closer to where we entered, with tables draped in black cloths and lush leather chairs closer to the stage.
“Expecting a crowd?” I asked, wringing my hands out as I followed her past the stage and through a door to the side of it.
“No, just your beau. This room sometimes operates as a Wonderland room, when the request is made.” She smiled over her shoulder and motioned to another room in the small hallway. “This is the dressing room with the outfits Grant mentioned.”
I stepped inside, hugging my arms around myself as if I’d already been stripped of my clothes.
“We don’t have to start until you are absolutely ready. You say the word when it’s go time. So, we have time to try on a few of these and see what you’re comfortable with. If you’d like.” She fingered through the rack of clothes, flipping hangers over and back—cowgirl, doctor, school girl hell no.
“I want that one.” I pointed to a long white button down shirt with a black silk necktie and a black fedora hanging off a separate clip.
She grinned and pulled it off the rack. “Nice. Channeling your inner Demi. Love it.”
I sighed, suddenly grateful for the female camaraderie.
“Slip this on and meet me out front. I can show you a few moves.” She handed me the outfit.
“Okay.” I took the cold hanger from her, clutching it with bone white fingers.
“Hey,” she said, gripping my shoulders. “Don’t stress. This is your show. You do what you want. And remember, you’re doing it to the love of your life. What could be more awesome?”
I smiled as she closed the door behind her. It took me a full fifteen minutes before I put the outfit on. Sure, Owen had seen me in my bikini yesterday—and he’d accidently seen me topless that one time—but this was so different. This was intentional.
This is your job.
Right. I sucked in a deep breath. I could do this. I could do anything if it meant a full time gig at Glimmer.
Even grind on Owen for a little bit.
Heat raced to my core as I looked at myself in the mirror. Somehow, despite being covered up even more than the robe had covered me last night, I felt more exposed. My legs were so much more evidently bare where the hem of the shirt stopped just below my butt, and the black silk panties I wore showed through the thin white material. At least they matc
hed the tie, which I quickly threw around my neck and clicked out of the room in the offered stilettos. I haphazardly set the fedora over my hair which hung loose over my shoulders.
“Damn.” Jessica whistled as I walked on the stage toward her. “Smoking hot, girl. He’s going to faint.”
I chuckled. “I highly doubt that.”
“Awh, why do you say that?” She adjusted the hat on my head so it was slightly tilted forward.
“He’s hard to impress sometimes.” I quickly covered up my slip, though it wasn’t a boldfaced lie. He did have extremely high standards. Not to mention his sexual history vastly outranked mine in terms of experience so I imagined he could very well be bored when I took the stage.
“You’re a knockout.” She assured, and I followed her as she pointed out the safety buttons positioned throughout the room. “Remember, push any one of these and I’ll be in straight away.”
“Will you be…watching?”
“No, of course not!” She laughed. “I’ll be in your dressing room.” She exposed a cell harnessed to her hip. “I’m hooked up so I’ll be buzzed if you need me. I won’t leave until you are…finished.” This time we both blushed and I wondered how long she’d been working here to still be susceptible to the unnaturalness of the scenarios conducted on the reg.
Then my stomach sank with the realization she’d be waiting patiently in the dressing room until I’d had my way with Owen. We wouldn’t be able to tap out after five minutes like I originally thought. We’d have to play along for an acceptable amount of time, because if we didn’t, it could be viewed as a weakness in our ‘relationship.’ And if that happened, it could change the entire game. Grant may not give us access to the Wonderland rooms or even agree to our readiness for the next fantasy. He had to believe we were comfortable and ready to give our selves fully over to his program or we wouldn’t advance. He’d been super clear about that. Just as Pamela had been clear that I needed to get the scoop on all the perks of this resort.
Fuck. My. Life. I’ll have to give Owen a full show.
Inhibitions Page 5
