Kase Of Deception

by Riann C. Miller

  “Yep, Jerry’s. It’s on the corner. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks.”

  With my purse on my shoulder, I make my way downstairs and outside into an inferno. By the time I walk across the street, I have sweat dripping between my boobs, and soup no longer sounds appealing. Instead, I pop into Pete’s Taco Shop. After placing an order, I take a number and sit in a booth in the corner.

  I pull my phone out of my purse when a deep voice catches my attention.

  “I told you, I want this done. If you can’t get me the information I’m looking for, I’m sure someone else can.”

  Sitting in the booth next to mine is a man staring at the phone in his hand. I watch with interest as he finishes texting someone. Seconds later, he turns his head in my direction, and my breath catches in my throat. The man is gorgeous with dark tousled hair that appears messy yet perfect. He’s dressed in a dark T-shirt and jeans. His face is covered in day old stubble. He jerks his head back with a look of shock when his dark expressive eyes meet mine.

  Without dropping my gaze, I nervously smile. “Hi. I promise I wasn’t eavesdropping.” I point to the counter. “I’m only waiting on my lunch.”

  Duh! Quit acting like a teenage girl with her first crush.

  His eyes appear to be on alert when he tilts his head to the side, studying me in a way that ignites my body.

  Forcing myself out of my comfort zone, I smile again and say, “I’m Delanie. I’m new to LA. I just started working across—”

  He jumps to his feet and storms out the door. Standing on the sidewalk, I watch as he brings the palms of his hands to eyes, shaking his head before he finally walks off and out of sight.

  What a jerk.

  On the drive home, my cell buzzes from inside my purse, but I ignore it. I can’t remember the last time I had an entire weekend to do whatever I choose, and whoever texted me is someone from my past, someone I don’t want to think about. Making a quick pit stop for a bottle of wine—or two—I walk into the apartment a little after six and find it completely empty.

  As a kid, I hated silence. If I was being too loud, mother would force me into the basement for hours at a time. “Your father is trying to work. He doesn’t want to hear a kid running through the house.”

  But he wasn’t my father, he was my stepdad. My real father was equally as busy, ruling the world from his office in New York City. I’d visit him over the summers and holidays, if he remembered to arrange childcare, which wasn’t often.

  Tonight, the peace and quiet are welcoming. I lived at home until my sophomore year of college, then Regan and I rented a place together. After graduation, Regan married Spencer, Carter’s older brother. I refused mom’s offer to move back home and found an apartment of my own. It would have made sense to get a place with Carter, but he said his parents were too old fashioned to accept us living together before we were married and Carter wanted his business off the ground and successful before we tied the knot.

  To stake his claim, he made a huge show in front of everyone we knew at a New Year’s Eve party two and half years ago and asked me to marry him. I knew it was coming but I was still caught off guard. I wanted to scream no and run out of the room but I couldn’t. On paper, we appeared perfect. Saying yes meant our mothers would officially become family.

  I didn’t feel flutters when I looked at Carter. My heart didn’t crave him in the slightest. However, like the perfect daughter I was raised to be, I smiled and said yes.

  Walking straight to the kitchen, I pull out a wine glass, almost filling it to the rim before walking down the hallway to my room. My mother has always said drinking by yourself is unacceptable, but tonight, it’s at the top of my list of things to accomplish.

  The sun trickles through the shade in my room, forcing my eyes open long before I want to get up. Still half asleep, I make my way to the living room recliner. With my phone in hand, I scan the news headlines, groaning when I see yet another school shooting.

  The apartment door opens and shuts, followed by a mumbled, “Good morning.”

  Glancing up from the chair in the corner of the living room, I find Brenna standing behind the couch. Her red hair is pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, mascara smeared under her eyes, and she’s in the same outfit she wears when she bartends.

  “You look like you had an…interesting night.”

  “I worked until almost three a.m. then I went back to a…friend’s house.” She winks on her way to the kitchen. “I have tonight off. I was thinking of going out and I want you to come with me.”

  “I’m definitely down for a night out.”

  I’m not as straight-laced as some would expect but I don’t have nearly the experience with clubbing and drinking as the average woman my age does.

  With a bottle of water in hand, she drops to the couch. “I want to take you somewhere…a little different.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief when she adds, “Promise me you’ll have an open mind to what I’m suggesting?”

  “Go on.”

  “Your life was flipped upside down in a matter of days, but I know exactly what you need to get back on the saddle so to speak.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re trying to set me up with someone?”

  “Oh, God no. I was thinking of taking you to a club downtown that’s a little unconventional.”

  My attention perks. “I’m listening.”

  She sits forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “The place is called Stella, and don’t bother Googling it, you won’t find shit about it online. I got an invite from an old co-worker of mine and afterward, I decided to join.”

  “What’s unconventional about the place?”

  “For starters, you have to either be a member to attend or be invited by one.”

  “Like a country club?”

  She chokes on a laugh. “No. Stella is definitely not a country club. You can’t golf or swim there…well, swimming…maybe. Anyway, I can bring you as a guest up to three times while you decide if the club is a good fit for you. If you don’t like it, then no sweat, but if you do, then you can sign up.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  She opens her bottle of water, downing almost half of it before finally answering, “Stella is a club where if you choose to, you can have sex with other members while you’re there.”

  Dumbfounded, my brain slowly absorbs her comment. Brenna is a member of a sex club? She must know where my thoughts are going because she rushes to add, “Not everyone who goes there has sex, and it’s not up in your face like you’re probably imagining. There are rooms where people have sex, and then there are community areas where people drink and relax with no pressure to do anything else. A lot of members do nothing more than have a drink on their way home after a long day.”

  Holy shit. She’s not joking.

  I stare at her, for longer than I should processing what I want to say. I haven’t talked to Brenna in years. Cleary, I don’t know anything about her lifestyle and the last thing I want to do is come off sounding like a judgmental bitch. “Do…do you have sex while you’re there?”

  “Sometimes, but not always.”

  Unsure of what to say, I pick at an imaginary piece of lint on my robe.

  “Every member is regularly tested and has to pass a full background check. Honestly, the club has been my safe-haven. I can go there and find meaningless pleasure with the comfort and safety you won’t find by hooking up with someone at a random bar.”

  My brows furrow. “Did someone hurt you?”

  She shrugs off my comment. “I’ve had a few bad experiences in the past, but everything is different at Stella. If you’re looking for one night with no strings, there are rooms available. If you and your partner want to exchange real names and numbers, you can. If you’re looking for something involving more than one person, that can be arranged as well. The point is, you’re in control. You set your limits, and they’re always respected.”

  I’ve read en
ough romance books that my mind is going crazy. “Do people…you know, whip each other and stuff?” My cheeks flush with embarrassment.

  “Some members are into that kind of thing. The important thing to understand is it’s a place where people can safely explore their sexuality. Members must pass a full bill of health every six months, and condoms are provided and are required. The owner has created a place where you can pursue your fantasies without worry.”

  “I’ll admit, you have me a little intrigued but…” I pause, allowing years of self-doubt to creep its way into my mind.

  “You’re ready for a new chapter in life, and maybe this is it, maybe not. But whatever happens, don’t let that needledick back home continue to control your life.”

  My nose crinkles. “Needledick?”

  She smiles, offering an explanation. “You’ve never mentioned how great Carter was in bed, so I went out on a limb. If you decide to give Stella a twirl, you’ll find a man who’s more than willing to ensure you get off several times before he does.”

  I waited until I was eighteen to give Carter my virginity. Having nothing to compare it to, I would say our sex life was okay at best. But deep down, that same nagging feeling I kept ignoring told me something was missing. Regan and Spencer regularly go at it like two rabbits in heat. Regan can talk for days about their sex life, including how many public places they’ve christened, something Carter wouldn’t consider for a second. I thought he wanted to keep our sex life simple, he didn’t desire anything more, and I happily accepted that until I learned it was all a lie. “I think needledick is a good name for him.”

  She claps her hands. “Does that mean you’ll go? Oh, and before you say no, you should know as a guest, you’re not allowed to have sex with anyone at the club. You can mingle with members in the main room, but you’re not allowed into the other areas without a full membership.”

  My nerves calm with the knowledge that if I choose to go, I have a clear out.

  “Think of tonight as window shopping. You can look over the goods but you’ll have to go home and think things over before making a purchase.”

  Window shopping at a sex club? If someone had told me two weeks ago that I’d be sitting across from Brenna Peters debating the perks of a sex club, I would have thought they were crazy. But the truth is, I’m twenty-six and I haven’t done a single wild thing my entire life. I want to turn over a new leaf. I want to be the one making decisions. “Okay, I’ll go and check things out.”

  She claps her hands. “Yay. Tonight is going to be awesome, but first, I need some sleep.”

  “Good night, or I guess, good morning.”

  She laughs on her way to her room while I sit in the same place wondering what I just agreed to.

  Chapter Three

  Delanie

  Standing in front of Brenna’s full-length mirror, I find a mystical woman staring back at me. Brenna steps into the room wearing an emerald green strapless dress and gasps. “Holy shit, Delanie. That dress… You look amazing.”

  After trying on every outfit I packed, the two of us spent the afternoon shopping. The dress I ended up buying is completely out of my comfort zone, but so is going to a sex club, which is why I purchased the tight black halter dress that stops mid-thigh and fits like a second skin. I hesitated when Brenna offered to do my makeup but I’m extremely grateful she did.

  “Thanks. Are you sure it’s not too much?”

  “No.” She smiles. “You look beautiful.”

  “I feel beautiful.”

  “You should. You’re rocking this dress.” She grabs her clutch off the dresser. “You ready?”

  Nerves flutter in my stomach… It’s now or never.

  The two of us had dinner at a pub right off Hollywood Boulevard. Afterward, we stopped by the bar Brenna works at for a few drinks before heading to our final destination, which happens to be a few blocks from Thornton Investments. Completely unsure of where we’re going, she drags me down the block where every business is closed until she stops at a solid unmarked black door, one I would never notice.

  “Ready?”

  “I guess.”

  We walk up a stairwell then down a hallway where we’re greeted by a woman with chin-length brown hair who’s dressed like a flight attendant standing behind a podium. She appears cold—yet professional—when she says, “Good evening, Ms. Peters. I see you have a guest with you tonight.”

  The hostess knows her by name?

  “Yes. This is my friend and new roommate, Delanie Charles.”

  The woman immediately hands me a clipboard. “You’ll need to fill this out. Front and back, and I’ll need to see at least two forms of identification.”

  Faking a smile, I narrow my eyes at Brenna. “Seriously?”

  “I told you, safety first,” Brenna whispers, hoping in vain the lady didn’t hear her.

  I take the clipboard and sit down on a bench lining the wall. Scanning the paper, my eyes widen. “Brenna, they want my social security number?”

  “I told you—”

  “Enough with the safety crap. It’s one thing to show them my ID but this…” I wave the clipboard in my hand. “Seems a bit extreme just to check the place out.”

  Her eyes widen, and she quickly takes a glance over her shoulder. “The requirements are to protect them just as much as it’s for you. I promise, they’re not going to steal your information.”

  “Fine,” I huff.

  After I sign my life away, I return the paper and I’m handed a single white rose. “Pin the flower on your chest and don’t take it off until you leave.”

  “Why?”

  Brenna wraps her arm around mine. “I’ll explain everything to her. Come on, let’s go.”

  She pulls me down another hall and into what looks like an elegant restaurant. The lights are dimly lit while a candle sits in the middle of the high-top tables lining the wall, circling around a large bar.

  “Your rose informs members of your guest status. White means this is your first experience at Stella. Yellow indicates your second visit, and finally, a red rose is for your third and final time as a guest.”

  Scattered throughout the room are at least twenty members casually chatting like they were at the bar we just left. People are dressed in anything from business attire to outfits worthy of a red carpet. In the back of my mind, I’m slightly disappointed. I was expecting to see a woman dressed in a black leather catsuit carrying a flogger, but that doesn’t appear to be the case.

  We take a seat at the bar where we’re immediately greeted by the bartender. “What can I get you ladies tonight?”

  Brenna quickly orders two Moscow Mules then turns toward me. “What do you think so far?”

  “I’m not convinced this isn’t actually a country club. I was expecting to walk in and find two people going at it.”

  She laughs at my comment but waits until the bartender sits our drinks down to reply. “Behind those doors,” she points to a set of double red doors against the back wall, “are people going at it.”

  I look in the direction she pointed. I’ve so mastered the art of people watching that I find myself suddenly eager to know what’s happening behind those doors.

  “Well, if it isn’t my favorite redhead.” We both turn at the same time. Standing next to Brenna is a tall sandy blonde who’s staring at my friend with desire dripping from his eyes.

  “We meet again,” she purrs.

  “I was hoping you’d be here tonight.”

  I loudly clear my throat, feeling like an outsider.

  “And who is your lovely friend?”

  Brenna blinks like she suddenly remembers the fact that I’m sitting next to her. “This is my good friend, Delanie. She came to check things out for herself.”

  The man politely gives me his attention, delivering a panty-dropping smile. He’s wearing a white shirt and pink tie. He reminds me of Paul Walker, but it feels like I’ve seen him somewhere before.

  “It’s a pleasure to mee
t you.”

  “Likewise,” I mumble.

  “I booked a room. I would love for you to join me,” he says looking at Brenna.

  Her shoulders sag. “Oh, I can’t. I promised Delanie I’d stick with her tonight.”

  He gives her a sharp nod, his brow creased into a hard line. “Another time then.”

  I don’t exactly understand the rules, but he’s rented a room for the sole purpose of having sex. It’s a room he’s going to use tonight regardless of the woman, but for whatever reason, Brenna wants to be that woman. What kind of friend would I be if I stood in her way?

  “I’m fine. I don’t need a babysitter. Go enjoy yourself.”

  “No, I promised.”

  “And I’m telling you it’s okay. I’ll enjoy my drink, mingle for a little while, then I’ll order an Uber.”

  Her head swivels back and forth until I assure her I’m going to be fine. I’ve been dependent on others my entire life, and it’s time I figure things out for myself—even if that means I’m jumping in feet first at a sex club.

  “I seriously owe you big time. Don’t wait up,” she whispers in my ear. Downing half my drink, I watch them disappear behind the red double doors while my mind continues to wander. Everything looks so…normal, which only has my mind racing faster. What drives a person to want casual sex with a stranger instead of a relationship?

  After twenty minutes of casually sipping on my drink, the only conclusion I can come to is I’m missing a piece of the puzzle. My lackluster sex life isn’t enough to form a solid opinion.

  The bartender stops in front of me, tapping his hand on the bar. “Ready for another?”

  “No, I should probably call it a night.” I pull a twenty out of my purse.

  “You’re all set. I’ve already charged your friend’s account.”

  “Oh, you don’t need to do that.”

  “Club rules,” he says with a wink.

  “Oh, well, thank you.”