While Marlowe’s seal of approval was important to me, it wasn’t necessary. Under different circumstances I would have liked to get to know Max better. But now, all I could think about was Reed, and I shouldn’t even be doing that.
The sound of the yacht idling into shore broke my silent reverie. Covering for my social ineptitude, Marlowe initiated our goodbyes. “It looks like we’re getting ready to dock. Maybe we’ll see you around this week at the hotel?”
“Yeah, definitely. I’m sure you’ll see half the boat around, it’s a pretty small place.” Max turned to face me and leaned in close. His lips grazed my ear as he whispered. “I look forward to learning more about you beautiful. And to answer your friend’s question, my number is zero.”
I didn’t know why, but I delighted in his admission. I couldn’t help but watch his cute ass as he headed toward the door, and neither could Marlowe.
Standing, I slung my giant beach tote over my shoulder and took another look around the cabin. Something felt off. It didn’t look like the typical real estate crowd. Where were the receding hairlines and Tommy Bahama shirts? Maybe this was the LA contingent of Kohler-Phillips? It was the only reasonable explanation.
When I started talking to Max at the bar, it never occurred to me that he might be a realtor too. But he must be if he’s staying at the conference hotel. It was nice to finally meet a guy in the business that didn’t have a forked tongue.
On our way off the boat I saw Will and Aaron exiting with a gorgeous brunette. I guess Marlowe wasn’t the only one with a short attention span. I felt my calm slip away in the breeze as a cold hard realization hit me: less than fifteen hours until my interview. It was the job of a lifetime. Nothing could be more high stakes.
Sensing my increased tension, Marlowe held my hand as we walked down the dock. Each step took me closer to a single future defining moment.
Chapter 3
The limo bus flew through the jungle faster than a maglev train.
“Do you see any monkeys?” Marlowe asked as she drew a heart on the steamed up window.
I paused for a moment before answering. “Nope.” This was the Caribbean, not India.
Marlowe looked genuinely disappointed, so I added, “They must be getting ready for bed. It’s probably easier to see them in full daylight.”
She gave one last wistful look before whipping out her phone to play Candy Crush Saga.
With Marlowe completely absorbed in her game, I found myself left alone with my thoughts again. This time, I couldn’t allow myself to get happily distracted by Reed or Max. I closed my eyes and took slow measured breaths. Centering myself, I focused on my upcoming interview. I started mentally rehearsing my prepared statement about why I was uniquely qualified for the job when Marlowe interrupted me.
“Do you think we’re going to be there soon?” she asked. “I totally have to pee.”
“I hope so.” I peered out of the window for any signage that might indicate where we were. My eyes were met with nothing but dense greenery. “There’s a bathroom on the back of the bus you know?”
“If I use the bathroom, I’ll stink like one those little air fresheners people hang in their cars.” Marlowe wrinkled her nose and clenched her hand between her thighs. “No thank you!”
“It shouldn’t be too much longer,” I reassured her. “The island is pretty small.”
Marlowe fidgeted in her seat for a few more minutes before finally stilling and burying her face in her phone. Alone with my thoughts again, anxiety slowly rose from the pit of my stomach up into my throat. All of my insecurities about the job bombarded me with a giant tidal wave of self-doubt.
All of the air fled my lungs, making me feel like I just summited a mountain. Only capable of short pants, I closed my eyes and focused on deepening my breaths. I should have found some reassurance in the familiarity of my situation. This wasn’t my first panic attack. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get enough oxygen to my brain. My fingers dove for my throat and raked down my chest until I gripped the light cotton that suffocated me. Clawing the shirt away from my body, I felt slightly better. Thirty seconds of deep breathing later and I was well on my way to full calm.
“You okay?” Marlowe placed a hand on my shoulder. Her worried eyes made me feel guilty. I had reassured her on numerous occasions that my panic attacks were a thing of the past.
“I know I shouldn’t be complaining, but I find traveling completely exhausting,” I lied. Voicing a made up discomfort broke my cycle of worry and protected Marlowe from the truth. I didn’t want to be a burden. Not on vacation. “I can’t wait to throw on a pair of sweats and curl up in bed.”
Marlowe eyed me suspiciously and then dropped her phone into her purse. “You’re not getting off that easy.”
Shit!
“As if I would let you go to bed without appreciating this beautiful island paradise surrounding us.”
Life was a party for Marlowe. I knew she meant well, but I wished she would be a little more supportive of my career. “I’ll appreciate the island tomorrow, after my interview and a full day at the conference.”
“Not a chance.” Marlowe rolled her eyes. “You will have fun tonight. There’s no fighting it.”
When Marlowe dug in, arguing was futile. “Okay,” I relented, “we can have dinner at the hotel and then I have to go to bed early. I need to be fresh for tomorrow.” I wanted to add that Marlowe was more than welcome to go out and have fun as long as she didn’t wake me up when she stumbled back home, but I didn’t get the chance to.
The bus made a sudden right turn and pulled into a circular drive. I expected to see a typical business hotel. Instead, my tired eyes couldn’t look away from the stone façade of a castle. As an architecture buff, I couldn’t wait to learn its history and explore every room.
“Holy shit!” Marlowe pressed her face into the window.
“It’s magnificent isn’t it?” I asked, letting my eyes trace the stone walls up to the top of a turret. “I mean, look at those stained glass windows and that door! Do you think it’s original?”
“Yeah, the hotel’s nice.” Marlowe sounded nonplussed. “But I was referring to the hot men over there,” she waggled her eyebrows and pointed a manicured fingertip at a group of muscle-clad men with golden tans and board shorts.
Marlowe’s dick radar was on point, I would give her that. I only wished she was half as committed to advancing her career as she was at finding some strange. “You’re incorrigible.” I shook my head and bit my lip to hold back the grin from spreading across my face. Grabbing our bags, I joined the long line to get off the bus.
I gave my name at the front desk and received two ornate gold keys strung on purple velvet cords. My fingers absently traced the intricate metalwork of the keys as the receptionist typed away. Even though I loved the old fashion detail, I hoped our room had the modern convenience of the Internet.
In the middle of checking us in, the receptionist took a phone call. With nothing better to do, I scoped out the lobby. Unlike the outside, which screamed regal and old world, the interior had a modern flare. Mirrors lined every surface, including the ceiling and floor. No matter which way I turned, I saw myself. A grandiose sitting area contained a mirrored coffee table and several see-through Louis Ghost chairs. The flashy design aesthetic seemed really out of place in such a historic hotel, or any hotel for that matter.
“Hey check this out!” Across the room, Marlowe stood in front of an opened mirrored door. “It’s a bathroom.”
I waved to her and stood by the counter, not wanting to lose my spot. Drumming my fingers on the table, I couldn’t imagine what was taking the receptionist so long. She fiddled with her hair as she rambled on to some prospective guest about the open-air cabanas.
A minute later Marlowe popped out of the bathroom and ran across the room. “I could see you when I peed!” She squealed. “It’s like an one-way mirror.”
“I used a bathroom like that at a little Thai place i
n Soho once,” I remarked, trying to remember who I was eating lunch with that day. Completely blanking, I shrugged it off and looked back at the receptionist, who raised a fast finger to let me know she would take her sweet ass time with helping me check in.
“I’ve used that bathroom too,” Marlowe grabbed my arm, tugging me in close.
“Were you with me?” I asked.
“Yeah. But this one is different!” Marlowe stifled a giggle.
Different? Before I could ask for details, the receptionist cleared her throat. I whipped my head around to face her. She stood with a stiff back and crossed arms, glaring down at me. The bitch had some nerve. Taking a phone call in the middle of helping us and then acting like we were the errant ones. I narrowed my eyes and prepared to ream her out.
“Can we have our itineraries please?” Marlowe took control and defused the situation with a saccharine smile.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Here you go.” The receptionist handed Marlowe two black folders with gold lettering that read, Club Voyeur: Watch and be Watched.
I stared at the folder for a whole minute before I registered the words. “Excuse me, I think you gave us the wrong itineraries.” I yanked the folders from Marlowe’s fingertips and handed them back to the receptionist.
“No, I don't think so. This is the itinerary for the week.” She made a show of looking at the long line behind us.
“Oh no. We are here for the Kohler-Phillips real estate conference,” I corrected her.
“Ma’am, we don’t host real estate conferences. We are a world renowned erotic resort.”
How the hell did this happen?
I slowly did a three-sixty and took in my surroundings again. The situation had all the makings of an excellent episode of the Twilight Zone. “And there is a reservation in my name…here?” I asked.
She gave me a gritted teeth smile. “Yes. I wouldn’t just give anyone keys to one of our suites.”
How could Gina have made such a huge mistake? “Excuse me.” I stepped aside to call my assistant. My eyes darted around the room for the third time. Everything finally started to make sense. The mirrors and peeping tom bathroom. The hot limo driver. The Kama Sutra etched glass. The yacht full of perfect tens. Ramses’ Harem III! I slapped my forehead.
Dammit!
After ten rings, I got Gina’s voicemail. I wanted to chuck my phone across the room. Instead, I took a deep breath, hung up, and called the office. Nobody answered.
Where the fuck is everyone?
I started pacing. My composure slipped away with each passing second. “I can’t believe this!” I threw the phone back into my purse and turned to commiserate with Marlowe, but she wasn’t there and I doubted that she had to use the bathroom again. No, this place held too many temptations. My best friend, an undiagnosed sex-addict, had wandered off in a sex club.
“Miss, I have some information for you.” The receptionist waved me over.
“Yes.” I ran to the front desk practically tripping over my own feet. I crossed my fingers and prayed to all things holy that everything was one giant but easily fixable mix-up.
“There’s a real estate conference at the hotel a few miles down the road. I checked online. They still have rooms available.”
Hope surged, making me feel more like a human being instead of the golem I had become. It wasn’t too late to get Marlowe and change hotels. “Thank you! Thank you so much.” I gave her a tip for finding the real conference hotel.
“You still have to pay for the room. It is our policy —”
“No problem,” I said, cutting her off. “Is there a place I can store my luggage while I look for my friend?”
“Yeah, I’ll watch it for you.” The receptionist rounded the desk and opened a large hall closet to my left. She wore shiny black stilettos and fishnets with a seam going up the middle of her calf. I made a mental note to buy a pair of those stockings before having dinner with Reed. I handed her the luggage and set off to find Marlowe.
***
Signage for the pool led me down a long glass corridor. Lush greenery surrounded both sides of the passage. Just beyond the palm fronds and tropical flowers, stood six cabanas in evenly spaced intervals. Some cabanas had white canvas curtains pulled shut, while others were wide open.
Pressing my palms to the window, I stared, mouth agape, at one cabana in particular. A tanned blonde woman’s mouth formed a soundless scream as she took it from behind. Her muscular lover gripped her waist and thrust into her like nobody was watching.
I was watching. It made me feel indecent and downright wrong, but I couldn’t look away.
“Enjoying the show?”
Startled by an unexpected voice, I jumped and clutched my chest with one hand. Stepping away from the glass, I spun around to face a beautiful blonde wearing a metallic pink bandage dress. “I…I…was just looking for my friend,” I stammered.
Her knowing smile made me feel like I just got caught doing something more than watching. “Is this your first time at Club Voyeur?” she asked, taking a step closer. Up close, I could see the freckles under her foundation. Her eyes were overdone with black liner and caked on mascara, but she pulled it off. Bitches like her could pull off a burlap sack.
“Yes.” I forced myself to stop staring, so I could answer her question. “I mean no. I’m not staying. There was a hotel mix-up.” My voice trailed off. I didn’t need to explain myself to a stranger at sex club.
“Don’t be ashamed. The glass is here so you can watch. Some people like to be watched - exhibitionists. While others like to watch - voyeurs.” She stroked my cheek with a French tipped fingernail. “Which category do you fall under?”
“Neither.” The clipped tone of my voice erased her smile for a split second before it was replaced by a toothy grin. “Like I said,” I straightened my back, “I’m not even supposed to be here.”
“It’s not unusual to have second thoughts about delving into the lifestyle. I’m Ronnie, the owner of Club Voyeur.” She waved her hand around and smiled. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
My mouth must have been hanging open in surprise, because Ronnie seemed to be thoroughly enjoying my discomfort. Fixing her dress, she waited for me to respond. “Thanks Ronnie,” I finally said, remembering my manners. “I’m sorry if I came across as rude. I’m just under a lot of stress.” I returned her smile. “I’m Eva by the way.”
“Eva.” My name rolled off her tongue in a purr. “I’ll see you around.”
I smiled and watched her saunter off toward the lobby in sky-high Lucite heals.
With my eyes focused straight ahead, I practically ran down the corridor. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I burst through the exit and entered what looked like a late night infomercial for soft-core party porn. An all male conga line circled the pool, while a group of women in bikinis cheered them on. Atop the broad muscular shoulders of two body builders, a couple of girls grappled in the pool. And in the middle of it all, Marlowe sat on a chaise lounge holding up a giant cardboard sign with a “10” on it.
A man screamed, “I love you Red!”
Marlowe threw her head back and laughed before taking a sip out of a coconut.
I knew what I had to do. Part of me felt bad about removing Marlowe from her element, while another part of me wanted to drag her off the chaise by her flaming hair.
Determined to get the hell out of Club Voyeur as soon as possible, I stomped over to Marlowe. En route, I bumped into a man wearing a shirt and nothing else. Sweet baby Jesus! I thought shirt cocking didn’t exist outside of Burning Man and Grateful Dead concerts.
The man teetered on the edge of the pool. Like a wayward pendulum, his dick swayed in the wind. Finding his balance, he slurred, “Watch it!” Before shuffling away in tattered Birkenstocks.
“Sorry,” I squealed and squeezed my eyes tight. It was too late. His flaccid penis already imprinted on my brain and haunted me from behind closed lids. Since feeling my way to
Marlowe wasn’t an option, I opened my eyes and speed walked the rest of the way.
I stood behind Marlowe and fumed. Ready for the day to be over, I tapped her on the shoulder. She turned and met my determined glare. “Marlowe, we have to go now.” I kept it Short. Simple. Firm.
“Why?” she pouted.
“I have good news,” I continued, “we can still get a room at the conference hotel.”
Marlowe’s pouty face could rival a five year old who just had her birthday party ruined because her stupid Mom got the wrong color icing for her cake.
I hated being the responsible adult all of the time.
Marlowe crossed her arms and flung her head back against the chaise. “I like it here. I think we should stay.”
“Stay?” What the fuck was she thinking? She knew I had the interview tomorrow. If anyone found out I was at a sex resort instead of our company’s hotel, it would be disastrous. Blake had already branded me a slut at the office. I didn’t need another nail in the coffin. In real estate, reputation was everything. I couldn’t risk it.
This place was a perfect fit for Marlowe. I hated to ask, but I had to. “Marlowe, did you have anything to do with our reservation here?”
She recoiled like I just slapped her in the face. “Of course not! I would never do something like that to you,” she snapped.
Feeling like a first class asshole for even thinking she would sabotage our trip, I apologized. “I’m sorry. I can’t get ahold of Gina and I just don't understand how this could have happened.”
“You haven’t figured it out yet?” Marlowe looked at me like I had two heads.
“No. I’m dying to know. Tell me.” I twirled my hair around my index finger, nervous about exactly what I hadn’t figure out yet.
“Okay. I wanted to tell you this like a month ago, but Gina begged me not to say anything. I was going to tell you anyway, but then I totally forgot.” Marlowe paused to build suspense.
Coming Undone (Club Voyeur Book 1) Page 4
