“It’s like a totally different world down here.”
Shayla smirked and gestured for the bartender. “I guess in a way it is. Down here, anything goes. Do you want a water or soda?”
Chloé shook her head and turned on her seat to look back in the direction they’d come, and the view was like something out of her wildest fantasies. A decadent display of lust and desire, each person out there vying to please the other, even as they pleased themselves.
She squeezed her legs together. The idea of being so free, so honest about what she wanted, was one she’d thought about a lot. She craved that kind of connection with someone. That trust to explore and understand what would really turn her on. She just had no idea how to go about it. This seemed like a good place to start.
As she leaned back against the bar, she noticed everyone now starting to move in one direction, and wondered if maybe she’d missed something.
“Where are they all going?”
Shayla glanced over her shoulder at the crowd. “Oh, the conference room.”
“The conference room?” Okay, this place really knew how to play up a theme.
“Yeah, it’s where they hold their exhibitions and demonstrations. Some go to watch and learn, but most go to watch and umm get off.”
Ooh, now that sounds like fun.
Chloé slipped off her stool, and Shayla caught her arm.
“Uh, where are you going?”
“To the conference room.”
Shayla shook her head. “I don’t think so. That wasn’t part of the deal. I brought you here to see the place. Anything else you want to do, you can do…later.”
In other words, when you’re older. But that wasn’t going to work for her. She was here now, and this might be her only shot. There was no way she was going to miss out.
“This is the general floor, right?”
“Right.”
“And the conference room is part of the general floor?”
“Chloé—”
“Then I signed for it. I’m going, Shay. You can either come with me or—”
Before Shayla could try to stop her again, Chloé headed in the same direction everyone else had gone and grinned when she heard her cousin behind her.
They entered a double set of doors where the large crowd had gathered, and as they made their way inside, Chloé spotted a dais at the front of the room.
Shayla stepped up beside her. “I don’t think this is such a great idea.”
Which meant it was more than likely the best idea Chloé had all night. But from where they stood at the back of the room, it was difficult to see what everyone was looking at.
“Please, Shay. This is why I’m here. To experience new things.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you need to experience this.”
Chloé chuckled but ignored her cousin as she slipped between several couples and managed to find a spot at the front—and what she saw next took her breath away.
There, kneeling up on the platform for all to see, was a woman, naked as the day she was born. Her palms were flat on the top of her thighs and her head was bent in silent repose, and she knelt there facing the crowd as though waiting for someone to give her permission to move.
Chloé swallowed, her breathing coming a little faster as she took a step closer, and she couldn’t help but wonder what the woman was thinking. She seemed so calm, so peaceful, even with the charged atmosphere surrounding her, and that not only intrigued Chloé, something about it…excited her.
“Right, I think you’ve seen enough.” Shayla took her hand to lead her back out the way they’d come, but suddenly the lights went out.
A collective gasp filled the room, and the two of them froze. Chloé glanced over her shoulder to see what all the commotion was about, but it was useless. The room had been plunged into complete darkness. What the hell was going on?
But before she could ask, a spotlight lit up the dais and a man stepped up onto the platform wearing nothing but a pair of black boots and low-slung jeans. He had a bundle of rope in one hand and a smug smirk plastered across his face, and as he moved to the center of the stage, excitement sparked through the crowd like electricity through a live wire.
Wow. Whoever this was, the regulars were thrilled he was there, and as he moved to the center of the stage, Chloé could understand why.
This man exuded two things loud and clear: sex and confidence. He had broad shoulders and built arms, and his cut abs were decorated with a treasure trail that led down into those sexy jeans.
His short hair showed off a powerful jaw line with stubble that looked as though it would mark up her skin, and his nose looked like it had seen the wrong side of a fist too many times to count.
The smirk on his face should’ve been a warning all on its own, but something about his rebel-without-a-care charm made it hot as hell.
He was what her fathers would call “bad news,” and the piercings in his nipples and ink that decorated a good portion of his rough-and-tumble body would do nothing to sway that opinion.
Chloé held her breath as she trailed her eyes over him, and as he stared out at the crowd, she tried to remember how to breathe.
“Evenin’, everybody.”
Damn, even his voice was sexy. It had a relaxed, easygoing quality that seemed totally at odds with the bundle of rope in his hand.
A shiver raced up Chloé’s spine. “Who is that?”
“Zayne,” Shayla said by her ear. “He’s one of the club’s owners. He watches over the activities at the club and makes sure everyone is on their best—and worst—behavior.”
Chloé believed it. He looked exactly like the kind of man who could bring out the worst behavior in someone and make them enjoy it.
“You said he watches over its activities? As in he doesn’t participate?”
“Not when he’s alone.”
Chloé took a step forward, mesmerized. “What do you mean?”
Shayla was about to answer when a sound at the back of the room caught everyone’s attention, and they all looked in the direction it had come from.
“Oh shit,” Shayla said under her breath, and Chloé stood on her tiptoes to see what was going on—and that was when she spotted him.
A tall, striking man, wearing an impeccable black suit, had just stepped into the room, and the excitement from seconds ago shifted to an almost reverent tone. Whispers followed him as he began to walk toward the stage, and everyone he passed seemed to regard him as some sort of god—not that she could blame them.
The man had a face that was so close to perfect that he was almost too beautiful to look at. With his sharp, angular cheekbones and strong, chiseled jaw line, it was as though he had been sculpted from stone.
His lips were full, his chestnut brown hair short and polished, and with his black silk shirt and the upturned collar of his jacket, the overall effect was devastating. His hands were in his pockets as he moved through the crowd, and the air of arrogance that surrounded him was undeniable, his confidence an almost tangible thing. He seemed to dominate the room and everyone in it by merely stepping into the space, and the sexual tension from his presence had shot straight through the roof.
“That’s what, or who, I mean. Ethan. He’s the other owner.” Shayla let out a deep breath and looked back to the man up on the stage, who—like the rest of them—was staring at this Ethan guy. “Well, this night just got more interesting.”