Daisy
The club is quiet for a Friday. Which is ironic because it’s spring and I always assumed people were hornier and got it on more in the springtime. Or maybe I’m just remembering that scene in Bambi, where all the boy animals got horny for the girl animals in spring.
And…I just compared Bambi to a sex club.
That’s just how bored I am.
Geo is busy chatting it up with Drake on the other side of the bar, and I’m watching the clientele like a hawk, waiting for someone who looks like they need a fresh drink. But they’re all sipping so slow tonight.
Today was surprisingly fun. I was at the piano for most of the day, and when I wasn’t playing, I was talking to Ronan. I must be starved for conversation because ours flowed so easily. So, now I’m actually hoping he comes in so I at least have someone to talk to.
Of course, one goes to a sex club for only one reason, so I doubt he’d want to waste his chances of getting laid by chatting with me.
When I spot one of the owners descending the stairs toward the main floor, I force myself to look busy. Grabbing a rag on the other side of the bar, I wipe down the surface and move to an empty table, wiping it down too, although it’s perfectly clean. Then I arrange all of the already straight barstools when I hear someone approach me from behind.
“I’ve worked in the business long enough to tell when someone is just trying to look busy.”
When I spin to face Garrett Porter, I force a smile on my face. “It’s better than just standing around.”
“That’s true,” he replies. Out of all the owners, Garrett is my favorite. I hardly ever see or talk to Emerson, since he’s almost never in here anymore. And Hunter is aloof and not very talkative. Apparently, there was a fourth, but I missed her by almost a year. She left to run the new Phoenix club, but Geo said she was a little strict and always moving, so it doesn’t sound like she and I would have become friends anyway.
“I can restock something in the back if I need to,” I say, although I know there’s not a single box back there to open.
“Nah, you’re better on the floor, and I don’t want to cut you yet.” Suddenly his brows rise as if he has a brilliant idea. “Why don’t you go help Marianna upstairs?”
I have to force myself to swallow. Upstairs. I’ve only ventured into Salacious’s VIP level once, and never behind the curtain, although I know what goes on in there. It’s essentially the orgy zone, where everyone is free to do whatever they want, all out in the open like that.
And although the bar and some seating are outside the ominous black curtain, the drink servers still have to deliver drinks to the ones inside. Because who doesn’t want a gin martini while they’re getting publicly railed?
“Um…sure,” I answer with fake enthusiasm. I need this job, and although management would never force me to do anything I’m not comfortable with, I’m not openly admitting that I’m uncomfortable with it either. Maybe I’m not. Maybe…I’m a little curious.
“If you’re okay with that, of course,” he adds to be sure.
“Of course!” With that, I carry my drink tray up the stairs, and I’m only halfway up when I think of Ronan. He mentioned having a private room, but does he ever use the VIP orgy zone? Is that even his style?
Why does the thought of him with someone send a cold chill down my spine? I’m sure Ronan Kade’s been with more women than I can count, so why does thinking about it now make me feel sick?
As I reach the top of the stairs, I realize why Garrett sent me up here. It’s packed. And maybe that’s why it’s dead downstairs. The party is on the VIP floor tonight.
“Oh, thank God,” Marianna says when she sees me approaching the bar with my tray in hand. “Will you take these to table two?”
“Yep,” I reply with a smile. Then I load up the two beers and one cocktail on the tray, carrying them over to the two men and one woman standing close together around the table. They smile at me as I set their drinks down, briefly noticing the way one man has his hand on the woman’s bare thigh. I glance up at her face, noticing the lax smile and pink rosiness in her cheeks.
When we were in training for the positions here at the club, they taught us all the telltale signs that someone would give if they were in a situation they didn’t want to be in. Avoiding eye contact, nervous twitches, any use of force or being held in place by another person.
None of those signs are here right now, thank God. I haven’t had to report anything yet, and I don’t want to. From what I’ve heard, the vetting process at Salacious is strict and the security is top-notch. But snakes are good at squeezing through the cracks.
When I turn back toward the bar, I nearly slam into a man all in black. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I blurt out, just as my eyes trail up to his face. Instantly I recognize him as the man who bid against Ronan in my auction. “Oh, hi…” I stammer awkwardly.
“Well, hello there,” he replies with a smile so wide, it creates deep crevice-like dimples in his cheeks. “Funny running into you here.”
I chuckle through my nerves. It was just last night that he was willing to drop thousands of dollars on a date with me.
“I’m Clay,” he says, putting out a hand.
I tuck my tray under one arm and shake it. “Daisy.”
“Daisy…” He utters my name with a grin, and I get a weird flash of something down my spine.
Clay is very handsome. Big smile and kind eyes. Perfectly coiffed brown hair and expensive-looking clothes. He’s not much taller than me. Not as tall as Ronan, although I don’t know why I’m suddenly comparing them. I wonder how my night would have gone if Ronan hadn’t outbid Clay. I can imagine it would have ended with him and me naked in a room somewhere in the club. That definitely wouldn’t have been so bad.
But I can guarantee he would have never asked about my favorite book. Or offered me a place to stay. Or let me play his baby grand piano. Or cooked me lunch the next day.
“Can I buy you a drink when your shift is over?”
Suddenly, I’m hesitating. Why am I hesitating? Clay is gorgeous. Much more suited for me. And probably still rich as hell.
“Umm…I have plans, actually. I’m sorry.”
I notice the muscle in his jaw click at my response, and I instantly feel bad for turning him down. I bet it’s not a common occurrence for him.
Of course, it’s a lie. I don’t have plans after work. I get off at two in the morning. Unless it’s a booty call, who makes plans that late?
“Another time,” I say, moving around him toward the bar to do my job. He doesn’t follow me and when I turn back, I notice him already moving on to another woman sitting on the bench along the wall.
“These go to the couple at table twelve in the VIP room. Male and female, round table,” Marianna says without looking up at me. On the bar are two glasses of ice water, and I feel my cheeks start to flush with heat as her words settle in. I have to take these drinks to the other side of the curtain, and there’s no telling what this couple is doing in there.
I can do this.
She must notice my anxiety because she leans forward and touches my hand. “Don’t make eye contact. In fact, don’t focus on anything. Just walk in, find the table, set them down, and leave.”
With a gulp, I nod.
I’ve got this.
Feigning confidence and indifference, I load up the tray and hoist it up, making my way around the people crowding the bar and walking toward the curtain. One of the bouncers opens it for me and I pass through into the dark space, as if this is just another day and I’m not walking onto the set of a porno.
The sounds come first. Before I see anything, I hear moaning and grunting as well as all the other noises that come with people unabashedly going at it. But I stay focused. I’m looking for the couple on the far left.
Which isn’t really enough to go on. The room is comprised of mostly couches, some recessed into the floor to give the room a multidimensional look. Then there are some chairs, a couple tables, but no beds or anything that would allow people to lie on the floor.
After a few steps inside, moving toward the left, my vision adjusts, and I see movement. It’s surreal and nothing like I expected. It’s not as vulgar or as gross as I figured it would be. Instead, it’s almost…beautiful.
Bodies coming together, writhing and moving to find a rhythm, and I find myself wondering how many of these people are strangers and how many are couples out to have a good time.
I’m no prude. I love sex as much as the next person. But I wouldn’t call myself all that adventurous. I’ve slept with a handful of guys, starting when I was sixteen. My best guy friend and I drank enough of my mom’s wine to get up the courage to just take each other’s virginity. Since then, the experience has gotten a good deal better, but never anything like what goes on at Salacious. And I can’t quite tell if I’m not into kink or if I just haven’t met the right person.
When I finally spot a couple sitting against the wall, they lock eyes with me, and I know it must be their waters I’m carrying. Judging by the way her hair looks slightly knotted and his jacket is hanging over his arm instead of around his shoulders, I’d guess that these two just finished having a little fun of their own. That explains the ice waters.
“Thank you,” the woman mutters as I pass them their drinks.
“Can I get you anything else?” I ask, but they both shake their heads, huddling a little closer to each other.
When I turn around to head back out to the bar, the curtain opens and I watch someone, slightly silhouetted from the light behind him, enter. But I don’t need to see his face to know who it is. I’ve been watching him around this club long enough to know Ronan Kade’s gait and posture. Maybe that means I’m more intrigued by him than I’m willing to admit. Or maybe it’s just because he comes in here that often, but either way, I know it’s him.
And I freeze in my steps as we come face to face. At first, a flash of excitement courses through me when our eyes meet. But then that sick feeling returns to my gut when I realize where he’s going and what he’s about to do.
