Page 82 of Taking Turns

He’s dead serious about this and I have to admit, I didn’t expect him to remain so loyal to Bric and Quin. Especially after I goaded him with what Bric said to me about cutting him out of the game.

“Fine,” I say, shrugging my shoulders like I hardly care. “Just a peek then.”

He stares at me for a moment, opens his mouth like he might say something, then thinks better of it. “Come on,” he says, taking my hand. Already breaking the rules.

We leave the apartment and go down the hall to a door. We go through it, then down another dark hallway, until we reach the back of the building where the freight elevator is located. This is how Rochelle got me upstairs to her apartment that first night.

Smith punches in a code to open the doors as I watch, fascinated by the world they’ve created here in the middle of downtown Denver.

A secret world. A forbidden world. A world I haven’t thought about in a very long time. A world I left behind. A world I’d very much like to be part of again.

“What’s on the other floors?” I ask as the doors close us in.

“Rooms,” Smith says, utterly uninterested.

“I guessed that, Smith. I meant, what happens on the other floors?”

He looks at me, annoyed for some reason. “Sex, Chella. We’re a hotel so rich men who are bored with their wives can come here during the work week and fuck someone new.”

“So you have prostitutes here?”

“No.” He laughs. “They have to bring the pussy with them.”

“Do you bring people to those rooms?”

He looks away, up at the illuminated numbers ticking down the floors until the elevator gets to the one lit up as B. When the doors open, he waves me forward and says, “If you think I’m a sick sex freak, you’re wrong. I’m the most normal person down here, Marcella Walcott. And you should really keep that in mind going forward. Stay here for a minute. I need to get you a mask.”

Before I can ask any more questions, he walks down the hallway, towards the flashing lights, and the music, and the sound of people caught up in a primal state of lust.

I wait. My hearts beats fast, but I take a few deep breaths as I ask it to be calm.

I want to be here, I remind myself. I was lying to myself when I accepted Rochelle’s offer, thinking it was just a peek.

A peek is not what I’m after. Not at all.

If I’m going to risk everything again, if I’m going to play this game with them and throw away years of building my life back up after all the failures and falls, then I want the full experience.

Smith returns with a black mask that covers my whole face. Just slits for eyes so I can see, and a small slit for my mouth, so I can breathe.

“Put it on,” he says. “All the women wear masks.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so,” he snaps.

“No.” I laugh. “I’ll put it on. But why do the women wear masks?”

“To protect them.” He says those three words like it should be obvious. “Why else?”

“To protect them from what?”

“Chella,” he says. “Come on. From themselves, of course.”

“I’m not following.” He’s very annoyed at this point, so I slip the mask up to my face and let him tie the black satin ribbon around my head. “Just explain it to me. So I understand.”

“It gets out of hand sometimes. Lots of husbands bring their wives down here. Lots of these wives are up for anything, or so they think when the lust overtakes them. Lots of them have regrets afterward, once the orgasm has subsided and the reality of what they did sinks in. So we make them all as anonymous as possible. We also like to avoid targeting. Most of them are very beautiful and have drawn the attention of other men in the Club over time.” He hands me a hair tie. “Put your hair up in a ponytail. That’s another rule. And it’s not so you can suck cock better, so don’t even start asking me about that.”

I smile as I tie my hair back. “You’re not as big of an asshole as I first thought,” I say.