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But hell, maybe Kelly would have some fun. The place wasn’t that bad.
Kink wasn’t necessarily the fantasy image of a club designed to facilitate sex. The décor was simple since the club frequently had to change locations to avoid police interest. Each room had a different theme. The lounge upstairs was more casual, with couches and art on the walls. The steam room, well, that was pretty much a naked meat market. The dance floor took up most of the bottom level, bordered on one side by the bar.
Just as many people came here to hang out and dance as they did to have sex. It was a fun social spot, where you could also drop your drawers if you felt so inclined.
Alana didn’t analyze the hows and whys, she just enjoyed. Same way she lived her life— at least until tonight. It was high time she acknowledge the truth.
A sex club probably wasn’t the best place to meet someone who wanted more than a fuck. Yet she kept coming back.
Dammit, she hated questioning herself. And now she had to eat a liberally spiced serving of crow.
She texted Kelly frantically, her thumbs moving as fast as the two shots of Patron she’d sucked down in record time would allow.
Buy u flwrs. Pay 4 ur dinner. Let u kick my ass. I’m a fuck up. So sorry!
The saddest thing was, this wasn’t the first— nor would it likely be the last— time Alana had flaked out on her steady- as- a- sunrise pal. Sometimes she wondered why Kelly put up with her mood swings and her man- craziness and her inability to stick with a job longer than six months.
At least the last part was no longer true. She’d been at The Edge— Roanoke, Virginia’s, leading alternative newspaper— for eleven months. When she’d been hired, they’d told her she’d be able to take the kind of shots she loved. People, places. Life. But what had she been doing for weeks? Taking pictures of sex toys for a series on the newest innovations in pleasure. Edgy, maybe, but she hadn’t gotten a degree to photograph a dildo from a 360- degree angle, that was for damn sure.
Alana slammed down her drink and pushed her way through the crowd to the exit.
She needed some air. She’d just go sit in her car and call Kelly again. Maybe her friend had returned to the vehicle anyway.
An hour later, she stormed back into the club, hot and sweaty from helping two muscular guys push her car to the street to wait for the auto club. She not only had a flat, but her engine was dead. And she was not about to explain to her mechanic why her car had been at a flipping sex club when it had conked out.
Some night this had been. She’d lost her best friend, she had no way to get home and her ex- lover was probably grunting through his tenth climax of the evening.
“Excuse me.”
Alana stared fixedly at her cell. Kel, where are you?
“Hey there.” The voice near her ear moved closer, warm breath gliding over the bare skin revealed by her off- the- shoulder peasant blouse. She’d opted not to wear one of her usual cleavage- baring tops and all it had done was left her high and extremely dry. “Is it really you?”
She glanced up, about to tell the guy to buzz off. Men were not currently on her list of preferred companions. As soon as she found Kelly, she was outta there. But inquisitive green eyes intensified by the blue wash of light from the bar lingered on hers and dissipated the rude remark on her tongue.
Once again, thoughts of her best friend fled her mind. Yeah, she was going to hell.
At the rate things were going, she wouldn’t even get an orgasm first.
“Do I know you?” Please let me know you. I could so use a friend right now. Please let this shitty night have something redeemable.
“Alana MacGregor, it’s been a long time.” He crossed his arms over his chest, flexing impressive muscles under his black T- shirt. He stared at her, his fingers digging into his delicious biceps. “Middlemarch High,” he said after a moment. “Remember?” Her interest plummeted. Sexy guy or not, she had no desire to take any ill- advised trips down memory lane. High school reminded her of when she’d done anything to fit in. She’d told herself she’d changed so much from that insecure girl, but hadn’t she just been dumped by a guy whose idea of commitment was a date at the Double Burger?
Clearly she hadn’t changed one iota.
“Mac?” he pressed, clearly waiting for an answer.
Ignoring him, she motioned to the bartender. Jack sidled over and gave her a slow smile. “Need more Patron, sweetheart?”
“Yep. Hit me, babe.”
“I’ve got it.” Her new friend slipped a ten by the glass placed in front of her. Jack grabbed the cash and headed off to fill more orders.
Shrugging, she downed the shot and snapped the glass on the bar. The burn made her wince, but damn did it feel good when the liquid reached her belly. “Tastes the same no matter who pays.”
“Same old Mac.” She squinted at him when he shook his head. Shaggy reddish- brown hair dipped into his eyes and was thumbed back. “Guess I hoped you were different now.”
“Can’t say the same, since I don’t have a clue who you are. Nor do I want to.” She wasn’t a nice drunk, and tonight wasn’t the night to change her ways. She couldn’t even claim to be really inebriated. Three shots just gave her a nice, subtle buzz.
