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Only my mom had ever called me by my full name.
Mom, can I do this?
Chapter 21
Saffi
A couple hours later I headed across town in the direction of Club Silk. My nerves were firing at full speed, suggesting that bailing on the evening seemed like it might be a good way to go.
But I couldn’t do that.
No. I had to go. If I didn’t, I might be stuck as the office gopher for eternity, covering “breaking news” from Little League and the Garden Club. I might get stuck doing those things anyway, at the rate I was going. But at least if I tried, could come away with a new friend. Or two.
G’s mask flashed across my thoughts.
A replay of Miss M’s kiss of the previous night sent a shiver down my spine. She was mysterious, even scary. But I had to admit, the kiss had been hot as hell.
Then there was G. Why was I eager to see a man whose face I’d never laid eyes on? Sure, he was sexy and knew his way around a woman’s body. And yet, he kept wandering in and out of my thoughts.
I left my car in the closest spot I could find to the club’s front door. I was already tempting fate enough—why risk trouble in a dicey neighborhood?
As usual, Miss M answered the door in all her dramatic glory.
“B. My beautiful friend.” She welcomed me with a broad sweep of her arm. “So good to see you tonight.”
“Thanks M,” I said as I pulled on my mask. I was beginning to understand why G wore his. It really was like a security blanket. Or a wall, depending how you looked at it.
“You’re not going to cover that face of yours, are you?” M asked.
“First of all, only half my face is covered. As you’ll see, my lips are still available.”
Damn, I was getting good at this.
I stepped closer to her. Time to lay it on. “And second, I like being somebody different for a moment in time.”
She smiled and ran a hand around my waist. “I know exactly what you mean.”
I looked around the first floor at the party already in full swing. People dancing, flirting, making out. My heart pounded in time to the bass-heavy house music and the sexy buzz in the air. An expensive perfume drifted by.
M fluttered off to greet another guest.
I wasn’t exactly an old pro at this sex club thing, but at least I pretty much had the lay of the land down. I got myself some bubbly, which gave me time to scope out the happenings. G was supposed to be there, but I doubted he’d recognize me—he hadn’t the other night—which gave me time to snoop around untethered. I’d make myself known to him when I was ready to, and in the meantime enjoy the party. And of course, gather information for the story. Don’t forget about th
e story.
Drink in hand, I squeezed between the packed bodies on the first floor. As usual, there wasn’t a ton of playing going on; most people seemed to save that for the smaller rooms. Perhaps the intimacy of those spaces, like the one where I’d seen G, lent themselves to really getting down and dirty. In the open space of the first floor, people for the most part mingled, aside from the few couples kissing in dark corners. Hardly anything to waste one’s time watching.
Was I becoming jaded or what?
As I climbed the steps to the mezzanine, I had an unspoiled view of the crowd below. M stood chatting, all Hollywood glamour in her cream-colored gown, watching me from the far side of the club. She raised her glass to me. I raised mine back.
Once upstairs, I scanned for G. I wanted to see him before he saw me, and I waved at the bartender who’d run off the night before.
No G, at least not yet.
I roamed past the dance floor and toward a small room I’d never seen. My mouth fell open.
In it, there were eight or so women in various stages of undress—some of them with thigh highs and boots, others with leather bustiers, and still others with lacy boy shorts and sky-high stilettos. They lay on silky tufted mattresses in a tangled pile of limbs—fingers and tongues exploring. I drifted in for a closer look.
