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“Okay. Let’s just relax then,” I said.
“So tell me, B,” he asked, “what brings you to the club?”
Uh-oh. I stiffened, hoping he didn’t notice. “Oh, you know. Just wanted to see what it was all about.”
Think fast.
“Why do you come here?” I asked.
“It’s a respite from an otherwise stressful life.”
He paused. “And it’s a great equalizer. It doesn’t matter who you are here or where you come from. Everyone is the same, they’re here for the same reason, and they understand the rules. I don’t really need to think. Just feel.”
Well. I was speechless, never having expected him to really answer. And here I was deceiving him and everyone else at the club. The warm, sexy recovery I’d been enjoying withered, and the fact that I wasn’t making much progress on my story bit me in the ass.
“Okay,” he said. “Now you tell me something personal.”
“I…I don’t really have anything to share.” I sprang out of his embrace and sat up. “I’d like to take off my blindfold. Is your mask nearby?”
I heard him get up, cross the room, and slide the mask over his face. He came back and removed my blindfold. I had to blink to adjust to the light in the room, and there he was, with his mask back on.
“I need to head out,” I said, standing.
I could only see the slits of his eyes through the mask, but it looked like something passed over them.
“Well then,” he said, and finished putting himself back together.
I opened my purse and my mask jumped out. Fortunately G was trying to figure out how to button his jacket to cover the buttons I’d ripped off, and missed it.
I finger combed my hair and wiped on some lipstick. I didn’t have to look perfect, but I didn’t want to look freshly fucked, either. I headed for the door.
With my hand on the knob, I turned back to him. “Thank you. I had a very hot time.”
He took a step toward me but stopped. “Can I walk you downstairs?”
I looked down at my high heels, then back up at him. My attraction to him was palpable, but my irritation with myself was even stronger. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see myself out. Good night.”
“Good night, B.”
I flew out the door, down the stairs, and blended into the crowd. The last thing I wanted was for him to watch me leave. Our physical compatibility was undeniable, and it was shitty to deceive him and use him for my story.
He would never know the important role he’d be playing in my reporting, and I planned to keep it that way. I could see it now: The Man in the Venetian Mask…
I might have just found my opening line.
