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That would explain why I’d never heard anyone other than her mention it.
But… “Adalyn, this is crazy.”
“Everything in life is crazy,” she countered. “Don’t fret about it. I’m not asking you to join. Just enjoy the night. It’s all about Operation Forget the Douche, remember?”
“You’re doing a pretty damn good job,” I admitted, glancing around and taking in all the adornments of the club through a new lens. “That’s real gold on the walls…”
She glanced at it and shrugged. “Probably. Most of the clubs have a flair to them, and this one seems to favor gold.”
“There are more clubs like this?”
“All over the world.” Her gaze took on a faraway gleam, then she blinked. “So anyway, this is the main bar. We can hang out here and have some drinks before we head into the public playrooms for some observation. But the downstairs levels are off-limits to nonmembers, so the public playrooms will be the last part of our journey unless a high-ranking member invites you to a private room.”
“Private room?” I echoed.
She nodded. “They can be reserved. Usually only by Doms, but some subs have the ability to request a certain space. Typically at the request of their Dom, though.” She gave another of those nonchalant lifts of her shoulder, like she wasn’t blowing my mind with each statement, and headed toward the bar.
I followed because I wasn’t sure what else to do.
The bartender greeted her by name, recognizing her even with the mask on, and scanned her wrist before making her a drink—a drink she didn’t actually order. But the bartender clearly knew her preferences because he returned with a chocolate martini. “Does your guest want anything?” he asked, his eyes on Adalyn instead of me.
She glanced at me, her dark eyes lingering. “She needs something strong. It’s her first time in a club like this.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Something strong, but not too powerful. Consent is important.”
She dipped her chin in agreement, but her gaze took on that faraway gleam again. Except it disappeared in a blink as she pointed to a section of couches. “That’s where I usually like to wait.”
“Wait?” I repeated.
“For someone to approach me,” she explained, her gaze twinkling. “Come on, I’ll teach you. Francesco will bring the drink to us.”
“Will I?” he drawled.
She gave him a sweet smile. “Won’t you?”
He returned her look with a knowing one. “Brat.”
“You love it.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “Go to your throne. I’ll serve you in a minute, Your Majesty.”
“You’re too kind,” she replied, blowing him a kiss before picking up her martini and carefully leading the way to her favorite couch. She set the glass on the table in front of it, then sat down with a graceful flourish I envied. Adalyn always made everything look easy.
I settled beside her—far less gracefully—and crossed my legs. “This is a really soft couch.”
“I know. I’ve slept on it before.”
I glanced at her. “You spend a lot of time here.”
“I have a quota,” she replied, giving me a grin.
“A quota?”
She merely smiled again, then started searching the room without explaining her word choice. Knowing Adalyn, it was her way of making a joke about her need for sex.
I wished I could be as open and as adventurous as her. But my mind had been thoroughly wrapped up in—
Nope.
