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“The club. It’s called Climax.” His bewildered expression changes into one of horror, fully realizing what he said. “I am so sorry. Please accept my apology, I didn’t mean it like that.”
I let out a small chuckle, which turns into a fit of hysterical laughter. The Club is called Climax. He wasn’t asking me how I bring myself to orgasm, or what positions get me off, he was genuinely wondering why I’m at the club. How did I not know that club was called Climax? For some reason, it makes sense. The name most definitely fits the vibe.
After my fit of laughter starts to subside, I hold my hands up in surrender. “Apology accepted. This is going to make for a great story though,” I say, already imagining relaying this exact scene to my sister tomorrow.
“I wasn’t thinking.” He ponders a moment before saying, “That name might have to change.” A stern look crosses Holden’s face and his eyebrows pull together, creating tiny stress lines on his brow. It’s an attractive look for him. Let’s face it, any look is an attractive look for him.
“I kind of like the name,” I tease. “After all, it’s a great conversation opener.” I’m rewarded with a hint of a smile pulling on his lips. Wanting to keep the conversation going, I answer his question, “It was my sister’s idea. She decided that I needed a night out, and I think she’s right.”
“You looked like you were enjoying yourself out there,” he indicates to the dance floor with a tilt of his head. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”
A blush spreads across my face, and I try to duck my head to the side to keep him from noticing. Maybe the dark lighting will cover it up and save me from embarrassment. “Let me go
ahead and apologize for my performance. The only dancing I do is in the privacy of my own home. Tonight was an exception.”
Instead of laughing, or agreeing with me, he stops and looks intently down my body then back up to my face. “I meant what I said. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you from the moment I spotted you.”
I should have felt threatened or creeped out by his admission, but I’m not. I am strangely comfortable in his presence, which is not normal at all. Sure, I’ll talk to anyone once I’ve had some drinks, but my last drink was some time ago, not having had another drink since first arriving. I’m basically sober, no longer feeling the effects of the alcohol. To distract myself from this fact, I quickly unscrew the cap of my water bottle and take a swig.
I decided to turn his question back at him. “So, what brings you here?” Keeping my hands busy, I recap the bottle and fiddle with the plastic ring around the rim.
“My business partner and I are buying the place. He wants to buy up nightclubs as an investment, I’m supporting it.” Holden is a businessman. It makes sense. He must be a successful one at that if he is buying a club.
He leans back against the backrest of the booth and casually brings his arm to rest atop it, bracing over my shoulders without actually touching me or making me feel uncomfortable. I get a whiff of his cologne and I could die with how good he smells.
“A businessman, huh?” I toss out, my tone disbelieving. It’s not that I don’t believe him, but I know how guys will say anything to get a girl to fall for them.
He casually reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fancy business card and holds it out to me. I take it from him, feeling the thick texture of the card. Emblazoned on the white card, in a fancy font scrawled across reads ‘Cooper and Pike Enterprises” with a New York address listed below. It looks legit.
“You’re from New York?”
“Originally, I’m from here. Ryan, my partner, and I, both grew up in Chicago. He wanted to invest in some businesses in the area, which is why we are back in town.” Holden leans in, whispering, “I’m glad we are here tonight though.”
Almost unconsciously, I lean into him. Both of us are locked into our conversation, and the sound of the music fades into the background. I am beyond my depth with this man. My experience with men of Holden’s caliber is non-existent. I like to think I date attractive men, but Holden is a completely different specimen.
“Everly?” My name from his mouth pulls me from my thoughts. We are so close to each other, our thighs once inches apart are now flush. When did we move together? I don’t recall. I jolt up, putting some space between us again, my heart breaking out into a pounding pulse.
“What? Sorry.” I hadn’t even realized he had spoken.
Holden repeats his question, asking me about myself.
We speak for some time, asking each other questions back and forth. I’ve learned that he owns several restaurants, and buildings, and is the CEO of his own company. In turn, he learns about me, my job, my hobbies, and what brings me back to Chicago. The conversation is easy, all the while that tingle of desire brewing under my skin, setting me on edge.
We speak for so long that I forget all about the fact that I am waiting for an Uber to pick me up. I look down at my phone for the first time since putting in for the ride and realize that it has been almost an hour. I have no notifications saying that my ride was picked up. Questioning, I click through the app to make sure that my ride is still posted, and it is. What is going on?
Holden is watching me with a curious gaze. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah. I was sitting here waiting for an Uber to pick me up, but no one has accepted my ride.” I confess. The time is now nearing 1 am. “I should go look for a cab.” I quickly stand up and face him, extending my hand. “It was nice meeting you, Holden.”
Slowly, he pulls himself up to stand next to me and takes my hand in his once more. He is so much taller than me. Even in my sensible 2-inch heels, my 5’7” is nothing compared to his at least 6’1”. “Everly,” he whispers as I drag my hand from his and make my way to the exit.
I can’t believe I am walking away from him. From a man that showed interest in me. Genuine interest in me, who was amazingly handsome and easy to talk to.
I allow myself one glance back at Holden, a look of forlorn crossing his face as he watches me walk away from him. Mentally I am chastising myself as I push the heavy door open and a frigid wind blasts into my face, momentarily knocking the breath from my lungs.
For a moment, I’m discombobulated. Snow is swirling through the night sky, piles of it already accumulated against the walls of the buildings and covering the roads. Quickly looking around, I notice there are no cars on the road. Now the emptying club makes more sense. People were trying to get out before the weather hit.
Winter weather is not uncommon in Chicago. The winter storm was projected to hit further south near Joliet tomorrow, but it looks like it has veered straight toward the city, a day sooner than expected. Is there ever going to be a time meteorologists get it right?
