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What would Dylan even think if he knew we were going to Club Sin,together? I bet he would Flip. Oh my god, does Dylan go there too, is there any way I could be spotted by him?
Before I am all the way changed I run down the hall in barely more than my bra and panties to ask Lance.
“Yes!”
“What?” Confused because I haven’t even asked him the question yet, I look down at my half-naked body. “Oh, no, I wasn’t finished getting dressed yet.”
“You are finished,” Lance asserts. And I don’t miss the way his eyes darken as they linger on me.
“I’m not even wearing shoes.”
“Go grab some heels. We gotta go in fifteen.”
“Okay, fine,” I relent. I have no idea what else to wear anyway. And I trust him. I do.
I. Trust. Lance…whoa. There’s a nice, comforting revelation.
“So, question,” I say as I come back down the hallway toward the foyer, where Lance is standing there waiting looking like goddamn royalty.Fuckableroyalty. I swallow that thought, wholly. “Any chance Dylan will be there?”
“No.”
“Are yousure?”
“Way I see it, anyone who’s there who could judge me for being there,is also there. If Dylan spotted you I guarantee he would run out of that place like a bat out of hell before you could catch him.”
“Okay. Yeah. That makes sense. Oh wait!” I go back to my room, grab my purse and a ChapStick, and meet him at the front door again.
“Damn, you look sexy, pretty girl.”
My cheeks fill with fire ants. I blink up at him. “You look good too.”
“Thank you.” He dips his head to drop a kiss on my head. “Don’t worry about anything tonight, I got you.”
Yeah…He’s got me.
~ * ~
We walk into Club Sin, the music pulsing from the speakers. It immediately puts me in the mood to dance. Lance pays the expensive-ass cover like it’s nothing. He takes my hand and leads me through the main lower level scattered with lounge chairs and couches all laid out in groups, and then straight toward the dance floor. He knows me. Or reads minds. Maybe both?
I giggle to myself as he whirls me onto the center of the dance floor. The space is dotted with stripper poles and stages to dance up higher on that it seems like anyone here can just get up on whenever they want to. Girls are kissing girls and guys kiss guys. There’s so much freedom.
Can anyone here, doanythinghere? I start to wonder.
All around us, bodies ebb and flow with the pulse of the lights and moderate thump of the music’s bass. I can make out some couples, and couples of couples, sitting and half sprawled out on the couches. Everyone looks so, distinctly,cozy. Like they’re having a great time, feeling sexy and sensual and relaxed all wrapped up in one.
When was the last time I felt both relaxed and turned-on? It’s been a source of frustration to be horny. Like I just need release, and I need it right now. How would it feel to prolong that satisfaction, I wonder? How would it feel to not be in a rush, to just relax and enjoy it because I would know that the climb, even the slow, slow one, leads to pure pleasure, to bliss, toeuphoria—as opposed to a fight, a comedown, a contempt where contentment should only be?
I realize,veryquickly, that this is a welcoming, safe place. Everyone is looking at everyone, and no one is judging anyone. I gaze right back. Right into their faces and at their bodies. And I smile. I get so many smiles of appreciation, too. And it feelsgood.
Lance spins me around so my back is pressed against his front. He’s so much bigger than me. So much stronger. Harder. A mirror spans the length of the wall in front of me and from the floor to the ceiling. His hands coast ever so languidly down my sides, then up. Down, and up. He presses us closer. I feel, more than hear, the groan that rumbles through his muscular chest. His head dips down to grumble against my earlobe, “God, you’re hot.”
I close my eyes, savoring the moment, the music, the feeling. It’s indescribable.
“Ready for a drink?” He kisses my cheek.
“Yes, please.” I smile up over my shoulder at him. Lance’s hand on top of mine takes its sweet, sweet time leaving it.
Good lord, I am in trouble.I’m falling for him.
