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I walked to the door and opened it. I let her out first, like the gentleman I was, before I followed her through the club.
This part of the club was for sex. Everyone was naked, and couples were twisted in various positions. I passed a couple where a woman was against the wall, a large male pinning her, his hips pumping hard and fast.
Another couple had the woman on her back on a couch, his mouth around her pussy. Two women and a man on the couch were involved in heavy petting, their faces riddled with pleasure, eyes filled with hunger. The music overhead pulsed, the bass thrumming through my bones, swallowing the sounds of sex, the cries and the moans, so that the picture was erotic with a soundtrack that topped it all off like the cherry on the cake.
A cherry that some people popped in here.
I grinned at my stupid joke and adjusted my pants, trying to rearrange my hard cock.
When I stepped into the front room, the sex faded away, and the music shifted from insistent to suggestive. Here, the patrons got to know each other—they were still dressed, they drank and talked and decided what kind of play they wanted to get involved in once they stepped through the doors. Did they want to have group sex, did they want to watch or be watched, or did they want to go to more private lounges or rooms where it could be just the two, three, four of them without others getting involved?
At Sapphire, anything worked as long as it was consensual.
Finally, I walked to my office and dropped the file Felix had given me on the desk. I sat down in the chair and flipped the file open again.
Those hazel eyes looked through the photo straight at me, and it felt like they were boring into my soul.
Oaklee Gilbert.
Something about her tugged at me again, and I couldn’t place her. She was beautiful, but there was something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Something almost familiar.
One thing was for sure: I was going to be here to meet her on Thursday. If a photo got to me like this, I wanted to see the real deal.
4
OAKLEE
Ilooked in the mirror one last time. I’d put on black patent leather pants and a loose blouse with a neckline that was low enough to make you wonder but high enough to still be office appropriate.
What was “office appropriate” at a sex club? I wasn’t sure, Serena had looked decent enough, and it wasn’t like I would be working on the floor or anything. This was probably fine.
I ran a brush through my red hair and put on lip gloss. Smokey eyes, mascara, rosy cheeks—was I trying too hard?
My phone rang. Nadia’s name flashed on the caller ID.
“Good luck on your first day!” she cried out when I answered. “I want to knoweverything.”
I giggled, nerves making my throat tighten.
“I’m sure I’ll have a lot to share. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I want to know what he’s like,” Nadia breathed.
She was talking about Jameson.
“I don’t even know if I’ll meet him. He had someone else do the interview, and I’m just doing admin, so it’s not like I’m someone special.”
“I’m crossing my fingers. Get a photo, if you can?”
I burst out laughing. “I think that might be against every rule ever written for a place like that.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Nadia said. “Be safe, okay?”
My stomach twisted. Right. Safety was a whole different topic when it came to my job at Sapphire. After what Nadia had told me about Jameson and how he treated people, I was more nervous than ever to do this. I had to, though. It was my way of sticking it to my dad.
I’d been a victim for so long. I had to change it, and this was the first step.
Would it ruin my dad’s entire life?
