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I am a virgin.
I am going to a sex club.
I am a virgin who is going to a sex club, and I can’t help but focus on the complete anomaly of this situation.
“That’s it. I’m out,” I deadpan to my best and only friend, Remi, as a familiar flush crawls up my neck and settles onto the apples of my cheeks. “I Googled sex clubs, and those people willeat…my ass…alive.” I enunciate each word in an attempt to rectify this situation—to help my best friend understand that this is really not a good idea.
Upon my extensive internet search, I found a series of books that were banned from online retailers for being too explicit, a dating site for swingers, and hundreds of thousands of images of what I can only assume was sexual…equipment…used on willing participants at clubs just like the one I’ve agreed to go to.
Remi raises her eyebrows and winks. “They may eat your ass, but not in the way you were just implying, babe.”
I groan as she finishes my winged liner. I can do this. There is no reason my heart should be beating out of my damn chest because I’m going to a glorified strip club.
I look in the bathroom mirror as I sit perched on the vanity, and I have to swivel my ass around uncomfortably on the granite countertop to get a good look at what Remi’s done to my face. When my eyes meet my reflection, I gasp.
“Holy shit. What type of magic is this?” I mutter under my breath just as I catch Remi giggling and shaking her head behind me.
“No magic, babe,” Remi says while lighting a three-wick candle that supposedly smells like Fuck the Patriarchy; and while I’m all for that sentiment, I feel like we could get just about any scent from it.
I have exactly one goal for the immediate future: lose my virginity.
It’s been two days since the wedding dress fiasco. Two days since I was hit with the reminder that in less than two weeks now, I’ll be married off from one fucked-up situation to another.
I don’t want to be the weak version of myself that I was in that shop—that I have to be around my family. A woman who doesn’t even recognize herself. One who takes whatever she’s dealt and doesn’t stand up for herself.
I don’t want to be her, but I have to be her.
Just not for the next two weeks.
For the next two weeks, I am living this life for myself because I know once I’m married off to the cartel, I will be even more fucked than I already am.
Step one: I’m choosing who I’m losing my virginity to.
I’m giving myself this one fucking thing that should be mine anyway.
I’ve never been one to have some magnificent idea about what my first time would be like—well, actually, that isn’t the whole truth. I used to. I used to imagine it as some wholesome fairytale…but that was before I realized that the women in my family don’t get happy endings. Then, I realized my first time having sex would likely just be a means to an end…with a man I don’t care about. One who’s been chosen for me.
Now that time is ticking, everything is even more muddled in my brain. More than anything else, I just want this to be my choice.
If I had it my way, I’d like somethingsomewhatmeaningful, but I’m not naïve enough to believe I’m going to find my knight in shining armor like the little girl I once was used to believe.
I didn’t intend on it happening this way, at a sex club. When I was younger, I hoped for some romantic, grand gesture straight out of a romance novel…not getting screwed on a sex swing.
But I digress. I need to lose my virginity.
It’s life or death.
And not in a dramatic way.
If I don’t lose my virginity to someone in the next two weeks, I’ll become just another casualty of my family—just another pawn in my father’s game. And my best friend is giving me the perfect opportunity to take what’s mine.
Remi adjusts the black choker on her neck and flashes a devilish smile my way. “You’re fucking hot, G. Makeup just enhances your universe-given beauty.”
I roll my eyes, and it clearly sets her off, because she scoffs.
“How do you not know how hot you are? For one, I wouldn’t be friends with you if you weren’t hot. I’m a vain bitch. Also,” she says, pointing one finger at me, a fire burning in her light-blue eyes, “you’ve got that Amato DNA, babe. I don’t know if you’ve seen your dad and those beautiful brothers of yours, but I—”
“I will walk out of here, and you will be on your own if you even so much as imply your willingness to jump into bed with the men in my family,” I interrupt her, a half smirk stretching on my face to let her know I’m only kind of being serious.
