Chapter 9
Varden
It was a relief to get out of the house after bailing out Beau.
The poor bastard had had nothing but a dark cloud hanging over his head since he was a kid. It was one of the reasons I didn’t get upset with him when things did implode for him. Maybe I was an enabler, but I really believed he was doing the best he could.
Given the circumstances.
Like always, club ritual of pulling my mask on transformed me into a different person—one without a care in the world. I said my customary hellos on the first floor and spent my usual five minutes flirting with Miss M, then wandered up to the mezzanine.
It was early yet.
I inhaled the wood scent of my mask, further chasing away concerns of the day and erasing, at least for a time, both the past and future. Wearing it, I existed only in the moment. And I desperately needed it on a night like tonight, when the past threatened to catch up and take me down.
No one could see my face, no one knew who I was, and no one knew anything about me. I was nobody but G, and that was just how I planned to keep it.
In the dimly lighting, two women perched on the sofa where X, Y, and Z had been the evening before. I passed them on my way to get a bourbon, and threw a small smile in their direction.
I wasn’t ready to engage. Hell, I might not be for the entire evening. I was usually all too happy for any hot chick to wrap her lip around my hard dick, but tonight I was feeling mellow. Watching might be the extent of things. Time would tell.
Drink in hand, I settled into a large, comfy club chair in a corner where I figured I’d be left alone, and where I’d have enough privacy to lift my mask long enough for a nice long draw on my liquor.
I tried to get a better look at the two women I’d just passed, but it was hard in the low light. From what I could see, the first, a stunner with short black hair, was a club regular. I’d played with her once or twice. What the hell was her name? With these silly one-letter labels, I could barely keep anyone straight.
I couldn’t get a read on the woman opposite her, facing away from me. She had nicely toned shoulders and arms—that much I could make out, thanks to her skimpy top. Thick dark hair spilled in waves down her back. Perfect for grabbing. She ran her hand through it over and over, as if she were nervous.
That sort of vulnerability killed me, and usually ended up working in my favor.
I finished my drink and headed for the third floor. There was probably something going on up there; there always was. I could usually count on seeing some gorgeous thing get pounded by a guy with a baseball bat for a dick. Those scenes often turned into group play.
Great way to get your balls licked, if you were in the mood.
But approaching the stairs, a surprise nearly blasted me off my feet. The women I’d just been checking out were heading upstairs, themselves.
And the one in the halter-top whose face I’d not been able to see?
I knew her. In fact, I’d just seen her one hour earlier.
Holy shit.
She was my fucking attorney’s daughter. The pretty young thing who worked for the paper. Whom I’d just had dinner with at City Grille.
What was her name again? Susie? Sally? Cindy?
What the hell was she doing there? And what would her old man say?
I had half a mind to leave the club. Just go home. Call it a night.
They climbed the stairs, noticing me standing in place, frozen. Thank god for the mask.
“Hi, G,” the one with the red lips said.
“Nice to see you,” I managed to return.
Hugh’s daughter smiled and said nothing.
Saffi. Her name was Saffi.
Dinner ran through my mind again. I hadn’t really paid her much attention, aside from thinking how gorgeous she was and how it might be nice to fuck her, had she not been my attorney’s daughter.
Apparently, she was also a kinky little slut.
After my initial surprise and the urge to bolt wore off, I followed them because, of course, who the hell wouldn’t? Had she been there before? Was this her first time? And how the hell did she even get in?
I sure liked what I saw, just as I had at dinner. Nice, curvy ass encased in tight jeans, and that low-cut halter showing just enough side boob to reveal some very nice and very real tits.
I pretended I was looking for someone in order to put some distance between us. It wouldn’t pay to seem stalkerish. And wouldn’t you know it, they headed right for the ultra-private Twist Room.
MyTwist Room.
Christ.
They knocked, and the huge bouncer admitted them. He noticed me, too, and beckoned me inside. Men went through all sorts of membership hell to join Club Silk, and even more to have access to Twist. But beautiful women had only to look in the direction of the door, and the discriminating and loyal bouncer not only welcomed them, but also made them comfortable if there was any hesitation—like there was a party inside they couldn’t possibly miss.
The door clicked behind us. Time to make my move. Who cared if she was my attorney’s daughter? If she had the balls to show up in a place like Silk, she was fair game.
“Ladies. I hope you’re enjoying your evening,” I said.
“It’s been awhile,” the one with the lipstick replied.
That’s right. She remembers how nicely I fucked her.
“Hello, beautiful,” I said to her. “And who is your friend here?”