The Club (6 page)

“You as well.”

The entire
ride up, one question burns through me: why the hell does he have to be my
client?

George opens
the cab door for me. “Good evening, Ms. Edwards. There is another parcel for
you.”

“You’re sure?”
Dread fills me. I haven’t received my divorce papers yet, and I desperately
don't want to see them, even if I have to face the facts. If I’m really lucky
maybe Evan will have stuck one of his ultrasound photos of the baby in them.

He opens the
door to the building for me and follows me to the desk. He looks for a moment
behind the desk before lifting a box like the first one. It’s a dress box for
sure. My insides burn with something I wish I could label fear or anxiety but
it’s mostly excitement. The idea of the entire evening being spent with
reckless abandon is stimulating and racy, but only for a moment. “Is there a
return address?”

He shakes his
head, squinting and looking at the box. “Nothing but your name.”

I sigh, taking
it from him and turning toward the elevator. Apparently, my text to cancel my
membership at Club Sin wasn't well received. I can’t help but wonder if maybe I
can just wait for the woman in black to come and hand her back the card and the
box, explaining my lack of interest.

In the
elevator the box makes me feel a bit dirty. I know there’s going to be a mask
and something fitting for being pawed and getting too drunk. When the doors
open I run to my apartment, shoving my door open and throwing the box down. I
close the door with my back and lean against it.

I agree not to
open the box. It’s mental and not the strongest of agreements I have made with
myself.

The phone
rings, distracting me. I step over the sordid white box, lifting the phone off
the counter. “Hello?” There is silence for a moment. I say it again. “Hello?”

“Hi, Hannah.”
It’s Evan.

I gag a little
bit. “What?”

He’s silent
again for a moment before speaking softly. “I haven’t received my alimony payments
yet, and when I spoke to the lawyer he said you hadn’t filled out the necessary
paperwork. He had sent you some forms to sign to ensure we don't have to be the
ones to discuss it.”

I glance at
the manila envelope on my counter, slumping a little spiritually. “I have
signed them and sent them off. He should have them any day.” I pause for a
moment, desperate to rein my hate in but it doesn't work. “Have you found a
better job yet? One more suitable for a man about to have a kid?” He is the
hipster joke, only in the flesh. I used to think his little songs were sweet.
Now I see just what Logan was talking about. Finding someone like Logan or me
is hard work. Finding a cute piece of ass is simple.

“No, I
actually cut my hours a bit. We can make it on my income alone for the year so
we can both bond with the baby. It’s good for the dad and mom to both be part
of their life, equally.”

I shudder.
“Your income?”

He chuckles. I
know he is fucking loving this. “My alimony and the buy out of our marital
assets. It’s going to be enough to get me through the year. I’ll look for work
when she turns one.”

I gag again.
“She?”

“We just found
out. We’re having a girl.”

I don't have
anything to add to it. “Let me know if he doesn't receive the paperwork.” I
don't wait for him to respond. I hang up and lean against the wall. The white
box in my peripheral is calling to me. A night of reckless fun, just a night.
Just enough of something sinful to make the ache and longing leave my soul. I
grab the fucking manila envelope, tearing it open and fill out the information.
I want to burn the documents but I know the ramifications of that rage. I am
not that girl. I am not vengeful and I am not irresponsible. Hence the reason
we have money in the first place. I stuff the paperwork back into the envelope
and dial the front desk.

“George, can
you come and get this envelope. I need it mailed out ASAP, please.” I hang up
the phone and stare at the white box on the floor. The idea of someone besides
my trusty vibrator touching my vagina makes me tingle inside. The dark-blue
eyes. The handsome smile. The soft kiss. The intensity.

It all starts
coming back to me. Logan and the way his mouth landed on my hand and the way he
smirked when he said my name for the first time. Could it be? Would he know who
I was or not?

The knock at
the door startles me. I jump, taking the envelope to the door. I hand him the
envelope, almost rudely and nod. “Thank you, George.”

I close the
door again, feeling as if the box is creeping closer or becoming larger somehow.
I back away from it, getting closer to the kitchen. I grab the bottle of Grey
Goose from the freezer and pull the cork. Drinking it back, straight from the
bottle, I process the entire possibility the man in the mask was Logan Bennett
and what that means for me—and my vagina.

Oh God!

Logan Bennett
has touched my vagina!

Hasn't he?

Sweat starts
to trickle down the sides of my face as I contemplate it all, not actually
upset by the fact he was the man in the mask, but more disturbed by the fact I
begged him for sex. I slide down the kitchen wall, staring at the white box
like it is a murder weapon or a dead body. The Grey Goose slides down my
throat, cooling me off but making my head spin a little.

I cork it back
up, placing it on the floor and crawl to the box. I might officially be having
the worst day in history.

When I reach
the box, my hands take over, ripping the white cardboard open—shaking as
I do it. Again the open box reveals a small envelope, a plain deep purple mask,
and a dress. All of which is wrapped in pretty purple paper.

The dress is
like nothing I have ever seen. It’s black silk with a V so long down the back
of it, I dare say my ass crack will show. It’s on the slim side and very light,
like a negligee.

Slipping the
fabric between my fingers causes my nipples to start to poke through my shirt.
The idea of him grazing my skin through this dress is something I would desire
even if I didn't know it was Logan. The fabric is so soft I would let just
about anyone touch me in it.

But the fact I
know it’s him, I feel more inspired to go. I tell myself a thousand lies. I
want to go so that I can see him again and make him want me and make him beg,
but then turn him away the way he did me. Even if I am not a vengeful girl, the
idea of giving him a taste of his own medicine makes me hot. I want to play
this game with him. I want to cat and mouse about the room.

And most
importantly I want to win.

I get ready
quickly, doing the exact same routine as last time. First the plucking followed
up by a quick shave. My wax job has managed to last. I put my hair up in a
French twist and put my face on. I go for dramatic and theatrical, rather than
pretty. The peacock coloring of the makeup looks stunning when I add the mask.

I slip the
silky dress over my naked body, not adding a bra or underwear, and pause to
look at myself in the mirror. The dress almost exposes my breasts with the side
boob. The back dips as low as I feared, right to the crack of my ass. You can
just see the dip at the top of my ass. That isn’t exactly the way I want to be
seen, but this time I am going with a mission in mind. How could I have been so
slow and dim witted as to not realize it was Logan? When he came into my office
I should have recognized him right away. Drinking too much might have been the
reason I lost him in the haze that first night.

The note is
the only thing left to do, so I read it quickly before looking at the time.

Dear Ms. Edwards,

We are ecstatic you wish to join us again
on our endeavor to find pleasure amongst a sea of anonymity. Please note that
there will not be anyone to escort you, as this is your second time joining us.
A car will be waiting for you at nine o’clock sharp.

Sincerely

LB

LB huh? Logan
Bennett. I am thick.

Just as the
note says, the car is waiting for me when I get downstairs. George gets the
door for me, smiling at my outfit. I am grateful he only sees the trench coat
and not what’s underneath it.

I hurry out to
the driver waiting for me. He doesn't speak, just closes the door as I get in.
Again the wall is closed between the driver and me.

He starts the
car, driving only a block before opening the divider between us. He smiles at
me in the rearview mirror. His face is chubby. He’s an older gentleman with
grey hair and wrinkles. “There’s some champagne, please help yourself.” He
closes the divider and again I am alone, with my thoughts. I open the small
bar, finding a small bottle of champagne chilling. It has been corked for me so
I open it and pour it into the crystal glass next to it in the bar. Mentally I
remind myself not to get trashed this time. I need to stay alert so I can drive
Logan as wild as he did me. We don't drive out of town like we did last time.
This time we drive across the bridge but instead of heading for the outskirts
of the city, we head for a building in Brooklyn. I don't know it; I don't cross
the bridge as often as one would expect.

He stops at a
bar actually. It’s quite odd for me to be dressed the way I am and to be going
into a public bar. He opens the door, taking my glass and helping me from the
car. I realize instantly I am far drunker than I intended to be. I glance back
at the glass, cocking an eyebrow. “Is that champagne drugged?”

“Enhanced,” he
grins, chuckling slightly. “Are you feeling the effects too heavily?”

I shake my
head but he steps in closer, whispering, “If you are unwell you may get back
into the car.”

“I think I’m
okay, but thank you for caring.” I wobble back a bit. He tips his hat and walks
back to his door to get in.

When I stumble
inside of the bar door, I realize instantly I am in the right place. It’s
overly crowded with people all wearing masks and doing the same thing as last
time. Only this time it’s a dance club, like a real bar and the music is a DJ.
Everyone is a writhing sea of touching, kissing, and grinding their bodies into
other people. A man thrusts, making a woman quiver from the table where she is
sitting with her legs around him. I believe they are actually having sex, but
for whatever reason I don't care. I’m not offended by the jerking of his ass as
he fills her.

Instead, I
roam the club, slipping my trench coat off, letting it fall to one arm, and
walk into the crowd as the music begins to own me. The flashing of the lights
and the darkness of the room make the movements appear more like a seizure. You
only get a small flash of the movement before it’s dark again in between light
flashes or flares.

The room spins
as I make it to the bar, finding an empty spot to wave at the bartender from.
He points at me. “You!”

I look behind
me, scowling. I only just sat down and already it’s my turn. I open my mouth to
order but he hands me a drink, winking.

I sniff it,
wondering if it’s also drugged and if that's why I can’t recall much in the way
of decision making from the last time I was with this crowd.

It smells like
a cosmo, so I tip it back and down the drink.

The girl next
to me leans in, using me as a stabilizer. Her fingers grip to my arm as she
parts her ruby-red lips in ecstasy.

I glance down
at the man under the bar with his head buried between her thighs. His hand
jerks slightly between her legs as she shudders, maintaining her grip on me.
She glances at me, leaning closer. The beads of sweat are formed perfectly on
her slightly freckled nose. She kisses me hard, sliding her watermelon tasting
tongue into my mouth. I don't want to kiss her, not while a man sucks her pussy
but my body disagrees with my mind. I linger, letting her suck my lips, leaving
her lipstick on me.

Suddenly a
pair of hands pull me back on the stool. I stumble but am lifted from the
ground before I can fall. When I turn I see him, the same black mask and
dark-blue eyes from last time. Even the suit is the same. He picks me up and
carries me to a dark hallway. He smells just as he did the last time I saw him,
at the bar with Bec.

He pulls me
into him, sliding me down his torso to the floor. “It’s you.” I mutter, knowing
full well who he is.

“So it is.”
That velvety voice is none other than Logan—I would know him anywhere.
The drugs try to lie. They try to convince me there are small differences. But
I can see him plain enough to know the lies from the truth.

His fingers
lift, lightly tracing the silky fabric over my bare nipples. Shivers race up
and down me, making my pussy twitch with want and need. He traces the fabric
for several seconds, lightly pinching and flicking until a soft moan escapes my
lips. It’s then his face descends upon mine. He kisses, sucking the random
lady’s lipstick from my lips and biting at just the right moment.

His belt
buckle and the movement of his other hand happen somewhere in the background. I
know the noise and the feel but I hardly register it. His hands lift the fabric
of my dress, making it slide across my body in cool waves. I think it’s his
fingers dipping between my thighs to find the moisture of my soaked pussy.