Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I guess these things never go out of style.
We make it to the front of the line, where a man with a sharp jaw, a wicked smirk, and buzzed hair greets us easily as he walks up to the bouncer checking people in.
“And here I thought I had a chance to win best dressed,” the man says, playfully as he motions for Taylor to do a little twirl.
Taylor giggles, her cheeks going pink as she plays along. Her strappy red gown flares at the base as she twirls, showing off her curves and the flow of her honey-blonde hair.
“Red’s your color, doll. Stunning, both of you.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Taylor says with a lascivious wink as she hands our tickets over. “I’m not sure if transfers are okay, but a friend of mine couldn’t make it, so she gave these to us.”
The man takes the tickets, double-checking something against the tablet resting on the desk in front of the bouncer.
“Normally I’d play by the rules, but your friend did email us, so as long as you two have your IDs, you’re good to go.” He flicks his tongue out to wet his lips as he smirks at Taylor. “Besides, I can’t say no to a face like that.”
I’ve never seen Taylor flustered when someone flirts with her before, but this guy seems to be ticking all her boxes. If I wasn’t so anxious about being here in the first place, I might enjoy watching her blush as we hand our IDs over to him.
He takes them and taps in our information before handing them back.
“Perfect,” he says, spinning the tablet around that’s attached to the podium so that we can scroll through the document. “Just some house rules and an explanation of the auction. Sign away your life at the bottom, if you please.”
Taylor laughs easily, scrawling out a signature at the bottom of the screen before sliding the tablet over to me. I scan through the document briefly; nothing in particular jumps out at me. It’s just a club, it’s not like there would be anything really specific in here. I scratch out my own signature as Taylor shamelessly flirts.
The man flirts back with her, meeting her tit for tat as he gets our auction tickets ready. I can tell she’s going to be coming back for his number later.
“Please, do enjoy yourselves to the fullest, ladies,” he says, handing us our ticket stubs back as he rakes his bright blue eyes over Taylor’s body. “If you need anything, just ask for Tommy. I’d be happy to help.”
“I’m sure you would,” Taylor teases, dragging her fingers along his arm as we step past him.
I roll my eyes teasingly as a hulking man pulls the door to the club open, gesturing us inside. My heart jumps into my chest at the realization that this is actually happening, that there’s a chance I’ll see my mystery man again after weeks of wanting and waiting. I start scanning the room as soon as we step inside, hoping to see him immediately.
Maybe it’ll be like a fairy tale, where everything fades away and I run into his arms and live happily ever after. As soon as I start looking through the crowd, though, my mind stalls out like a broken record.
This is… not what I expected.
Taylor’s usual haunts are upscale cocktail lounges, all marble flooring and velvet seating, but this is closer to warehouse chic. It’s lavishly decorated, low lights scattering a warm glow across the plush leather couches and armchairs arranged around small tables. A bar stretches along the entire back wall, glittering bottles of alcohol and mixers resting on sturdy oak shelves. A stage takes up the opposite wall of the room, with heavy black curtains serving as a backdrop and an announcement podium off to the side. Tasteful black and white silhouette paintings and pictures line the walls, just a hint of sensuality without being overtly erotic. Crystal chandeliers cast sparkling rays down on the crowd.
That’s not what really catches my attention. It’s the people.
I was expecting everyone to be dressed similarly to us. It’s an upscale, private event, so it makes sense for everyone to be dressed to the nines. Instead, several of the people I saw outside wearing long coats are now wearing what barely amounts to lingerie. Bodies clad in lace and leather stand between those in satin gowns and others in low-cut clubwear.
The only thing that everyone has in common is a mask covering at least half of their face.
As soon as Taylor stops at one of the high-top tables at the edge of the room, I lean close to whisper into her ear.
“I thought this was a networking event! Where the hell did you bring me?”
Taylor laughs, the gold edges of her lacy mask catching the light and the eyes of several people around us. Despite my obvious attempt to be subtle, she doesn’t whisper back, instead propping her elbow on the tabletop and resting her chin in her palm.