Chapter Seven

The following Tuesday, as sunset approached, Tori rode the Tube from Chancery Lane to Canary Wharf station, fuming all the way.

Ian King had been in her court again today, but this time he’d behaved like a perfect gentleman. It seemed he’d finally got the message that she wasn’t interested. That was a good thing, she told herself, because she was engaged now. Sort of.

She fumed on the short walk to her high-rise building in the posh Canary Wharf district. She waved to her always-friendly doorman.

“Good evening, Ms. Justice Whittingstall.”

“Johnny, how many times do I need to tell you to call me Tori?”

“I know. I know,” he replied, grinning at their ongoing joke. “But management says—”

She laughed and waved again before boarding the elevator to the thirty-first floor.

As she always did upon arriving home, she paused just inside the doorway of her two-bedroom flat, pride and elation filling her. She stood in her tiled foyer gazing at the expansive view of the Thames River through giant windows. This place, her castle in the sky, belonged to her alone, the culmination of her dreams, made possible through her hard work.

However, tonight the solitude of her stronghold didn’t carry the same satisfaction. Everything she’d strived for was hers now, or nearly so. Her last dream—the chance for lifelong companionship with someone who loved her—only awaited her acceptance.

So why did she feel so empty?

She opened her best bottle of wine, a ’08 Château Ducru Beaucaillou she’d been saving for a special occasion that never seemed to arrive. Tempted to do the unthinkable and swig it directly from the bottle, she raised it to her lips.

Instead, lowering the bottle, she poured herself a proper glassful and walked to stand before the floor-to-ceiling windows, toasting herself with rueful humor.

“To me. Forty-three and still waiting for my inner sex goddess to come out and play.”

Downing the wine swiftly, she welcomed its dulling effects.

“Don’t be an idiot,” she scoffed. If there was really more to sex than mild satisfaction, wouldn’t she have experienced it by now? She hadn’t had all that many lovers in her life, but neither had she been a nun. Those amazing, earth-moving orgasms everyone talked about were a myth. Or, more likely, she was incapable of free-spirited sexuality.

Hell’s bells! She couldn’t even bring herself to drink her own wine improperly.

Turning away from the view, she went to the kitchen. Diana would arrive soon for their twice-monthly dine-in and chat fest. They were always on Tuesdays when Rupert played squash at his health club. Tonight, she badly needed a distraction. Luckily, her friend arrived early, because Tori’d already swigged half the bottle and had barely started making dinner.

Lady Diana Stanhope came by her title through her aristocratic bloodlines and again through marriage. A member of a very old family, she’d enjoyed every advantage growing up and had married an equal at her parents’ behest. Later, when her philandering husband’s public escapades became too painful to bear, she had parted ways with both her spouse and her staid upbringing. Still fabulously wealthy, public service through high-level charity work was now her only career. She lived the independent life of a rich, titled socialite and enjoyed every minute of it.

While Diana threw together a simple meal, Tori sat at the table and spilled the details of her courtroom battle with the arrogant Ian King, but she kept Rupert’s proposal a secret, not wanting Diana’s negative views of him to weigh in her decision.

“Dahling, I think this King fellow would be just the thing to help you finally put men like James and Rupert behind you. Try someone young and hot, and you’ll finally pop like a helium balloon.”

“First, I’m still with Rupert. And second, King just wants a quick bonk.”

“Dahling, a quick fuck—or two or three—would do you good.”

“That’s crazy. This is me, remember? I can’t date someone that young, and a barrister to boot. Further, I’d have to disclose our relationship to the Royal Courts. And if word got out publicly, it would hurt my reputation. Call into question my judgment.”

“Nonsense. What you do in your private life should be…private.”

“Nothing ever stays private.”

“That’s not true, and I’m living proof. Do you remember how I dated a different gentleman every night of the week once I got my freedom?”

“Yes, the papers were full of your exploits. You went through a string of handsome young guys, but I felt bad for you—all the awful publicity and people calling you a cougar.”

Truthfully, at times, Tori had envied her friend’s sense of freedom from stultifying social restrictions. But Diana hadn’t had to earn her position. Tori couldn’t flip off society and get away with it like she did.

“Don’t feel awful on my account.” Diana laughed delightedly. “I love sex and lots of it. I enjoyed every minute with those beaux, both in public and in private. Younger men have enough stamina to keep up with me. Well, almost.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Have you noticed lately my constant presence on the society pages has dropped off?”

“Yes, but you haven’t mentioned anyone special. I assumed—I don’t know, that you’d grown tired of all the sex.”

“Never!” Her friend smiled at her conspiratorially. “And no, no one special. What I have instead is a delicious new avenue for fulfilling my appetites. I think it’s time I share my marvelous secret with you, because clearly you need to vent some of your pent-up appetite for the delicious Mr. King. Especially since you seem determined not to let him into your knickers.”

“You keep forgetting, on purpose, no doubt, that I already have a guy.”

“Rupert! Not him. He wouldn’t know what to do with you if you were gift wrapped and came with written instructions.” Diana leaned forward excitedly and, in a faux whisper, murmured, “What you need, my friend, is a night at Club Exotica.” Giving her a saucy wink, she added, “Its very purpose is to fulfill a woman’s wildest fantasies, and it truly gratifies, I promise you that.”

“Club what? I’ve never heard of it.” Tori stared at her friend in confusion.

“Club Exotica. And you’ve never heard of it because it’s utterly private. It’s been around for years and no one has ever heard of it. So you see, some things can remain secret. I’ve had a membership for six months, and it’s worth every penny. It’s my naughty little secret.”

“What is it, exactly? A new bar in town?”

“Yes, and so much more. But please—” Diana broke off, suddenly anxious. “Please promise you won’t be disappointed in me?”

“What are you talking about? I could never be, but your hesitation is making me concerned. If it’s something illegal, don’t tell me. I’d be obligated to—”

“No, dahling. It’s not illegal. But I’m worried you might think less of me, because, well, it’s pretty out there. I mean like really out—”

“Diana! I won’t think any less of you. There’s nothing you could say that would hurt our friendship. Nothing.”

“All right then. But first we eat.”

She placed two plates of pasta with red sauce before them and sat down. She even ate a forkful before continuing. Tori began to eat, too.

Diana put down her fork and looked her friend in the eye. “Here goes. Club Exotica is a posh, private, utterly exclusive, members-only nightclub here in London for…sex. It’s a place where willing adults gather to enjoy wild, anonymous screwing in a playful and safe environment. A social club, if you will. Everyone’s identity is kept strictly confidential, and of course, we practice safe sex. Condom use is absolutely required. Bowls of Durex are everywhere.”

Because Diana was watching her closely, Tori tried to keep her shocked dismay from showing. Opening her mouth, she wasn’t sure what to say about this crazy revelation. “I—”

Diana held up her hand. “Before you say anything, let me explain. First, please believe me, it is absolutely safe and secure. Uniformed bouncers are everywhere, and no one gets in unless they are a club member or the special guest of a member. And being invited—”

“Let me get this straight. Are you saying that you go to this club to have anonymous sex with total strangers?”

“Well…yes. But it’s not like it sounds. We’re all vetted members of the club, and although everyone wears masks, we know each other, after a fashion. Not real names, of course, but we’re friends within the confines of the club. And, admission is tough…trust me. One must be sponsored by a member, and a thorough background check is completed.”

Tori sucked down a long swallow of wine, finishing it off. Then she poured more in her glass, filling it to the top.

“Your eyes are huge,” trilled Diana.

“And I think my face is bright red, too.”

Diana nodded, her lips curling into a naughty grin. “At least you’re not showing me the door. But here’s the best part. You’ll love this. So many more gentlemen want in than ladies that the review committee—headed by a woman, of course—can be extremely choosy when it comes to the male patrons. It goes without saying they’re all incredibly wealthy, but…oh my, are they ever gorgeous. All ages, from young to old, and all sizes, from brawny to lanky or sinewy. Each one an utterly superior specimen of homo sapiens.”

Tori snorted. “Don’t you mean homo erectus?”

Diana laughed. “Now you’re getting into the spirit. But truly, every single one of them is delicious. It’s a veritable cornucopia of screw-tastic manhood, all there for your personal consumption.”

Tori’s face flamed as she studied the red wine in her glass. Unwilling to look up, she sensed Diana was still watching her, wanting to see her reaction. And she had many—from embarrassment at the idea of public sex to naughty titillation about that very same idea.

Leaning closer, Diana said in a sensual tone, “I’d like you to come with me this Saturday.”

“What! Me?” Tori jerked back from Diana and from the invitation. “No, I couldn’t possibly go to a place like that. I’m not judging you. Honestly. But I’m way too conservative for a sex club. I’ve never even had a one-night stand before, let alone banged a complete stranger! I’m too old—” Not wanting to hurt her friend, who was the same age, she altered her comment. “I mean, I feel too old for such a wild place. Can you really see me at a sex club?” She gestured down at her modest attire, grimacing. “I’m the exact opposite of a femme fatale.”

Diana snorted. “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror…ever? You’re stunning. Beautiful thick blond hair—which I envy by the way—and the kind of curvaceous body men adore. You just have to show it off better, that’s all.”

“I don’t think—”

“Look, why don’t you come as my guest one time to check it out? No expectations. I’ll lend you a mask, and we’ll just have fun looking around. Nothing more. What do you say?”

“I’m sorry, but no thank you. It’s not for me.”

“What have you got to lose? Another boring night home alone?”

“I’ll admit to being slightly curious, but you know me, I’m way too uptight for a place like that. And please believe me when I say I don’t think any less of you.”

After Diana left, Tori stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror while she brushed her teeth. Just because she didn’t want to go to a sex club didn’t mean she couldn’t try to spice up her love life with Rupert. Maybe she could finally entice him out of his preferred missionary position.

A smirk creased her reflection. His ability to remain proper even during sex was a unique skill, she had to give him that.

All that aside, she really needed to stop wasting time and accept Rupert’s offer of marriage. At this late stage, it was by far the best offer she could ever hope for.

And she loved him. She truly did.

And he loved her back, in his quiet way.

“Once we marry, I’ll finally have everything I’ve ever wanted,” she told her reflection.

Trying to silence the niggling sense that sex should be different, somehow…more, she amended her statement.

“I’ll have everything I’ve ever wanted that’s real.”