Chapter Eleven

At last, Tori was about to enter the club’s inner sanctum. Her pulse raced, both anxiety and anticipation firing her blood like high-octane petrol.

Diana smiled and squeezed her hand. “Ready?”

It was inconceivable, completely outside anything Tori had ever expected to be doing…but here she was, a guest at a club where sex with strangers was the main entertainment. She might as well embrace the experience.

She nodded and took a tentative step forward. “I am.”

Diana strutted past her as if she owned the place, so Tori strived to match her swagger, determined to make the most of the evening, if just as an observer. This would be her one and only chance to explore this decadent world of sin. It would not be repeated.

“This is the Serengeti, a sort of meeting area, and a place to see and be seen,” Diana explained in hushed tones. “Many a hookup happens here.”

Tori looked around in awe. The house manager’s office had been posh, but this spectacular room made the other look Spartan in comparison. The large, circular chamber, draped in plush olive velvet and tan silk curtains, reminded her of a shadowy pasha’s tent. Low chairs and settees were scattered about with chaise lounges filling several alcoves that bordered the domed space. An eclectic mix of art deco and safari chic, the dramatic furnishings and exotic animal prints blended together, screaming sensuality and mystery.

No, rather, it whispered, enticing one to explore erotic fantasies down the many hallways that disappeared from the rotunda into the dusky darkness. Even the muted music had a slightly wild beat that suffused the body. This was a Serengeti plain for human animals, a glamorous gathering spot. Perfect for arranging those secret rendezvous Diana had mentioned.

“Over there is the Watering Hole, the main bar,” Diana said quietly, pointing across the circle. “And that hall leads to the real fun.”

In a nearby alcove, a guy in an expensive-looking blazer and fitted trousers reached out to pull the curtain closed on himself and a companion, her attire notable for its absence. A few couples strolled or talked in low voices, but otherwise the room was empty.

“It’s pretty quiet here,” Tori said, somewhat surprised, as Diana led the way.

“It’s early yet. Things don’t pick up until around ten, but I thought you’d be more comfortable seeing it like this.” Diana paused before a discreet sign. “This hallway leads to all the most decadent and fun playrooms.”

“Bush Walk?” Tori blurted with a choked laugh. “That’s taking tongue-in-cheek a bit far.”

“All in good fun, dahling,” Diana replied, her eyes twinkling. “Would you like to get a drink or go see the play spaces now?”

“Oh, let’s not. This is plenty exciting right here.”

More members arrived, and Diana had not exaggerated—the male patrons were all exceptionally good-looking, well dressed, and came in all variety of colors, sizes, and ages. The women were the same, noticeably dressed to impress—or lure—their attire ranging from designer lingerie to BDSM leather corsets and thigh-high boots. The staff were beyond gorgeous, all so stunning they could be models, and probably some were.

Diana led Tori into the Watering Hole, an intimate barroom where some heavy groping had already begun. They settled into comfortable loungers, and after Tori had taken a few sips of her drink, curiosity began to overcome her reticence. “Okay, but what exactly goes on in the playrooms? I see a lot of fondling here, but everyone’s pretty much dressed and they’re not…you know, having sex.”

She began to suspect, to hope, that the real action all took place behind closed doors in those private suites.

Diana took a sip of her martini before setting it down. “Hmm. What do you want to see? Peep shows? BDSM? The orgy?”

“Oh!” Tori imagined multiple strangers caressing and fondling her all at the same time. It should disgust her, but instead her body tingled, tightened. She took a gulp of her gin and tonic.

Diana watched her, smirking.

“You wanted to shock me, didn’t you?” Tori accused.

“You asked.” Diana leaned closer, a soft smile lighting her face. “I love this club. Every kinky nook and cranny of it. But for tonight, I think we should stick to this floor. It’s tamer than downstairs, where the playrooms are located.”

“Playrooms? Isn’t the entire club a playroom?”

“Let’s keep it simple tonight,” murmured Diana, giving her hand a squeeze. “Hey, there’s my most recent friend.” She waved him over.

Smiling beneath his half mask, the obviously hunky specimen walked over to them. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” he said.

Tori wondered how Diana had recognized him with his elaborate mask. Based on their full-body lip lock, they were more than friends.

Tori jerked upright on her chaise, suddenly worried that everyone greeted each other here by plastering their bodies together and thrusting their tongues deep. Ready to scurry behind the chair to ward him off, relief washed through her when Diana began introductions—all very formal and proper.

“Let’s dance,” Diana’s friend suggested.

Hooking one lady on each arm, he led Tori and Diana down Bush Walk to Drumbeat, the club’s disco. Loud, pounding music and shimmying, sweating bodies filled the square room. Dim recessed lighting, like everywhere else, lent anonymity to the black-and-gray-painted space, while swirling, flaring, multicolored laser lights danced around the pulsing bodies.

They made their own little circle on the floor, and Tori began to relax. She loved dancing, and this room seemed almost normal, like any other nightclub—if she ignored the fact that many dancers were partially undressed. Just when she thought she was getting used to it all, Diana scooted backward against her male friend and began rubbing her ass against his crotch.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Tori called over the loud music.

She could barely hear Diana’s response. “It’s the grind. Another fun import from the States, but it’s not catching on here—at least not in normal clubs.”

“I can see why,” Tori called back before declining with a wave of her hand a stranger’s invitation to join him in the lewd dance.

The man smiled again and stepped closer, ignoring her polite refusal. Reaching out, he attempted to draw her closer.

She yelled a strong, clear, “No,” and stepped closer to Diana.

The man nodded okay and moved on.

It looked like the entire party had gone native, everyone writhing and rubbing their bodies sensually against each other, sometimes as couples but often in threes and fours. Earthy and carnal, the dancers created a wild, erotic pantomime.

Not wanting to look like a wallflower but not ready to rub her body against a complete stranger, Tori danced by herself. Turning in place, she allowed her body to undulate to the sultry beat, swaying and moving as if she had a partner but rotating often to make it difficult for anyone to slide in behind her.

As she turned, she noticed a well-built guy by the door. Leaning casually against the wall, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his formfitting black jeans, he watched her. Even in the dark, a mask covering half his face, his full lips and strong jaw drew her attention and made her glance repeatedly at him.

Their eyes met, and her breath caught.

Wow!

Strangely fascinated by his observation of her, she danced facing him.

Ever so slowly, his eyes traveled insolently up the length of her body, from her stilettos up her calves and thighs, to pause on her full, swaying hips, then higher still along her rounded curves, until he concentrated on her generous bosom. His intense gaze on her body became a sort of intimate caress, the wicked grin on his handsome face telling her he liked what he saw.

Unused to such open sexual perusal, she startled, feeling cornered. Turning away, she yelled into Diana’s ear. “That guy over by the door’s watching me.”

“Of course he is. You’re gorgeous!” Diana rotated into her partner’s arms and they kissed.

Tori glanced back at the wall, the spot now empty. She looked around, but the hunk had left the disco. Relief filled her that he was no longer ogling her. Or was that flat, dull weight in the pit of her stomach really disappointment…?

It didn’t matter. His tight physique and trendy jeans and T-shirt told her he was probably in his twenties. Way too young.

And she wasn’t here to fuck a stranger, anyway.

Her resolve remained strong, even though her body refused to listen, continuing to react to everything around her, from the erotic atmosphere to the undulating bodies, and most especially, to the memory of the stranger’s visual caress.

A hand on her arm roused her out of her trance. “Dahling,” Diana yelled over the music. Her partner, wrapped around her like a blanket, rubbed his crotch on her ass. “I need a few minutes to relieve some…tension. I’ll be back.”

“What? No!” Tori gaped at them, fear gripping her. “But I’ll be—”

“You’ll be fine. You’re completely safe here. Get yourself another drink. I’ll meet you in the Watering Hole in a few minutes.”

Her friend was already pulling her from the room as Diana called, “You’ll be fine. Remember the staff are all in white.”

She disappeared, leaving Tori alone among the pulsating throng of half-naked strangers.