Sloane Ellis
There I was, standing in a beautiful mansion, surrounded by beautiful people all in varying degrees of undress, watching them mingle and converse. And I was wondering not for the first time or the third or the tenth, how on earth was this my life.
I’d been to enough of these soirées that the nudity didn’t bother me. At first, it did, until I came to the realization that the members of Club Joi paid a hefty price to be there. They paid for the opportunity and the privacy to safely, willingly participate in a lifestyle they enjoyed.
However, as the nights progressed into the public sex, I found any reason I could to leave the area. It wasn’t that it was a free-for-all wild orgy. Everything revolved around consent and that included touching as well as watching. No one was forced to watch. There were designated spaces throughout the mansion where sex acts could be viewed, but no place else.
So, when the penises and vaginas came out, I skedaddled.
I actually knew how this had become my life. Every time I walked into my apartment and didn’t see my roommate’s smiling, pretty face I was reminded. What I was really wondering was why on earth I thought I could find out what happened to Elise. I’d been a part-time waitress, part-time event planner for God’s sake. I had no idea what I was doing or what I was looking for. It wasn’t like during cocktail hour one of the members was going to announce they’d kidnapped my friend. Or during an orgasm, someone was going to scream, “Oh, yes, so good! I killed Elise Keller and buried her in the backyard.”
I’d been working at Club Joi as the executive event coordinator for over six months and I hadn’t heard Elise’s name uttered once. At first, this made me ultra-suspicious, now I understood it was part of the respect and privacy the members extended to each other. There was zero gossip at the club. Which was frustrating. No one asked questions, more frustration.
Six months of nothing.
Elise was gone without a trace. The police were scratching their heads with no leads. Her parents were beside themselves with worry and heartbreak. And I was destroyed.
“Excuse me.” A smooth, rich voice pulled me from my thoughts.
I pulled my gaze from the scantily dressed women drinking champagne in front of the fireplace in the great room to a man who interrupted my thoughts.
Adam Newcomb.
The man was a real-life, walking, talking, billboard ad for something manly.
It was a shame he was a member of a sex club. If I’d met him out in the real world I would’ve done something outrageous to catch his attention, and if that didn’t work, I would’ve approached him and asked him out for a drink.
Sandy-brown hair, nice eyes, carried himself with an air of confidence. Not the kind that was cocky and screamed douche bag. His came from someplace deep, he was comfortable in any environment. He was the master of his universe, and he was that because he was good at what he did and knew it.
He was sexy as hell.
But he belonged to a sex club and that was a hard pass.
“Hello, Mr. Newcomb. Is everything alright?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
He was?
“Everything is wonderful, is it not?”
I glanced around the room. Everyone was smiling and happy. Having a good time talking to their fellow members, enjoying light hors d’oeuvres and the two-glass maximum for those who would be playing later. There were also strict rules about intoxication, and a drink limit for anyone who was participating in any kind of sex.
“It is,” he confirmed. “That’s why I’m wondering why you’re standing off to the side, frowning. Do you find something particularly distasteful or is it the party as a whole?”
Damn.
Shit.
“Of course I don’t find consenting adults participating in activities that are mutually satisfying distasteful. If I was frowning, I apologize, I was thinking about the champagne. More to the point, if the staff had ordered enough.”
Semi-lie.
I don’t find it distasteful per se, it just wasn’t my scene. And it was not something I wanted to witness or be a part of.
Adam leaned closer, his mouth dangerously close to touching my ear when he whispered, “That sounds rehearsed.” I felt his breath against my neck, I caught the scent of his woodsy cologne, and against my will, I shivered. “Or more to my point, it sounds like bullshit.”
He straightened and I felt that, too. The loss of his closeness. It was only for a second, but I didn’t miss the way his heat had surrounded me.
I tipped my head back to catch his gaze and vehemently deny his accusation. That denial was swept away by his smile. I couldn’t muster any of the professionalism I’d mastered over the months I’d worked here. My resolve was slipping faster than I could remind myself that Adam Newcomb liked watching and having public sex. Not that I’d ever witnessed this firsthand. I’d never seen him bring a date, which as a top-level member he was welcome to. I’d never seen him wander back into the viewing rooms or even sit in the lower lounge, which was referred to as the Hunting Ground, because that was where either unattached female members went to find a partner for the evening, or couples went to find a third or switch. Negations happened down there. And other than his tour of the property and the rooms, I hadn’t seen Adam use any of the amenities.
Strange.
“Perhaps I should ask you if you find Club Joi distasteful,” I returned.
In the last couple of months, I’d become an expert on body language, so I didn’t miss the stiffness in Adam’s shoulders or the way he tensed.
“Why would you ask that?”
“You’ve been here over two months,” I noted. “Have you not found our club acceptable? Is there something I could provide for you that would make your time enjoyable?”
Holy shit.
There were some things that, when thought in your mind, sounded better than when actually spoken out loud.
I felt my face heat.
I felt sweat trickle between my boobs that were pushed together to the max by a fabulous, but expensive bra that made them look at least a cup size bigger. I had more cleavage on display than I ever would in my real life. Though, in real life, I also didn’t wear low-cut cocktail dresses and high heels.
“If I thought for a second you were offering what it sounded like you were, I would take you up on it in a hot minute. However, to answer your question, the club is perfectly acceptable.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I wanted to offer what it sounded like I was. And I would be offering it if he wasn’t a member. As a part of my employment contract, I had the same membership Adam had purchased. I could participate any time I wanted.
“Have a good night, Sloane.”
I was still recovering from the sexy way my name had fallen from his lips, wondering how it would sound while we were in bed, naked, and he was deep inside of me, when I felt the faintest brush of his hand against mine.
Barely a brush.
But forbidden.
That slightest touch without my permission could get him banned.
His eyes danced with a dare. A naughty, filthy dare.
“You as well, Adam.”
His lips quirked up into the hottest smirk that made my thighs squeeze together.
That smirk turned primal.
And I had a feeling I’d unwittingly issued a challenge.