I laugh at the prospect. “He’s way too intense for me.” A former professional tennis player, Damien takes his workouts seriously.
“I get that. But I figured you shared gym time. After all, you have that sweet set-up.”
“Yeah, well, you know…” The gym on our first floor is about as good as it gets. But the times we’ve worked out together have ended up with us hot and sweaty on the mat in a much different way. Not that I object to that kind of workout, but it’s really not the kind of cardio I’m looking for.
“Naughty girl,” Jamie says, clearly wearing her psychic best friend hat. “Then again, that kind of workout burns calories, too.”
I’m saved from having to retort by the arrival of the waiter with the ceviche Jamie ordered before I arrived. We order salads for lunch, and as we dig into the appetizer, Jamie tells me about her time in London with Ryan, who also happens to be the Security Chief at Stark International and Damien’s best friend.
“We rode the London Eye,” she says, referring to the giant Ferris wheel that overlooks the city and sits on the River Thames. “Can I just say that I fully approve of incredibly big Ferris wheels that move very, very slowly.”
“I hope y’all weren’t sharing a cabin.”
“Nope. Ryan bought the thing out. Privacy, privacy, privacy.” She leans back as the waiter refills our water glasses. “I would have brought you some pictures of the view, but I was too distracted to take any.”
“Oh, really.” I stab a chunk of tuna with my fork. “Maybe Damien and I need to go visit the London office, too.”
“Oh, definitely. I mean, surely you need to tweak some of the coding. They drive on the wrong side of the road over there, you know. Their information superhighway must be a mess.”
I laugh, almost spitting the ceviche I’ve just put in my mouth. “Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be the winning argument.”
“I never claimed to understand tech.”
“I’m glad you had fun. You two haven’t taken a vacation together in a while.”
“We definitely made up for lost time.” A wicked grin dances over her lips. “Then again, we still are,” she adds, her cheeks blooming pink. Since I’ve never known Jamie to blush at anything, my interest is immediately piqued.
“Spill,” I demand, and when she leans eagerly forward, I know that was just the invitation she was waiting for.
“Have you ever heard of a private club called Masque?”
I shake my head slowly as I sift back through my memory. “I don’t think so. Maybe? I’m not sure.”
“Well, that’s incredibly vague.”
“Best I can do. It sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. Then again, maybe I heard about its scandalous nature in some gossip column.”
“You don’t read gossip columns,” she reminds me. “And what makes you think it’s scandalous.”
Sadly, she’s wrong about the gossip. I used to be completely ignorant of any and all gossip surrounding the rich and famous. Then I met Damien, and my circle of friends expanded to include those the paparazzi keeps in their sights. I wouldn’t say that I actually follow the various gossip sites now, but I do check in regularly. I like to think of it as self-preservation for myself, my family, and my friends.
As for scandalous, I can only laugh. “James, anything that can make you blush has to be off the charts.”
“True story,” she says, without a bit of shame.
“I’m guessing it’s a sex club?” After all, I doubt she’s blushing about her utter inability to do math in her head.
“It is,” she says, “and it’s incredibly decadent. Everything is top of the line. The venue. The alcohol. The hors d’oeuvres.”
“You’ve been to those kinds of clubs before. Why is this one such a rush?” Because obviously it is. She’s as excited as a kid on Christmas morning. And the flush of pink has returned, only this time it’s creeping up her neck, too.
“It’s different,” she says. “For one thing, everyone wears a mask. Completely anonymous. It’s formal, too. Or at least it starts out that way. I’m not sure naked can be formal. But after going there a few times, I’m one-hundred-percent certain that bras and garter belts can be.”
“James!”
“Just telling it like it is.” Her lips twitch with amusement. “And it was pretty spectacular.”
“Okay, fine.” I lean forward, unable to pretend I’m not interested. “Spill. Every. Single. Thing.”
“Well, it’s a party. A very elegant, well-hosted party. With sex. Lots of sex. Right in front of everybody.”
I feel my eyes go wide. “Jamie! You didn’t!”
She nods, her lips pressed tight together. “It was so freaking hot. And honestly, I’m not sure I would have done anything if it wasn’t anonymous, but it really is. I mean, there were a few people there I might guess at, but for the most part…”
“And Ryan was okay with this?” I couldn’t believe that Ryan—who patiently fought the good fight to win Jamie’s hand—would be okay with watching his wife sleep with another man, anonymous or not.
“No, no!” Jamie hurries to correct. “This was me and Ryan. I mean, some folks come as singles and some swap partners. But you don’t have to. It’s just—I don’t know. There’s a rush being out in the open like that. In watching and being watched, but knowing that no one knows it’s you. Not really, anyway.”
“But haven’t you and Ryan already…” I trail off, feeling my own cheeks heat. “I mean, it’s not like you’ve never been to a sex club.” I know Jamie and Ryan have gone to BDSM clubs a couple of times. According to Jamie, they’re not in the lifestyle, but they occasionally slide into pretty serious play. And from what I know about those kind of clubs, stuff happens in the open.
“We have,” she says, her tone completely nonchalant. “But we’ve only mingled in the public areas. Anything more, and we go into a private room. Masque was an entirely new experience. And a much more glam vibe, too. Nothing dungeon-y, you know?”
“Wow,” I say, trying to figure out how I feel about this peek into my best friend’s sex life. And trying more to figure why the thought of going someplace like Masque with Damien makes my skin heat and tingle in all sorts of exciting—an unexpected—ways.
Jamie tilts her head to the side, and from the way the corner of her mouth twitches, I know she’s seen what I’d rather hide. “You should go.”
I shake my head, but don’t answer as the waiter steps up to deliver our entrees. He lays our plates and clears the ceviche, and all the while I’m trying to stop the X-rated Technicolor movie that is playing in my head.
“I’m serious,” she says. “You and Damien should check it out. I swear it’ll light a fire in your sex life.”
I raise a brow. “I’m not sure ours could get much hotter.”
Jamie waves a hand, dismissing my words. “I’m talking inside of the sun hot. Big Bang hot.”
I grin. “So am I.”
Jamie rolls her eyes. “Show off.”
“Besides, it sounds like more of a y’all thing than an us thing.” True enough. There are very few parameters on my sex life with Damien, but I know perfectly well that public sex isn’t his thing. Which is fine, since it’s not mine either.
At least, I don’t think it is.
“You’re intrigued.” Jamie’s brows rise, as if underscoring the statement.
“I’m intrigued by skydiving, but I’m never going to do it.”
Jamie jabs her fork into her salad, then points a speared slice of avocado at me.
“Give it a rest,” I order, before she has a chance to speak. “Keep bugging me about it, and I’ll just lie and tell you we went. If it’s anonymous, you’ll never know the difference.”
She scowls, then pops the avocado into her mouth. “Fine. Subject dropped. All I’ll say is that you have no idea what you’re missing out on.”
“That’s okay, because I don’t want to.” My words are firm. Definitive. Strong.
r /> And I can’t help but fear that they’re also a big, fat lie.
6