Beautiful Stranger (Beautiful Bastard 2)

Sara watched the pair and then blinked away when I caught her looking. She tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear in what I’d come to know as a nervous gesture, and I could imagine her blushing behind the mask.

“It’s okay to watch here,” I reminded her, my voice low. “When things get really interesting, you’ll see that no one will be able to look away.”

I ordered her a vodka gimlet and got a scotch for myself before leading her to a small table in the corner. I stared at her as she took it all in. She sipped her drink and took time to study everything around her. I wondered if she realized how much attention she’d attracted from the clientele.

In her neck, I could see her pulse thrum. I stared at the pale skin, wanting to lean over and suck a mark into her. Shifting in my seat to adjust my trousers, I imagined what it would be like to make her come with my hand while the entire room watched.

Fuck, Max. You’re in deep.

“What are you thinking?” I asked her.

She lifted her chin, indicating the dancers who kissed, moved away, and then joined back together again. “Are they going to have sex out here?”

“Most likely, of one form or another.”

“So why do they have the rooms, too?”

“Variety. If I remember correctly, the scenarios in the rooms tend to be wilder. And they’re smaller, more intimate.”

She nodded, lifting her drink and taking a sip, studying me. “No one here knows who I am, but still I’m the one wearing a wig and a mask.”

Smiling, I pointed out, “Historically you have been the one who wants to remain hidden.”

“You would do this for me? Let people watch us together?”

“I suspect I would do almost anything for you,” I admitted. And then, unable to see in the dark corner how my words affected her, I added, “The thought is probably just as much a rush for me as it seems to be for you.”

She slid her hand onto my thigh under the table. “But people here know you. They know your face.”

“There are people all over this room who are far more famous. That man in the corner is an American football player for some team Will is always going on about. And that woman?” I motioned subtly to a table near the bar. “Television.”

Sara’s eyes widened slightly as she recognized the Emmy Award–winning actress. “But they aren’t considering having sex in Room Six,” she noted.

“No, but they’re here watching. No one will judge me for being here with you. And more important, everyone knows you don’t f**k with Johnny French’s confidentiality requirement. He has dirt on everyone here, or can find it.”

“Oh.”

“It stays in this room, S—” I began, but she pressed a finger to my lips.

“No names, stranger,” she reminded me.

I smiled, kissed her fingertip. “Nothing leaves this room, Petal. I promise.”

“The first rule of fight club?” she asked, grinning.

“Exactly.” Lifting my drink to my lips, I took a sip, swallowed. “Tell me what else you’re thinking.”

She leaned in to kiss me but I pulled away.

“Can I touch you out here?”

I shook my head. “Unfortunately, that’s another rule. No sexual contact by anyone but the performers.”

“What about in Room Six?”

“Yes. You can there.”

“Damn.” She shifted in her seat, watching the dancers for a bit. They’d shed their clothes by now, and the man steadied a harness that had been lowered from the ceiling so his partner could step into it. Once inside, her legs were spread wide and an invisible pulley lifted her so her hips were level with her partner’s head. He began to spin her in time with the music, walking in wide circles as she whipped around, head thrown back.

“What time is it?” Sara asked after a few minutes, not looking away from where the man had abruptly stopped the woman from spinning, and pressed his open mouth between her legs.

“Nine forty-five.”

She sighed, and I couldn’t tell if she was as antsy as I was. The torture of the club was knowing that if I wanted to touch her, I could do it only where others could see us. Use us for their need as much as we were using them for ours. I wanted more than anything to do to her what the man on the dance floor had begun doing to his partner: tasting, teasing, f**king her with his fingers.

As the man spun the woman away again, a waiter approached our table.

“Good evening, sir.” He poured water from a crystal pitcher, beginning near the glass then raising it above his head without altering the water’s flow even a little. “The owner has mentioned you’ve been here but your guest is new. Would you like me to tell you a bit about what you can expect?”

“That would be smashing,” I answered.

He turned to Sara. “The club changes the room décor every couple of weeks. Our goal is to keep things fresh for our clientele. You’ll find a variety of scenes going on as you walk down to the rooms.”

I glanced to Sara and wondered how, beneath the mask, the sweet midwestern girl was taking all of this in.

The host continued, “Shows begin at ten, and go until midnight. I’m told your room is Six. Given that this is your first event, you should feel welcome to watch the other exhibits for a bit before deciding whether you would like to participate.” He smiled. “I’m also told the owner would very much like to add something a bit more intimate and sincere to the regular rotation. We’ve never had an exhibiting couple who looks at each other the way you do.”

I felt my eyes go wide, and beside me Sara shifted closer. I could feel the warmth of her thigh against mine. I was truly on the verge of exploding with my need to feel her.

The waiter bowed slightly. “But please do not feel any pressure.”

At ten, the lights in the hallway illuminated a warm gold. Other patrons around the main room shifted, finished their drinks, stood slowly. But Sara grabbed my hand and jerked me out of my chair.

The hall was at least twenty feet wide, with seats and tables near the windows looking in on the rooms. In Room One, the first room on the left, a young, muscular man stood in the corner wearing jeans and no shirt. On the floor, on all fours, was another dark-haired man with a horse tail extending from an anal plug. The man standing in the corner lifted a whip and cracked it loudly in the air.

Sara’s hand flew to her mouth, as I pulled her farther down the hall, murmuring, “Pony play, darling. Not for everyone.”