Taking Turns (Turning #1)(61)
Chapter Twenty-One - Chella
“I’m not walking through the lobby naked.”
Smith gives me a look that says, Don’t be stupid. “We’re not going to the lobby, Chella. We’ll take the freight elevator.”
“What happened to ‘I’m Smith Baldwin and I’m too good for the freight elevator?’”
“Do you want to see it or not?” he asks. “Because you’re not supposed to be down there and if Bric and Quin see you…”
“Then what?” I ask. “What will they do?”
“They’ll just be pissed off. The reason we have you is to keep you separate from all that.”
“So why are you going to ruin it?”
“OK,” he says. “We won’t go.”
“I’m not saying that. I want to go—”
“Then shut the f*ck up and take off your clothes,” Smith growls. “I’ll take you down in the freight elevator. It’ll bring us to the back end of the space and then I’ll give you a peek.”
“Just a peek?” I ask. “You guys seem to throw that word around a lot. ‘It’s just a peek, Chella. A little glimpse into the forbidden.’” He’s about to say f*ck the whole thing, I can tell. But I have a point, so I get to it. “Why don’t you guys just admit it?”
“Admit what?” he asks.
“That it’s not a peek at all, it’s full immersion. It’s not dipping a toe in the water, Smith. It’s drowning in the dark depths.”
He lets out a small laugh and then that surly frown turns into a grin. “You want to live in it, Chella? Do you want me to invite you deeper?”
“Obviously that answer is yes, Smith.” I stare at him as he reassesses me. “If you think I don’t know what I’m getting into, you’re wrong.”
He rubs the stubble on his jaw. “Really? You’re an old pro at the fine art of sex club navigation, are you?”
“I’ve been to them before,” I say.
He cocks an eyebrow at me, as if intrigued. “When? Where? With who?”
Do I detect some jealousy in those questions? “It’s not important,” I say. But I’ve hit a nerve with Mr. Baldwin. “How cute that you think I’m so innocent, Smith.”
“I have never thought you innocent, Chella,” he says. “But a little inexperienced… yes,” he admits. “So you’re playing a game with us, as well?”
“I’m just along for the fun,” I say, slipping the chemise nightie up and over my head and dropping it to the floor. “So why don’t we stop talking and just do what we both know we want to do?”
“You want to get f*cked down there tonight?” He laughs. Kinda loud. Like this is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “I can’t f*ck you down there, Chella. And no one else will be allowed to get near you. You can walk into the ocean and drown yourself in the dark depths on someone else’s time. But when you’re with me, it’s just a peek.”
He’s dead serious about this and I have to admit, I didn’t expect him to remain so loyal to Bric and Quin. Especially after I goaded him with what Bric said to me about cutting him out of the game.
“Fine,” I say, shrugging my shoulders like I hardly care. “Just a peek then.”
He stares at me for a moment, opens his mouth like he might say something, then thinks better of it. “Come on,” he says, taking my hand. Already breaking the rules.
We leave the apartment and go down the hall to a door. We go through it, then down another dark hallway, until we reach the back of the building where the freight elevator is located. This is how Rochelle got me upstairs to her apartment that first night.
Smith punches in a code to open the doors as I watch, fascinated by the world they’ve created here in the middle of downtown Denver.
A secret world. A forbidden world. A world I haven’t thought about in a very long time. A world I left behind. A world I’d very much like to be part of again.
“What’s on the other floors?” I ask as the doors close us in.
“Rooms,” Smith says, utterly uninterested.
“I guessed that, Smith. I meant, what happens on the other floors?”
He looks at me, annoyed for some reason. “Sex, Chella. We’re a hotel so rich men who are bored with their wives can come here during the work week and f*ck someone new.”
“So you have prostitutes here?”
“No.” He laughs. “They have to bring the * with them.”
“Do you bring people to those rooms?”
He looks away, up at the illuminated numbers ticking down the floors until the elevator gets to the one lit up as B. When the doors open, he waves me forward and says, “If you think I’m a sick sex freak, you’re wrong. I’m the most normal person down here, Marcella Walcott. And you should really keep that in mind going forward. Stay here for a minute. I need to get you a mask.”
Before I can ask any more questions, he walks down the hallway, towards the flashing lights, and the music, and the sound of people caught up in a primal state of lust.
I wait. My hearts beats fast, but I take a few deep breaths as I ask it to be calm.