The VIP Room(41)

Larene sensed my trepidation. She wrapped her slim arms around my shoulders and brightly declared, “It’s like riding a bike. You just need to get back on the saddle.”

“You just mixed idioms. A horse saddle isn’t a bike seat. It doesn’t work.”

“It works in this case, Noelle. All you need is a stud to ride you like a bike.”

I pulled a face, but couldn’t help the hysterical chuckle that bubbled from my throat. “You’re crazy, you know that, right?” I told her fondly. I loved Larene. We had been best friends since college, ever since she approached me at a house party my freshman year. I’d been the awkward loner in the corner, sipping quietly on stale, warm beer but I would’ve taken that over sitting in a lonely dorm room any day. Larene, the quintessential it girl, had befriended me that night and we’ve been inseparable ever since.

“My mother tells me that every day,” she chirped and then clapped her hands together once she released my shoulders. “Now, come on. Let’s get you laid.”

She walked in her high heels and tight body wrap dress with a grace I could never hope to replicate. Larene had managed to squeeze me into a black sequined dress that was a size too small and a hundred inches too short. And the heels…my God. The silver, strappy stilettos screamed “f*ck me” and I kept wobbling around like a newborn giraffe. Tomorrow morning, hopefully post-lay, I would regret the heels. But it wasn’t like I had a choice. Larene was already a force to be reckoned with and she was scary when she wanted to be.

Valoir was one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. Only the rich, the famous, and the drop dead gorgeous were allowed in. Since I wasn’t any of those things, I had my doubts about the evening, but Larene’s on and off again boyfriend was the owner of the club.

“Hello Hector,” she purred at the intimidating man in a dark suit at the club’s entrance.

And she apparently knew the bouncer. That was a definite plus.

“Larene,” he said with a smile, nodding. His eyes slid over me and I fought the urge to tug on the hem of my dress. I wasn’t necessarily self-conscious, but this dress could make a veteran stripper blush. He stepped aside to let us pass, much to the frustration of the people waiting in the long wrap-around line outside the club, and Larene dropped a kiss on his cheek as payment. Judging by the way Hector blushed, I could’ve worn a potato sack and I would’ve still been let in if Larene was at my side.

We slipped through the club’s heavy oak doors.

Larene obviously knew where she was going because we followed a hallway until we reached another door. Beyond it, I could hear pounding bass and laughter. A man stationed there smiled, giving Larene a familiar, friendly nod, and opened the door.

“Welcome to Valoir,” he greeted and I barely suppressed a nervous laugh.

Music poured out as we stepped in. I swallowed thickly, even as Larene gave me an encouraging smile. Everything was so overwhelming. Too much.

I expected a mass of bodies in the club, grinding away like animals in heat. I expected the smell of musk and sweat. I expected my skin to dampen from the heat and perspiration in the air. I discovered something else entirely.

There were still people dancing. There was still a DJ and green and blue strobe lights, like I would typically expect to find in a club. However, the vast majority of Valoir was made up of private booths and rooms, lined up against the walls. Even though the rooms were private, only a screen of clear glass separated them from the loud music permeating the rest of the club. People could look in, voyeurs in their own right. Most of the rooms were occupied by businessmen, clothed in their hand-tailored suits and easy, charming smiles.

Rich husbands, indeed, I thought.

On the far side of the room, situated away from the dance floor and expansive bar, I noticed that a couple rooms were tinted, so no one could see inside. Larene saw me glancing at them and with a knowing smile, yelled over the music, “Kane had them put in. Just in case.” She winked. The look she gave me said she’d experienced those private rooms first hand. No doubt with Kane, the owner of Valoir.

This isn’t you, my mind whispered as my eyes darted around like a cornered stray. This wasn’t my scene. I didn’t do the whole club, hook-up thing that my girlfriends had perfected in college. I was always the girl who had a steady relationship. The girl who liked to stay in, cook dinner, drink wine, and catch up on my TV shows after a long, satisfying day at work. Not get all dolled up and seek out filthy, hot sex.

But my dry spell had lasted too long. After Ryan, my ex-boyfriend, decided that he wanted someone more exciting, I’d holed up and separated from the rest of the world for months on end. I hadn’t had sex in over a year. I was only 25, but I was acting like a widowed spinster. So, I didn’t protest when Larene intervened. She’d been hinting about “getting me some” for weeks now and I figured it was time to try and reclaim at least some of my withered sexuality. You know it’s bad when your vibrator has literally been gathering dust.

Tonight would change that. According to Larene, I needed a one-night stand with a hot guy. The problem was that I’ve never had uncomplicated sex in my life. Sex was special to me. How could I let a stranger know me so intimately?

I shook myself out of my thoughts.

No. I would have messy, dirty, fleeting sex with a gorgeous, hunky stranger tonight. I was a woman on a mission. I just needed to remember that.