Everything I Left Unsaid(53)

“What’s she going to do there?” I whispered.

“Fuck him, maybe. Blow him for sure.”

Blow him. My entire body clenched tight.

“You want to call your guy and share something with him tonight, go in there now. Sit way back in the corner and watch them.”

“What?”

“Happens all the time. Husbands sit back there and watch their wives f*ck another woman.”

“But…won’t they care?”

I was considering it. I was. Even before I consciously realized it I was halfway in that room.

“No. I’ll let her know you’re there. I’ll tell her about the phone. As long as you don’t take pictures it’s cool. She digs that shit. Probably put on a really good show for you.”

I was breathing hard. And my hand around the drink was numb from the cold.

“Music’s gonna change. Yes or no.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“What is it with you and the whys?” Joan asked, rolling her eyes.

I didn’t know. I really didn’t.

“Your guy is going to dig it,” she said, prodding me on.

Yes. He was.

“Okay,” I said. “But, Renee, is she…?” God, I didn’t know how to say it. “Does she have kids? Or like some kind of terrible drug habit? Or a dad who used to sneak into her room at night—”

“Is she a victim?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it matter?”

I gave Joan a long look. “Yeah.”

“Oh good God, Annie. I don’t ask her about her life. She’s tough. She’s smart and she doesn’t take shit from anyone.”

“Really?”

“Really. And she’s freaky as shit.”

I took one giant long draw of my drink and then set it down on the table, nearly running toward the curtained doorway. I slipped between the beads and there was a small hallway with two doorways, and at the end, a red illuminated exit sign.

Shit. Which door?

I opened the first. Inside it was thick with cigarette smoke, and there was a table with five men sitting around it. All of them turned to stare at me when I walked in.

“Wrong door, sister,” one of them said. A thin man with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. Kind eyes. I have no idea why I got that impression in the three seconds I was face-to-face with him, but I did. And he was wearing a linen suit. At a strip club. That’s all I could see through the haze of smoke.

“Sorry,” I said, getting out of there as fast as I could. I spun around and opened the second door.

Inside was a small room with two big leather couches. In the shadows in the far corner there was the gleam of another leather chair, and I made a beeline for it before all my courage deserted me.

I tucked my legs up under me and tried to be as small as I possibly could and called Dylan.

“Are you still in the parking lot?” he asked, his voice teasing.

“No,” I whispered. “I’m in a VIP room. I’m going to watch…”

The door opened again and in walked Renee, who was like seven feet tall in her outrageous sequined heels. The guy she was with came in behind her, his hand wide across her belly, keeping them together.

God, my breathing sounded so loud. And I shifted in the chair and the leather creaked. I closed my eyes, my hands across my mouth.

It hadn’t even started and I was ruining this.

“Hit the button, baby,” Renee said. And the man, who’d clearly been here before, reached over and tapped a button on a black box on the wall and music filled the room.

I turned my phone so no one could see the glow. Or at least I hoped they couldn’t.

Renee turned them a little better so they were almost facing me head on, though there was twenty feet between us. The lighting was super dim but I saw her face.

She winked at me.

“Layla,” Dylan murmured. “Are there people in there with you?”

“Yes,” I breathed as quietly as I could, watching Renee and the guy to see if they heard me. They were locked on each other, the music blocking out any sound of my voice for them.

“What do you want?” Renee asked and for a second I thought she was asking me, but the man spoke up.

“Your mouth on my cock,” he said, and Renee laughed and then gasped when the man’s hands came up and cupped her breasts. Palmed them.

“Can you hear that?” I whispered to Dylan.

“Yeah, baby, I heard. You’re watching a blow job.” His voice, oh, God, his voice was so thick. So heavy. I could feel how turned on he was.

“What do you want?” the guy on the couch asked Renee.

“My mouth on your cock,” Renee said.

His dark laughter rumbled through the room. “This is why we work.”

This is why we work. I could say the same thing to Dylan right now.

Renee stepped away from the guy and gave him a shove over to the couch. He fell back willingly, and she grabbed a pillow from beside him and tossed it on the floor at his feet.

“Tell me,” Dylan ground out in my ear.

“She’s kneeling in front of him.”

Quickly, Renee undid the guy’s pants, her eyes flicking occasionally up to his. He was biting his lips, his hands up on his head, like he was trying hard not to touch her. Like he didn’t want to ruin the show.