Page 43 of Phoenix

“Don’t be. Tonight, will be fun, simple, and easy. I promise. I don’t bite.”

“What if I want you to?” she says it softly, nearly a whisper, like she didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“Well, in that case, Phoenix,” I take her hand, rubbing my thumb over the tattoo on her wrist, “I’ll bite hard when you ask me to.”

“Phoenix?” she asks after an audible swallow.

I bring her hand up and place a soft kiss to the inked skin. “Phoenix. Rising from the flames. It suits you for many reasons.”

“I like it,” she says.

“Good.” I take her hand in mine and give it a squeeze, then we make our way to the elevator.

Soon, we are sliding into the back seat of a Lyft, taking us to our final destination for the evening.

“Do I get any clues as to where we are going?” She looks across the car to me. It’s dark out, so I’m only catching glimpses of her through beams of streetlamps and other car headlights.

“There will be dancing...and not just by us.”

“Oh, God, are you taking me to strip club?” Light passes over her face so I can see her eyes are wide.

“Not exactly a strip club, no.”

“What do you mean ‘not exactly.’ I wouldn’t say no to one, but a girl needs to get amped up for that first.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“So confident.”

“Oh, yes, I absolutely am.”

We continue the ride mostly silent, listening to the music our driver has decided to turn on. It’s a soft, alternative rock song and really, it’s pretty hot.

I catch Nora sliding her hands against her thighs then folding them in her lap. She won’t sit still.

“Are you all right?” I ask, placing my hand on her thigh.

She gives me a small smile. “Never better.”

I give her leg a squeeze then return my hands to myself, just as the car slows to a halt.

We thank the driver and I get out of the car, running quickly around to open her door for her.

“M’lady.” I offer my hand, pulling her to stand.

“Thank you, but you don’t have to be so chivalrous all the time. A girl likes an asshole now and again.” She kisses my cheek then walks to the sidewalk, looking up at the sign of our destination.

“Erotique,” she says, reading the sign. “I thought you said this wasn’t a strip club.”

“It’s not. Just trust me, Phoenix.”

Nora

There is a line leading into the main entrance of the club. Bar? I don’t know what it is yet, all I know is there is a line, and I’m shaking like a leaf.

We bypass the line completely and head right to the front door, where Case shakes hands with the doorman, a very muscular, very attractive African American man.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned. Officer Carmichael on the scene,” the gentleman says.

---