Page 7 of Miles Apart
“Want to talk about it?” The bartender’s toffee gaze rakes over my face. He’s handsome, with classic features in Viking-height packaging. Fuckable, but not the one to whet my appetite.
“No thanks.” I take another French 75 with a half-smile. Miles will pay for the stunt he pulled at breakfast and for making me this undone. I need him out of my system.
A keycard slides across the onyx marble counter. “This might cheer you up,” the bartender says.
My fingers skim over shiny black plastic and gold letters spelling out “Ravenous.” “What’s this?”
He stands taller, his tawny-gold hair tapered behind his ear. “A test run. There’s a pop-up club traveling around our resort locations. To enjoy after dark. Take the elevator to the third floor. Once you show the key, an attendant will greet you in the ballroom. Don’t share it with anyone else, and don’t speak about Ravenous.”
The distraction I need.
I’m flustered, horny, and need Miles Walker out of my mind before I lose it. This will work.
“What happens at Ravenous stays at Ravenous.”
“Something like that.”
Black satin drapes from the ceiling, creating a pathway of partitions between crystal chandeliers. Dancers roll their bodies to music that funnels through hidden speakers. Some hang from aerial silks, while others command attention from gilded cages that match diamond-crusted masks and heels. They’re completely naked, a showcase of soft curves in nudes and mahogany.
Entrance to Ravenous means a signed NDA and a consent form. After that, you get a masquerade mask and black cloak. No cell phones. No alcohol. No intercourse. Here, femmes call the shots, granting access to look. One can only touch after expressed consent.
The makeshift hall opens to circular sofas scattered around a parquet dance floor. Cloaked guests hold whisperedconversations as performers weave through voyeurs without missing a beat.
“Would you like to have a blind date?” Dark eyes under long lashes flutter over rose cheeks. Her almond skin with bronze undertones glows as her tongue dips between thick lips. “You watch me dance in a private room, next to a partner of my choosing.”
My heart beats in time to the music. I’ve enjoyed dances in countless clubs, but a dungeon is new. So is a private session with a stranger. But Justice did say to get some for the both of us.
She would never step foot in here. Me, on the other hand?
“What do I call you?” Behind a string of pearls that cascades to her belly button, rosebud peaks harden under my appraisal.
“Aeris,” she says, her voice low and full of lust.
“After you, Aeris.”
She leads us beyond the dance floor, past a small crowd watching an aerialist pleasure herself with a vibrator midair. We reach double doors covered in the same black fabric as the entrance to a carpeted hall with hotel rooms appears.
Two men wearing yellow “Monitor” armbands roam quietly outside the open doors. Aeris stops at a room on the left. A pole stands in the center of the space across from a sofa where a large figure sits. Aeris extends an arm and waits for me to enter. Her platform heels put us around the same height, tempting our chests to graze as I pass through the door.
I move to a corner wall and peek back at the sofa, doing a double take at the parted thighs and slides I missed coming in. The black cloak spreads to silk boxers with tiny cupids wrapped around muscular legs.
Miles.
Strobe lights shower the walls in colorful patterns at the chime of Jodeci’s “Freek’n You.” The intricately patterned black maskthat covers part of my face dips to my cheeks. Can he tell it’s me behind the lace?
Aeris struts to the pole in relaxed steps and swivels her hips, whipping the strings of pearls with each body roll. Loose black waves tumble down her back as she bends to flip her legs around the erect metal, locking her heels in place. She inches down before opening her legs into a split with hypnotic fluidity.
She climbs the pole again and tips upside down, making her body into an “X” position. I’d drop twenties if the teddy I’m wearing had pockets. Aeris rights herself, unclasps the pearls from her body, and stands in nothing but a thong and heels.
“Come here.” She curls her finger, beckoning for me to join her, but this will end in a solo act if she expects me to defy gravity or pretend I’m an extra inThe Player’s Club.
Petite breasts stare back at me as she circles her hand in wait. I chance a glance at Miles and find him watching me. His black mask conceals most of his face, but not the muscle tensing in his jaw or the sharp eyes assessing if I’ll obey.
Aeris pulls an upholstered dining room chair in front of the pole and pats the top. Her fingers glide over my satin-covered shoulders when I sit. Directly in front of Miles.
“Can I touch you?” She hovers over me at my yes, blocking my view of the last man I want to see. “You’re gorgeous, red.” She twirls a loose strand of my mahogany hair.
I appreciate the beauty of femme forms, like the diamond tips that are dangerously close to my mouth. But I’ve never been with a woman. Curious? Yes, but there is no urge to seek or taste. But as my eyes peer around Aeris’s shoulder at the man whose gaze is trained on my face, the prospect of fucking with Miles without touching him excites me more than it should.
