Page 3 of Uncharted Desires
Now, I don't want to spend any more time with him than necessary, but I'm curious about what’s on the other side of all these hallways. And given the fact that I’m alone and dressed like a fucking hobo, I suspect the bouncer may actually come back and tell me he was suffering a stroke when he let me in.
I don't need Sawyer to know that, though. His ego is big enough as it is. “Maybe for five minutes.”
“Hey, Jesse!” he calls out to the guy on the other side of the bar. “I'm gonna take a break.” He tosses him a towel he's been using to wipe the bar, unsurprisingly acting like he owns this damn joint.
I scoff inwardly and scramble off the stool as Sawyer makes his way through the door behind the bar and exits through another door in the open area.
I almost laugh when I see him.
He's black jeans and a leather jacket are replaced by black slacks and a neatly ironed black button-up. And there's a slim red tie hanging from his neck. I'm tempted to take a picture just so I can show it to him every time he pisses me off.
But I don't. I still want that tour.
I wait for him so that we can go together, but he passes me without giving me a single glance.
And then he has the audacity to look back over his shoulder and call out, “Coming or what?”
There’s a special place in hell for people like that.
I take a few long strides and catch up with him just as we enter one of the hallways on the right.
It stretches to no end, just like the main hall. Woody scent hangs in the air. “What's that smell?”
“Sweat and sex.” His eyes dart at me, and he shoots me a short glance. I hate that he's an inch taller. “In your case, mostly sweat.”
“Are you a professional asshole, or is it just a side hustle?”
He doesn't even flinch when he says, “Fuck around and find out.”
“Hard pass.”
We reach the end of the hallway, and there’s another giant door, much like the one in the main room. He opens it without as much as a deeper breath and lets me through.
I'm about to throw some snarky comment in his direction, but when I walk into another slightly smaller room, my mouth snaps shut, and I freeze.
If I felt I was in the wilderness before, now I'm in a fucking jungle.
Piles of clothes are scattered across the floor, between the same square leather sofas, and half the people here are naked.
Naked and fucking going at it.
On the largest sofa in the middle, a guy lies flat on his back, a girl riding his cock, while another woman sits on his face, kissing the first one.
A few people are standing around them. One Group. One couple. And one guy, with his hand in his pants, staring at the action unabashedly.
I look to my left and see more or less the same thing. People swarming around. Fucking. Exchanging partners.
The music is almost inaudible now, overshadowed by moans, groans, and curses. There’s a row of booths to my right, heavy curtains around them, stretching from the ceiling to the floor, some open, some closed. And every fucking booth is occupied.
“Did you want a tour, or do you plan to stand here forever?” I turn my attention back to Sawyer, who stands by my side, looking utterly unaffected. I guess he's used to this.
“How big is this place?” I swipe my gaze across the room and notice several doors leading to God knows where. “How many people are in here right now?”
He looks like he's trying to hide his amusement. “Two hundred is the capacity.”
Two fucking hundred people screwing in the same place at the same time. “Are you kidding me? Are you often at capacity?”
He tilts his head and looks at me like I’m from a different planet calledInnocence. “We're always at capacity.”
