Page 120 of Beautifully Ruined

I open it and peer in. “Oh.”

“We leave in ten.”

I scurry off to get changed.

There’sa thrill that rakes over me every time we step into the nondescript building and into another world. It starts with the woman in white latex.

It’s not always the same one, but she’s always blonde and gorgeous.

But it’s like a rite of passage into a place where I know Cade and I belong. The people there—maybe not all of them—are our kind of people.

Even when we don’t share the same preferences with them, they’re our kind, and I like it.

I smooth a hand down over the baby doll sixties style lingerie I’m wearing in red with its sheer netting, silk ribbons and feathered edges. I feel naked again. Even though I have on a matching bra and panties set that comes with it.

The panties are sheer, as is the bra, and they’d be exposing me if I didn’t have the cover.

Red kitten heels finish the outfit, and there’s a matching ribbon holding some of my hair back.

I look maybe just eighteen.

It feels wrong.

It’s slightly delicious.

If we were home, if we were alone I can imagine the games. But I don’t think the girly ribbon is something that’s a turn on to Cade. I think he insisted on it to make me look younger because he told me to gauge any reactions to how I look and let him know.

Especially, if it’s from men I’ve seen before. And he added not to disappear from his sight.

I clutch his hand as we enter the club proper, and this time, he takes me to a table near the bar. There are booth-like seats around us, but this is one of a few that have chairs and is set up for those who want to watch and drink.

As he goes to the bar, I take in the people around me.

Tonight, this has the feel of a strip club…what I imagine one would be, as there are a lot of men in suits up here, more than usual. I think Thomas said they like to showcasedifferent preferences on different nights, and under the spotlight is a woman performing burlesque and many of the men are watching avidly.

I’ve seen strippers before. On TV. In Jack’s photos from Vegas, but this is something else. Even I am mesmerized.

Whoever she is, she’s a goddess.

But I drag my gaze from her and take in the room.

After a week, I’m recognizing people.

It’s clear to me there are two sets of patrons. The ones that don’t put on public displays and either partake downstairs in the private rooms or they come here to conduct business, make connections.

I know when someone works a room.

I’m also recognizing the fact the hostesses and waitresses are either mostly naked, in latex, or the kind of lingerie I’ve never owned. This stuff is made to be seen.

There’s a group of men drinking and talking, and one of them grabs the waitress, pulling her down as she places the last drink on the table and pulling out her breasts so he can play with them.

Two hostesses come up, one in a latex dress so low cut and short she might as well have been me the first night I came. The other girl, a redhead, is in lingerie.

They join the table, easing into the conversation, laughing and touching the men. One man shoves his hand in the redhead’s panties, fingers moving, and it’s clear he’s finger fucking her. The girl grabs the man’s shoulder and straddles him, long legson display, then she sits fully as he pulls out his hand, gripping her thigh, and she turns, her ear next to his mouth.

I go utterly still.

The redhead.