Page 28

28

PENNY

“Give me your wrist, little fawn.”

With large eyes, I look up into Yuri’s with confusion but do as I’m told. It’s actually difficult not to do as I’m told when he states things with such calm authority. “Okay…”

“This is for your own protection, as well as anyone else who tries to”—he appears to struggle for the right word—“ play with you.” He then proceeds to snap a white band onto my wrist. With the flick of a button, it illuminates into the dimly lit room the color of red.

“What’s this for?” I ask, no longer able to keep my curiosity at bay.

“Since you’re new, we need to ease you into some of the…amenities here. This band restricts you from certain areas of the building, as well as alerts den monitors that you are testing the scene and that you might need some extra eyes looking out for you.”

I guess I should be thankful.

“Hey, Penny,” Daphne calls over the loud music. “Sorry about that, um, detour.”

I laugh. “No problem. I actually caught up with?—”

“Oh, damn.” She snaps her mouth shut, placing a hand over it for added protection. Her eyes turn mischievous when Yuri’s gaze holds hers. Is she with him too? I can feel the sizzle between them, similar to how I felt when she was around Michael.

Keeping remarkably calm, he pulls Daphne to him without any warning and whispers something into her ear that causes her to shiver. Turning to me, he allows his demeanor to soften. “Miss Daphne only has about fifteen minutes before Michael is going to start to hunt for her. And he is extra feral tonight. So, I suggest you use your time with her wisely, because I doubt she’ll be”—he taps a finger along his jawline—“in the mood to sit around and chat with you later.”

I nod with the overall understanding—I think. Granted, there were a lot of hidden messages.

Once Yuri makes his exit and disappears into the sea of people, Daphne turns to me with sparkles in her eyes. “So how should I spend these last few minutes of freedom?”

An upbeat song starts playing through the sound system, with the bass thump-thumping in the undertone of the rhythm. “Do you want to dance?” It would be a waste not to utilize some of Luke’s advice.

Excitement beams from Daphne’s eyes. “Oh, yes. Yes, I do!”

This time it is me tugging her toward the dance floor that is full of x-rated shenanigans. Some women are topless. Some men are bottomless. And some are basically having sex—right there for us all to see.

When the white lights turn on intermittently, it reveals hidden body messages that must be painted on the skin of some of the members on the floor.

All yours.

Mine.

Brand me.

Open season.

I like it hard.

It’s my birthday.

Pick a hole.

Suck me.

Seeing what is holding my attention, Daphne calls over what appears to be a floor monitor and asks for something I can’t quite make out. When he hands her a pen, she looks like she just won the lottery.

“Close your eyes and give me your arm. Trust me. This will make the evening more interesting.”

I comply but not without apprehension. What is she going to write on me? The feel of the pen gliding against the skin of my arm tickles, making me laugh.

When she is done with my other arm, she turns me around, moves my hair out of the way, and uses the bare span of my back as her next canvas. I am so distracted by the feel of the cool pen on my warm skin that I can’t keep track of the letters she is pressing into me.

“Ta-da,” she says with pride. “Here’s to hoping I didn’t jack up the spelling.”

I look at my arms, not able to see anything—at least not until the light changes again back to white. We sway and dance to the music, and when the beat drops, a darker feel hits the room like a ghostly shadow. And then the light comes back on, revealing just how naughty Daphne can be.

“Really?” I ask, looking down and reading what she decided to write on me in the visible locations. “Angel in disguise? Villain era. Good girl with bad girl vibes…”

“Hey, I kept it super innocent this time. Be glad I didn’t draw pictures. One of my many talents is my stick figures with penises.”

We laugh and joke, enjoying each other’s company.

“It’s wild here,” I call out over the music.

“But fun though, right?”

I nod eagerly. I’m surprised at how relaxed I am. I’m also surprised I made it inside without getting stopped by my security detail.

Maybe Collins doesn’t have eyes on me like he claimed and was just bluffing.

But I’m also not doing anything wrong.

I didn’t come to get naked, yet those who are aren’t doing it to cause a spectacle. This has way less of an orgy feel than how porn makes these types of clubs out to be. I’m sure there are less stellar venues in existence, but it’s refreshing knowing that some place more upscale is available for self-exploration.

I feel a presence behind me and the feel of strong fingers gripping my waistline. I suck in a deep breath as every worst-case scenario flutters through my mind.

Dammit.

This is what I’ve been trying to avoid happening, and yet no matter how hard I try, my past seems to still sneak through the cracks that have been partially repaired through therapy.

I shiver and sidestep from the touch, causing a cacophony of things to happen. Three men in black shirts surround us, remove the man from the room, and then one asks, “Are you okay, little bunny?”

I nod slowly. “I’m fine.” My words tumble out of my mouth in trembly syllables. “I’m sorry that caused him to be kicked out.”

“He was on his last warning. Him touching you when you are wearing your wristlet just helped to hurry things along. He knew better but still chose to break a rule. Do not accept responsibility for a man who clearly knew what he was doing.”

I give a weak smile, trying to take off some of the guilt that is stacking up in my heart.

Daphne moves to stand beside me when the monitors disappear back into the crowd. “You froze up there and looked like you were caught in a bad dream.”

A nightmare…

“I just…”

“Are you okay?”

No . “Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

I look back over my shoulder, feeling gravity’s weight of embarrassment. Rejection sucks, and I did it blindly without even giving him a chance and caused him to be removed from the premises. “I just have some baggage, that’s all.”

“Don’t we all?”

“Mine might be heavier than someone else’s though,” I say, mostly as a whisper.

“Hey. Whatever you are dealing with, this is a wonderful place to work through it. But can I give you a bit of advice?”

“Sure. Go on.”

“Just be honest with the men. I think a lot of people here welcome the luxury of a temporary connection. However, some are here to find a partner outside of Limit-X. The last thing you need is to want one thing and find someone who wants something different. Then it gets…”

“Complicated.”

Daphne nods. “Yup. And that’s where my problems start. I just can’t choose one man. I love the species entirely too much. If only I had more holes in my body to offer up.”

I laugh, although she has given me so much to think about in such a short time frame. From across the dance floor, I see Michael making his way toward Daphne. I assume he knows she had another man’s dick in her mouth within the past sixty minutes, but it isn’t my place to ask those types of details.

Right now, I need no-strings-attached. I’m not good girlfriend material anyway. I need to work through my own kinks in my plan.

Maybe flooding my system with the thing that scares me is a strategy for desensitizing myself. I just need time and the space to process the fact that not all men are Mark Tanner.

And perhaps I can explore that type of healing process right here.

When Michael gets to us, he nods in greeting and opens his arm to welcome me inside. “How have you done so far, little one? Hope nothing scared you.”

I watch in awe as he wraps one arm around me and with his other one attaches the strap of the leash back onto Daphne’s collar with the flick of his wrist. I need to ask her more about the meaning of all of this. Yet, I don’t want to be too intrusive. I mean, really, how does one go about asking why the guy she seems to be dating is leading her around on a dog leash?

“I asked you a question, little dove.”

My eyes snap up to his and for a second they get lost. Blinking, I mentally try to form words together to make a sentence. “I’m trying to get used to everything.”

Michael nods. “I imagine your senses are a bit overwhelmed. You are very brave.”

“Everyone seems really nice, though. And there was only one altercation.”

His gentle eyes turn to ones of concern. “What happened?”

When I don’t answer, Daphne puts me out of my misery. “Someone got grabby. He was thrown out.”

“Good,” he says, releasing his hold on me. “I hope you weren’t too shaken up.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

He studies me, analyzing me for whatever unknown truths my body wants to broadcast. “Will you be alright for a bit? I need to take my pet on a little excursion upstairs.”

I feel the rush of blood make its way to my cheeks. Daphne gives me a look, letting me know she most definitely is excited about going to some place upstairs that I have yet to explore.

“I’ll be fine. I think I’m going to go grab a drink at the bar.”

“Okay,” Michael says. “Just make sure you stay hydrated—with something other than alcohol.”

“Will do,” I mutter.

I walk over to the lava lamp bar, finding a man there enjoying what looks to be scotch or whiskey.

“Hi,” he greets, causing yet another rush of warmth to race through my body.

At this point, I know I’m just horny. It is obnoxious. And I bet everyone who looks at me knows it too.

“Sit.” He clears his throat. “Please.”

I hop up on a bar stool, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth.

“What will you have?” the bartender asks.

With the exception of the already-prepared sangria last night, I can’t remember the last time I really had an actual drink that wasn’t celebratory champagne or a dish made with cooking wine. In therapy, we focused a lot on keeping a clear mind. I’m just not sure now is a good time to be exploring my alcohol tolerance—especially when I have no clue what to actually order.

“Do you have juice?” As soon as my words escape, I realize how lame they sound. What am I—five? “I mean, um…”

The bartender smiles. “Orange, pineapple, cranberry, or mango?” He glances behind him at the arrangement of fresh produce. “Or I can make you apple, peach, or pomegranate.”

My head dips. “Pineapple, please. But with something”—I gesture to all the bottles lined up behind him—“fun added to it.”

“Now that sounds enticing,” the man says, pulling my attention back to him. “I’m Neil, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”

He clears his throat. “I pride myself in having impeccable manners and not allowing my impulses to take over. You have me so distracted by your beauty, I forgot to even ask you your name.”

I smile. “Penny.” Maybe I’m not the only one who’s nervous.

My pineapple juice cocktail arrives. It is garnished beautifully with a piece of fruit cut into the shape of a star, balancing on the sugared rim of the glass. It seems unnecessarily fancy and decadent.

“How is it, Penny?” Neil asks, watching me take my first sip. His eyes are trained on me, watching with such reverence as I do something so mundane. He might be flirting—or trying to—but I’m too inexperienced to know for certain to reciprocate.

“Best I’ve had.”

His eyes catch my wrist, seeing the red glow of the warning light that alerts everyone here that I’m fresh to the scene. “What brings you here tonight?”

I think about the question, wondering how I should answer it. I don’t want to say I am here for open house because I get the weirdest reaction when I do. So I settle for a reversal question, if just to give my mind more time to think of a viable answer. “Do you want the honest answer or the expected answer?”

“Both?” he laughs.

“I came to prove to myself that I can be normal.” My eyes meet Neil’s. “In reality, I should just be here for fun, right?”

He shrugs. “First, normal is overrated.” He raises his eyebrows. “And boring. Second, if you haven’t had much fun yet, then we need to go take a look upstairs.”

I take another sip of my juice, savoring the taste, all while wondering what this mysterious place upstairs is all about and why Daphne hadn’t told me about it during the tour. I have heard several mentions of it already, and I’d be lying if I said my interest wasn’t piqued. Knowing that Daphne escaped with Michael up there gives me the impression that it will be wild.

I glance around the room, looking for a set of stairs or an elevator. “How does one get invited to go upstairs?”

Neil’s eyes light up. “One simply has to ask. Are you asking?”

I nod, as adrenaline rushes through me. “I’m asking.”

Neil slides from his stool, offering his open hand for me to take. Before I can change my mind, I accept, allowing him to help me down from the stool. My eyes catch my wrist and I notice my band is gone. I glance around on the floor, not spotting it. Oops.

We walk holding hands to the hallway on the other side of the bar, where there is a hidden staircase. A few guys smirk at my arms when the lights change, illuminating Daphne’s script on my skin. Several people say hi to him as we pass.

“Aren’t you popular,” I mutter, turning my head to catch his expression. He really is handsome, but in a rugged manly way with a full beard. His impeccable manners are in direct contrast to every stereotype I’d have pegged on him. Maybe it’s the tattoos or the gruffness to his voice.

“I’ve been a member here for some time. I accumulate a lot of acquaintances.”

Like trophies? “So it seems.”

We ascend the stairs, as my heart rate climbs with each step up. I don’t even know what to expect, except that whatever awaits us will surely be worthwhile. How can it not be? Everyone has basically suggested as such.

When we make it to the top, Neil squeezes my hand and studies my face. I know my cheeks are flushed from the exercise, as well as the anticipation.

“You have a particular interest in mind?” he asks.

“Interest?”

“Preference as to where you would like to start,” he clarifies without actually revealing anything.

I wrinkle my nose. “Neil, I have no idea what you are talking about. It’s not like I got an informative brochure or a map before entering the club. This is literally my first time here.”

His smile is warm, not condescending. I feel so new—inexperienced. “Come. I’ll show you then. Some things are best explored through action.”

I follow along, until we come to a wall of glass. My hand rests on the handrail underneath the panel, gripping the cold metal as I gaze inside the room. Holy shit.

“You okay?” Neil chuckles, looking down at me. “You aren’t going to pass out, are you?”

“I feel like we are intruding,” I mumble, but can’t take my eyes away from the threesome that is happening before us—just a wall of glass away.

“That’s the vibe here at Limit-X. Some people like to be watched. Almost as much as those doing the watching.”

In a muted haze, I ignore everything and everyone around me, as I take in the scene between the participants in the room.

I stare in awe as the two men sandwich a woman under the spray of the open, wall-less shower. Slick bodies slide against one another, in an erotic water dance. And sticking with the theme of Glow Night, the men have lit-up bands wrapped around the base of their cocks.

I can’t look away, yet I know I should. The girl turns and catches my eye, winking as the men around her devour her and bring her to orgasm.

I take a step back, bumping into Neil, who steadies me.

“Ready to move on to the next exhibit? We can find a booth that is more interactive.”

“In-ter-act-ive?” I ask, dramatically separating the word into syllables, as if I’m not proficient in English.

Neil smiles. I think he actually likes how naive I’m being. Maybe that’s his kink. “Where viewers can make suggestions for the”—he gestures toward the glass enclosure—“acts.”

“Oh.”

“Think of it as a guided theater performance. Come.” He pulls me along the main walkway. “We can meander through and see what interests you before settling.”

“You make it seem like we are working our way through a museum.”

Neil stops and scratches at his jawline covered with his beard. “In a way, this is very similar. Admiring art and beauty in its natural form.”

The corners of my lips curl up. It’s true. I allow him to guide me to the next section that has a similar viewing area of glass. This time, I get to witness two men making out on a huge four-poster bed that is adorned in red satin and wrapped in strings of lights. I bite my bottom lip as I watch their chemistry in full technicolor.

Damn.

The next room has a massage table set up to look like a typical spa. It’s so sensual watching the woman getting massaged by this burly man.

I can’t help but stare. I can’t help but fantasize.

And this is how Neil and I spend our time upstairs, walking along the hallway and bearing witness to a plethora of sexual acts. It is energizing. It is unfiltered. It is beautiful.

“Now that your thirst is quenched”—Neil brings his fingers to my chin, tilting my head upward to meet his eyes—“are you ready for the main course?”

I swallow hard, feeling lightheaded. “Care to give me a little more detail?”

“Perhaps something a bit more”—his eyes move suggestively down my body—“hands-on?”

I look down at the floor to see if my chin is there. “Involving me?”

“Is that an offer?”

No? “I, um, I don’t know.” What is he suggesting? What am I suggesting?

He analyzes me for a few seconds. “How about we test the water with something a bit more hardcore ?”

My hand sweeps out in a half circle. “Than this? Because watching people have sex is pretty kinky to me.”

He gives a one-shoulder shrug. “There’s a spare room. We have the option of fogging or defogging the glass to be open or closed—if that makes a difference.”

But I don’t even know you . A thrill runs through me, and I can’t tell if it is from excitement or trepidation. He has been so kind to me all night, and we’ve been having a lot of fun just exploring this part of the club together.

Was this the ultimate expectation? Is this what the equivalent dinner and a movie eventually ends up with—a trip home for sex?

It seems selfish of me to end the night right now, without even seeing what some alone time with Neil involves. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a tad bit curious. This would be one way to cross off some items from my goal list in my journal.

But I don’t know him.

And I can’t tell if that is the problem or if my hang-ups are deeply rooted in how Mark Tanner violated my trust in all men.

Do I just force myself through the barrier that is holding me back from experiencing a real connection with a man?

Do I throw myself into the pool heart-first and flood my senses with the thing that scares me the most?

Neil coaxes me forward, toward the opposite side of the hallway where a little green light is lit up on the wall outside the door. I guess this is a signal that it is free.

I enter the room, gambling on some notion that my mind and body are collectively healed from the trauma of my past.

Taking initiative, Neil fogs the window, giving us some privacy. I’m not sure if that helps my nerves or just revs them up even more. I can’t tell what emotion is winning right now, I’m that mixed up.

I turn toward him, watching as he starts to remove his shirt. Unlike a lot of the men at this club, he has on a decent amount of clothes. It’s definitely a disproportionate feeling when compared to the scraps I decided to wear.

I clear my throat, trying to push down the knot forming. “I think I should probably tell you that?—”

“Shhh…”

My eyes grow big as his finger lingers over my lips, silencing me before I can even finish with a warning about my sexual experience. Maybe he has gotten the wrong idea with how I’m dressed. Perhaps just entering this club has already stereotyped me into being a certain type of woman. Shit. What have I gotten myself into?

I fidget with my fingers, as I pivot to take in the rest of the room. Like most of the space upstairs, the room is dimly lit yet fitting the theme with the option of turning on the black light.

It seems welcoming with all wrought iron furniture and linens in soft hues, yet sterile with the lack of any decor.

Can I even go through with this? It seems so out of character for me. I mean, it’s not like I have to do anything more than kiss.

I never was one to rush things in the past, despite giving my first time over to someone who didn’t deserve it at all. I don’t need to make more bad choices just to prove to myself that I can have a normal sex life.

I see a shadow on the wall in front of me, reminding me that I’m not alone.

All of these little details were missed by me when we first came upstairs together. I think my mind was just elsewhere. And maybe this whole time Neil didn’t find my naivete cute—he found it essential.

I quiver at the feel of fingers on the straps of my top, gently tugging each side down, causing my hands to grasp the material in front to keep it from falling. “Calm down and relax, little bird. Just trying to make you more comfortable.”

I’m tired of being a little forest animal.

A fawn. A dove. A bunny. A bird. An awkward squirrel…

I make some sound that registers as foreign even to my own ears. I can’t settle my mind.

My heart rate quickens, as Neil’s whisper tickles my ears. “If this is all too much for you, we can leave. But I think you just may enjoy yourself.” His fingers trail down my neck, fixing my wavy hair over my shoulders. A tingle runs up my spine, from either his touch or the anticipation of finding out what will happen next.

Then my vision blurs with flashes of Mark Tanner’s face. His sneer. His sinister laugh. They are the same visions I have rehearsed in my head on loop for months, guessing at how the night I was drugged went down. Did he touch me? Did he take pictures of me? Did he snicker and gawk over my inebriated state? Did he get off afterward to how helpless he had me?

Does he get off now in the cell of his prison with thoughts of me?

I shudder.

He may not have raped me at the time…but he is raping my mind now. He is infiltrating it with every known evil.

His lips are on me. Dousing me with his hatred.

No.

Stop.

Please stop!

“No!”

Even my own voice causes me to startle. I turn and glare at Mark, as he morphs back into Neil, who is shockingly naked. When did he even remove his clothes? There were so many of them.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this.” My words come out choked. I need to get out of here.

I am so deeply retracted into the life I once lived that all those months of therapy can’t even compete with how lousy I feel right now at this very moment. I don’t belong here. I don’t really belong anywhere. It’s as if every single lesson ingrained into me from Soulful Mind has resurrected from the hallows of my consciousness, just to get obliterated and sent back into hell.

Therapy only prepared me for hypothetical situations. But right now is real…

And it is clear that I still have a lot of work left to do.

With awareness of my surroundings sinking into my thoughts, I scrape as much self-preservation as I can muster up, just so I can find the free will to escape here before anyone else intrudes on my misery. That’s the thing with embarrassment. It shows no mercy.

I guess the silver lining of this whole debacle is that now I know. Now I know that no amount of makeup or designer lingerie can mask the fact that I’m not okay.

I wasn’t before.

I sure as hell am not now.

And the once glimmer of hope that I had walking into this place has been burnt at the stake and turned to unharvestable ash. It was a pathetic belief that a place like Limit-X could change the damage that still exists inside of me.

Sure, I didn’t know walking in tonight to this building that this was a kink palace. But prior mental preparation would not have changed any amount of damage that I carry around like scars.

I feel so freaking stupid. Stupid for trusting that I’m strong enough. Stupid for coming here in the first place.

I frantically fix the straps of my outfit, tugging them up so hard that I scratch my neck. Then I make my escape, leaving a naked Neil behind without another word.

I mean, what else is there to say? Pretty sure he’ll never talk to me again if I ever possess the courage to come back here. That’s assuming I’m not blacklisted from the entire property if he speaks with Yuri about my erratic behavior.

When I get into the hall, I turn and run to where I think are the stairs but find myself passing through another section that I’ve never seen before. How did I get so turned around?

The space is muted from the dimmed light coming from wall sconces. It reminds me of the lobby, yet has an entirely different vibe.

There are no windows to allow in natural light, and it’s fitting, because nothing about this room feels inviting.

Several groups of people are gathered, spectating on what I can only assume is something a bit more X-rated. I stand on my tiptoes and crane my neck. I can feel the sexual energy stirring amongst the crowd, as those watching shift on their feet and keep their eyes straight ahead.

SMACK.

What.

SMACK.

The.

SMACK.

Hell?