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Oh, now that really boosted my confidence and made it easier to follow her deeper into the club until we reached the dining area.

Along the way, I noticed a few of the individuals from the entryway, though bits of their attire had changed.

One of the kilted men had exchanged his top for a leather harness, while a tiny woman in six-inch stilettos removed a flowy wrap to reveal nothing but fishnet and leather strips beneath it.

The way they crisscrossed her body, showing off wide strips of tattooed skin and piercings, was one of the coolest things I’d ever seen.

My artist brain wanted to draw her immediately or at least get a quick gesture study penciled out so I wouldn’t forget any details, while the little voice in the back of my mind reminded me that it might be rude to dive into my sketchbook the moment we sat down.

Besides, I hadn’t asked if sketching, even without including identifying details, was even permitted here.

“Oh wow,” I murmured as we took our seats.

The horseshoe-shaped benches meant we weren’t seated across from one another, but side by side, leaving me extremely aware of Harper’s presence.

Instead of being uncomfortable, it was comforting and made it so much easier to lean close and ask questions without the risk of someone overhearing.

“I, um, remembered what you said about wanting me to see the show to help with inspiration for the artwork you’d like to have created, so I brought my sketchbook. Would it be okay if I mocked up ideas while we ate? I won’t draw anyone’s faces or anything like that.”

“It’s perfectly okay.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “And please, if something really stands out tonight that you’d like to see depicted in the art, let me know so I can make notes and mockups.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea. I’ll be sure to let you know.”

When the lights came on beneath the clear table and to the front of us, I didn’t expect the Plexiglas to glow the way it did, creating a whole ambiance for us that went beyond the two women in the room below us.

One wore sparkly pink and black pasties over her nipples, in the shape of a kiss, and a matching thong that showed off every ripple of her abs as she danced seductively around her partner, a woman in a mini-skirt and leather bustier that showed off her tattooed midsection.

Miss Pasties moved to the beat like the room was filled with music, a pink and black boa and matching fedora rounding out her outfit.

I couldn’t help it; I had to dig my sketchbook out just to capture the uniqueness of her outfit and the way she moved so seductively around her partner, who caught her boa and booped her on the nose when she attempted to lasso her with it.

Pasty girl pouted for a moment and crossed her arms, until her partner plucked the fedora off her head, waved it at her, and plopped it on her own head, the jaunty feather matching one of the ones hanging from her ears.

“You see the way they are moving with one another, like they’re playing cat and mouse?”

Harper’s voice near my ear sent a shiver down my spine, and when I turned to look at her, she was so close I could see the flecks of colors in the pattern of her iris, so light they were almost gold in all that green.

“Uh-huh,” I murmured, unable to look away.

“Seduction is a dance that starts long before you ever put your hands on someone,” she said. “The artwork I long for should show more than just lovers entwined. I want you to capture the moments it took to get there, as well as the moment when they move from teasing to more.”

I shivered again, not just because she was giving me a different way of looking at what was taking place below us, as pasty girl reached to adjust the fedora, just a little, on the tattooed woman’s head, only to have her hand captured.

The tattooed woman spun her and pressed against her shoulder, bending her over a chest at the foot of a bench.

Pinning her there, the tattooed woman traced patterns up pasty girl's back with fingertips and kisses, slowly, gently, until she reached the nape of her neck, and pasty girl shivered.

Her hair was a riot of blond curls that the tattooed woman gripped before tugging her hair back, her other hand on pasty girl’s hips, keeping them in place as her back bowed, allowing the tattooed woman to whisper in her ear, and lick the shell of it.

My pencil flew over the page as my mind raced, Harper’s words and the images playing out below us beginning to flow together like wisps of smoke.

Watching incense curl and trail around a room had always been something I loved to do when I was daydreaming; now I thought about the way that smoke came together and drifted apart, some trails dancing for long distances, others curling and fading from view.

On the page, lines started taking shape as I drew the smoke, one twisting spiral becoming an arm wrapped in that fluffy feather boa, as the tattooed woman began trapping pasty girl in her own prop.

“Every movement has meaning,” Harper whispered, drawing a low moan from me that I hope she didn’t hear. “Every action builds to a new possibility. That’s what we pride ourselves on here. That’s what I want you to capture.”

Sweet, sweet goddess in the sky, my panties were damp already, and they were just getting started.

While my artist brain focused on capturing as much inspiration as possible, the little voice in the back of my head giggled and whispered that we were going to need a change of underwear long before the main event.