Club Saturday: Contemporary Menage Romance (Sarasota Sin Series Book 2)
Read Club Saturday: Contemporary Menage Romance (Sarasota Sin Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Talyn Scott
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This book is written for those eighteen years and older.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © 2015 by Talyn Scott.
All Rights Reserved.
Club Saturday
Sarasota Sin Series Book 2
Talyn Scott
Chapter 1
Vania checked her watch as she passed by the final bouncer. If she were coming to Club Saturday for any other reason besides sex in an elevator, she wouldn’t have waited an hour to enter. And from the looks of the line that formed behind her, other club goers were willing to wait upwards of two hours. Imagine that.
When she walked through the main vestibule, which spiraled out to four separate dance floors, Vania veered towards the one with a live band. Then she tried to search for those particular monochromatic elevators adjacent to the stage that Matt had described.
But people kept getting in her way due to her height restriction, even though she’d worn four-inch heels. Exhaling though clenched teeth, she steadied her hand on a glass tiled half wall and tiptoed for a better look inside this club of giants.
“Looking for someone, Miss Lange?”
Fine hairs on Vania’s arms lifted when she peeked over her shoulder. “Mr. Easton?”
Evan nodded expectantly, waiting for her to answer his question.
Vania’s face grew hot as his dark eyes appraised her little black dress. Spaghetti straps held up the bodice, showing an ample amount of cleavage, and a little lower he could see her tightened nipples beneath the fabric. Sure, she could have worn a strapless bra. But considering the hefty weight of her breasts, Vania knew the thing would have ended up around her waist an hour after she’d put it on.
So what was the point?
She lowered on her heels, feeling one of her Achilles tendons crackle. “Dammit.” She reached down and rubbed the back of her tender ankle.
“You’re hurt?”
“No. Kind of,” Vania stammered. “My ankle, the tendon cracks sometimes when I tiptoe or wear heels.”
He cupped her elbow, easing some of her weight off the offending ankle. “This happens regularly?”
Couldn’t he see how short she was when compared to him? Vania leaned back, but Evan stepped closer, keeping ahold of her elbow. His broad shoulders blocked out most of the people behind him. “Yes, it settles right down, though, takes a few minutes.”
“Then let’s get you off your feet.”
“I’m fine, Mr. Easton, but thanks for your concern.” Evan couldn’t ruin this for her. She needed to find those elevators. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“I believe I’ve been dismissed.”
“Oh, no, I just don’t want to disturb your plans,” she lied. Why couldn’t he take a damn hint?
“Ah, Miss Lange, there’s no plan I have that would warrant leaving you in pain.” He slid one hand around her waist and kept another secured beneath her forearm, leading her through the throngs of gorgeous patrons. “Let’s find a seat.”
What could she do, argue with her boss? “Sure, thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
Vania searched for the special elevators while they walked. “Could we find a seat near the band?”
“Absolutely.”
“I heard Noah Wyatt got his start here.”
“I heard the same thing.” He seemed amused now. “You like his music?”
Ocean blue eyes, a sultry bedroom voice, and dimples carved on either side of a mouth made for sex, who didn’t love Noah Wyatt? Vania had playlists dedicated solely to that man, ones she listened to on lonely nights when Matt wasn’t home. “He’s okay.”
Evan laughed.
Along the way, Vania noticed women glaring at her. To her surprise, several were servers with trays in hand. Some of them were probably Easton Chasers, looking for fame and fortune by using their pretty bodies as bait.
Giving Evan a sidelong glance, she realized he was unaffected by his admirers. She shouldn't be surprised, though. With his looks alone, Evan could have anyone he wanted, could get whatever he needed. Maybe the attention bored him by now.
But his reputation for rotating women in his bed preceded him. Even her boss Avery Easton had warned her from the beginning that she should avoid Evan — that she shouldn’t take his advances in earnest or she would get hurt. She’d shaken her head at Avery, dismissing such a silly notion. Vania was no socialite, didn’t fit in the Easton world — nor did her body. But she’d sworn to him that she wouldn’t accept any proposition that Evan might give her, yet no proposition ever passed his lips.
They stopped alongside a low booth. The table gleamed ebony, the edges trimmed with brushed steel. An odd combination, Vania thought when she slid across the sky blue seat, but it worked.
“I haven’t been here before.”
His eyebrows lifted. “No?”
A server hit their table with the precision of a bullet.
“Nope, but Club Saturday is stunning,” Vania said after Evan ordered drinks.
“Some people think so.”
A monstrous sea coral structure hung from the ceiling, acting as a chandelier. “And the band” — she gestured across the way, where professional dancers filled every available space around the patrons, some even gyrating in dimmed alcoves —"is spectacular.”
“Stunning and spectacular, hmmm, I could say that about you.”
Vania laughed as she reached up and touched the unique light. It resembled a clear jellyfish, its color shifting in beat with the music. “I’m sure we could say that about each other, if we weren’t professional.”
“Professional?” He made a face, and reached over to stroke her fingers. “Who were you looking for?”
She finally spotted the specific elevators — no neon, no signs, only monochromatic black as Matt had described. “Um, looking for?”
“When you were standing on those adorable toes and flicking your head back and forth like a curious meerkat. Who were you looking for?”
Vania tugged away her hand. A meerkat? Now that sounded sexy. “My fiancé was supposed to meet me after work to celebrate my promotion.” Another lie, “I guess he’s running late.”
“Dr. Lambert?”
“How do you know about him?”
“We’re briefed on every brilliant, blue-eyed employee who is fresh on the top floor.” He reached for her left hand, easing it over and searching for her engagement ring.
“I doubt that brief included my fiancé.”
Ignoring that, Evan grazed his index finger over her engagement ring. “How was your first week?”
“Exhilarating and frightening, Mr. Easton.” Again, Vania tugged her hand from his. “But Avery is a patient boss.”
“Call me Evan.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Why, Vania?” Her name rolled off his tongue in a carnal caress.
“Because —"
“Because you look spectacularly turned on right now, yet your fiancé isn’t within eyeshot?”
“
Because
I’m not supposed to —" The server appeared at their table, and Vania closed her mouth on a smile. “Thank you,” she said when a martini was placed in front of her.
“You’re not supposed to?” he prompted, even though the server hadn’t left.
Vania flicked her eyes to the woman and back to Evan. She knew better than to talk in front of others. Anything they said to each other could end up on the internet.
He didn’t seem to care, but dismissed the server with a few bills. “Better?”
When Vania opened her mouth, Evan’s phone buzzed. He looked apologetic. “I’m expecting —"
“Please, take the call.” She took a long sip of her drink and slid from the booth. “Ankle’s better and I need to find Matt, anyway.”
“But I would like for you to —"
“See you Monday, Mr. Easton.” Vania adjusted her thin purse strap diagonally across her torso. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Vania.”
She hurried away and didn’t glance over her shoulder until she hit the outskirts of the dance floor. No longer in the booth, Evan was striding across the bar with his cellphone pressed against his ear, his free hand clenching and unclenching as he spoke.
When Vania stepped in front of the monochromatic elevators, her stomach flipped, but she refused to back down.
Hearing her phone ring, she pulled it from her purse and answered. “Matt, I’m at the… Oh, you can see me?” She glanced around, trying to spot him but he was nowhere in sight. “Yes, I remember how to use the key. Make sure you’re the only one who gets in the elevator with me.” She lowered her voice, hearing Matt’s footfalls echo wherever he was walking. “Yes, I’ll keep the blindfold on.” Her heart started pounding. “See you in a sec.”
Some of Matt’s colleagues had suggested Club Saturday for its secret elevators. Couples who could afford an obscene membership fee spiced up their sex lives here, whenever it suited them. In contrast, singles could have anonymous sex with one or more partners.
The rules were clear: Obviously, sex was consensual; each trip inside the elevator was limited to twenty minutes; BDSM was out since the elevator couldn’t accommodate those needs. Vania had no problem with that. The idea of Matt tying her up and doing whatever Doms do to their Subs had chilling appeal. Not that she lacked trust in him.
But when Matt suggested they try out Club Saturday’s secret elevators together, Vania was thrilled. Since he’d started his recent position at the hospital, sex had been placed on the back burner, occurring maybe once a week, if she was lucky. So if Matt wanted to liven up their sex life, she was for it.
Vania reached inside her purse and switched her cellphone for the odd key Matt had given her. She stepped inside the elevator car and slid the key in a nondescript slot adjacent to the panel.
When the doors closed, she met her reflection within four mirrored panels. Her dark blonde hair hung like silk, only because she’d spent an hour flat ironing the unruly mess. Her pupils were enormous within her blue eyes, her cheeks flushing pink, and her breasts eagerly pouted against the thin layer of her dress.
The elevator plunged.
“No second-guessing,” she chanted, while shoving her glasses in her purse. “I’m going for it.”
Vania lifted a lined, silk blindfold from a golden hook and donned it the way Matt had requested.
When the elevator lurched to a standstill, she gasped at the way her core grew slick. Yes, her body knew where it was headed. The thrill of having sex somewhere besides her bedroom sent jolting zaps all the way to her toes.
