The Romance Novel Book Club (10 page)

Chapter
Seventeen

My stomach rolled at the thought of one more sweet confection. I don’t know when I’d crawled back in from the bonfire of madness on the balcony. The coals on the grill had lost their healthy glow long ago, the remains of
Winter’s Kiss
blackened snowflakes on the wind. I’d had it with reading romance novels. No matter what Julie shoved in my face, I wasn’t reading it. In fact, I planned on having the grill primed and ready for action if she tried.

I had to stop pining for what never was and get back into the game. Why was I so hung up on Matt? Sure he set my crotch on fire in a good way, unlike Joey Denires after college. I shook the painful memory out of my head. I groaned and forced myself to get off the floor before Julie came over and drew a chalk outline around my prone body. I didn’t need photos of my demise to magically appear on some social media site.

First, I decided not letting the food Ted brought over go to waste was a good idea. I fished the Styrofoam goodies out of the bag and shoved them in the refrigerator.
 
When I went to ball up the bag, my hand got pricked. Apparently the food wasn’t the only occupant of the bag. A slew of curses flew out of my mouth as I snatched out the envelope inside the plastic. My name was scrawled on it, and if I didn’t know better, it looked like Matt’s handwriting.

“Oh no you don’t.” If he couldn’t be bothered to deliver the note himself, it could stay sealed. I flicked it onto the counter.

I rummaged through my junk drawer, trying to find the elusive privilege card to gain entrance to the Black Room. The card stared back at me. One print of my thumb in glowing ink on a black background to verify with no picture. I fingered its laminated surface, unsure if I wanted to have sex with a complete stranger just to get my rocks off. After my binge on s’mores, I wondered if I’d caused enough damage that my card would be revoked. I’d certainly indulged in hip inflating activities lately. If the members didn’t keep in shape, they were tossed to the curb. Good thing I didn’t mind a bit of exercise.

My fingers snatched up the card, and I raced to my bedroom for the little black dress before I chickened out. Besides, I had to prime myself if I was going to help Ted out with his waiter problem, right?

I dressed in fifteen minutes flat after a non-masturbatory shower, primed my face with a little bit of make-up, and headed for the door. It would have to be enough. When I reached the building, I’d have a mask to hide my features so as long as the make-up fit the flamboyant mask, I was as good as gold. I’d have to decide on what I was up to before I reached the club. The mask showed the way to my potential one-night-stand suitor.

I pondered that last part at a red light. What if I didn’t get picked? What if my steady Tall One wasn’t there? Doubt crept up on me like pantyhose in the middle of the dance floor. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as the traffic signal turned green. I swear I saw a horde of chickens flying across my windshield mocking me.

I refused to turn around. Butterflies waltzed and tangoed in my stomach as I parked my car in a parking lot about two blocks from the entrance. Not everyone had a big old Bel Air. I didn’t want to feel as if ‘desperation’ had been tattooed on my forehead in all caps.

With one big inhale, I exited the car. My footsteps were a cross between a fuck me pump sprint and runway model strut. Anxious or not, I had to keep my cool. Tucked into my bra was a wad of cash to pay for a room and a couple of drinks. Or enough to get blitzed, a cab ride home, and tow for my car.

At least I learned something in my Girl Scouts days.

The doorman stuck out his hand. I turned over my card and pressed my thumb to the reader. I may or may not have sucked in my gut too. With a nod, I passed the assessment test not to mention the hidden scale. Numb, I took the lacey mask from him and donned the disguise necessary.

Every step forward was laced with hesitation. The pretentiousness of the whole place harkened back to a person’s shoe I no longer fit into. The Black Room was so seven years ago. I should have never returned the last time.

As I turned heel to leave, someone tapped on my shoulder. Crap.

“Room five, dear. Your entertainment has paid for it.” The man’s grin and sparkling eyes couldn’t be dismissed with my mad dash to leave. I smiled and nodded, the butterflies deciding to trash and mosh instead of ballroom dance in my belly.

The distinct buzzing of the door locking from the outside deflated my chances of escape. Yes, I feared the mortified gazes of the other masked sexual fiends on the other side if I left the room early. I’d be the girl at the prom with the big white-headed zit on her forehead being voted prom queen.

Green lights, giving off enough light for me to see the outline of the bed, lined the ceiling. Just as I remembered it. I dove back into the mentality I had eight years ago and sat on the bed. My first Black Room experience with Tall One was in here.

“Hello,
York
.” A gravely voice whispered in my ear. “It’s been a long time. I thought I’d never see you in here again.”

I tried to hide my surprise. That someone had prowled this old haunt for me? I didn’t know whether to be flattered or call the stalker police.

“I’ve been a busy girl.” I responded. His hands smoothed over my shoulders, almost possessive. His lips tickled my nape. I shivered, despite myself. My mysterious lover remembered all my hot spots, even keeping his strong hands away from zooming straight to my breasts.

“You remembered.” I breathed as he curled his arms around my waist.

“I’ll never forget you.”

I chuckled before a purr left my lips. “It was a few nights of bliss, Tall One.”

“Let’s make it more.” His fingers inched to the hem of my dress. “Safe word.”

“Payday.” I breathed. My little black dress glided off. With nothing underneath to impede my darkroom lover, he stretched me out on the bed. Moisture pooled between my legs. How could I ever forget Tall One? In his arms, I always found happiness without the heartache afterwards.

My mind numbed as he guided my arms above my head. That tickle of silk-covered handcuffs snapped around my wrists. No backing out now. I was Tall One’s toy for the evening. His soft voice, low and intoxicating, whispered in my ear.

“Slow or fast?”

“Slow,” I said. Fast and furious was best left to the movies. I needed Tall One to give me the fantasy I craved in the romance novels. One blissful moment to remember. A night to forget the odd pain in my heart for giving up so quickly on Matt left.

Tall One’s kisses left a searing imprint on my flesh. Not one sensual pucker touched the usual sexual spots. His palms caressed my sides and continued up my arms. His mouth met mine. I stilled. Tall One had never kissed me before.

My complete trust in someone who I had a tumble in the dark with astounded me. Never mind the background checks exclusive members went through or the infrequency as of late that I used the little hot spot to rock my world. What did Tall One offer to make me surrender? Guilt for not giving Matt a second chance welled up, and I hardened the kiss.

My rolling tongue commanded my lover to continue his tease of the flesh. His palm brushed against my nipple. The cuffs clanked on the metal rail of the headboard as I bucked at the erotic touch.

“What happened to slow,
York
?”

My breath hitched, and I moaned out a sigh as he caressed both of my breasts. No words formed in my throat. The wetness of his tongue lavished each tightening peak. If I hadn’t left a tell-tale damp spot on the sheets at that point, I’d be shocked. Electricity fueled his every tug on my areolas. My body writhed beneath his commanding hold.

Fuck everything shoved down my throat on promiscuity or never touching my most intimate areas. His mouth pressed against mine, and I forced his lips open. The demure little explorer he molded ventured out of her shell and I wasn’t going back. Not tonight, not ever.

My breasts heaved as his shadow lengthened, the heated kiss lingering on my lips.

I gasped as he spread my legs wide, his breath hot on my sex. My mind shattered when his wicked tongue engulfed my clit.
 
The familiarity of the situation, so recent in my head, I expected a certain ringtone to blare through the sound system. My head thrashed to toss away the thoughts invading my want to enjoy the moment.

My legs wrapped around his shoulder as his hands lifted my ass up for a better feeding frenzy. I hoped the sound-proof barriers could contain my wails of pleasure. The release bounced off the walls as I came. Warm fluid gushed from my core but Tall One never relented his tease on my sex. Perspiration coated every inch of me, and my legs trembled from his onslaught.

Tears leaked from ecstasy, and one last shuttering breath escaped as Tall One towered above me. The beautiful crinkling of a condom package hinted at his next move. His girth flicked against my clit. Another shuddering orgasm sent tremors the length of my body.

That powerful organ between his legs slipped in my opening, and my hips rocked in a greedy gyration. I swear he held back his full length from impaling me completely. At least, from what I could remember. One more thrust from him had me not caring. In the soft glow of the room I saw the little horns on the top of his mask. He was a devil of a man. My carnal sin.

He neared the end, the panting and ragged breathing deafening. I had almost forgotten, in my heightened pleasure, that in this room the male couldn’t come unless his female counterpart commanded. Each one of us controlled the other in some way.

“Come for me, Tall One.” I growled the words out, my throat raw from the screams he pulled from me. Within the confines of Black Room, I was
York
. The demanding mistress. “Do not hold back from me. I want all of you to fuck me.”

He complied. Beautiful and more than I ever dreamed of, his cock slid far inside my welcoming wet and willing pussy. He collapsed on top of me in a trail of kisses down my neck. I basked in the aftermath of our lovemaking.

“Don’t be a stranger, York.” His soft voice nudged my ear. “I want no one but you.”

The cuffs slipped from my wrists and the warmness of Tall One was replaced by the chill of being alone. I sat on the bed for a bit, trying to rationalize the emptiness inside replacing the bliss I held just moments before.

My knees curled to my chest, and I cried. I had replaced the fantasy of a romance novel with the reality of a lie. My persona of
York
no more existed than the perfect man.

I shimmied my dress back on and threw my membership card on the bed. Without it, I couldn’t come back.

Time for me to grow the hell up.

Chapter Eighteen

The envelope stared at me from the kitchen table, trying to woo me with my wild imagination. Come, Patricia, give in to the luxuriously and velvety smooth feel of the biggest piece of man bits you’ll ever see. Just once, that’s all you need. A bucket list item to always give you that tingly feeling while in the nursing home they commit you to. It would be Julie doing it most likely. Lord knows I won’t find anyone else.

I put my two fingers up in a ‘V’ and inserted my tongue provocatively between them. Might as well take a look at my future. Yeah, right. Julie already dashed my experimental hopes to the ground. I wiped my face with a towel and decided to woof down whatever meal Ted brought for me.

The envelope kept me company and a few times I caught my hand easing over to it. I didn’t want to give in like a desperate virgin looking to lose it as a badge to her slutty friends in a bad
Grease
flashback. Putting the plate in the sink, hoping the magical fairies came out and washed it during the night, I took the envelope and stuffed it behind my small wine rack. It smelled like Matt. It smelled like rejection. One I wanted, the other I just couldn’t handle. Could it be that I had let myself go and felt that spark gooey couples talk about? For that matter, romance novels always make it seem like two strangers lock eyes and instantly know that’s the one they want to be monogamous with for the rest of their lives.

Yeah, the real world says that it was as rare as people still being virgins on their wedding night. How many tragic cheating stories did you hear about in the tabloids? Now count the happy ending ones. No doubt about it. Happy endings were a fantasy in an unreal alternate universe. The man gets bored with being tied down to the same vagina, the woman realizes that her husband doesn’t do it for her but damn does the gardener slap her ass just right.

Fuck it. I stormed back into my bedroom, got the cheeky little outfit I’d forsaken back on, and headed to the door with a pocket full of Trojans. Some of them colored, none of them used … yet. I didn’t care who it was and if I had to drag him into the bathroom at the local nightclub. Some guy was getting wrapped and serviced by way of my love canal. After a few drinks to get my wine goggles going … just in case.

I picked a place I’d never gone to before. Some new hip club full of raging hormones and gyrating horn dogs. Just what I needed to forget the past few days. I sat on a tall stool, feeling like a kid in a candy store swinging her feet because she could. I had a load of guys to pick and choose from but first came the liquid courage and fistful of peanuts. I swayed to the music as I prowled with my eyes.

“Hi.”

I turned to the male voice and saw this dashing young stud with that ‘how you doing?’ smile plastered on his face. He could work for a one-night stand.

“Hi.” I smiled back, sucking on the swizzle stick of my drink. He got closer, leaning into my ear as the music got louder.

“Never seen you here before.”

“Trying something new.” I watched as his eyes roamed straight to the boobs. His hand latched on to my leg as he laughed as if I said something funny. Part of me wanted to smack the offending hand away, but then I remembered why I tolerated the dance techno beats.

“You ever try something new?” I perused him over like he was a piece of raw meat in the Serengeti. His hand inched farther up my thigh and I played the part, shyly sipping on my drink.

“Oh I’m hoping to tonight.”

I pushed my drink away, licking my lips in a not-so-moistening-my-lips kind of way. Again his hand gained more territory on my thigh, ever closer to my golden jewel.

“Really?” I leaned in close to him, finally stopping the ascent of his hand. I couldn’t keep going on with this cutesy crap, and it was time I owned up that my intentions mirrored his. “Because if you go farther up my skirt, you’ll find nothing standing in your way.” My fingers tapped on the belt buckle around his waist. He seemed unsure of himself for the first time and, considering his age, I’m pretty sure if I went all out Patricia on him, he’d need medical attention.

He stammered, and I put a finger to his lips.

“You were hoping for something, weren’t you?” His eyes darted to the side, and I finally saw his friends at other table. “Ahh … am I some kind of bet?”

“I, um, well...”

I must admit that I found it endearing that the little man thought himself in my league at the game of getting some. I shook my head, realizing they were cougar hunting. Good Lord, was I that old now? Thirty-something shouldn’t count for that, right? And that’s barely thirty-something, mind you. I took my hand off his and grabbed my drink, tossing it back and calling for another.

“Get your cheap thrill in to tell your friends.” As he positioned his hand high enough to feel I wasn’t wearing any underwear, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him in for a smack on the lips for the hell of it.

“Just so you know,” I whispered in my sexy voice in his ear. “I would have taken you into the bathroom and fucked your brains out without all this three ring circus bullshit, but since you thought I was some desperate single
older
woman ripe for a game, you can forget it. Oh and by the way, they’re real.” I pushed him away and crossed my legs, showing him my back so he wouldn’t get one last look at my gorgeous girls.

The waiter came with my drink, and I crooked a finger at him.

“Want to do me a huge favor? There’s a big tip in it for you.”

“Sure.” He shrugged. I downed my drink and stood, adjusting my dress and giving my ta-tas an adjustment for a show to the barely twenty-one all male review. I took the waiter’s hand, gave the table a wink and headed for the bathroom area. As we disappeared in a crowd of people, I gave a hundred dollar bill to him with my thanks. He even let me loosen his tie a bit and waited about five minutes or so to make his grand entrance back at the little boy’s table. Oh yeah, he knew what I was up to and I think he enjoyed seeing the looks on those chiseled retards when he brought their drinks … very, very late.

As much fun as that was, it still left me with nothing to one-night-stand. I hit the dance floor and started prowling like a huntress. About fifteen minutes later I ended up in the back of a van faking an orgasm with a guy who smothered himself in my chest as he awkwardly thrust like a virgin on an apple pie. On the Matt-o-Meter, he scored a six for size and a two for effort. He did manage to almost rub my clit off before I handed him a condom. I tried to save him from being a complete zero. I exchanged phone numbers with him (mine being the local Chinese food store that tried to overcharge me a couple of times … pay back, bitches) and of course a false name. Tonight I became Natalie in town from
Bridgeport
,
Connecticut
. Sucker. I also scratched this place off the list. No way did I come several miles away from home to hook up for this schmuck to find me again.

I went home and decided to open up the Silicone Funhouse and a bottle of Chardonnay. Nothing like sloppy drunken sex with yourself to cap off an evening.

In the morning I paid for my illicit activities with a pounding headache and almost tripping over a big red dong that somehow came to rest on the floor last night. As bad as I felt, I still chalked the evening’s festivities as one for the win column. Maybe tonight I’d raid the circus and have a three-way with a couple of clowns or go to the biker bar, get drunk and tattooed and be someone’s old lady. Or maybe, just maybe, I’d finally find the nerve to open that envelope from Matt.

I think the clowns are getting lucky tonight.