I squeeze her shoulder briefly and stand. “Enjoy tonight,” I say, leaning in so she can hear me over the music that’s now playing. “There’s no better party in the city on Valentine’s Day.”
She looks after me, mouth open as if she was about to speak, but her words thankfully fail her and I’m able to slip away.
The party is rapidly starting to look more like a party and less like a company sponsored event. To their credit, the decorators did a good job this year, as they usually do. Stage lights were brought in to set the entire room in pink lighting with some areas of bright red. The main living room was converted into a dance floor, and a professional DJ is set up as well. Pink lights line the patio out back and the pool even has red filters over the recessed lighting.
The servers are scantily clad men and women dressed in Valentine’s Day themed outfits. They pass around frozen Tequila hearts on sticks dyed with red food coloring and dusted with salt and lime. There are three full bars throughout the ground floor and more than enough appetizers and finger foods to feed the entire crowd twice over. I can’t take two steps without being stopped by someone, shaking a hand, or being forced to endure someone’s thinly-veiled pitch for why they should be promoted.
It’s only been thirty minutes and I’m already about to lose it. I quickly assess the party and decide it’s already moving in the right direction and has enough momentum to stay that way. There is a growing group of my employees on the dance floor letting loose. I catch a few flashes of women’s skirts riding scandalously high as they bump and grind themselves into their dance partners at the heart of the group.
I slip upstairs, not completely avoiding notice, but only drawing a few curious glances as I retreat to my bedroom and sigh heavily, running hands through my hair. Music thumps loudly from downstairs, sending vibrations through my feet that I can feel in my chest. As always, my eyes are drawn to the door of my play room. Even the door itself promises the sensuality within. It’s padded in thick, polished leather, dimpled with regularly spaced leather rivets. The lock is thick and extravagant, and the key is only a few feet away, hidden in the false bottom of a vase that rests on top of my bookshelf.
Soon. The last time I closed that door was one of the darkest points in my life, and maybe the only way to claw my way back from that darkness will be to open it again. I’ve resisted it for so long, but I have needs, and I can’t suppress them forever.
24
Emmaline
We’re a little late by the time Scarlett and I arrive at Mr. Steel’s party. His house is enormous. It actually looks more like an expensive resort style hotel than a house. I can’t even begin to imagine how many bedrooms there could be inside and what other kinds of amenities a house like this must have. The driveway is lined with cars, young valets in vests jog out to grab keys from their owners and pull the cars around to a parking area down the road. I bulge my eyes at Scarlett, completely blown away by the extravagance of it all.
“This is insane,” I say.
“Why are you whispering?” Scarlett asks, grinning as she jabs me in the side.
I blush a little, smiling up at the house. “I can’t believe we get to go inside.” I swallow hard, suddenly nervous. “You’re sure secret service isn’t going to tackle us when we go through the door or something, right?”
“We’ll be fine. Just be casual. They might tackle you if you keep clutching your handbag in front of your stomach like some little old lady.”
I look down and sigh when I realize she’s right. My fingers are digging into the fake leather like I’m afraid someone’s going to steal it. Not likely at a place like this.
We step inside and I’m freshly amazed by the party. “You said this was a company party,” I say to Scarlett as we cross the foyer and make our way toward one of the bars.
“Mr. Steel apparently used to be quite the playboy, so it’s no surprise he throws a wild party.”
“No kidding,” I say, my voice so breathless it’s completely lost in the thrum of the music and the din of voices.
We take our places at the bar and have a few drinks. I keep reaffirming with the bartender that he’s sure they’re free.
“Completely free, Miss,” he says for the fourth time, sounding a little irritated.
I notice Scarlett looking longingly toward the dance floor, but she’s a good friend, and obviously doesn’t want to abandon me by myself at a party where I don’t know anybody. She’s probably even more reluctant to leave me after I gushed out all my problems earlier today.
I put a hand on her forearm. “Hey, go have fun.” I smile a little more confidently than I feel. “I’m going to throw a couple more free drinks down and then go scope the place out.”
She frowns, confused for a second before she laughs. “Really? What are you going to do, go upstairs and just start snooping?”
“No!” I say, scandalized. “But when these drinks are ready to come out, my shy bladder might draw me upstairs where I can get a better look at the place. I just have to know how many bedrooms there are.”
She quirks her lips up in amusement. “You’re a trip, Emma. You’re sure though? I really don’t mind hanging with you if you’re--”
“I’m sure,” I say. “The worst that could happen is I get lost in the mansion and they have to send a search party after me. Either way, I get to check out this super nice house, so it’s a win win.”
Scarlett laughs and leans in to kiss my cheek. “Don’t snoop too hard, and be careful going up those stairs in your heels.”
“Yes, mom,” I say, smiling back at her. “Go have fun.”
It’s only a few minutes after she leaves that I really do have to go to the bathroom. I walk through the throbbing mass of partiers, marveling at how quickly the mood is shifting from fun to wild. Mr. Steel really does know how to throw a party. I look at the stairs, hesitating. Absolutely no one is going up to the second floor, as if it’s some kind of unwritten rule. I sigh, losing my nerve and looking for a bathroom on the ground floor. I step inside the first one and have to stumble out, apologizing when I walk in on a man with his hand all the way up a woman’s dress, fingering her mercilessly.
I press my back against a wall, breathing heavily. I suddenly feel a little overwhelmed, like this party is over my head. But if I plan to really go through with applying to Club Crave, maybe this is exactly the initiation I need. Chances are I’ll see people doing things that are a lot more risque than hooking up in a bathroom. Still, would it kill them to lock the door?
I check several more bathrooms, finding locked doors and lines that are too long to wait in. My need to pee eventually overwhelms my good sense, and I scurry up the stairs, heels clicking loudly on the marbled steps. The music still booms upstairs and I can still hear the whoops and laughter from the party. I check several doors before finally finding one that’s unlocked. I step inside the room and cringe when I realize I probably just found the master bedroom. It’s absolutely massive. French doors lead from the back of the room to a beautiful patio with curving staircases that lead down to a terraced garden below. The garden is hedged in by tall, perfectly trimmed bushes.