* * *
I was hoping you’d say that ;)
* * *
I get a warm buzz all over my body in anticipation of seeing him later. I try to think practically—are we going on a date, or just meeting to hook up?
* * *
I’m not sure what Clara’s plans are… Should I come to your place?
* * *
Actually… I have something else in mind
* * *
Oh, really?
* * *
You wouldn’t want to go back to the club, would you?
* * *
I nearly drop my phone in shock. Is he asking me to go back to the sex club? I’m so confused. So many questions run through my head, I have no idea how to respond.
He must notice it’s taking me longer than usual to reply because he texts again quickly.
* * *
Not to hook up… at least, not with anyone else. I just thought I could make up for how I acted last time. It could be fun ;) But I totally understand if you don’t want to. We can do something else instead. Please don’t be mad at me
* * *
Relief floods through me. For a horrible moment, I thought he wanted us to go have sex with other people, and that this was his way of telling me he’s not interested in me anymore.
But if he wants to go to the club to reenact what happened last time, only better…well, I could get on board with that. Hell, I’d go anywhere with him at this point if it meant another orgasm like last night’s.
* * *
Not mad. Think it’s a great idea. Pick me up down the street at 9?
* * *
I tap out the message quickly, just before my professor says, “Something you’d like to share with the class, Miss Taylor?”
Mortified, I tuck the phone into my backpack. I feel bad for disrespecting the professor.
“Sorry, Professor,” I mumble, bending my head over my notes and forcing myself to put Maddox out of my mind.
That night, I shower using all my best, fanciest products, like the designer shower gel sample I got for free at the mall a few months ago that I was saving for a special occasion. I shave every inch of my body, taking extra care around my knees and ankles, where I usually miss a spot or two. I slather myself in lotion, then carefully select my clothes for the club.
Black, I think. Black is sexy and sophisticated. You can never go wrong with black. I pull a slinky, partially sheer black dress from the back of my closet. I haven’t worn this since my party days in my freshman year. I haven’t dressed like this, with the full intention of fucking someone, since then either. I forgot how fun and thrilling it is. I spritz myself with perfume, first on my collarbone, then my wrists, then a little on my upper thighs.
I pull on some sheer black tights with a sexy seam line up the back of the legs, then slip the black dress over my head. It still fits perfectly. Then I strap on my highest black heels and select a sparkling pair of dangly green gemstone earrings. Against the all-black ensemble, the earrings make my eyes pop.
I let my hair air dry, then style it into loose, romantic waves around my shoulders and down my back. I throw a few essentials—phone, gum, credit card, condoms—into a tiny clutch, and I’m ready right at 9:00 when Maddox texts me to say he’s waiting around the corner for me.
I see his car waiting and feel a little silly walking down the block in my skyscraper heels, but we have to be careful because of Clara. If she knew we were going back to the sex club together, she would lose her mind. I can’t even imagine it.
Maddox gets out of the car and opens the passenger door for me. “Wow,” he says breathily. “You look…incredible.”
“Thanks,” I say, kissing him on the cheek before sliding into the seat. “You’re looking good yourself.”
And he does. He’s in dark jeans and a black button-up shirt. He smells like expensive cologne, and his longish hair is carefully tamed with some sort of pomade or gel. He looks really, really hot.
We chat excitedly on the way to the club, Maddox’s right hand gripping my left knee the entire way. There’s a thrumming of tension between us. We both know the night is going to end in sex at some point, and I’m looking forward to exploring the club a little further with a man by my side.
Maddox parks and helps me out of the car, offering his arm while we walk. As we walk through the nondescript doors, I notice several people at the bar turn their heads to look at us, and I feel proud to have such a gorgeous guy on my arm.
“Hang on,” says the bouncer gruffly as we flash our IDs and start to head toward the bar. He pulls a little stamp out of his pocket, pressing a red, inky star into the back of Maddox’s hand, then mine. “New policy. Shows the bartenders we’ve already checked you so they don’t have to ID you again,” he explains, seeing our confused faces.
We walk up to the bar and flash our stamps at the bartender. It’s a man this time, and I’m relieved not to have the sour girl from before.
“Cosmo?” Maddox asks me, winking. We’ve barely ordered our drinks when Maddox looks over my shoulder at something and his jaw drops.
“Maddox!” says an obnoxious voice, sounding both angry and surprised. I turn and see a gorgeous, tall girl with tanned skin and stick-straight black hair. Her face is heavily made up and she’s wearing a tight orange dress that shows off her amazing body. Several men flock around her at the bar, clamoring to pay for her drinks. She looks like a model. I know instinctively that this is Jasmine, and my heart drops into my stomach.
“What on earth are you doing here?” she asks, striding up to him confidently.
“Jasmine,” Maddox nods, looking irritated and uncomfortable.
“Came to have a little fun? How did you know I would be here?” she says, sliding one perfectly manicured hand around his neck while the group of men behind her drools with jealousy. I feel like I’m on fire when I see her touch him.
Get the fuck away from him, I think, but don’t say. I’m still standing behind Maddox and don’t think she sees me.
Maddox cringes and shakes her hand off, sliding out of her reach.
“Jasmine, this is Madison,” he says quickly, grabbing my hand and pulling me forward. “Madison, this is Jasmine…my ex,” he says pointedly.
Unsure of what else to do, I reach out my hand and say, “Nice to meet you,” even though obviously it’s not. In fact, it’s one of the least nice things I’ve ever experienced, but I see no reason to make an enemy out of this very intimidating woman.
Apparently, Jasmine doesn’t feel the same, though, because she sneers at my hand and recoils from it as if I’ve offered her a snake. She looks at me up and down, then looks back at Maddox.
“Oh,” she says condescendingly. “I see. Had to scour the college campuses to get a date, huh? I always knew you weren’t mature enough for me.”
“I’m so sorry about this,” Maddox says, bending down to murmur into my ear. “I swear I had no idea she’d be here. I told you I’d only been here a couple of times, and that was after we broke up.”