Across the water, several miles away, sits a family-owned campground in Orcas Island, where I grew up. It’s just a blip on a map as far as most are concerned, but once upon a time it was my whole world—my past, my present, my future. I never considered the idea of walking away and pursuing a corporate career in Seattle, but that’s exactly what I did after a series of unfortunate events—events I work hard to drown out every single day, impossible as that may be.
Accepting a full tumbler of bourbon from the passing waitress, I take in the lively crowd. We’re not celebrating the usual birthday, engagement, or new business deal. No. We’re here to celebrate my client’s divorce. A petty cause for a party if anyone were to ask me, but my role as financial advisor to some of the wealthiest men and women in Seattle leaves no room for my judgment. I’m a people pleaser and nothing less. If the owner of the fastest booming recreational outlet chain wants to celebrate his newly single life, then I’m bringing the entertainment. Hence the lineup of exotic dancers snaking their way through the flashy crowd—a worthwhile business expense if my client’s mood says anything.
“Where’d you find these bombshells?” My most senior—and youngest—employee, Jared Whitman, yells over the blaring rock music.
I shrug, my eyes skipping over a pair of topless women gyrating over the hard dicks of two more men. “A friend of a friend of a client runs a gentlemen’s club and bar on San Juan Island. He’s got this adult entertainment company on the side. They hire out masked dancers and bartenders for private parties, so I figured what better occasion than this?”
With a chuckle, Jared nods toward our newly divorced client, Randall Gentry, who’s being pressed against the wall by a dancer. His hooded stare is aimed down at her while she slithers up and down his body. “You sure know how to make your clients happy.”
“Take notes. This will be you one day.”
Jared’s eyes are still glued to Randall. “I think I want to be him one day.”
“That’s quite the career change.”
His mouth tips up at one corner. “Willing to take the leap if I have a chance with her.”
I have to stifle my laugh at the immaturity that comes with Jared’s age. To him, all women are equal in beauty as long as they have an ass and a pair of tits. It doesn’t even phase him that the dancers working tonight are cloaked by glittery masks, shielding their identities from hornballs like him. According to the owner of the entertainment company, the masquerade ensemble is what makes his private events stand out from any other. The fact that there’s a semblance of a shield between dancer and client is by far the most exotic thing about them. Seeing it all in action, I happen to agree.
I slap a hundred-dollar bill across Jared’s chest and take a step forward. “Go live out your fantasies with a lap dance.” His eyes snap to mine, and I wink. “This one’s on me.” I jab a finger in the air toward him when he starts to walk away. “Don’t get too fucked up tonight. You’re covering the office for me tomorrow.”
He grins. “Got it, boss.”
Long strides carry me to the bar, where I down two shots of bourbon. I’ll be the first to admit this isn’t my kind of scene, even if I did have a role in providing the entertainment. My preference would be to celebrate Randall’s new relationship status at a private dinner at the top of the Space Needle. Anything but a wild party in a mansion far too close to home.
Turning around, I lean my back against the bar and watch as all the strobe lights begin moving in time with the seductive music. One strobe in particular aims at an empty chair in the center of the room. But it’s the neon-purple light a short distance away that catches my attention. Mostly because a woman in a rose-gold bunny mask steps directly into the spotlight.
My heart jolts in my chest before my mind even makes the connection. I almost forgot about the mysterious woman in the mirror—bunny mask, striking dark eyes, sultry profile and all—but there’s no forgetting about her now. In fact, I can’t seem to take my eyes off her. No one can.
She moves forward, and the light follows her toward the illuminated chair. One foot in front of the other, each one perfectly timed with the beat of the song. Within seconds, she’s the focus of the room, thanks to the beams of purple lighting that follow her every move. Greedy eyes, including mine, take her in. From the black-velvet vest that exposes a generous amount of cleavage to her short black skirt that sits low on her curvy hips, her intoxicatingly thick thighs, and tall rose-gold heels—every inch of her screams that she’s the star of the show. At least for this song.
Something about the way she moves from one beat to the next, with long, fluid body rolls, and a slow, seductive sway of her hips, holds my gaze prisoner. But while her style is effortless, I can’t stop thinking about her panic-stricken eyes when they met mine in that mirror.
A slender hand grabs mine, causing my head to snap toward the dancer staring flirtatiously back at me. “Hi, honey. What’s your name?”
“Jamison,” I yell over the music, debating if it would be rude to turn back to the dancer in the middle of the room.
The woman doesn’t give me a chance. She smiles and presses her chest to mine while weaving my tie between her long, manicured fingers. “How about a dance, handsome?”
I chuckle and gently push her hand from my tie. “You’re a beautiful woman, but I’m going to have to pass tonight.”
The woman’s eyes sharpen. She’s clearly offended. “I wasn’t talking about me, sweetheart. You’re not my type.” She nods toward the woman in the bunny mask who’s performing a choreographed dance in the center of the room. “She’s looking for a volunteer, and she handpicked you.”
“Me?”
The woman curls her lips up into a slow smile. “That’s right, baby. It’s your lucky night. You interested?”
There’s not even an ounce of hesitation. Lap dances from strange women aren’t my thing, but from her—I won’t say no. “I am.”
She slips her hand into mine. “Come with me.”
We’re winding through the crowd, making our way to the center of the room, when she calls out to me. “You know the rules, handsome?”
It takes me a second to realize the woman is speaking to me. “No.”
The woman’s throaty laugh is as condescending as it is sexy. “She can touch you, but you can’t touch her. A single misstep will get your ass tossed. Got it?”
Remembering the guard from earlier, I nod. “Got it.”
“Good. And don’t forget to tip.”
The next second, I’m planted in the chair, and the surrounding guests are hooting and hollering in anticipation. I wave them off with a cocky grin while my eyes remain on the woman strutting around the chair.
She stops behind me, her hands wrapping over my shoulders before a set of palms slide down my chest. Long, curly black hair drops down the front of my shirt. Somehow, I know it’s a wig, but that doesn’t make her any less beautiful. Neither do the obscenely long eyelashes that flutter against the tops of her cheeks when she closes her eyes.
Jesus, how am I already getting hard? I adjust my position in the chair, but nothing can stop my erection from growing by the damn second with this vixen dancing around me.