Dance with the Billionaire (19 page)

“Tonight we’re going out,” Dylan says that Friday, surprising me at my apartment an hour before I was expecting him. And the way he says it, it sounds more like a statement than a suggestion. He strides confidently into my apartment, dressed in his usual suit but this time wrapped in a classic cream rain coat, too.

And when I look at him, I find myself thinking about Nat’s parting words.

Why don’t you go back to your fancy big apartment and wait for your asshole boyfriend to tell you what to do ...

“Where?” I say, trying to sound cheerful.

“You’ll see,” he says cryptically.

“You’ll need to give me a bit more information than that,” I reply. “I mean, what should I wear? Something fancy? Smart? Casual?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean, ‘it doesn’t matter’?” I say. “Come on, give me something here. Is it a dive bar or a restaurant or ...”

“You’ll be fine with what you’ve got on,” he says, looking me up and down.

“This?!” I laugh.

I’m practically in my pajamas – a scrappy old outsized t-shirt and my favorite old leggings. I was planning to get dressed up a little more than
this
, at least.

“Can I at least have ten minutes to throw something else on and fix my make up?” I plead.

“You have
five
minutes,” he says, checking his watch, “and then I’m dragging you out the door by your hair.”

And from the strange tone of his voice, I suspect he isn’t even joking.

§

The car pulls up in a deserted street, somewhere near the Waterfront and I wonder just where we could be going. We get out and I look around me, confused. The only place Dylan could be taking me, I figure, is the little Italian restaurant opposite us, but it doesn’t look quite like his usual style. He takes my arm and we start crossing the street towards it, but I quickly gather that instead he’s taking me towards the plain gray door set into the wall next to it.

When we reach it, Dylan pushes the buzzer and after a pause there’s a click and he pushes the door open, revealing a long dark corridor.

“What is this place?” I ask, trying not to let on just how weirdly nervous I’ve become.

“You’ll see,” he says, stepping inside.

I follow him in and the door swings closed behind us with a bang, for a moment plunging us into complete darkness. Then I make out a figure standing at the other end of the corridor. As we get closer, I can see that it’s a woman, tall and elegant and ... yes, she seems to be wearing some kind of mask, the sort you might wear to a costume party, obscuring the top half of her face, her green eyes sparkling behind it. She seems to be wearing a robe, too, with
nothing on
beneath it; I can tell from the clear bumps of her nipples pointing out through the flimsy fabric, and I feel my heartbeat increasing and my nerves rising.

What the fuck is this place?

“Tickets please,” the woman says coldly, and I watch as Dylan removes two small black tickets from his jacket pocket and hands them to her.

“The changing rooms are that way,” she says, indicating the corridor behind her. “Women on the left, men on the right. There are lockers for your clothes, and make sure to put on your masks ...”

I want to ask more questions, but I can’t seem to speak. I’m too weirded out. I just let Dylan take my arm and lead us on, further into the darkness. I can hear some kind of music playing – a pumping insistent beat, coming from deep within the building.

Is this some kind of sex club?

“I’m not sure about this,” I croak, once we reach the two doors at the end of the corridor.

“Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy yourself,” he murmurs. “I promise.”

He leans in to kiss me, just a quick soft kiss on the lips before he pulls away again.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” he says with an enigmatic expression, before turning and heading through the door on the right, leaving me alone in the corridor.

I turn and push open the door on the left, which opens onto what looks like the kind of locker room you might find in a high end gym or spa. Everything is wood-paneled and there are two women already getting undressed, happily and confidently, helping each other unzip their dresses and unclasp their bras.

I hang around nervously, pretending to find a free locker, but really I’m just watching and waiting, trying to figure out this place, waiting to see what costumes they’re changing into.

One woman, with long black hair and a toned pale body, strips down to just a tiny purple g-string, while the other gets
completely
naked, apart from her killer stilettos. And then both take sparkling silver masks – the same kind the woman on the door was wearing – and put them over their heads, covering their faces.

Still laughing and talking amongst themselves, they turn and head over to a large door on the far wall, pushing it open and stepping out into what sounds like a busy party, the music and voices rushing into the locker room for a moment before the door swings closed again, leaving me here in the silence, except the sound of my heart pounding.

Oh my fucking God.

What the hell have I let myself in for ...

§

I stand transfixed, hiding in the shadows, unable to believe what I’m seeing. It’s like some kind of screwed up anxiety dream. Because here I am,
totally fucking naked,
at some crazy swingers party. This is completely insane. Everywhere I look, I can see people. Naked people. Some of them are chatting happily, drinking from champagne glasses, and some ... well, some are fucking. Right here in this room, in full view of everyone! The moans and sighs float in the air, along with the pumping beat of the music. I’m scanning the crowd, trying to find Dylan – hoping I recognize him soon. I feel so vulnerable, and I take a further step backwards into the shadows, until my back is pressed right up against the coolness of the wall.

The place itself is huge. The walls are painted black and the furnishing is all done in plush purple velvet with shining gilt edges, the room lit by flickering candles set into alcoves in the walls. And it seems like this club, or whatever you’d call it, is even bigger than this one main room. I watch people –
naked
people – coming and going from the doorways that seem to lead off into the darkness, to God-knows-what.

Right in front of me, I watch with a mixture of horror and amazement as a girl drops to her knees and starts giving head to a guy as well-built and stacked as Magic Mike. In embarrassment I pull my eyes away, but now I’m watching two girls writhing around on a chaise longue, their hands and mouths exploring each other’s bodies.

“Drink madam,” the voice says in my ear.

I turn in shock, but to my relief it’s Dylan, holding two glasses of champagne.

He hands one to me and I gulp it back, downing almost the whole thing in one.

“How did you recognize me?” I ask. “I’m completely naked and I’m wearing a mask.”

“Simple,” he relies. “I’d recognize that ass anywhere. So, I take it you’ve not been to something like this before then?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I blurt out, louder than I was planning.

“Well?” he continues. “
Are
you enjoying yourself?”

I shake my head, but even as I’m doing it, I have to admit to myself that secretly there
is
something about this that I’m enjoying. It’s totally depraved, totally crazy, but yeah ... I guess there is something kind of hot about being in a dark room, completely anonymous, my identity hidden by a mask, while all around me people are just giving in to their desires –doing
exactly
what turns them on.

“This isn’t exactly my kind of thing,” I mumble.

But he turns towards me, pressing his body into mine, and I gasp when I feel his hand move between my legs, his fingers pushing easily between my lips, tracing the hot wetness that’s seeping out from the center of me.

“Is that so?” he whispers playfully in my ear. “Because your body is telling me a very different story ...”

I try to speak, but all I can do is moan, as his fingers move to my clit, sending a crackle of sparks through me as he works me just the way I like.

He pulls away, just long enough to take the glass from my hand and put it along with his down by our feet. Then he turns back to me, his cock jutting upwards from between his muscular thighs.

“I really don’t think I can do this ...” I murmur, my voice trembling.

But even as I’m saying it, I feel my hands moving towards his perfect body, my fingers slipping around the rock-hard shaft of his cock, masturbating him, feeling another shiver of pleasure as his hand moves back between my legs.

When we kiss, I close my eyes, pushing my tongue deep into his mouth, the moans and sighs and pounding drums swirling around us as we push our yearning bodies together, my sensitive breasts grazing against the broad firmness of his chest, my nipples tightening and tingling, the wetness growing between my legs as he works me with his fingers, my own hands caressing his pulsing cock, needing it inside me, even if we are here ... here in
public ...

Before I even know what’s happening, he’s urged me down with him onto the floor, so that he’s lying on his back and I’m on top, straddling him.

We’ve come away from the wall now, away from the shadows, and all around us I can see people – people who are even
watching
us.

Again I say it: “I don’t know if I can do this ...”

“Just let yourself go, Julia,” he says, keeping his eyes locked onto mine. “You can do this.”

And somehow, even though I’m totally out of my depth, the way he speaks to me makes me feel completely safe.

Just then  the head of his cock grazes against the inside of my thigh, my whole body prickling with goose bumps and that urgent
need
to feel him deep inside me overpowering any reservations left in me.

Before I can change my mind, I reach between my legs, and with trembling fingers I guide him inside me, moaning softly as I feel him stretching me wide, his hardness pushing so deep into me as he bucks his hips, his hands on my ass, urging me even further onto him.

And soon I’m riding him, grinding myself against him, both of us moving in time, my hands on his shoulders, my hair falling in my face, my breasts bouncing as I feel the electricity intensifying. I have my eyes closed, lost in the moment, but then I moan, as a jolt of pleasure catches me off guard, and I open my eyes, looking around me, realizing that the whole
room
seems to be watching us now.

I can feel all those eyes, travelling over my skin, watching me as I shudder and moan, Dylan’s cock driving deep into me from beneath, and I find I actually get even
more
turned on at the thought of all these people watching, some of them playing with themselves, some just drinking us in ...

I ride him even harder and faster, as he places his thumb against my clit, stroking me there sensuously as I grind myself against him, feeling him so deep inside me. With a final gasp and a shudder, I come, clenching tight around him. A moment later I feel Dylan come too, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me tight against him as he thrusts his hips, all those eyes still burning into us as his cock twitches and pulses, buried deep inside me ...

§

In the car on the way home, there’s this uneasy silence between us.
Maybe Nat’s right,
I think. Who
even am I anymore? I feel like I’m changing so fucking much. And is it really all for the better? How am I even supposed to know?

Right now, sitting here on this plush leather seat next to Dylan, I still feel so alone. Because I can’t talk to him about this – about
anything
. I want to tell him my problems, to tell him all about my argument with Nat, to ask him for a hug maybe. But I know I can’t. Because that’s not what our ‘arrangement’ is about.