Learning to Soar (2 page)

“Oh, poor Chloe. Do you want a better look at my legs?” Monica had teased. She’d lifted the hemline of her skirt playfully to expose her plump, creamy thighs. “You can look any time, girl.”

Chloe had yanked Monica’s dress down in exasperation and reconciled herself to her itsy-bitsy skirt. The skirt’s hemline was scandalously short, but at least the zippers were fully closed. A girl had to hold on to her dignity whenever she could, especially when the new and therapeutically improved Monica was involved.

Chloe caught up with Monica at Volare’s front door. A small crowd of hopeful patrons milled about on the sidewalk, chatting with each other and trying to catch the eye of the intimidating employee who stood at the door. Monica was talking—no, make that flirting—cosily with the bouncer, a six-foot, ebony-skinned, bald man with a huge diamond glinting in one earlobe. Monica, who was all of five-foot-three in her stiletto ankle-wrap sandals, had one arm draped casually over the bouncer’s muscular shoulder. She had propped her other hand on her waist and thrown her shoulders back. With her boobs bouncing with each flirty giggle, every man’s eyes were on Monica. Or, more to the point, on her bosom.

Chloe rolled her eyes. Monica was incorrigible.

Monica tore her eyes away from the admiring bouncer and beamed at Chloe. “This is Arnaud,” she shouted over the pounding music. “He was here when I had my session with Damien a few months ago.” She turned back to Arnaud and slid her hand down his shoulder to squeeze one thick biceps. “He’s an awesome asset to the club.” Monica gripped Chloe’s waist and pulled her close. “This is my friend Chloe, Arnaud. She’s about to meet Damien back in his office to discuss a personal issue. I think I’ll just wait for her inside Volare. I’m sure I can find something to do.” She pursed her lips meaningfully at Arnaud.

Arnaud’s dark eyes glittered at Monica then he tore his gaze away and turned to Chloe, who fidgeted irritably as he studied her. When he raised his eyes at last to meet Chloe’s she glared at him. “Nice to meet you, Chloe,” Arnaud said in a voice as deep as rolling thunder.

“Let’s go, Monica,” she insisted and gave Monica’s elbow a swift yank. “I don’t want to be late for my appointment. If, that is, Arnaud here is done checking me out.”

Arnaud turned back to Monica and quirked one corner of his mouth. “Your friend is cute, Monica,” he noted, raising his voice to be heard over the music, “but she’s a little uptight. I bet Damien can help her out with that. My shift is over in about thirty minutes. I’ll find you inside and buy you a drink. Tequila sunrise, right?”

Monica pulled his face down to hers and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “You have a memory like an elephant,” she said loudly, “and, as I recall, that’s not all you have that’s large and impressive.”

Arnaud bent down again and kissed Monica on the lips. The smile was gone from his face and he stared at her with base desire.

Chloe wrenched Monica away from Arnaud and pulled her into the club. The friends emerged onto a wide sitting area with subdued lighting, low cocktail tables and midnight blue, velvet-upholstered lounge chairs. The balcony encircled a teeming dance floor. A few patrons were in the lounge chairs on the upper level, but the majority of the club’s guests were downstairs. Music and laughter bubbled up from the first floor like a social lava lamp on overdrive. Monica led Chloe to the sweeping wrought-iron staircase near the club’s entrance. They descended to the ground floor together.

Chapter Two

The sound was almost overwhelming at this level. It was nearly impossible to hear anything other than the pervasive pulse of the music. Walking by the crowd of bodies on the dance floor, Chloe at once felt more comfortable in her outfit. She saw arms, legs, backs and stomachs exposed as bodies contorted in a modern mating dance. Strobe lights flashed and multicoloured spotlights whirled around the room. They gave the scene a surreal, movie-like quality.

Monica spoke into Chloe’s ear, “I’ll get us some drinks, and then we’ll find Damien.” Chloe nodded and leaned against a chrome table as Monica went to place an order at the bar.

A tangle of limbs and faces writhed in front of her. It seemed threatening, or at least confusing, out there, but the dancers were clearly enjoying themselves. Hands were up in the air in tribal exuberance, or else gripping dance partners’ bodies. Legs entwined with legs and pelvises ground against each other suggestively.

One song ended by simply merging into the next, the songs connecting like rail cars pulled along by an unending drumbeat. The vocals and instrumentals of the first song melted away, leaving only a throbbing pulse behind. That melodic void lasted a few seconds before being filled. Over and over, a new voice belted out a different riff on an ageless winning formula—emotional longing plus sexual urgency equals imminent passion. The bar’s patrons on the dance floor didn’t miss a beat.

The couple closest to Monica were pressed against each other tightly. An Asian woman with waist-length black hair moved her shoulders and hips to the beat, while her dance partner, a heavily muscled man with a blond crew cut, ran his hands up and down her slender ribs, waist and hips. Chloe doubted that a sheet of paper would fit between their snugly wedged bodies. The woman gripped the man’s rear, pulling him against her as she moved with the music. He reached beneath the hem of her soft pink slip dress and lifted it until the side of her sculpted hip was exposed.

A slim dark-haired man approached from behind the woman. An erection bulged brazenly from the front of his trousers, and he pressed it against the woman’s ass. She turned and, recognising him, smiled and pulled him against her back. The three of them swayed almost imperceptibly, barely even acknowledging the driving music with their movements.

The dark-haired man held the woman around the waist with one hand and lifted the other to fondle one breast through her dress. Her eyes fluttered open when he pinched her nipple, then closed again. She leant back against him and wrapped one slender leg around the blond man facing her. He fumbled with the fly of his pants, then pulled the woman’s face to his for an urgent kiss.

Chloe felt slickness grow between her legs as she watched the threesome.
Surely they weren’t going to… Not right there on the dance floor… Isn’t that illegal or something?
Her nipples tightened beneath the shiny fabric of her top.

The blond man dipped his pelvis, squeezed the woman’s hips, and gave an unmistakable thrust. She pulled away from his kiss and bucked against him, held up by the dark-haired man behind her. The woman threw her head back against the dark-haired man’s chest and pulled his groin against her ass with one hand. With the other, she reached up to fondle one of her breasts through the silky pink fabric of her dress. She glanced towards Chloe with hooded eyes as she rolled her nipple between her fingertips.

She smiled when she caught Chloe’s eye. Chloe felt her cheeks flame with a heady cocktail of embarrassment and excitement. She found it impossible to tear her eyes away, but then the tangled trio in front of her seemed to welcome her attention. Chloe watched the woman bite her lip in salacious pleasure. Through the fluttering pink hem of the woman’s dress and beneath the curve of her rear, she caught glimpses of the man’s slick cock as it moved in and out of her body.

This sure beats the hell out of Cinemax
, Chloe decided. Her panties had become noticeably damp as she observed the three lovers dancing—or was it three dancers fucking—before her eyes.

It was both a relief and a disappointment when Monica appeared at Chloe’s side with two shot glasses and two glasses of white wine. “It’s Patrón,” she said in Chloe’s ear. “Bottom’s up!”

Chloe tossed back the tequila and felt warmth spread through her stomach. She felt veins of heat shoot down to her crotch and up to each of her hardened nipples. The woman on the dance floor gave a slight nod of approval, and pulled the blond man’s mouth to hers so she could plunge her tongue between his lips.

Chloe shook her head in disbelief. She cupped one hand around Monica’s ear. “Monica, I think those people are doing it,” she whispered. Monica shook her head to indicate that she didn’t understand. Chloe took a breath and spoke louder, “I think those people right there are having sex.” Monica pointed to her ear and shrugged.

“Those people are fucking on the dance floor!” Chloe yelled in frustration.

Chloe’s shouted observation happened just as one song ended. Accompanied only by the thumping bass beat, her words were loud enough for all the nearby patrons to hear. Instead of shock or disgust, however, the drinkers at the bar catcalled and lifted their glasses to the three entwined dancers. The woman winked lasciviously and pulled the blond man’s cock deeper inside her. “Yes, indeed, we are!” she shouted back as the next infectious song filled the air.

Humiliation stung Chloe’s eyes. “I’ve got to get out of here,” she insisted to Monica. “This place is crazy.” She wheeled about on her high-heeled boots and headed towards the door.

Monica grabbed her by one shoulder and held her back. “Relax, Chloe,” she spoke loudly into her ear. “Those two are married, and they both know that other guy. Besides, it’s kinda hot, don’t you think? Got my nips all hard, anyway.” She lifted one of Chloe’s hands to her heavy breast and rubbed it over the light green fabric that covered it. Chloe yanked her hand away in annoyance, but not before she had felt Monica’s stiff nipple. It was undeniably hard, as was her own, if she were going to be entirely honest about the situation. “It’s time to meet Damien anyway, so don’t be a chicken. We’re all grown-ups here. And don’t forget your wine,” Monica ordered.

Chloe sheepishly followed Monica towards the rear of the club. “Damien’s office is back here,” Monica explained. The music grew softer as they moved farther from the dance floor.

“So those people were married? The Asian woman and the blond guy?” Chloe asked as they made their way past the bathrooms. She heard a shriek and a round of raucous laughter from the women’s room.

“Yep,” Monica affirmed. “Bruce and Melanie have been married for ten years. They weren’t feeling the old spark anymore, so Damien helped them out. The brown-haired guy is just a friend. Paul doesn’t actually fuck Melanie. He just offers his support, if you know what I mean.”

“It looked like they got the old spark back, all right,” Chloe muttered. “Damien doesn’t care if people, you know, get it on in his club?”

“Does Damien care if people fuck here, you mean?” Monica laughed. “No, not at all. Arnaud and the other bouncers only allow people in to Volare who are on Damien’s guest list. They’re all previous clients, or friends of clients. Nobody’s going to object to some innocent fucking in this crowd. Don’t worry.”

She paused in front of a nondescript door near the rear exit. Here the music had dwindled to a mellow hum and it was possible to speak normally. Monica crooked a thumb at the door. “That’s Damien’s office,” she said. “It’s time for your session with the scary sex doctor,” she crooned in a made-for-Halloween spooky voice. “There’s no turning back now. Mwah-ha-ha…”

“All right, all right,” said Chloe. “Do I look okay for an appointment? I want to make a good impression. Maybe I should go to the bathroom first and check my makeup.”

“You look fabulous,” Monica assured her. “Just a little nervous. Drink your wine.”

“So your psychiatrist said he’s the real deal, right, Monica?” Chloe asked before taking a swig of her drink.

“Um, that would be my massage therapist, Chloe, not my shrink,” Monica mumbled.

Chloe sputtered. Her mouthful of wine spewed from her lips in a fine spray. “Your
masseuse
suggested him?”

“Yes, Chloe, my masseuse referred him,” retorted Monica. “Donna said Damien was terrific, and you know he made a world of difference to me. Besides, masseuses are professionals too, you know. Don’t be such a snob, for Pete’s sake.” She knocked on the door four times.

The door opened just a crack. Chloe couldn’t see inside from where she was standing, but it was clear from Monica’s face that she saw someone or something she liked. The door parted just enough to admit her before closing firmly.

Chloe found herself abandoned by her best friend in a club full of sex-crazed exhibitionists.

Great

She glanced longingly at the fire escape door at the end of the hall. The red ‘Exit’ light gleamed.
I could just go
, she thought.
I could walk out of here and call a cab on my cell phone. It would set off the alarm and the police would come, but whatever. Somebody needs to throw some cold water on those people out there anyway.

She sipped her wine thoughtfully.
Monica’d be totally pissed off, but she deserves it after dragging me to this crazy place. And she was totally deceptive about the therapist referral. Massage therapist, my ass.
Chloe narrowed her eyes and glared at the door.

Chloe recognised Monica’s throaty laughter from behind the door, then her deep purr of delight.
Oh, lovely, I can wait out here next to the fire escape door while Monica and this Damien guy get it on. Oh, sorry, excuse me. While they fuck.

She took another gulp of her drink and scowled. She heard a low male voice rumbling incoherently, then heard a gasp of pain—or pleasure?—from Monica.

That’s it. I’m out of here.

Chloe downed the rest of her Chardonnay in three deep swallows and placed the empty glass and used cocktail napkin on the floor outside Damien’s office door
. Yes, I’m a litterbug,
she thought rebelliously,
but at least I’m not some kind of tramp. Besides, I don’t think it could possibly get any trashier around here.
She squared her shoulders, tugged down her miniskirt until it was as long as it was possibly going to get, and took one furious step towards the noisy dance floor.

The office door flew open and Monica emerged, giggling like a little girl. She fingered a sparkling crystal necklace that she hadn’t been wearing when she had entered the office. “Look, Chloe, Damien gave me a thank-you present for bringing you here! Isn’t that nice?” Chloe caught a glimpse of a deep red oriental carpet and muted gold walls in the office before she focused her eyebeams of fury on Monica.