Page 27 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

What I found was almost formal.

Women in cocktail dresses, corsets, lingerie worn as outerwear with a matter-of-factness that said this is simply what I'm wearing tonight. Men in tailored suits, a few shirts open, a few leather vests. The energy was different from any room I had been in. Eyes lingered longer, smiles carried extra intensity, hands rested on waists and the smalls of backs. But nobody was undressed. Nobody was doing anything that would have been out of place at a very charged, very knowing cocktail party.

I exhaled for what felt like the first time since the car.

We moved through the inner curtain into the main lounge. It was larger than I'd expected, lofty ceilings, exposed brick, low leather booths along the walls, a long bar with a mirror backsplash and bottles glowing amber under recessed lights. A dance floor in the center, maybe twenty people moving slowly to the music, bodies close, hands roaming, hips finding a shared rhythm. No one was having sex in the open. But the air was thick with what might happen.

A couple in a booth kissing, her hand inside his shirt, his eyes closed. Two women on the dance floor with their bodies aligned, one's fingers tracing the other's spine. A man at the bar watching the room with open interest while his date’s whisper made him smile slowly.

We found our table, a high-top near the edge of the dance floor with three stools and a small, reserved card reading J/R/L. Ricardo pulled out my stool. I sat and smoothed my skirt over my knees, like it was my knees that needed protecting.

"How are you feeling so far?" Ricardo asked, watching me with that full attention of his.

"It's overwhelming," I said. "But less than I expected. Which might be worse, because now I don't know what I'm bracing for."

He laughed softly. "It gets more energetic toward the back."

"Ricardo." Janice's voice carried a warning.

He raised his hands. "I'm just being honest."

"She's new," Janice said. "The advanced tour is not for tonight."

"Understood." He glanced at me, the corner of his mouth still lifted. "Sorry. Ignore me."

A server appeared, black shirt, leather vest. Janice ordered orange juice. "Designated driver."

Ricardo glanced at me. "I took a cab. Whatever you're having."

"Vodka soda," I said. "With lime."

The server nodded and went.

I looked around while we waited. At the next table a couple sat laughing, her hand high on his thigh, his fingers drawing slow circles on her knee, like they had all the time in the world. On the dance floor a woman in red lingerie moved between two men, all three loose and easy with each other. Elsewhere people were simply talking. Watching. Existing in the space with a comfort I couldn't imagine.

The drinks arrived.

Ricardo lifted his glass. "To first nights."

Janice touched hers to his. "To Lacey showing up."

I clinked with both of them and took my first sip. The vodka hit cold and sharp. I finished the first glass faster than I should have. The second nearly as fast. The warmth spread through my chest and made everything more unreal than it already was.

I was reaching for a third when Janice's hand closed lightly around my wrist.

"Easy," she said.

I laughed. "Right. Yes. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. Just slow down."

I set the glass down.

Then a woman came to our table.

Confident, beautiful, wearing only a tiny black thong and heels. She moved through the room like she owned it. She leaned down and kissed Janice open-mouthed. I stared. There was nowhere else to look.

She pulled back, smiled at Janice with dark, warm eyes, and lowered herself to her knees between Janice's legs. She looked up, flushed, open, without a trace of shame.