Page 19 of A New Days Don

I didn’t realize I was approaching the racks until I was standing in front, Anita shuffling through them as her emerald eyes stare curiously at me.

“They aren’t going to bite.” There is a playful tone in her voice that pulls me out of my trance.

“Are all these for the workers?” I ask, slowly shuffling through the various pieces of silk and satin, all dripping with gems and crystals.

“Yes, this rack in particular is Lola’s. She’s our most popular stage girl.” Anita notes. Instead of writing that down, my gaze catches on a set that looks to be made entirely of crystal. It’s both sexy and almost painful looking to have cut crystals pressed against and chaffing your inner thighs and breasts.

My brows furrow on a bunch of white pearly ribbon hanging from one of the hangers, “What about this one?”

“Oh, that is a fun set. I usually help Lola get into it. The fit is made up of two long strands of ribbon that we use to twine up her legs, body, and arms.” Anita grabs the ribbon from the hanger and walks over to a mannequin. She begins to dress the velvet doll, demonstrating the ribbon’s use for me. She pins the ends to the ankles, explaining that this would typically wrap into a heel, before slowly twirling it up the curve of the mannequin’s legs, ass, core, and breasts.

I try to imagine the ribbon curling up a woman’s body, a dancer showing off for a crowd. A thought that would typically terrify me, but seeing how beautiful the mannequin looks in this ribbon, I could only imagine how exquisite it would look on Lola. Anita pulls out a few pearly nipple covers, covering where nipples would be if the mannequin were a person. Then she places the bare minimum covering for the mannequin’s pussy, making my cheeks flush.

As I stare at the work of art, a pit forms deep within my stomach at the realization of something I didn’t know had been taken from me six years ago. Curiosity curls its way through me as I try to picture what it would be like to be considered sexy by someone… By myself.

The thought is fleeting, though. The panic surfacing, itching, and zapping through me has me stepping away from the mannequin and looking around the room. Despite its size, it suddenly feels far too big. The heel of my shoe catches on the carpet, making me stumble back, but I catch myself, smiling sheepishly at the concern on Anita’s face.

“We should continue.” Like a cocoon of comfort, I fall back into the safety of platonic business.

Anita nods, leaving the mannequin dressed up as we walk toward the exit of the dressing room, “Anytime you want to return or chat with the girls, let me know, and I will give you access to the room.”

“Sounds good…” I mutter as the numbness of post-panic washes over me, “Can you tell me a bit about how the non-member access works? I don’t think this man would do something so brazen as hunting at a club he has a membership to.”

Anita fills me in on the ins and outs of the club, explaining everything I need to know about the different types of employees and the restrictions they face as non-members. As we approach the end of the short hallway, Anita opens the mahogany door. The moment the door opens, his scent is stronger than ever, almost overwhelmingly so. Cedar and leather and pure, unadulterated masculinity.

Memories come in troves once more. His ungodly comfortable bed. His sculpted body is half-naked with water trickling down his jaw and neck.

Focus, Mila.

Inside is an office. The typical office one would see in any corporate building, with books lining the walls, and a big, sleek wooden desk with a large, plush leather chair behind it. The chair faces the bookshelf as if whoever sat in it had stood distractedly.

On the desk is a computer that looks virtually untouched, and a calendar, also relatively untouched, save for a few haphazardly jotted notes at the bottom.

“Massimo will be in shortly. You can take a seat over there while you wait for him.” Anita points to the guest chair across from the desk.

“Thank you,” I nod. Anita waltzes off to do whatever it is she does here, leaving the door open for the owner of the bar’s return.

Hesitantly, I take a seat in the chair, my back is stiff at first as I slowly get used to my new surroundings. This chair may be the most comfortable chair I think I have ever sat in. For a moment, I let the softness and the smell around me pull me back to the calmness of the morning and the strange warmth that built in his half-naked presence.

Pulling my notes up, I look back through what Anita said.

My phone buzzes on the sleek office desk in front of me. After Anita left me here, she told me I was welcome to snoop or work away while I waited for the boss. The way she had said that sent a pleasant hum through my body, one that still caresses through me and makes me shift, feeling slightly uncomfortable being so exposed in public. His scent is everywhere, all over this room. Cedar and leather, a particularly heady mixture.

I smile down at my phone when I see the text come through from Karmin. She has stuck by me since the day it all happened. Not that I ever doubted her friendship, we have been friends since the first year of high school, but even when I closed up and refused to speak with anyone else, she stayed. She stayed and took care of me when I couldn’t take care of myself.

I know in part that was because she blamed herself for leaving me in the club while she went to the bathroom for a quick romp with Rain. I never blamed her, though. She didn’t force that man to drug or hurt me. She was living her life, we both were, when it all went down. How were we to know that out of all the people there that night, I would be targeted by a creep?

I giggle to myself as I read that text from her.

She isn’t wrong. I rain check more times than I actually make it on the initial day that we plan these things, but we always make it to whatever friendly date we book with each other. It just happens at a different time… On a different day.

I cringe inwardly at myself. I really need to be a better friend to Karmin.

“What are you giggling about?” The deep voice startles me, my phone falling out of my hands, but a tan olive-skinned hand catches it before it can fall to the plush, carpeted floor and places it on the desk beside me. My gaze travels up the long, muscular expanse of his body, lingering on his thick thighs. It takes everything in me to tear my gaze from the corded muscles and force myself to meet his daunting coffee-coloured eyes.

Straightening myself, I open my notepad and mutter, “Nothing.”

One of his thick eyebrows raises as he leans against the bookshelf. It is a sight to behold. One that makes me feel smaller than usual, surrounded by his power, strength, and cunning macabre.