In a last-ditch act of desperation, I find myself adjusting my mask before pushing through the curtains to the main lounge of Euphoria.
It’s ridiculous. She won’t be here. The only reason she came last month was for her friend’s hen’s party. She didn’t strike me as the type to attend masked nights at a sex club, but it’s the only thing I can think of doing.
Like last time, I make a beeline for the bar and order a beer. Sipping my drink, I scan the room, looking for the familiar white mask with pink and silver glitter that I’ve been seeing in my dreams for a month now. When I don’t spot her, I turn back to the bar and stare miserably down at my drink.
I’m officially pathetic.
It’s not even like I’m looking for a relationship—thatisn’t on the cards for me—but I need some way to get her out of my head.
“Everything okay?”
My gaze lifts to the topless bartender, a good-looking guy in his mid-to-late thirties with a kind smile.
I heave a sigh, realising how I must look sitting in the middle of a sex club looking like someone just kicked my puppy. “I’m… uh… kind of looking for someone, I guess.”
His lips twitch with the hint of a smirk, and I know he’s probably thinking,well, duh, dude, you’re in a sex club, but to his credit, he holds it back. “Someone in the broader sense, or someone who might be a member?”
My shoulders deflate. There’s no way she’s a member here. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, I’m not judging anyone who is. Power to them for having the confidence.
Swallowing down my embarrassment, I open up to the guy. “Someone I met here last month. She was here for her friend’s hen’s party.”
He nods, and this time his smile is genuine, not condescending at all. “Ah, yes. I remember them. They had fun dancing up a storm in our Woodlands Lounge.”
My brow furrows. “Woodlands Lounge?”
He chuckles. “We have a few different sections within the club to cater to everyone’s needs.”
“Oh, right.” My cheeks heat, and I take a sip of my beer.
“Diego,” he says, offering his hand over the bar. “I’m the head bartender here.”
I stare at his hand for a second, wondering whether to give him a fake name, then think betterof it. My first name doesn’t give anything away, and I’m wearing a mask to hide my identity. “Blake.”
Someone approaches the bar on my left, and Diego holds up a finger to me before taking the guy’s order.
He pours their drink, then turns his attention back to me.
“So, Blake. Tell me about this woman who has your stomach in knots.”
My smile is more of a grimace. “That obvious, huh?”
He holds up his thumb and index finger. “Little bit.”
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, fair. You’re going to think I’m pathetic, though, because despite this being a sex club, all we did was kiss.”
“Kissing is more intimate than sex.”
“It is, but it was more than that. This kiss felt like… like the entire world disappeared and it was just me and her.” My face heats again, and I shake my head. “Forget it. I’m pathetic. I can’t believe I’ve let myself get all worked up over a stupid kiss.”
“Something tells me it was more than just a stupid kiss. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. You don’t exactly seem comfortable being in a sex club.”
My gaze bounces up to his. “I’m not judging?—”
He laughs and waves me off. “Never said you were. I only said you don’t seem comfortable.”
I slump against the bar. “It’s probably a good thing nothing went further with the little pixie. I have a… complicated past. She deserves better.”
Diego studies me, and I shift in my seat.
