The paintings were also highly erotic, featuring abstract depictions of nudes that ranged from solitary figures to multiple entwined men and women.
The farther they ventured down the hallway, the dimmer the lighting became, and the harder her heart pumped. They passed several massive doors painted in varying colors from white to green to red. Above each, discreet light bulbs shone, either red or green, reminding Jannie of indicators she had seen in public garages.
“Private rooms,” Nick explained. “The colors represent the types of scenes that can take place in them. They’re soundproof, as are the walls. Clients enjoy complete privacy, unless they don’t want it.”
Don’t want it? What did that mean?
“Why are they different colors?”
“Different types of scenes. Different levels of activity. The white ones are for new members who are here to take it slow, to find a partner or a relationship. Nothing too intense.”
“Hookups,” she said.
“Basically.”
“And green?”
“Unattached, wants to experiment, open-minded, wants to play.”
Jannie eyed a white door with multicolored pastel polka dots. “This is pretty.”
A wicked smile. “Orgy.”
“Oh!” Jannie blinked.
“Does that bother you?”
Jannie didn’t respond. An image of what that would look like flashed across her mind, and she shuddered, dismayed to realize it wasn’t with distaste but with … what? Curiosity? Truth be told, she was getting turned on, and she was shocked by her own reaction.
What would it be like to watch something like that?
She shoved away the notion, focusing on the next door. “Camo!”
“Military fetish.”
She slanted him a glance. “Would that include pilot fetish as a subcategory?”
Nick laughed, a quiet, low rumble that went straight to her core. “It includes anything you want. You dream it, we make it happen here.”
She looked at Nick, watched him gesture with those hands, and her level of arousal began to reach a boiling point. God, but he was beautifully elegant in that bow tie. She wanted to slam him against the nearest wall, fist his shirt, and shove her tongue deep into his mouth.
“Why are so many of them empty?”
“Oh, they’ll fill up.” Nick smirked. “After the show.”
Ah, yes, the show. Thankfully, he hadn’t asked her to attend one tonight.
One door was gray.
She surreptitiously eyed Nick’s matching pocket square.
Bondage.
This was likely where he’d spent his time when he was here.
Literallycame here.
“And now we come to the last door.”
