The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3) by Nikki Sloane (top e book reader .TXT) 📗

gender you identify as. Also, if anyone makes you feel uncomfortable or unsafe, just let someone on staff know immediately and we’ll take care of it. Staff is all around the club. They’re the ones wearing gold nametags.”

Done with her spiel, the woman swiped Clay’s credit card, tore off the slip, and passed it to him to sign.

“If you’re interested in watching,” she added, “Mistress Theia’s show begins at eleven thirty. Any questions I can answer for you?”

It was clear she was asking me, but my brain was buzzing over what she’d just said. Show? Mistress? I was anxious to go inside. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay. You two have fun.” She slipped her hand under the counter and must have pressed a button, because the door to the club buzzed softly.

Ever since I’d been told about this place, I’d tried to picture what it’d be like. In the movies, sex clubs always seemed either scary industrial, full of metal and leather, or elegant and opulent, with red velvet drapes and flickering candles.

Eros wasn’t like either of those.

At first glance, it was like any regular nightclub. There was a bar along the back wall and a dancefloor in the center, complete with strobing lights and music that was heavy on the bass. There were elevated platforms at the edge of the dance space. One was a cage and the other a pole, but currently both platforms were empty.

It was relatively dark in the large room, and subdued lighting was cast down on the individual tables scattered on the carpeted area.

There weren’t many people out on the dancefloor, but I couldn’t tell if it was because it was too early in the evening, or the cause was the song that was currently playing. It was sexy, but it was also slower. Too slow to make me want to dance.

Several couples and groups of friends sat at the low tables, talking and drinking while watching the handful of people moving to the music on the dancefloor.

My gaze followed theirs, and I did a double-take.

One of the women out dancing lifted her dress clear up to her waist, flashing the crowd with her perfectly bare lower body. When I turned to Clay to see his reaction, he wasn’t surprised. Only a faint smile hinted on his lips.

He had to lean close so I could hear him over the music. “Guys have to be dressed in the common areas on this floor, but not women. Once you’re through the front door, you can take everything off if you want to, Lilith.”

It was suddenly difficult to catch my breath. Obviously, I wasn’t shy, but I’d never been a true exhibitionist before, mainly because I worried getting naked in public would get me in trouble. My gaze went back to the dancefloor and the woman who swayed her hips, teasing the couple closest to her as she showed off her pussy. Was I interested in that?

I didn’t have time to consider it right this second, because there was still a lot to take in.

I found the clientele interesting and unexpected. There was a huge range in ages—people of all shapes and sizes and levels of attractiveness—and the vast majority of them were dressed up like Clay and I were. Fancier skirts, dresses, and suits seemed to be the standard, rather than leather or latex.

“Let’s get a drink, and I’ll give you the tour,” he said.

When I nodded, Clay gestured toward the bar. One side of it was occupied by a few guys who sat on stools, and their gazes were fixated on the dancefloor—until I walked by.

Awareness trickled down my spine. I looked good tonight in my corset, short skirt, and stilettos, and these men had noticed. The atmosphere surrounding me thickened.

It was the same experience as a group of guys zeroing on me at a bar when I’d been separated from my friends.

It felt like I was being watched by predators. As if these men were a pack of wolves and I was fresh meat plunked down in front of them. Had Clay sensed it too? He set his hand on the small of my back, and my heart tripped over itself. Maybe it was just a helpful gesture to guide me, but I doubted it. He’d done it to lay claim.

And I didn’t mind that one bit.

While we waited for the bartender to mix our drinks, I ticked my head toward the men on the other end of the bar. “What’s the story with those guys?”

“Single men are only allowed at the bar.”

“They can’t go anywhere else?” Confusion made me press my lips together. “They pay a hundred bucks to, what? Just sit at the bar all night?”

He found my question amusing as he tipped the bartender, grabbed our drinks, and handed mine to me. “No. They can leave the bar if someone invites them to join them.”

“Oh, I gotcha. If a woman picks them up, then they can—”

“Yeah, except it’s almost always couples.”

“Really?” I grinned scandalously. “Threesomes?”

He was so matter-of-fact about it. “Sometimes, or the husband just wants to watch.”

Oh, my God. My gaze flicked to the men perched on their barstools who looked like they were waiting for someone to punch their dance card. “If I hadn’t come with you tonight, would you be sitting with them?”

Not that he’d have to wait long. He had the whole Clark Kent thing going on, which was incredibly sexy. At least, it was to me. I’d always though Superman was the hottest when he was hiding behind his plain clothes and glasses.

“I’ve been a member for more than five years,” he said, “and I’ve been vetted, so I have the same freedoms as you.”

“Yeah?” I lifted an eyebrow and pretended to be skeptical. “Why don’t you get naked and prove it?”

It was so much fun to catch him off guard. His eyes would widen behind his black frames, and I could see how disoriented he became when things didn’t go exactly as he planned. He