Page 3 of A Night of Flesh and Gluttony: Part One

“Didn’t I already sign something when I filled out the reservation online?” I squint at the tablet, the words slightly blurring the longer I stare at the screen. Shaking my head, I cave and twist the snap on my red clutch and pull out my black oval frame glasses.

“You signed a non-disclosure agreement when you completed the RSVP. This form makes sure you understand the rules of the evening in order to ensure everyone has a fun and safe time.”

I take the tablet and quickly read over the form and sign on the line at the bottom. “I feel like I should have signed that in blood,” I quip, handing the tablet back to her.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” she replies, looking over the document.

“Not really.” The words are flat and sour as they travel over my tongue and through my lips. Dammit, Devin. You promised Nyx you’d try to have fun.

“Well, it looks like you’re all set. We have about fifteen minutes before we get started. Feel free to grab a drink from the bar or just look around. However, you will not be able to leave this floor until ten, after the owner makes his welcome speech.” Not waiting for a reply, Amy flashes me her smile once more and walks off to the next guest staring wide-eyed from the front door.

I weave my way through the lounge furniture towards the bar, my gaze trained on the only empty seat available. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch another body moving in the same direction. Rushing forward, I drop my bag on the stool just as a leggy brunette reaches the seat. I smile a small victorious smile and shrug a shoulder in a what can you do gesture as I slide onto the soft velvet cushion top.

The gentleman seated beside me stifles a chuckle at the brunette’s huff of frustration as she spins on her heels and storms off.

What elegance and grace she has. Would she teach me how to do that without falling flat on my face? I wonder for just a moment.

“Probably not, seeing as you cock-blocked her from that seat.”

My gaze snaps to the man laughing beside me, and I can feel the heat slowly crawl up my neck and fill my cheeks. “Did I say that out loud?” I ask, placing my palms against my overheated face.

“Mhmm,” he hums, and I bury my face in my hands, causing him to laugh even louder.

“I’m Cole by the way,” he informs me, still laughing.

“Devin,” I reply, blindly sticking one hand out in front of me while keeping the other firmly over my face.

A soft but strong grip holds mine, giving it one firm shake. With a chuckle, Cole releases my hand, and I let my arms fall, my hands landing gently in my lap. Like a timid mouse, I avoid eye contact, keeping my gaze firmly on the bar top.

What am I doing here?

I don’t belong here.

I’m the good, small-town girl.

I wring my hands together in my lap, twisting the tight material of my pants between my fingers. The smooth scent of sweet cigars and spicy cologne surrounds me as my bar neighbor, Cole, I really should use his name since he introduced himself, leans in closer and whispers, “You look as though you might bolt at any second. How about a drink to help you relax a little? I’ve had a couple myself.”

A hysterical bout of laughter tears through me, and I slap a hand over my mouth. My head whips to the left, and I finally make eye contact with Cole. What little air was left in my lungs freezes in an instant. Dark, almost obsidian, eyes bore into me, rooting me in place. I nod my head, unable to get even the faintest of sounds to pass the solid lump forming in my throat.

He arches one brow at me, and one corner of his lush mouth lifts into a knowing lopsided smile. “Something strong?” he asks.

My shoulders sag in relief. “God, yes, please,” I sigh, followed closely by a sad, self-deprecating laugh.

“Bartender, please get this young lady a drink. Something sweet but strong.”

Cole shifts on his stool, facing me directly. “So, Devin. What brings you to a place like this? It doesn’t seem like this is really your kind of scene.”

I chuckle quietly. “Curiosity, mostly. I didn’t know, until a month ago, that places like this really existed. I thought they were myths I could only read about in books. Hopefully, my curiosity won’t kill me.”

His head tilts to the right, and his brows pinch together as he studies me.

“You know. Curiosity killed the cat and all.”

“Your drink, ma’am,” the young bartender says as he places a tall, stemmed glass filled with a red liquid, adorned with two cherries and an orange peel floating inside, down in front of me.

“What’s this called?” I ask, picking up the glass, eyeing the fruit, and taking a tentative sip. A moan slips free as I’m hit with a myriad of flavors I wasn’t expecting. Pineapple, orange, cherry, and coconut. It’s sweet, but not too sweet, and, immediately, I feel more relaxed. “This is really good,” I exclaim and take another sip.

The bartender smiles at me and replies, “It’s called a Malibu Sunset.”

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