Page 22 of Lillian

Not that she wasn’t fucking amazing in bed. Experimental, maybe even a little wild. But that came with weeks of forming comfort and connection. She wouldn’t do that with strangers at a party.

“From what I’m reading on their website, the women come to the club and drop their keys in a hat. Then, the men draw from the hat at the end of the night for their…partner.”

Or maybe she would?

What the fuck.

Suddenly, the only thing I know is that there isn’t any chance in fucking hell I’m letting her go to a party full of horny, creepy men by herself. “How do I get on the list?” I ask Vince, privacy be fucking damned. It’s not like I care if he knows about my sex life.

There’s a beat of silence as I assume he looks through the website. “Hmmm. Looks like there’s just a buy in for the men. Fuck, that’s a lot of money.”

“I don’t care. Charge it to my card. Send me the details.” He’s got my card on file for whenever I need him so he doesn’t have to bill me for every little thing.

“You got it.” He hangs up so fast a little chuckle slips free. Sex talks with the boss don’t seem to be in his comfort zone.

At least I know what I’ll be doing when I get home now. I’ve got a sex club to read up on and almost a week to plan out how I’m going to be able to make sure I pick her key from that hat.

It’s not until I’m laying in bed that night that I think back on my conversation with my mother and realize she didn’t have any contract in her hands when she left my office.

If you’re not here with Grace in ten minutes, I’m coming to you and shoving you into a cab.

I readmy sister’s text as I’m standing in front of the mirror in a black, off-the-shoulder dress that hugs my chest until it hits my waist, where it flares ever so slightly. There’s a decent amount of cleavage showing, and the hem of the dress is long enough that I’m not in danger of flashing anyone. So why do I feel so exposed?

It feels like I’m standing in front of the mirror naked, rather than in a dress most people would probably call a classy, clean look.

It’s got to be the nerves hitting and the destination making me feel like I’m walking into school in my underwear. I did try to cancel, like I thought I might. The call to Kim this morning with a fake cough and sniffles lasted fifteen seconds before she called me on my crap and told me to stop being a coward.

With one last sigh, I turn around and grab the calf-length coat draped on the end of my bed and button myself up in it. At least Grace won’t ask questions about my dress this way, even if it is a little too warm for it.

“Grace!” I call out as I leave my room, shutting the lights off and closing the door behind me. “Do you have your bag packed?” I walk through the hallway, heels clicking against the hardwood as Grace leaps out of her room with an excitable sort of energy.

"Yep!” she confirms. Her hands are grabbing the backpack straps, and she’s wearing so much color it looks like she puked up a rainbow. The sparkly headband Kim got her is holding back blonde wisps of hair, she’s sporting a bright pink T-shirt, neon green shorts, and rainbow sneakers. The multi-coloredDisneyovernight bag ties the whole outfit together.

“Toothbrush?” I check.

“Yep,” she nods back proudly.

“Toothpaste?”

Nod.

“Hairbrush and hair ties?”

Nod.

“Clothes for tomorrow, and PJs for tonight?”

“Yesss,” she drawls out, annoyed by my questioning.

“Underwear?” I drawl with one brow raised.

She goes still.

I laugh. “That’s what I thought. Go get in the car, I’ll grab them.” Instead of heading to the car though, she darts back into her room and runs out a few moments later clutching the white bunny she sleeps with every night. It’s her stuffy. The couple that kept her for the first night she was put into the system while Kim and I worked out the details of getting her placed with us gave her the stuffed animal, and it became her favorite thing. She can’t go a night without it.

I make quick work of finishing her packing, and then we’re both in the car and headed to Kim’s. When I pull in her gravel drive, they must hear because Nicky comes barreling out of the front door, screen slamming shut behind him, and darts in front of the car.

Thank God I was crawling at this point because he practically throws himself on the hood as I hit my breaks enough that Grace jolts against her seat belt.

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