Page 65 of Love Without Demands

I wasn’t sure if it was the law enforcement connection or the familial one, but Monty Bouvier and I hit it off instantly. A few days after the funeral, we were at an Irish pub in the East Village, and the talk inevitably turned to women after the waitress flirted with Monty.

“She was totally giving off some fuck me vibes, dude,” I said, giving him a light elbow jab to the ribs.

“Not interested,” he replied immediately.

“You interested in someone else?” I asked, digging into the mound of Irish nachos on my plate.

“There’s someone, but I’m not sure if it’s gonna work out.”

“Is that someone here in New York?” I suspected it was Kassie Ramirez, his ex-girlfriend Paul had told me about. Atleast I hoped it was. I’d met her a few times, and she was a strong, beautiful, smart attorney raising her son by herself. She deserved a good man in her life.

He nodded. “How about you? You got a lady?”

I chewed slowly, wavering on how to answer. It didn’t seem right to tell him about our night in the hotel hot tub, so I kept it vague. “No, but yes. I really like someone, but I don’t know if she likes me, so I guess we’re both kinda in the same boat.”

“Have you asked her out?”

“No, she gives me signals, but I don’t know if she’d be into the same things as me. You know…” I lowered my voice a little, “sexually.”

“You into BDSM or something?”

I rimmed the top of my glass of Guinness with my finger. “Not that. Something different. I have trouble finding women who have the same tastes as me.”

We talked and ate some more, but when Monty suggested the idea of going to a sex club to find someone that was into my mystery kink, something a guy from my team said a while back popped into my brain. His name was Bryson, and he’d told me about a place he and his wife frequented.

Me and the wifey have been going to keep the spice in our marriage. I could get you a guest pass if you want to come sometime and check it out. They have anything you could want there. Private voyeur rooms—which is what we like—a swingers area, a sex toy store, BDSM stuff. They even have a great shop if you’re into role playing.

That last one had sparked my interest, and I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Drumming my fingers on the table, I tentatively mentioned it to Monty.

“I have a buddy who goes to one of those clubs. He assures me it’s not sleazy or anything. It’s really upscale. Just a place to find other people who like what you like.”

I definitely didn’t want to pick up anyone, and Monty didn’t seem to want to either, but we both decided to go one night and see what it was all about.

Because I was intrigued by the thought of that role playing shop. I’d been judged for my kink before, but maybe they’d have some tips on the best way to bring it up to a partner.

I wasn’t sure Lehra would be interested in something like that, but then again… what if she was open to trying?

Chapter 20

“This is sooooo muchfun!” I sang, throwing my hands up in that drunk girl dance that made me feel free and happy. Even Nicolette had let her hair down, literally and figuratively. Her dark locks swirled around her as she relaxed into the music.

“I wish Artie could have come,” Gianna yelled over the noise. The lights of the dance floor flashed off her gorgeous face, making her smile turn from white to red to green to blue.

For some reason, I found that hilarious, and I pointed. “You have Smurf teeth. And Artie-boy is on a hot date tonight.”

“Yay for Artie!” she cheered, swirling her arms above her head and doing a little wiggle.

One song bled into another, and Nicolette said, “Let’s go sit and have another drink. These shoes are killing my feet.”

“Okay, I’m going to the potty, and I’ll meet you up there,” I told them as we neared the edge of the dance floor.

Gianna grabbed my hand when I turned to head toward the mile-long line for the restrooms. “Doofus, did you forget we have our own bathroom in the VIP room?”

“It’s a whole new experience going to a club with theQueen of New York City,”I teased. That’s what the tabloids had started calling her since she’d married Auburn. She looked the part of royalty too, though she was the most down-to-earth person ever.

“I hate that nickname,” she said, and then her lips rolled into a pretty pout, “but I do miss my king. He’s out of town and won’t be home till late tonight.”

A man in a suit stood beside the private elevator with his hands crossed over his front, and he gave us a respectful nod when we approached. “Mrs. Bouvier, Ms. Kincaid, Ms. Bell.” As soon as he pressed the button, the gold doors slid smoothly open.

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