Page 3 of More Than We Know

“Well, I hardly think that’s fair.”

She laughs. “Sounds like you’re chickening out to me.”

“Not chickening out. Who’s your pick then?”

Sarah spins on her barstool to fully survey the people dancing and milling about in the dark room. Lights flash across the dance floor and around the room, casting streaks of color over the many faces.

After a few seconds of searching, Sarah leans in close to me and asks, “See the woman in the dark blue dress leaning up against the wall to the left of the couches? She’s curvy and has long, dark hair.”

It only takes a moment for my eyes to find her in the crowd. She’s turned partially away, watching the dance floor and sipping on a martini. Even from this far away and with most of her fair obscured by her hair from this angle, I can tell she’s beautiful.

I turn to Sarah, and the glint in her eyes reflects the spark of excitement inside me.

“Game on.”

CHAPTER 3

KAT

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I came to Club Caliber. A lot of big cities have clubs like this, but I’ve found that most of them don’t quite live up to expectations, whether that be because of the cleanliness, the atmosphere, or the members (no pun intended).

When I heard about this one after deciding to settle down back in Chicago, it sounded too good to be true. But as I stand here and take in everything while sipping on the last of my martini, all I can see are green flags. Everything is clean, the atmosphere is fun but classy, and the people seem happy.

“Going to join?” A man’s voice sounds beside me.

I turn toward him and am caught off guard by how handsome he is. I was half-expecting a creepy old man. They’re usually the bravest demographic, especially in places like this. But the man standing before me seems close to my age and definitely my type.

A flirty half-smile curves his lips, and his dark eyes glint with interest. He keeps a respectful distance but is close enough that I catch a whiff of his woody cologne.

“Not yet. I think I need a little more liquid courage before I jump on the dance floor.” I raise my almost-empty glass to emphasize my point.

“Well, that can be arranged. I’d be happy to buy you one.” His voice is low and smooth, the type of voice that I can imagine whispering all sorts of salacious things in my ear.

Wait, no. I’m not here to get laid tonight. I told myself I was only coming here to scope the place out, to get my bearings in the Chicago scene since I haven’t lived here in over twenty years.

“I’ll accept your offer as long as it’s not under the pretense of getting laid,” I say. Better to be up-front about it, and his reaction will tell me everything I need to know about whether or not I might want to see him again. Too many men get pissed off or try to coax me into sex when I tell them no, and those ones always end up being terrible people who can’t respect boundaries in any circumstance. A good personality is a necessary precursor for me to be interested anyway, so telling a man “no” is a great way to weed out the bad ones.

He chuckles. “Deal. That actually works out perfectly.”

It’s then that I notice the gold band on his ring finger. A wedding ring. God damn it. That means there are three possibilities here:

Option one: He’s in an open relationship. However, I try to avoid getting involved with people who are already partnered up. Every experience I’ve had with one half of a couple always ends in disaster.

Option two: It’s a unicorn hunt. He’s here with his wife and they both want a woman to have some fun with for the night. I’ve been with two couples in the past, but both times, I’ve been treated like a fun new toy that they can dispose of once I lose my novelty to them. I’m a way to spice up their sex lives until they don’t need me anymore.

Option three: He’s cheating, and his wife doesn’t know he’s hitting on me.

All terrible options for me. But then I realize what he said. “Wait, why does that ‘work out perfectly?’” I ask, making air quotes with my free hand.

“I’ll be honest, I’m here with my wife.”Surprise, surprise. “We haven’t been here in a long time, and we were joking about whether or not I could still pick up a woman. I was just about to tell you that she had bet me that I couldn’t pick up you specifically, and I was going to ask if you’d just have a drink with me to prove her wrong.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t the whole point of a bet like that tonottell the woman you’re trying to pick up about it?”

“Well, yeah,” he laughs, “but I didn’t want to lead you on or anything. Don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful, but…” he lifts his hand to show off his ring and gives me a sheepish smile.

Maybe it’shis intense charm and refreshing honesty, or maybe it's my unrelenting curiosity, but something makes me want to say yes. To be fair, it’s not like I’m doing something more exciting anyway. Watching people dance is only fun for so long.

I study him for a moment before saying, “Alright, I'll help you win your bet. Lead the way.”

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