Page 3 of Sworn to My Heart
“No, no, I need my phone,” her anxiety increases. She signals to the guard that we’ll be right back, pulls me back to the street, and leads me for a few minutes until we reach the back of the club through a small alley. I notice a large brown iron door with two guards standing next to it.
They recognize Cora immediately and let us in.
“What is this place?” I ask Cora as we are surrounded by darkness and slow, sensual music fills my ears.
She pushes aside a thick black curtain, revealing another club. In the center there’s a huge circular bar with five long runways extending from it, each dimly lit along its length, with tall poles installed at the end of each. My eyes explore the place in detail.
We walk in, and my gaze is fixed on the runways. On each runway, there’s a dancer, some completely naked, others in such minimal clothing that it looks like part of their skin.
When I turn my gaze to the guests, I see more women dancing sensually over men. It’s all so overt, but I can’t take my eyes off them. I’m not even shocked by what I am seeing; I just want to get closer and explore. Men sitting along the runways, drinkingand enjoying the show and the women around them. Some even stick bills onto their bodies. The action seems cheap, yet so sensual at the same time that I feel a desire to try it too.
“What is this place?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the dancers. Cora immediately wrinkles her nose in disgust. “A strip club, this is the other side of Club Q. Mariano owns this too.” She doesn’t seem happy about it and doesn’t enjoy being here.
It’s my first time setting foot in a strip club, and to my surprise, my curiosity and desire to know more, to try to feel as feminine as they do, outweigh the disgust I used to feel when Cora told me about places like this. Cora continues to lead me up the nearby stairs and takes me upstairs.
Inside, we enter a spacious room with a massive glass wall on one side, overlooking the club below. I try to recall noticing it downstairs, but it must have been hidden. The room’s floor is carpeted in deep wine-red, the walls are black, and garish red satin curtains hang from the ceiling. In the center stands an oval black glass table, flanked by two tall dance poles reaching toward the ceiling.
I’m tempted to touch one when I notice two men seated on a leather couch against the wall and two security guards by the entrance. Immediately, I recognize one as Mariano, Cora’s husband. But it’s the stranger beside him who captures my curiosity.
I study him intently in the dim lighting of the room. His eyes are a piercing gray, his skin lightly tanned, and his lips perfectly shaped. A long scar on his right eyebrow add to his allure. His hair is neatly styled, with a few strands falling across his forehead, giving him a rugged charm. His expression is stoic, almost icy, devoid of emotion.
“He’s devastatingly handsome,” I think to myself as our eyes meet briefly. I sense he’s appraising me, and the thought thrillsme. Pushing aside distracting thoughts, I reluctantly turn my attention to Cora, who is explaining to Mariano why we’re here.
Mariano nods in response, kisses Cora, and makes a phone call with a serious demeanor that seems characteristic of him.
Moments later, Graham enters the room, handing Cora her phone. I can’t help but notice how everyone here seems to defer to him like obedient puppies. Cora thanks Graham with a smile.
“Come on, we’re leaving,” she says, walking toward the exit, but I stop her. “That’s not polite, let me say goodbye to your husband,” I say, and she rolls her eyes in response. “I’m not sure he even knows what the word polite means,” she quips, but shrugs in resignation.
Ignoring her comment, I approach Mariano, greeting him with a kiss on each cheek in the Italian manner Cora taught me. Throughout the exchange, my gaze keeps returning to the intriguing stranger beside him, whose presence seems to overshadow everyone else in the room.
“Good to see you again, have a good time,” he says warmly. I give him a grateful glance and look back at Cora. “What were you talking about? Your husband is simply charming,” I retort to her previous comment, and she can’t suppress her laughter. “He’s quite the actor. Lucky for him, his dick is big enough, and he knows how to satisfy in bed,” she says loudly enough for Mariano to hear. Or rather, for everyone in the room to hear.
He winks at her, and my cheeks flush red. I can’t understand why I’m the only one in this room who finds this situation between them embarrassing.
“Cora, you’re ruining the girl, bringing shy virgins to this side of the club. She doesn’t belong here, get her out,” the stranger finally speaks, his tone sharp, and continues to look at me with an unreadable expression, something I haven’t encountered in a long time.
Before I can respond, Cora turns to him arrogantly. “That’s new... a reaction from the ice-cold lord. Alin affected you too? I know she’s a walking bombshell,” she points to my body and continues, “She can wrap any man here around her little finger, and that’s exactly what she’s going to do tonight. So don’t worry, we’ll be out of here soon,” she dismisses him with a triumphant glance. Mariano chuckles and turns to the handsome man, “Burned, brother.”
His expression changes for a second—if I don’t know better, I’d think he is a bit angry—but it quickly returns to his icy, intimidating look. That look might scare many people, but not me.
He chuckles too and shoots back at Cora, “Idiot.”
I join Cora in her triumphant smile, feeling a little thrill of excitement in my stomach as I look at him again, but I quickly push it away and walk out with Cora to the main entrance of club Q. Who would have thought this club also offers additional services?
Entering the VIP area, Graham isn’t with us this time. Cora actually managed to get rid of him, but I couldn’t ignore the two security guards at the room’s edge, watching us like hawks and communicating, presumably with Mariano.
“Your husband really knows how to let go,” I comment sarcastically, rolling my eyes and pointing toward the two guards.
Cora sighs in exasperation, and the only thing that comes out of her mouth is an order, “Shots, now!”
We line up a series of shots at the bar, and I’m on edge, very careful about the people around me, monitoring every liquid near me. I’m lifting the fourth shot when she smiles and shouts in my ear, “That’s it, I’m charged up, let’s dance!” I follow her, struggling to ignore the dizziness as the alcohol flows throughmy veins. For some reason, alcohol always affects me more than others; not only do my senses dull, but I also lose control of my powers, leaving me vulnerable.
I try to shake myself back to rationality and not let myself fall. I need to always stay in control.
As we start dancing, the music pounding in my ears, I manage to forget everything around me, lowering my defenses and letting the music envelop me.
I remember the pole dancers in the strip club and try to imitate their sexy moves, pressing my hips against Cora’s. She seems to enjoy the idea and moves with me in sync.
