Page 119 of Stand: Part One
I had no idea why we were suddenly in Chicago or how long we were staying, but I hoped it wasn’t just for a single night at another one of Darren’s clubs. I had no desire to return to that deafening world of isolation and confinement back in California.
Clutching my waist tightly, I watched from the corner of my eye as Darren observed the room, his gaze scanning every inch with the scrutiny of God himself.
It had been a few days since the basement, and I still felt skittish around him, unsure of myself and how I wanted to interact with him.
And I hated that he noticed.
The man loved making me squirm. But I forced myself to just silently tolerate him while I discreetly licked my wounds from a safe distance. My confidence would eventually return as it always did, but somehow, this time things felt different.
I still felt oddly insecure in my dark purple dress, the bodycon style wrapping tightly around my figure. But my insecurity most likely lied with the bruises still healing around my throat. I was wearing a shit ton of concealer to cover them, utilizing a whole palette of colors to cancel out the ones embedded in my skin.
Thankfully, my throat wasn’t sore anymore, but the idea that someone might catch the shadows ringing my neck had me wanting to hide away until they were gone for good.
Of course, Darren was never embarrassed by his handiwork. In fact, he often appreciated the marks he left behind, grinning from the memories they reminded him of.
Seemingly satisfied with his assessment, Darren pulled me to the left of the room toward what I assumed was a VIP section.
Three men were seated at a round couch on top of a raised platform, a red velvet curtain hanging along the outside to provide a shield of privacy from prying eyes. Two of the men had a set of beautiful twin blondes hanging from their arms, looking like absolute supermodels with their sky-high heels and tight, low-cut dresses.
The third man had his arm wrapped around another brunette woman, though she was significantly older, possibly in her early fifties. But while the twins were sickly thin, this woman was built like a tank.
The prominent muscles in her arms stood out from her black sleeveless dress, her shoulders well-defined and expertly toned. She wore a pair of strappy black heels that added an additional three inches to her already impressive height.
The laces of her heels curled all the way up her powerfully built calves, stopping just below the knees that connect to impressive quads. I was willing to bet she had a six-pack hidden behind that dress too. It was fitting that the man next to her was equally in shape.
I found myself instantly entranced, shamelessly envious of this gorgeous powerhouse of a woman. While I considered myself pretty well-muscled and toned for my size, I had heavy doubts Darren would ever allow me to build muscle like hers.
Leading me to the couch, Darren sat me down next to him, his arm wrapped neatly around my waist as he introduced me to the men. All three women smiled at me, the only introductions we would likely get before we all turned back into pretty accessories.
The men thankfully paid me little attention beyond the pleasantries, allowing me to turn my gaze back into the dancing crowd not more than thirty feet in front of us. I needed to focus my attention elsewhere before I got caught staring at the older brunette like a goddamn idiot.
That was when I noticed Scott suddenly standing to my left, opposite Clive and Owen, watching the crowd as well.
“Where did you come from?” I asked in annoyance. I hated how easy it was for Scott or Darren to suddenly materialize out of nowhere, the skilled silence of it a talent I envied.
“I’m always around,” he replied with a wink before nodding to Darren.
Accepting my new boring position as a fixture to my seat, I sat back and people-watched while Darren chatted with the other men. I observed the twins next to them making a constant effort to keep their hands active, either running them along the men’s shoulders or chest, or rubbing their thighs. It was impossible not to see their cocks hardening in their pants.
What the hell was the point of this whole thing? The music was too loud and they were surrounded by distraction.
Stealing a moment when Scott was answering a text, I tapped his side until he glanced down.
“What the hell is the point in meeting at a club? You can’t hear shit,” I practically shouted over the music at him.
Pocketing his phone when he finished, he turned to me. “That is the point. You never know who else might be trying to listen in,” he said as he tapped his ear.
I guess that makes sense.
Deciding I’d had enough of sitting in silence, I gently stroked my hand down Darren’s thigh to get his attention. His large palm covered all of mine, trapping my hand in place before turning to look at me.
“I need to use the restroom,” I said discreetly into his ear.
Without a word, his eyes sought Clive’s and then nodded in my direction. Darren then gave my hand a slight squeeze, his gaze returning to me in silent warning. Like I even needed it anymore. He then released my hand and continued with his conversation.
Scott moved aside, allowing me to exit the booth and pointed in the direction of the restrooms. I tried hard not to B-line for the doors, but I was eager to stretch my damn legs and practically left Clive and Owen in my dust. But just as I was about to turn the corner, I noticed a whole group of girls enter the restroom.
Fucking great.
