Page 30 of Filthy Sweet

Owen slides a little closer to me. “Have a good evening, Lincoln,” I say, closing the conversation abruptly, then walk Owen inside.

“What was that about?” Owen asks. “Was she flirting?”

We’re at a second door, and a woman in a suit quickly takes my name.

“No,” I answer, turning back to him. “Not really. She’s always snooping for a story. But did you catch that?”

“What?”

“She didn’t recognize you,” I point out. “Our viral moment might already be passing.”

I pull the door open, and we walk into a large, dimly lit space. There’s slow, industrial guitar playing on the speakers, loud but not overpowering. A long wooden bar fills a far wall, and scattered about are platforms about where people are dancing.

“Oh my god,” Owen gasps.

I freeze. There are people dancing on platforms, but there’s also a man enthusiastically eating a woman out, not too far from the DJ booth.

And some half-naked people writhing against a column, I notice.

“Goddamn it,” I grunt as I slide my arm off Owen so I can look him in the eye. “I’m sorry. That motherfucker didn’t tell me—”

Owen’s laugh interrupts me. “Is this what I think it is?”

I cast my eyes around, then notice the sound of moaning, audible beneath the music. “It’s not Sunday brunch.”

He laughs. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.” A big grin fills his face. “I’m actually kind of excited. I can’t believe I’m at a sex party right now!” He blinks rapidly behind his glasses. “That’s what this is, right?”

“Unfortunately, people in my business think it’s appropriate to casually invite their colleagues to the sex clubs their midlife-crisis younger girlfriends run.”

“Wait, are you saying this has happened before?”

“No,” I admit, then chuckle. “But pretty fucking close.”

“Well, I’m sorry you bought me a suit for nothing.”

“What do you mean, for nothing?”

He faces me, but I see that his eyes are dancing around the party. “We can’t stay here. Can we?” Owen asks softly, doubtfully.

Shit.

I hear it in his voice, like dripping honey. He wants to stay.

And I can’t say no. It would be physically impossible because how the fuck could any human say no to that voice?

“Unless you want to get a drink and make a loop?”

* * *

OWEN

I’m at a sex party.

Holy shit.

Fox and I stand by massive floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook downtown, each sipping a cocktail. I’m wearing a suit that feels like pure luxury against my skin, and people keep glancing at me like I might be someone important, while straight across the room from us, there’s a woman working her fist into another woman.

“Have you ever seen fisting before?” Fox asks as the sound of their moans echo through the music.

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