Page 8 of Calculated Chaos

“I think he’s got eyes for you,” I whisper.

Hollister’s brow scrunches up. “Why on earth would you say that?”

“Because he’s low-key flirting.”

“I’m sure he’s just doing his job. It is a sex club, after all.”

“Okay, Holl, but he’s not flirting with me.”

Hollister only responds by blowing out a breath to get his hair off his forehead. He’s adorable when he’s flustered. It’s so funny to me that he isn’t aware that he’s attractive. I’ve watched countless women and a few guys over the years try to get his attention, but he’s either not interested or focused on something else.

Maybe being in an environment like this one will open up that part of him so he can find love. He deserves it. I’ll just conveniently ignore my own hang-ups about pursuing love and relationships. I’m not even sure what’s holding me back.

Maxwell leads us down a long, dark hallway lit by medieval-looking sconces until he stops at a large metal door. “You can’t get in unless accompanied by a staff member or with a password if you’re a member.”

He rings the buzzer on the door and a literal window in the door opens. A man peers out with dark eyes, gazing at me and Hollister.

“Hey, Maxwell.”

“We have VIP guests for the evening,” Maxwell says.

The man nods and the door buzzes open. Two large men pull the doors open and Maxwell leads us through like he’s some kind of royalty. He carries himself like he is.

Right away, it’s obvious we’ve entered a different part of the club. There’s heavy rock music playing but it’s not too loud. It looks like a haunted house maybe, all dark furniture and black walls with a massive chandelier in the middle. On both sides of the hall are rooms with doors. Maxwell leads us to the end room.

“This is where I leave you,” he says, opening the door and gesturing for us to enter. “Make yourselves comfortable. Your dungeon master will be in shortly.”

“Thank you,” I say.

Maxwell’s smile is predatory as he nods at me but fixes his gaze on Hollister. “Have fun tonight.” He steps closer to my friend, leaning in toward his ear. “Remember, you can be whoever you want in here.” He winks and leaves.

“See?” I ask.

“See what?” Hollister asks, his eyes moving around the unfamiliar items in the room.

I just shake my head. “Nothing, Holl.”

He moves to a lounge chair and sits on it, primly almost, like he’s afraid to touch anything. Chuckling, I join him. “It’s just a demonstration, okay? Don’t get nervous.”

Hollister nods, rubbing his hands on his thighs. “Okay. I can handle this.”

The door opens just seconds later, and a man enters the space, dressed in a harness and leather pants. He’s wearing platform boots, his skin covered in glitter and tattoos. He has a thick beard, a head of dark red hair, and a septum piercing. He smiles, and it’s oddly comforting on such a brute of a man.

“Hollister and Axel,” the man says in greeting. “I’m Blaze and I’ll be your dungeon master for the next twenty minutes.”

Hollister trembles beside me. “Uh, hi. There aren’t any women masters? Like, uh, what are they called? A dominatrix?”

Blaze’s eyes go wide before he chuckles. “Uh, no. Why would we have women masters?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Hollister asks. “Don’t people have preferences?”

Blaze steps toward us, kneeling down so he can meet Hollister where he’s sitting. “Well, babe, men who come to gay clubs pretty much already have their preferences figured out.”

My eyes go wide. Gay club? Oh shit. Oh shit. Hollister is going to murder me. It was a good ride. RIP me. Fuck.

Chapter Five

HOLLISTER

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