“Nothing much.” She shrugged. “I’ve just been getting engaged.” She pulled her hand out from under the table, sporting a huge sparkler.
“Oh, my God! Congratulations! I’m so happy for you!” Alexandra hugged her sister again before grabbing her hand, studying the ring that was as clear as a bell. “This is amazing. Anthony even bought you a five-table ring.” Anthony was Parker’s longtime boyfriend, who loved her to distraction and spoiled her rotten.
“A five-table ring?” Parker held her hand out, her face scrunched in confusion.
“Big enough to be seen—” Alexandra started.
“Five tables away,” Blair finished, before they dissolved in a fit of giggles. Alexandra kissed Parker’s forehead, so happy she couldn’t sit still.
“How did it happen? And why didn’t you call me earlier?” Alexandra asked, then listened to her sister describe the trip they took the previous weekend, where he popped the question on the beach as the sunset.
“I was going to call you, but figured what the hell, I’ll surprise her at dinner.” They gushed over the ring some more, talking about wedding ideas, before Parker’s surprise was met with more excitement when the rest of her friends came. The evening passed quickly while the margaritas flowed freely, with promises to get together again before an intoxicated Alexandra threw herself in the back of the cab with Blair, arranging to come back for her car the next day. They were able to get out Alexandra’s address between the giggling and fumbling, settling in for the long ride to the suburbs Alexandra called home.
“I’m thrilled for my sister. She deserves all the happiness life has to offer, and Anthony’s perfect for her.” Alexandra smiled, leaning against Blair’s shoulder because it was too much work to hold her head up.
“She looks happy. Unlike some people.” Blair drilled her finger in Alexandra’s stomach.
Alexandra swatted it away before Blair bruised something. “I’m happy. How many people do you know make junior partner when they’re thirty?” She held her arms out like an actor gesturing toward their waiting crowd.
Blair rolled her eyes, pushing Alexandra’s arms down. “There’s more to life than work. When was the last time you went on vacation? Had a date? Got laid?” Alexandra’s eyes darted toward the rearview mirror, where the cab driver was paying close attention to Blair’s latest “you need a life” round of questions.
Alexandra turned so she could maintain some semblance of privacy from the nosy cab driver. “I’m going on vacation as soon as I’m done with my upcoming trials. You know how important it is for me to make partner. And as far as dating, I don’t have time for anyone right now. Getting laid? That’s been a while.” Six months, to be exact, but Blair didn’t need to know that piece of information. And wasn’t she just a chatty Cathy after all those drinks? Those close to her knew Alexandra didn’t date but had no idea she went to the bar for a random one-night stand when she had an itch to scratch. Easier all around, but she’d been too busy for even that recently.
Blair tsked at her. “You don’t even remember, do you? The day I forget the last time I had sex is the day I hire a male escort.” Alexandra remembered, but refused to elaborate on the drunken hookup on for her twenty-ninth birthday resulting in missing panties and a walk of shame to rival her college days.
Alexandra slapped her arm. “I am not hiring a prostitute. Could you see the headlines? ‘Popular lawyer indicted for soliciting sex.’ Plus, I can get my own man; I just don’t have time.” And she refused to deal with the next guy looking at her like she was a freak—as though she were damaged somehow—because she loved having sex a lot. She just chose not to have indiscriminant sex with multiple men, she preferred one partner. And there was no partner, just her vibrator, which she’d almost worn out with overuse.
Blair didn’t answer, just stared out the window, deep in thought before addressing her. “Hey, I have an idea…”
By the time she was done outlining her plan, Alexandra wished she’d jumped in the cab with someone else. It sounded ridiculous, thrilling, dangerous, inappropriate, and so arousing she knew she was in for trouble.
***
Alexandra went about her business over the next week, not worrying about Blair’s bleak assessment of her current love life or her ludicrous plan. That was until she read this:
To: Alexandra Kane
From: Blair Fisher
Subject: Gotcha something…
10:49 a.m.
Hey Alexandra,
Remember that conversation we had the other day about your crazy schedule and how you didn’t have time to get any? It’s Wednesday, HUMP day, and I know for a fact you need a good humping, so I am including the email about the club I was talking about. This is top secret information and I am not telling how I got it, but you’re welcome. He’s exclusive, discrete, and caters to people like you. Email him - GET LAID!
Love you,
Blair <3
Alexandra stared at the email, complete with the promised email address for Roman Valentine, the owner of the exclusive sex club she’d heard about. She cursed those damn margaritas, which had made her confess the sorry state of her love life in the back of a dirty cab.
Valentine specialized in any kind of sexual arrangement required, and she needed someone who could give it to her without any of the complications of a regular relationship while exercising discretion. She closed out of the email—the last headache she needed was someone discovering she was looking up potential sex clubs on company time—promising to give the information serious consideration that evening.
Was she the kind of girl who arranged for a regular sexual hookup with virtual strangers as a member of a sex club? The sex she’d had in the recent past had been in crowded clubs when her need to be filled overcame her thought for her safety or reputation, but she knew those encounters were anonymous. This spoke of a different type of arrangement, where anonymity wasn’t possible. And what would her law partners say if they found out she sought Roman’s services?
She was still thinking about the idea that evening, two glasses of liquid courage in the form of moscato later, and figured the worst he could do was say no to her request. She’d heard about him in hushed voices at dinner parties, but never allowed her mind to drift there. He could probably buy most of the people in the city but refused to flaunt either his wealth or the people who supplied it, opting instead for an almost reluctant existence. She searched his name online, hoping for more information, but there was little about the elusive club owner other than a bit of gossip here or there. And nothing about the club. Means he knows how to keep a secret, she thought, opening her personal email before she could talk herself out of it.
To: Roman Valentine
From: AK
Subject: Valentine
9:45 p.m.
Dear Mr. Valentine,
I received your contact information from a friend of mine. I was informed your club is the best at catering to people with particular needs. I will just be frank—I work long hours, and do not have the time or inclination for emotional entanglements. I do, however, need sexual satisfaction with anonymity. Could we meet to discuss?
Sincerely,
Alexandra
Alexandra hit send before she chickened out, ignoring any negative future implications. It was no one’s business what she did on her own time, but she was fooling herself if she believed her partners would agree. Her reputation impacted the firm, and she needed their support to make partner. It was a catch-22—she needed the release of an orgasm to maintain her sanity and keep her job, but she very possibly couldn’t get that release from the one place that catered to her wishes, Club Valentine.