Seven: A Club Alias Novel Read online

  “That’s what she said,” Twyla mumbles absently, and as all eyes turn to her, she slaps her hand over her mouth, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “I’m so sorry,” she says from behind her palm. “It’s a really bad habit my sister and I have.”

  Roxanne and I look at each other and then immediately burst out laughing.

  “So you do have a sense of humor. Lord, I thought for sure these past few days that you wouldn’t know a joke if one smacked you in your serious, pretty little face!” she tells Twyla. “Thank goodness. You can’t work at a sex shop and not have a good sense of humor. Ain’t that right, Seth?”

  “No doubt,” I reply, as Twyla lowers her hand, a small smile lifting the corners of her lips.

  She breathes a sigh of relief. “Well that’s reassuring. I seriously saw my job flying out the window. I mean, you’d think professionalism is key when you’re trying to sell someone a dildo.” She points into my basket.

  Roxanne looks from Twyla, to the basket, then up to me, before doubling over, resting her hands on her knees as she laughs again. “God a’mighty, we’ve got some training to do,” she manages to get out.

  Twyla looks up at me then down to where Roxanne is still bent in half catching her breath, and then back up to me. And it finally dawns on her. “Wait, you know each other?”

  “Seth here is one of our regulars,” her boss explains.

  Twyla cocks her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. I point down into the hot-pink basket dangling from my forearm. “Butt plug,” I stage-whisper, and then point to the back wall. “The great wall o’ dildos.”

  Judging by her earlier embarrassment, I wait for her face to heat, but this time, fire sparks in her eyes. “You were playing me the whole time?”

  I grin. “I couldn’t help it. Roxy hasn’t had a new employee in the three years I’ve been coming here. When you tried to sell me a butt plug as a dildo, I just had to see what other comic gold I could get out of you.”

  The older woman giggles beside me. “Twyla, darlin’, how did you not know the difference between butt plugs and dildos?”

  The beauty before me huffs, flinging her hand in the direction of the wall of dildos. “I thought those were vibrators. That thing in his basket has like… a handle thingy on it.” She makes a motion with her hand like she’s grasping the handle of a bicycle tire pump and moves her arm back and forth, and I nearly die laughing when she says, “So you’d grip it like that and move it in and out of… wherever you decide to stick it.”

  When Roxanne and I finally catch our breath, we look at the new girl. I notice her rising discomfort, and then the panic in her eyes; it cuts my hilarity off at the quick.

  “I’m a fast learner, Roxy. I promise I’ll learn about everything and you won’t have to worry about me messing up again. I really need this—”

  Her boss waves her words away. “I have no doubt, honey. Don’t you go getting all anxious. It was just a stroke of bad luck you had Seth here—the man who’d give Christian Grey a run for his money in the sex toy knowledge department—as your very first customer.” Twyla nods, relief blanketing her delicate features. “Actually…” Roxy looks up at me, her eyes narrow and a smirk lifting the corner of her mouth. “It might not be bad luck at all. Seth, what do you say? You have your training sessions at the club. Could she attend some classes? Who better to learn her new trade from than a master?” She drawls out the last word.

  “Excuse me?” Twyla inserts, clearly confused.

  “As much as I’d love for her to be one of my students, the training sessions are for club members only,” I sigh.

  “Yeah, official training sessions… but what about private lessons? Say like… after club hours.” Roxy wiggles her eyebrows.

  My eyes take a long, slow stroll from the tips of Twyla’s black Converse up to the single pin holding her dark hair back from her beautiful face, and I grin wickedly when I see her fidget in place. “I’d be down for that, if the lovely Twyla is game,” I challenge.

  She looks unsure, but Roxy cuts in. “You have an amazing opportunity right now, honey. The education Seth can give you would be like learning your chemistry stuff from the guy who invented the Magic Eraser himself. Pure genius, am I right?” She directs the question at me, and I shrug.

  “What do you say, doll? Will you let me teach you? I promise I won’t bite… until lesson three.” I lick my lips, looking her directly in the eye.

  And when she breathes, “Yes,” and looks at her feet, I know she’s all mine.

  DEAR GOD, BUT this man is freaking delicious. From the second we collided in front of the rack of flavored condoms, a dull ache had begun to take up residence between my thighs. He smelled so good, like leather and expensive cologne. And his body had been hard as a rock, completely opposite to his soft hazel eyes and friendly face. He was devastatingly handsome, with a closely cropped beard and thick eyebrows. Jesus, when he lowered those dark brows over those intensely bright eyes, looking up through his long lashes to give me that wicked grin, I swear… it clenched. My. Vagina. Clenched. It had been all I could do not to whimper and rub my legs together to relieve the tension.

  And it’s with these feelings coursing through my veins that I respond with an automatic “Yes” when Seth asks if he can teach me all about the things inside the store. I don’t take into consideration the context clues between him and Roxanne. Something about a club? Training sessions? A master at what he teaches? Giving some guy named Christian a run for his money?

  A regular in a sex shop, looking for dildos, nipple clamps, and lube?

  All I know is when he said he’d love for me to be one of his students, and then looked at me with those mesmerizing eyes as he asked if he could be my teacher, I felt this undeniable urge to please him. I couldn’t say no.

  Plus, with my boss standing here telling me what a great opportunity it would be to learn all about her products, how terrible would it look if I turned them down? I need this job. If my sister’s ex were to come looking for us, there’s no reason he would ever consider checking here. In a way, leaving it up to fate placed us in the perfect spot. If Brandon ever worked out we’d left together, then certainly he would try to track us somewhere that my job as a chemical engineer would take us. And as we discovered, there’s not a single place in town that my degree and job history would be of use. My new workplace is pretty much the best disguise we’ve got.

  “Do you have Facebook?” Seth’s voice cuts into my thoughts.

  “Huh? Oh. No, I don’t have any social medias,” I reply, and see the familiar look of astonishment cross his face. It’s the look everyone gets when I make the confession. “I used to have one, but once I got into college, I found all that stuff really distracting. I deactivated it so I could concentrate on my work. It was such a relief not feeling like I had to keep up with it that I never turned it back on.”

  “That’s actually… kinda cool. I bet it’s refreshing not feeling tied to your phone all the time,” he says, and I blush at the praise. “Well, you at least gotta have an e-mail address, right?”

  “Yes, it’s easy. Twyla Quill at Gmail. I can write it down for you at the register,” I respond, and he grins.

  “As if your name couldn’t be any cooler, you gotta go and add Star Lord to the end of it!” The excitement in his voice makes me smile coyly, but he must see the confusion on my face, because he prompts, “Star Lord? Peter Quill? Daaaaayum.” He turns to Roxanne. “She earned cool points for the The Office reference she let slip, but loses a few for not knowing Guardians of the Galaxy.”

  “Even I knew that one, and I hardly ever get your pop culture references,” she mumbles, then chuckles at the look I’m giving them. “This man is fluent in movie and TV show quotes and song lyrics. It’s like his second language.”

  “Dude! I just realized. We both have Chris Pratt character names! Yours is Quill, from Guardians, and he plays Owen in Jurassic World.” He reaches his hand out and takes mine, the warmth of his palm
spreading throughout my entire body. “Seth Owens, doll. Pleasure to meet you. I’ll e-mail you times I’m available, and the address of my club.”

  If his flesh against mine didn’t have me completely centered in this time and space, his squirrel moment would have given me whiplash. “Sounds good.”

  Then I watch in slow motion as he lifts my hand to his lips to press a kiss to my knuckles, and my heart pounds so hard behind my breasts my nipples harden. I don’t know if it’s the feel of his soft lips or the devilish look in his hypnotic eyes that makes me lose my breath, but I suddenly feel faint as everything around us disappears. It’s not until he speaks again that the spell is only slightly broken.

  “I look forward to it. But for now, I gotta grab my dildos, nipple clamps, and lube for the club,” he tells me, humor lighting his handsome face.

  “Take her along with ya, Seth. I’ve got an order to place in my office.” And with that, Roxanne vanishes once again. Without letting go of my hand, Seth leads me to what I now understand is a huge wall of dildos.

  “You seriously thought these were vibrators?” He looks down at me, his eyes twinkling.

  I huff. “Well, they vibrate, don’t they? Lots of them have remotes and settings.” I gesture to the ones directly in front of us, obscene, vein-covered, penis-shaped toys that make me want to take a wide step in the opposite direction.

  “Yes, but here’s the thing. Vibrators are their own category. There are vibrating dildos, but not all vibrators are dildos,” he explains.

  I take a moment to absorb what he’s saying. Seeing the confusion on my face, he lets go of my hand, and I immediately miss the connection but try to concentrate on what he says next. He reaches out to the left to grab a package, his muscular bicep bulging directly in front of my face as I get a whiff of his deodorant. Dear Lord, how can a man’s deodorant even be sexy? Leather, expensive cologne, deodorant, and him. The combination is lethal. The crotch of my panties is officially soaked.

  “This, lovely Twyla, is a vibrator. More specifically, it’s a bullet. Some people like to insert it into either the vagina or ass, but mostly it’s used for clitoral stimulation,” he tells me, his voice unwavering. He obviously feels none of the tsunami of embarrassment that’s crashing down on me. “Ah, none of that, doll. No need for pink cheeks around me. At least… not the ones on your beautiful face.”

  I gasp and take a step back, unsure if his innuendo is appalling or a total turn-on.

  He chuckles, shaking his head, a wicked gleam filling his eyes once more. “This is gonna be a blast.”

  I STUMBLE THROUGH the door of our apartment, drop my bag, and slip off my Converse before backing up to the couch. There, I fall backward, landing on the cushions with a plop. It’s a nice, brown, ultrasuede sectional we got for an amazing price on Craigslist from a military family who was getting stationed in Germany. The perks of living next to an army base, I guess.

  “Ya okay, sis?” Astrid asks from the other end of the L-shape.

  My voice is low and monotone. “I mistakenly tried to sell a man a butt plug today when what he really wanted was six five-inch vibrating dildos. The most gorgeous man alive, I might add. Like, so sexy it hurt to look at him. And there I was, a twenty-four-year-old woman who barely knows the difference between massage oil and anal lube, trying to convince him I knew what I was talking about.” I stare at the ceiling, picturing the scene in my head as my humiliation washes over me once again. “Turns out he owns a club and is a regular at the shop. Some kinda master at all things sex, according to my boss. And then, to make things even worse, Roxanne put me on the spot and set me up to learn about everything in the shop from him. ‘Private lessons’ at said gorgeous man’s establishment. What sex toys and dance clubs have to do with each other, I have no clue.”

  I feel the cushions behind me tilt and readjust before my sister’s pretty face appears above me, her arms bracing herself on either side of my head as she looks down at me.

  “Twy. Are you trying to tell me you’re going in to take lessons from a Dom at a BDSM club?” she asks, her eyes wide.

  “No, his name is Seth, not Dom,” I correct her, and she bites her lip before squinting at me.

  “Oh, my sweet, nerdy little sister. You really have no clue, do you?” she asks.

  My brow furrows as I glare up at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “A master of all the products in a sex shop? Who owns a club and gives lessons on said products?” she confirms.

  “Yeeeeah?”

  “Twy, he’s a Dominant. He owns a BDSM club. Come on, sis. You know, like Christian Grey,” she prompts.

  “There’s that name again. Who is that dude? Apparently, my boss says Seth would give him a run for his money. He must be hot.”

  She gapes down at me. “Your lack of knowledge in all things pop culture never ceases to amaze me. But this? Sis, really? Christian fucking Grey. The delicious Dom in Fifty Shades of Grey, the global phenomenon. Not only are they books, but they're also movies now. You cannot tell me you’ve never heard of them!”

  I remind her, “Astrid. I have no Facebook. No Instagram. No Myspace—”

  “Myspace isn’t a thing anymore. I mean, it is, but it’s just for like… music or something,” she cuts in.

  “Whatever. I don’t have any of those. I don’t read the newspaper or watch TV, because it’s always bad news that brings me down, and because I never have time. The last movie I saw in the theater was when you forced me to go with you to Disturbia in 2007 during your obsession with Shia Labouef phase.” I pause to take a breath.

  “Mmmmm, Shia.” She smiles.

  I roll my eyes. “Anyway. So no, big sis, I don’t know who the hell Christian Grey is. While everyone else in the world was evidently reading about some super-hot B-D-whatever-you’re-talking-about Dom dude, I was helping create a new formula for laundry detergent made of all-natural ingredients.”

  She plops back onto the couch, and I sit up to face her. “Wait… did you tell them the reason you know nothing about sex toys is not only because you never watch TV or movies, or read, or have any girlfriends who dish their naughty details, but also because you’re a virgin?” she cries.

  “How exactly would I have brought that up in conversation? ‘Oh, B-T-Dubs, guys, I know you hired me at your sex shop, Roxy, but I haven’t, in fact, ever had sex!’ I would’ve basically been asking to be fired on the spot!”

  “Well, that’s true.” Her face changes into a wicked grin. “That’s all right though. Ana was a virgin for Christian too.” When I give her a blank stare, she giggles. “When do you work next?” she asks.

  “Wednesday.”

  “Two days. Okay. When are you supposed to meet your hottie?”

  “He’s not my hottie, and I don’t know yet. I’ve got to check my e-mail because he’s supposed to tell me where his club is and when he’s available,” I reply.

  “Well until then, I’m giving you homework.” She stands and hurries away, disappearing into her bedroom down the hall until she reemerges with her Kindle in hand. “You’re not too busy now. Read the trilogy. And when you’re done, I have several others you can enjoy.”

  I take the Kindle from her warily, looking at it as if it might burn me. “I never knew you liked to read.”

  She lowers her eyes as her happy face falls. “It’s one of the only things Brandon let me do when I wasn’t allowed to leave the house,” she explains.

  My heart sinks to my stomach. I don’t know everything that went on in my sister’s ten-year relationship, but the bits and pieces she told me were enough for me to formulate and execute the entire plan of getting her out of there. It took over a year of convincing her, but finally, even though I hated using guilt as a weapon against her, I put in my resignation and quit my job. After telling her there was no way to get it back because my position had been filled before my last two weeks were complete, she had no choice but to go along with my plan to help her escape. Her guilty conscience would
allow for nothing else.

  She clears her throat. “So, anyway, you’ve had a rough day, Twy. Go run yourself a bubble bath and start book one,” she orders.

  I nod, lumbering up from the couch. “Okay. What do you want to do for dinner?”

  “Wanna split a frozen pizza?”

  “Sounds good to me. I’ll be out in an hour,” I reply, noticing the smirk on her face. “What?”

  “We’ll see about that. I predict no less than three refills of hot water during your bath. It’s that good.” She wiggles her eyebrows, making me smile.

  As I circle the couch, I lean down and plant a kiss on top of Astrid’s head before making my way to my room. I grab the pajamas I plan on changing into after my bath, but when I turn to go to the bathroom, my laptop catches my eye. I wonder if Seth has e-mailed me yet. My phone died at work, so I haven’t gotten any notifications if he did. Unable to fight the suspense, I set my clothes and my sister’s Kindle on the bed before grabbing my computer off my nightstand. I hop up on top of my comforter and pull up my Gmail. And there, waiting for me in the inbox is an e-mail from [email protected].

  Hello, Doll, it begins, and I smile. I’ve never been called a pet name before, and I kind of like it.

  It was such a pleasure meeting you today, and I look forward to our first lesson. According to Roxanne, you have the day off tomorrow, so I figured why wait? Let’s have our first class at 11:00 a.m. The faster I can teach you about the things in the shop, the faster you’ll know what the hell you’re selling. The club closes at 2:00 a.m., so that’ll give me enough time to get a good night’s sleep and to prep. Let me know if this time is good for you. I’ve attached the address and link to Google Maps so you can find the place.

  Looking forward to seeing you again.

  Seth Owens

  My heart skips a beat at the thought of seeing him tomorrow. I mean, I really have no excuse not to. And I do need to get some sort of grasp on the products so I don’t make a fool of myself again. I reply before I can talk myself out of it.