Am I sexually frustrated?
God, yes.
At thirty-five, it’s a frustration I’ve felt since I was a freshman in college, one that no man has ever been able to quench.
I thought the problem was me, or that I was dating the wrong kind of men — rich, attractive snobs who think they’re god’s gift to women. Selfish bastards who were usually too drunk to perform worth a shit.
Once I got to law school, dates were fewer and farther between because my classmates saw me as a threat, their competition, and I was constantly studying, needing to be at the top of my class to impress my father.
After I passed the bar and started practicing, well, most of the men I meet don’t want a woman who is more ambitious ormore successful than them. And the ones who do like smart, powerful women are far too…submissive for my taste. I don’t want to be asked permission or give consent for every single little kiss or touch. While I’m all for guys being gentlemen, it gets a little frustrating if they’re too worried about screwing up to get down and dirty.
I thought a fling with a blue-collar man might be different, more uninhibited than the workaholic snobs in suits.
If anything, Bryan is more of a sweet, gentle lover than any of the others.
What would one night of filthy, anonymous sex with a stranger even be like — if it were truly anonymous? I’ve never had a one-night stand before because of my trust issues and the reputation I have to maintain.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Natalie grins.
I dig my fingernails into the leather strap of my bag. “I don’t know. If anyone found out I was there…”
She shakes her head. “The owner is the only person who knows everyone’s identity, and he’s a crazy, hot, rich guy who has a spotless record. I checked.” I mull that information over for a few seconds, and Natalie adds, “I’m a paying member, so I’ll cover your cost, and if anyone asks, you can say you were looking into a case, right? Why don’t you just come check it out with me Friday night? There’s no pressure to participate. You can just watch others behind your mask or have a drink at the bar. It’s all very laid-back. Things only get more heated in the private rooms, which are super clean and classy.”
“I want the owner’s name and their full background check.”
Nodding briskly, she says, “Sure thing. I’ll go send it to you right now.”
“Ah, wait, Natalie. Could you print it out instead? And hand it to me when I get back from court?”
“No evidence, right? Your secret is safe with me.” She winks, then leaves.
I can’t help but think she’s a little too excited about this club and having me tag along with her when we’ve never even had lunch together.
Maybe she just doesn’t have any friends with those particular kinks and needs a wing-woman?
Does she go to this club alone?
What kind of person would I be if I knowingly let her go to a place like that alone where she could be in danger?
And yes, I’m a little bit curious to see if this club may give me the one thing I’ve never had before with any man — passion and excitement.
With all the stress I’m dealing with, a temporary escape from my life is exactly what I need. It’s the reason I got on the subway the other night going nowhere, just to pretend for a few minutes that I was someone else, someone without any pressing obligations, death threats hanging over my head, or requirements to constantly be perfect.
Deep down, I know it’s a huge risk to even think about showing up at a place where someone could recognize me.
But the thing is, if the clock is ticking on my life, I don’t want to go down with any regrets. And it’s not like I’m going to engage in any activities. For once, I want to look around and see other people who share my darker desires, to know I’m not alone.
4
Tristan
“Well?” I ask when I answer Natalie’s call minutes after I watched the receptionist leave the courthouse for the day.
“Hello to you too.”
“Did you invite her to the club or not?”
“I did. She didn’t say yes, but…she did ask to see the research you gave me on the owner. You were right. She wanted printouts, not an email.”
