After the club closes, Sol and Sax head to their rooms, as usual. I think they both visit Hel, just like I do, but we don’t talk about that. Lash, ever the lone wolf, vanishes into his room as well. Rev, Chance, and Kane all hang with the girls in the common room, and I take the opportunity to slip away unnoticed. Not that I’m ashamed or anything, I just keep my shit private. Toro and Taj are locking up the gate between Hel and Fisticuff, and waiting to escort the girls to their cars. Chance usually does that, but now that he’s with Annika, he’s passed the job to others, and has pushed the role of lead enforcer in Hel to Lash. He wants to stay away from the ladies, I guess. I get it.
The girls don’t live in the rooms they lease from the club—those rooms are working quarters only. They all have their own private apartments throughout the city, and are provided an escort from their cars into the club and back out to the parking lot at the end of the night. They work set hours, too—for the club, at least. What they do in their own time is up to them, obviously, but they only work at Sin from 8 p.m. to 4 a.m.—an eight-hour shift.
It’s after four, by now; most of them, once the club is closed and the patrons are gone and the doors are locked, spend some time at the bar in Hel, having a few drinks, talking, and relaxing before going home.
That’s where I find Lydia, clad in her loose, gauzy, sheer, black robe that obscures precisely nothing, lounging at the bar, sipping a martini and laughing with Sindy and Karma about who knows what. Toro and Taj each have a bottle of beer and a cigarette, but they’re off in a corner together, providing presence and security and waiting for the girls to be ready to leave.
I prowl up the bar between Sindy and Lydia, tap the bar top with a knuckle. “Yamazaki, neat—two fingers.”
Danni gives me a chin lift of acknowledgment, pours my drink—more than two fingers, because she’s nice like that. I toss her a fifty and wave off change, and she goes back to sipping her own drink and chatting with Candi and Brie at the other end of the bar. I never get tired of the sight of Danni--what straight dude could? But I pull my gaze from Danni’s bare, glitter-dusted rack to Lydia.
“Hey.” I lean my elbow on the bar, sip the whiskey, and give her a look.
She smiles at me, takes a slow sip. “Silas. It’s been a while.”
“Busy. The usual.”
She nods. Her expression is knowing. “Things okay?”
I shrug. “Sure. Same as ever. You?”
She twirls a crimson lock of hair around a finger and takes another drink. “Oh, fine. A busy night. I’m kind of tired.”
I push away what that really means with practiced ease. “Another night, then.” I take a pull from the Yamazaki, and it burns like gold and sunshine going down.
She shakes her head, touches my chin. “I’ve always got time for you, Silas, you know that.”
She finishes her drink, stands up, and takes me by the hand. “Come on. Bring your drink. I’ll take care of you.”
She leads me down the hallway to her room and locks it behind us. It’s a small, simple room. Black vinyl floors that look like wood planks. White walls and ceiling. A small en-suite bathroom. A queen-size bed, with a small chest at the foot end. Lydia has a few abstract art prints on the walls, a small red leather love seat opposite the bed, and a bedside table with two drawers.
She leads me to the love seat and gently pushes me onto it—I let myself fall backward into it with a heavy plop. Straddling me, she brushes her fingers through my hair, touching my stubble with gentle fingertips.
That’s what I like about Lydia—she makes seduction seem natural, gentle, and easy. With me, at least. I wouldn’t know about anything else.
She brushes her robe off, clad now in nothing but a lacy white thong. Kisses my neck. Peels my shirt off. Descends slowly to kneeling between my thighs, kissing down my chest.
Reaches for my buckle.
I’m ready for her, knowing what those hands and that mouth can do, and eager for it. Needing it.
She’s got me in her hands, using that soft, gentle touch.
My phone rings—it’s a dumb phone, and only a handful of people have the number—my brothers, Inez, and…my mother.
It’s not my brothers, and I just saw Inez while closing up the club.
Which leaves only one person who could be calling me.
I freeze solid. My heart hammers in my chest, and Lydia stops her strokes, looking up at me. “Silas? What is it?”
I swallow hard. “I gotta take that.”
“Now?” She sounds disappointed.
Fuck me, but I wish that was real, instead of her just being damn good at her job.
“Yeah. Sorry.” I stand up, a little too abruptly, and she rises with me, frowning at me in confusion as I buckle my pants around my raging hard-on. “Wish I didn’t.”
