27. Ember

27

EMBER

“ O kay, hold on. You’ve only had sex with two guys? In your entire life? And one of those guys is your husband?” Cruz asks me with a non-offensive judgment.

“Yes. So what? There is nothing wrong with that, Cruz!” I reply defensively, anyway.

“I am not saying that. My shock is coming from the fact that you are literally going to spearhead the opening of an actual sex club and you have hardly had any actual sex.” He sips on his cocktail while giving me a smug side eye, because shit. He’s right.

When I put that business plan together, it was easy for me to come up with the concept. That aspect of business and public relations comes so naturally to me. The floor plan took a little more energy, especially when I had to utilize the website as a guide for the sexual themes and kinks for the types of rooms I wanted to incorporate.

I did use Google, admittedly a little too much, in my research, and many of the topics definitely made me blush. But it also had me curious as well .

But Cruz is more than right. I can’t do this without more experience. People are probably going to think I’m a joke, and I don’t have the first clue about any of this. I mean, they won’t know, right?

“Well, you’re not wrong, but no one else needs to know that I don’t have that much experience. This is a business venture, regardless of what kind of a club it is,” I say with confidence. Fake it ‘til you make it, right?

“No, E, no. Building out a sex club is different. The rooms need to be specific to very specific themes. The voyeur room needs all glass surrounding it, toys, certain things built into it. Maybe a spotlight and special lighting. The BDSM room should have restraints, other things that make it more ideal for doms and subs.”

Clearly, Cruz knows a lot about this.

“I have you for that, don’t I?” Plastering my most adorable smile at him.

“You are learning far too much from Elena, far too quickly, my friend,” he says, which makes me happy to hear, since she’s pretty much my idol. “Look, I can tell you all these things all day long. You are going to write it down in black and white and use that information like you studied it out of a textbook. You’re wicked smart and super creative. But sex isn’t black or white, there’s a whole gray area out there that only hands-on experience can get you. You want to make this out of this world? You need true experience for that, girl.”

Shit. He’s right.

I’m totally in over my head. What was I thinking?

I don’t know the first thing about any of this.

My shoulders deflate as I spin my drink around in circles on the bar table me and Cruz are sitting at. It’s not far from the condo, which is a blessing because I am still relying on Uber when I can’t get a ride from Cruz or Elena.

My parents offered to drive my car to Seattle then fly back home, which I was shocked by. They were not supportive of my decision to stay here longer, especially long enough to need my car. In fact, during the first conversation, they berated me about Elliot and how he might feel. Insisted I wasn’t seeing how selfish I’ve been. Which goes more in line with them always being more aware of his feelings than my own.

Either way, I was happy when my mom called back and offered to help. It will give me a chance to introduce Hudson to them before we fly back for the anniversary party, so it’s easier when I drop the bomb that I’m permanently moving. Plus, saving me almost a week off to pick up my car is a godsend now that I have this project weighing on me.

The project that I’m now in full-blown panic mode over, thanks to my buddy Cruz here.

“Hey.” Cruz slides his hand over my fidgeting ones, that continuously circle my glass on the tabletop. “You’ve got this. You just have to ask your faux husband for help.”

I almost snap my own neck, whipping it in his direction. “You know?”

“Of course, I know. I know everything.” He blinks excessively during his eye roll. “Faux or not, he can help. And why would you not want him to help you? Look at that man, all meaty and lickable.”

“Cruz…” I whisper, like we shouldn’t be talking about Hudson that way. But Cruz is totally on point… again.

“I’m serious, ask him. He’ll help you.”

My head falls into my hands as I ponder this idea. But who am I kidding? I’m going to need some sex lessons. Jesus, that sounds terrible.

“This is a really bad idea.” My voice is muffled, trapped behind my palms.

“Oh, girl, you don’t know me that well yet, but my ideas are always the best ideas. ”

An hour later, the alcohol is swimming through my body, making agreeing with Cruz far too easy and texting Hudson effortless.

Me: I need to modify our arrangement.