Author's notes: This is an edited version of the original story, which was submitted in a rush to the Valentine's Day contest. My warmest thanks to Wylderos, the generous and perceptive reader who found most of the weak spots but was gentle in pointing them out. Any remaining mistakes are my own fault.
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"Here goes...something," Kim said, as she sucked in air deeply, trying to fill her lungs. She was only moderately successful. She closed her eyes briefly, then pulled open the door to the club, moving from the nondescript parking lot lights into the club's warmth. Inside, she was enveloped in the blues and purples of soft neon bouncing off the dark-painted walls, their actual color hard to make out. She walked up to a small lectern where a gorgeous, perfectly made-up twenty-something hostess sat, chatting easily with a dark-haired man who looked to be in his forties. The hostess immediately smiled at her and subtly looked her up and down, not letting any judgement, if she'd made any, show. The man's eyes seemed to follow her as well, his expression verging on curious.
Kim pulled her shoulders up and straightened her spine, deciding it was too late back out now. "I should be on the guest list, I signed up earlier today, on the web site," she said a little breathlessly, and gave her name.
"Ah yes, of course, you're right here. You're... alone tonight? Your... husband, is it, he's not with you?
Kim shook her head. "No, not my husband. My ex-boyfriend. No, we're no longer together. I wasn't sure what I owe."
"Nothing, actually. The entry is free for single women. I see you haven't visited us in a couple of months. You may remember, the bar is through that door, and if you've brought any alcoholic beverages, just give them to the bartender. There're some finger foods right there, feel free to help yourself. And the play rooms are upstairs. Welcome back, we're so glad you joined us again."
As Kim listened, she was aware of the man now openly appraising her with a calm, confident, maybe even thoughtful gaze. Neither predatory nor judgmental - a rarity in her experience. These people must be great at hiding their judgments, she thought. Good thing, or she'd have bolted. Her courage was a thin veneer, barely covering her discomfort and fear. She nodded at the hostess and started to turn toward the entrance to the bar.
"We have a coatroom, if you'd like. We keep the club pretty warm..."
"Thanks, not yet. Maybe later," Kim said, hugging her arms across her open coat a little tighter, and moving away from the hostess and her companion.
She advanced through the door to the room that held the bar, the dance floor, and several large screen TVs playing porn flicks. The beat of the music was catchy enough but the dance floor was still empty. She wasn't ready yet to display herself publicly, so she turned toward the bar and handed over two mini-bottles of single malt whisky to the bartender. He looked them over and grinned appreciatively.
"Good taste. How'd you like those?" "Thanks," she answered, tilting her head ever so slightly in his direction to acknowledge his friendliness. "One ice cube, please."
He grabbed a glass, added an ice cube, and poured the contents of one of the bottles in it, then slid the glass across the bar to her.
"A little liquid courage for you. Cheers, my dear," he said, and smiled broadly at her before moving down the bar to fill other orders.
She sipped her drink slowly, trying to gather her courage about her. What a weird thing she'd done, coming to a sex club on her own. She was the only woman on her own so far, and though there were a few single men, most of the other patrons were in small mixed groups of three, four, or five. Low conversations hummed underneath the heavy drum machine beat, with the occasional peals of laughter. She discerned some of the voices were clearly relaxed while others were anxious and seemed slightly desperate. She didn't want to admit her anxiety out loud, though she felt it in her tight shoulders. She started playing a game with herself, trying to match voices she heard without looking to the people around her. And slowly, she felt her muscles beginning to unknot.
She felt movement behind her, a light touch on her waist that disappeared almost as soon as she'd become aware of it, as the man who'd been talking to the hostess at the door leaned on the bar next to her.
"Is the coat for warmth or is it armor?" he asked, getting right to the point.
She tensed, then forced herself to relax. His voice had been soothing and straightforward, calm enough to dissipate some of her reaction. He had an easy-going smile and pleasing, not flashy, good looks.
"A bit of both, I suppose. In truth." At least she owed him a civil answer, as uncomfortable as she was.
"May I take it then, your coat?"
"Uh, no, thanks, but I will take it off... soon," she smiled tentatively. Ummm, do you come here often?"
"I suppose. A couple of times a month. And you?"
"I've only come a couple of times total. It's been a while..."
He gave her a good-humored smirk, and she realized, embarrassed, of the double entendre.
"Is this your first time alone?" he asked.
She paused for a few seconds, deciding how to answer, and settling on the truth rather than a snappy comeback. Her snaps nearly always sounded bitchy and mean. She had no reason to lie, though the question was entirely too personal for her.
"Yes, my first time alone," she admitted. "My boyfriend and I split up, shortly after our last visit here."
His eyes, so dark in the low light of the room that the pupils were entirely lost in the irises, watched her intently, as if trying to read her. He didn't seem to be on the make, or if he was, he was being either very subtle or very cautious. Measuring her in some way she couldn't easily define.
"Did your break-up have something to do with the club?"
She nodded. "Yes. A... misunderstanding that, well, we just couldn't resolve. I suppose we should never have come..."
"His idea or yours?"
She shrugged, a defensive gesture, she knew. As if she was guilty of some disgusting sin....
"I thought it was his. He said it was mine."
"Ah, the old 'he said, she said... But you're back, so something must have attracted you."
"I'm not so sure. I suppose it's a bit like... like that cliché about falling off a horse and wanting to get back in the saddle before the fear completely overruns the pleasure."
