By the time Saturday night finally rolls around, I'm practically buzzing. I got my test results back from the doctor this morning—clean across the board, thank God—which means I'm officially good to stay at Club Delco tonight once my membership is finalized.
I don't even know exactly what that entails yet, but I'm hoping I can meet someone at the bar, hit it off, and maybe spend the night together. Just the idea of connecting with someone who's into the same kind of stuff I am has me half hard already.
Honestly, ever since I got Cedric Mark's email two days ago, I've been a mess. I've jerked off six times—six—and I still feel like I could go for another round the second I think about it. No shame in being excited, right?
I take a deep breath and try to chill out. A long, hot shower helps a bit. I scrub down, wash my hair, and even run some leave-in conditioner through it so I can style my undercut without it puffing up like it always does in this damn summer humidity.
After drying off, I stare at my closet for a few minutes. I don't have a ton of options, but at least I'm no longer stuck with my brother Jay's old hand-me-downs.
I've finally got clothes that feel like me. The FAQ on the club's site mentioned business casual to cocktail attire, so I picked something that strikes a balance—dark jeans and a crisp white button-up. Clean, confident, not trying too hard.
I pack up everything I might need, double-check that I've got my wallet and ID, then hop in my Civic for the twenty-minute drive across town.
When I pull into the lot, I find a spot tucked in the back and make my way to the front entrance. The place looks more or less the same as it did when I visited earlier this week, but now that I'm walking in with a purpose, the whole vibe feels more electric. More real.
At the reception desk stands the same blonde woman I'd seen before—at least, I think it's her. She's traded the sleek business outfit for a tight black leather dress, a matching collar wrapped around her neck. The glow from the monitor lights up her face, and I can't help but notice her smoky eye makeup and that deep red lipstick. She looks... intense, but in a different way tonight.
I clear my throat. "Hey—excuse me?"
She glances up at me with long, fluttery lashes and smiles at me. "Hi there. What can I do for you?"
"I've got a meeting with Cedric Mark. Seven o'clock. My membership just got approved. Gabriel Rollins."
"Welcome, Gabriel. I'm Camilla—I run things up here. Come on, I'll take you back."
She leads me past the bar and down a hallway I vaguely remember—the same one I'd gone down a few days ago during the incident. She doesn't seem to recognize me, which throws me a little.
"Sorry," I ask, unable to hold back my curiosity, "didn't we meet earlier this week? When did someone get hurt?"
Camilla stops in front of a door labeled Office and gives me a curious once-over.
"I think I'd remember a face like yours."
I laugh awkwardly. "I was one of the EMTs who came out for that emergency. You let us in."
"Oh!" she laughs. "That wasn't me—that was my twin, Cecilia. She runs things behind the scenes."
Ah. That explains it.
"Sorry about that."
"Happens all the time," she says with a wave, then knocks twice on the door before waiting for a voice to call, "Come in."
She opens the door and ushers me inside. Seated behind a large white desk is Cecilia—identical to Camilla, but dressed differently, more subdued but just as commanding.
"Gabriel Rollins for you," Camilla says before giving me a wink and stepping back out.
Cecilia smiles when she sees me. "Oh! You're the EMT who was here earlier this week, right?"
I nod. There is no point in correcting her—I'll let the whole paramedic-vs-EMT thing slide.
"Please, have a seat. Thanks, Cam."
When the door clicks shut behind me, I sit across from her and try to quiet the nervous energy buzzing under my skin.
"So," Cecilia says, folding her hands together, "Is that how you found out about us?"