Owned: An Alpha Anthology (29 page)

SINGLE: VOLUME 1 BY LYRA PARISH

2

Many people didn't understand the whole Internet dating thing. Hell, I didn't really understand it either, until I tried it. Now I'm an account hoarder, but god I'm not the only one. The same nasties upload the same pictures across every site, but I can’t blame them. A person's odds of catching different kinds of fish were better in an ocean than a pond.

A friend once told me that there were ways around having relationships, you know, through masturbation. While those things had their purpose, they didn't allow me to physically lose myself in the act with
someone else
. Those toe-curling, heart-pounding, life-changing orgasms were the ones that kept me on the prowl for good sex without strings. Relationships and Roxane did
not
belong in the same sentence. It always ended up being too complicated, and I didn't have the time, patience, or desire to make it work. Relationships and I were actually on two opposite ends of the spectrum. I've come to terms with the reality.

Internet dating seemed like the perfect alternative to going out on the town. At least online, everyone knew what the intention was without pretending or trying to allude to something else. I wasn't sure what the current statistics were, but I knew thousands of people threw wads of cash at these sites in hopes of finding that
special one
. I blamed it all on the stupid commercials and tailored marketing with real-life claims from people who had found love. Maybe I didn't care too much about all that. Maybe I just wanted to have fun without worrying about the next week, month, year, or even decade. Hoards of people were too busy living in the future, rather than
right now
.

I opened my laptop and stared at the home page of another online dating site. This one was supposed to be better than the others, and I was willing to give it a chance. It was focused around business professionals. My crowd. After I paid my membership fees, updated my profile, and uploaded a photo, I scrolled through the countless faces. One would think that these love services would be free, since the creators were so into helping couples find their match.
Gag.

My phone rang, but instead of answering it, I kept on scrolling. Some of the men on the site were handsome, others not so much, but to each his own. I double clicked a few faces until a little heart appeared over their pictures. Only the attractive ones got clicks. Without attraction, there really wasn't any point in trying. I already felt like half of the biographies were fake, along with outdated profile pictures. People tended to make themselves seem better than they really were, kind of like resumes, so I didn't look too much into them.

On the last site I signed up for, I matched with a few men—three exactly. Because I had nothing better to do, I took a weekend to meet up with them. One forgot to mention his picture was taken ten years ago before the beer gut. The other had divorced multiple times and was only thirty. The last one had had a sex change. I couldn’t make that stuff up. Needless to say, I deactivated my profile and moved on.

I had learned to keep things simple and get straight to the point. There was no reason to write a novel in my biography section. The picture was of me at a slight distance, wearing a bright-pink bikini that barely covered my body, and big sunglasses that hid half of my face. My ABOUTS were as honest as they could get. I didn't go out of my way to impress men anymore. Everyone got Roxie in the raw. They’d have to take me how I was or walk on—that was a motto of mine.

28. Single. No kids. Never married. Non-smoker. Athletic build. Not looking for love. Must have your shit together.

I thought about erasing the last part, but listing anything else would be a lie. The section that says occupation or place of employment was left blank, no need to even hint about my profession. The last thing I wanted was anyone to recognize me. President of VanBuren Investments,
ha
, that would never work on these sites, unless I wanted to become a sugar momma. I much preferred being known as a woman who knew what she wanted, determined even, and a business professional. At work, I was a closed book. In my online dating life, I gave enough personal information to get by.

My inbox flashed with multiple messages. It could have been a world record. At first, I hesitated to click on the envelope in the top right corner, but I had to know who was captivated by my raw profile. Three messages in my inbox blinked from screen names: Bigd1ck, RealMan69, and Allyouneed.

Interesting.

Out of curiosity alone, I clicked on Bigd1ck's message.

Bigd1ck: I've got what you need baby. A real big dick to fill you up. Let's meet up. Tonight?

I contemplated replying, but knew it was best to ignore jackasses like that, though I couldn't blame him for trying. I was sure someone would go for that.
Delete.

RealMan69:
Hi beautiful. Looking for a real man? One to fill you up?

No, no, no. Hell no! What was the deal with them wanting to fill me up? Disgusting.

Allyouneed:
Hello, FoxyFox. You're very pretty. I'm sure you’ve received tons of creepy messages by now, but I can assure you that I'm relatively normal. 29. No kids. Never married. Can't say I'm not looking for love, and I don't want to rush into anything too serious, but my options are open. Looking forward to your reply.

Well, that message was cordial
. I carried my laptop to the bed, crossed my legs, and stared out the window. Cars zoomed by on I-10. How fucking lame was I to be home on a Friday night in Houston?

Instead of continuing the conversation, I placed the laptop beside me and minimized the screen. I heard the messenger tone, but instead of answering it, I closed my eyes and wondered what the fuck I was doing. I was done with this. Another
bling
on the computer and then my phone
dinged
with a text message. I didn't answer that one, either.

All I wanted to do was let loose, enjoy myself, and be free sexually. I didn't want to have to worry about a relationship, where things were headed, or even getting married. Those things were lost six years ago when I received the call that my fiancé had died in a motorcycle accident. I just needed someone to temporarily fill that void in my life, not replace it. My phone rang, and I closed the laptop and scooted it away.

"Oh, so you can finally answer my call. I've been thinking about what you said the other night about giving up. It's not fucking happening, sweetheart. I want to show you the perks of being
single
. I've thought it over. Get dressed. I'm picking you up in an hour. You're not sitting at the top of that big-ass building all weekend. I've found something right up your alley, and I've just been handed VIP passes to one of the hottest places in town," Stacey said.

"Where? And when you say get dressed, you mean?"

"It's a surprise. Dress sexy. Be there soon," she said and hung up.

I threw my phone down on the bed and forced myself to get up. Since it was close to nine, I knew it wouldn't be a family affair or quiet dinner. No, those types of things didn't happen for Stacey. I was sure it would be somewhere fast paced with hot men. A male strip club, maybe? Every scenario fell flat. Sometimes I really hated surprises. My closet was full of dresses, suit jackets, and skirts, but tucked away in the back I had a section of sexy clothes. If I knew Stacey, I would need to wear one of my more scandalous outfits.

SINGLE: VOLUME 1 BY LYRA PARISH

3

I laid several items on the bed: red temptress, midnight vixen, and sexy heaven. I chose midnight vixen, a black backless lace party romper that showed just enough cleavage to be dangerous. When I put it on, I instantly felt fierce. After I applied red lipstick and smoky eye shadow, I placed a squeeze of mousse in my hair. The buzzer pulled me from my thoughts, and I heard Stacey demand for me to ring her up. I did without hesitation. Minutes later, she was knocking at the door. I opened it and checked out her outfit: a jade Meital dress with golden glitter accents. She looked amazing, but that was Stacey, with her long legs, blond hair, and chestnut-colored eyes. Stacey had been modeling since she was sixteen. Instead of going to college, she traveled around the world and was featured in spreads in all the top magazines.
Cosmo, Glamour, Redbook
—she made them her bitch, and because of her connections, we often got the VIP treatment.

"Where the hell are we going?" I asked, giving her the eye.

"You look amazing, babe. Look at that fucking outfit. You could easily be a damn Kardashian with that ass." She grabbed my arm and whirled me around. "Loving the cut in the back. You are going to pull so many hoes tonight." She winked at me, and I ran my tongue across my teeth.

I didn't know what she was up to, but I loved it so far.

"Ever heard of a place called Orleans downtown?"

I thought for a moment then shook my head.

"Of course you haven't," she said and squeezed my hand. "Tonight, you're going to fall in love with sex all over again." She pulled two rectangle-shaped passes from inside her purse and handed them to me. VIP Passes to Orleans. I flipped over the cards and read the small print on the back.

"What in the hell is a lifestyle club?" I asked.

"It's a private swingers club. It's club Orleans, babe. Only the hottest are allowed in, and we are going. Here, put this on." She handed me a black mask with white lace decorating the edges. I pulled it over my face while she slipped hers in place. It was the opposite of mine, white with black lace around the edges. I laughed, then slipped on a pair of black high heels that accentuated the muscles in my calves. Even with the heels, I was a few inches shorter than Stacey. With mask-covered faces, we smiled at one another, and then she grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door. Before we stepped inside the elevator, she turned and looked at me. "Jake is waiting downstairs to drive us there now."

"Wait, Jake? Your stepbrother Jake? Are you fucking kidding me? I don't want to see him."

"Actually, he was the one who was given the passes, so he kind of invited us. Get over it, Rox. He's promised to behave. And if we need someone to kick ass, he's there. I've given him a list of rules, and I've told him to leave you alone."

I sighed. The entire ride down she was smiling about what the night would hold, but I was lost in silence as I thought about Jake, the boy who stole my heart in high school, with his sandy blond hair and green eyes. His dad and Stacey's mom got together when we were fourteen. For Jake and me, it was puppy love at first sight. My senior year in high school when he moved off to college, my heart was broken. I pushed the thoughts of him away.

"I just know how lame your online dating sites are. It's time for you to get laid without all the banter beforehand."

I liked where this was going.

When we got to the car, Stacey slid into the front seat and I sat in the back. Jake turned around and shot me a smile. Harmless, but still.

I swallowed and released a calm breath. "Hi, Jacob." I used his full name to show him that we were not on nickname terms.

"Roxane," he said.

I fucking hated that he still had the ability to conjure any sort of emotion within me.

He weaved through random streets until we were on Westheimer, one of the busiest streets in Houston. He and Stacy made small talk about Orleans. Jake had never been there before, though he had visited a swingers club overseas once. Funny, I never knew that. Must have happened after we broke up. Stacey told him the rules of the evening, and forced him to stop at a liquor store. Apparently, it was against the law for Orleans to sell alcohol, so we had to pick up our own. She ran inside and came out with two bags full of liquor. I felt like I was in college again.

The bottles clinked beside me as Stacey told Jake he was never to be in the same room as us, and he had better keep his hands away from me. I looked out the window and pretended I didn't hear them, but we all knew that was silly, since we were in such close proximity.

Before long, we pulled up to a plain building. For a moment, I was confused. The windows were blacked out, and if it weren’t for the people in line, I wouldn't have even known it was there. The beat of the music gave it away, even though no signs hung on the front of the building. Without a doubt, there was a party going on inside.

Jake stepped out and opened the door for me. I couldn't help but look into his eyes. He turned his head and looked away. I didn't blame him, because it didn't end well between us. He placed a manly version of my mask over his face, as a man in all black opened Stacey's door. She was in her element. Tall, beautiful, and though the wind was blowing, her hair stayed perfectly in place.

"Are you invited guests?" the man asked. Stacey handed him our passes, and he looked through the names on an iPad as she grabbed the two black plastic bags of alcohol. Once he found our names, he smiled genuinely and escorted us to the front of the line, the official VIP area, while the regular line wrapped around the building. People in all different shapes and sizes anxiously waited to enter. As we stood behind the velvety black rope, the beat of the music pulled me closer and pulsated through my veins. All I wanted to do was get lost in the rhythm and dance with a spirit named tequila. I wondered where she would lead me.

The cool breeze swept over us, and I smiled. I fucking loved late summer, the way the air felt right before fall arrived. We were asked to show our IDs and were given the club rules by a chocolate-skinned hottie who kept giving me the eye. I couldn't help but smirk.

"We have a strict NO rule. If someone is interested in you, and you are not interested in him or her, just say no. We pride ourselves on providing our guests with a safe environment. Next up, you are not allowed to bring any personal items with you inside of the club. You can purchase locks for the lockers in the foyer, or you can put your belongings in your vehicle. No photos are allowed. Everyone must keep their masks on. We have guests from all different walks of life. It's not uncommon to have celebrities or business executives visit, so anonymity is important. If you happen to recognize anyone here . . . well, what happens in Orleans, stays in Orleans."

He didn't miss a beat and kept talking, but I knew it was a rehearsed set of rules. He had probably said them so many times that he could repeat them in his sleep.

"Everyone will need to sign this document. It's a waiver saying you understand the terms. Oh, and all alcohol will be delivered to the bartenders with your member number. We provide the mixers and service."

Stacey spoke up as she signed her name on the little dotted line. "No problem. And we will purchase a lock."

"And that's all the rules we have. Other than that, be safe and have fun." Then he winked at me, and I lifted an eyebrow at him. As I passed, I turned and looked back at him, and he was staring at my ass. Stacey grabbed my arm and pulled me next to her.

The muffled sounds of the club continued to leak through the double wooden doors at the end of the long hallway. My heart raced because I was unsure of what to expect. Stacey looked at me with a huge smile on her face. A lace bracelet was tied around our wrists with a dangling number that linked us to our liquor, then we were sent on our way. Mirrors lined the ceiling. I looked up at myself, questioning what the hell I was doing.
Having a good time.

Before we entered through the main doors, we stopped at a set of lockers to our right and placed our purses inside. Jake turned and looked at me, and I turned and looked at Stacey.

"Ready?" I asked.

She nodded her head then looked at Jake. "Separate rooms, remember?"

"Got it,
sis
."

"Listen, Rox. No one knows it's you. Loosen up. This is going to be fun, I promise."

I wanted to forget about the office, the countless meetings, and the never-ending list of responsibilities that came along with being the President of VanBuren Investments. My father and Pops built the business from the ground up, and now it was one of the most successful investment firms in the country. When Dad was ready to retire, he insisted I take over and the board voted me in. Soon after, since I had graduated with a master’s degree in finance and completed my yearlong internship, I was moving into a large office and holding conferences with our investors. Most twenty-eight-year-olds weren't burdened with such a large responsibility, but my father insisted, and continued to watch me closely from his seat on the Board of Directors to ensure that I didn't fuck it up. So I wore the business clothes, spoke the jargon, and kept everything moving in the right direction. My weekends were spent forgetting the week, and my weeks were spent working toward the weekend. Tonight, my only goal was to have fun, go with the flow, and let whatever happened, happen. Simple. Right?

We pushed the doors open and thick smoke from the fog machines rolled in around our feet, then swooshed and followed in our wake. Jake turned to the right as Stacey and I stopped to take it all in. Flashing lights, music, and sexy people with masks surrounded us. Maybe I could fully lose myself in Orleans.

Stacey and I linked arms and pushed our way through the groups of people that crowded the bar. Bartenders blew fire and twirled bottles as they made colorful drinks. Being in Orleans was a full experience. Stacey and I leaned over the bar top and waited for someone to help us. The cool breeze swept across my breasts and chill bumps formed on my arms. I needed tequila to warm my blood, and I needed it right then, before I changed my mind about the whole situation.

"Whatcha having, babe?" Mr. Bartender leaned over the bar and asked in a seductively-low voice, then pulled away and waited for my answer. The loud music caused us to scream or whisper. I thought it was sexy that he chose the latter.

I swallowed and found my voice. "Tequila for number"—I looked down on my wrist and saw a little metal number dangling—"number 825, and please make that two doubles," I said, yelling over the music. Of course, Stacey purchased tequila. It was our poison of choice.

"Salt?" he mouthed, and motioned around the glass.

I nodded. A smile crossed my face while I imagined his features under the mask. I couldn't see cheekbones, nose, or forehead, only his lips and eyes. Time stood still when we made eye contact, while the movement of flipping bottles and fire-breathing bartenders continued on behind him.

After a minute, he placed two large shots, both sprinkled with salt around the rim, on the bar. The limes hung haphazardly on the edge. I threw a twenty on the bar top as a tip, then leaned my back against the edge and looked at Stacey. She tilted her head at me then looked over at the cute bartender.

"Holy fuck, he's
hot
. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Hello, Mr. Bartender, pour me another." She spoke loud enough for only me to hear. I hadn’t even noticed that his eyes were blue, or that his hair was dark. As we clinked our shot glasses together, I smiled, then licked the salt from the rim, downed the liquid gold in one gulp, placed the lime between my teeth, and sucked. My taste buds burst alive as my throat burned in agony at the sensation.

I stood with my back against the bar and looked at my surroundings. In the middle of the dance floor, a man picked up a woman, and she instantly wrapped her legs around his waist. His pants fell to the ground, and he pushed himself into her. I couldn't believe my eyes. They fucked in the center of the room while other couples danced around them, and it seemed
normal
, like it was something that happened all the time. In the corner, I caught sight of a couple fucking against the wall. Across the room, I spotted two others sitting in a booth. The woman was gasping, and then I saw the man's hands down her pants while another woman watched. Everywhere I looked, some form of sex was transpiring. Orleans was a beautiful fucking place.

Stacey ordered us another round of shots, doubles with salt and lime, and Sexy Bartender brought them over. I looked over my shoulder at him and smiled, and he smiled back. I realized everyone in the club was wearing one, regardless of whether they were guests or employees. After I slammed the shot, I was ready to explore. I didn't feel the tequila immediately, but after ten minutes my blood was swimming with liquid courage.

As we walked to the dance floor, all eyes were on us. The beat continued on, and I lifted my head to the colorful lights. The music was slow and intense. It was music made to make love to, and several people around us were. I felt like I was breaking some rule watching them, but I couldn't help it. When I turned my head to look at Stacey, I noticed a man dancing behind her, rubbing his hands up and down her body. She was completely into it, and I didn't blame her, because from what I could tell, he was sexy and shirtless. Without another thought, Stacey unbuckled the man's pants as he pulled a condom from his pocket. I gave thumbs up when she glanced my way, then I walked back toward the bar.