Stiletto Secrets (2 page)

Lizzy narrowed her eyes before scanning over Emma’s outfit. “What kind of meetings do you go to, exactly, that can only take place on Saturday nights?”

Slightly unnerved by the question, Emma straightened her skirt. “I’m a freelance journalist, Lizzy. We don’t have the luxury of working a nine-to-five job.” Hopefully that answer was evasive enough.

Lizzy crossed her arms and looked at Emma with suspicion. “Ah-huh.” And then Lizzy closed the door again.

Emma felt like she wanted to scream, or throw something.

Taking a deep breath, Emma counted to ten and then made her way to the kitchen to grab her purse. She lived in a tiny apartment in Chicago, Illinois, and luckily Lizzy only came over on some weekends when she needed to escape campus life. Although Emma would miss her sister when she wasn’t there, it was just much more convenient since Emma had a few secrets of her own which she did not want to share with Lizzy.

Emma perused her living room which only consisted of the bare essentials. Two couches, an ottoman, a few scatter cushions just to jazz it up a bit, and a magazine rack in the corner. And then of course the only thing of value in the entire apartment, the flat-screen television set hanging proudly on her living room wall. Other than that, the apartment was quite dull and dreary, screaming “I need a makeover.” Unfortunately for Emma’s living room, she had much more important things to spend her money on—like her little sister’s tuition.

She heard the horn of the taxicab she had arranged, and then darted out of the apartment, down the stairs and out the door. It was early spring, yet the nights were still a little nippy. But Emma was just glad winter was over. She hated the cold, wet, snowy season.

“Two hundred and ten Madison Street,” Emma told the cabby when she closed the door. She noticed the cabby stare at her in his rearview mirror. “Yeah, you heard right,” she sneered, knowing that the cabby knew that address all too well.

Emma leaned back into the seat and closed her eyes wondering what her night would hold in store for her. Plus now she had “Tray” to worry about too. Her sister had a good head on her shoulders, but her taste in guys had just been a tad questionable. But hey, who was Emma to judge? It’s not like she took the moral high ground in her life. And admittedly, she felt slightly ashamed at what she did, yet a part of her liked the excitement, the thrill of it all. Every Saturday night she had the chance to embrace that part of her. And tonight would be no different.

“AND
welcome to Twisted Fable, my friend.”

Nicholas looked up at the neon-pink sign with what looked like a dancing girl consisting of moving lights just beneath it.

Then he noticed the line of people trying to get into the club that stretched all around the corner of the building. Nicholas had to admit that by looking at the outside of the club, so far, he was impressed.

Adam grabbed Nicholas around his shoulders. “I have no idea how we managed to miss this one for so long. Apparently it’s been here for months now.”

“We’re not standing in that line, are we?” Nicholas pulled his face like the thought alone was just too painful to consider.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Adam shot his cuffs. “I’ve got us covered.”

With the smooth swagger only Adam possessed, he walked up to the mean ass looking guy standing outside by the red rope, letting people in randomly.

“Mr. Masters,” Adam said to the bouncer while straightening his suit jacket.

The guy eyed Adam curiously, then scanned over the list he held in his hand—and what do you know, they got let in.

Adam winked at Nicholas. “Told you. Stick with me and I’ll make you famous, or get you laid.”

Once inside the club, Nicholas was even more impressed. Twisted Fable consisted of one huge stage up front, a bar going all around the back in a half-moon shape, with waitresses moving around on roller blades wearing black thongs, little shimmering star-shaped patches on their nipples, and bow ties.

The décor was mainly black and silver with just a touch of blue in the form of lights all around the bar. The smell of cigars and expensive whiskey filled the air, along with the sweet-smelling perfume of women. Nicholas inhaled. Oh yes, it smelled like heaven.

There were three girls on the stage doing moves on poles which would be considered reason enough to apply for danger pay. Nicholas had been to more strip clubs than he could count, but he had never seen girls move like that. Those girls worked the poles like they belonged in Cirque du Soleil with their supple bodies flexing and bending in the most erotic ways. His spine was already all tingly with excitement from the prospects the evening held.

Nicholas slapped Adam on the shoulder. “Not bad, man. Not bad at all.”

“And this night is only just beginning. Wait until you see what we have in store for you, my friend.” Adam had a naughty glint in his eye as he stared at Nicholas.

“Hey, guys, over here.”

Nicholas and Adam turned toward the husky voice that could only belong to one guy. Hunter Keaton, PI by day, cage fighter by night—and also scary as hell if you didn’t know the guy.

Now how exactly were Nicholas and Adam friends with Mr. Tough? They met him one day when Nicholas and Adam decided to cut school and headed over to the local park. Hunter was there leading a group of kids playing some football, and looking like a real badass.

They had been the trio of terror ever since Hunter threw the ball at Adam and said, “You here to play football, or stand there and watch like little girls?”

It was instant bromance.

Adam waved like a loser toward the table where Hunter was sitting.

“Hey, man.” Hunter got up and shoved two glasses of bourbon into their hands. Hunter was drinking beer as usual.

He looked at Nicholas. “Happy birthday. May your day be filled with tits and ass.”

“Thanks, man.” Nicholas clinked his glass against Hunter’s beer bottle. “That was exactly the birthday wishes I was hoping for.”

Hunter was one big-ass man with a very large art collection in the form of tattoos. Those green eyes and thick blond hair had women crawling all over him. He usually had a crowd of at least five willing females to choose from on any given night. But unlike Nicholas and Adam, Hunter had a very specific type when it came to women and always seemed like he was scouting for the perfect candidate. He never shared any details of his sex life, keeping that part of his life locked up from the rest of the world. In fact, his entire life seemed like one big top secret file hidden in a vault somewhere inside the fucking Pentagon. “So, gentlemen,” Adam started while holding up his drink, “here’s to another epic bachelor birthday party.” He turned to Nicholas. “My friend, all I can say is buckle up.” Adam winked.

“What are you up to, Adam Masters?” Nicholas raised his eyebrows in suspicion and leisurely leaned back in his seat.

Adam shot him a sly grin. “You are about to find out.”

Just then, two girls came up to them with their rollerblades and nipple patches gesturing for Nicholas to follow them. Nicholas eyed Adam suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“Let me just say that I took the challenge of arranging one hell of a birthday party for you very seriously, Nicky dearest. This is going to be a night like none other. So let’s just say that your little fetish is about to skyrocket, my friend.”

“My fetish?”

“You’ll see. Just enjoy it, man.” Adam held up his drink. “Cheers, and bottoms up!”

Nicholas couldn’t help but laugh. His friend was such a carefree soul, and no one knew Nicholas as well as Adam did. Sometimes Nicholas wished he had a little more of Adam’s free spirited outlook on life.

“Bring back a memento,” Hunter hollered and then laughed while clinking drinks with Adam.

So, not being a coward and always up for entertainment, Nicholas followed the girls who leisurely rollerbladed the way in front of him. They reached a red curtain, and both girls stood to each side and held it open so Nicholas could walk through. Hesitating for just a second, he glanced at the little blonde on his left. “If this night is an epic fail, can I get your number?”

Pretty blue eyes stared at him with batting eyelashes, and Nicholas knew he had it in the bag with this one. “Even if it’s not a failure, you can still get my number,” she whispered. “And maybe more.”

Yup, he was driving this one home tonight.

Nicholas stepped through the curtain and into a corridor. Erotic, yet tasteful black and white framed pictures of half-naked women decorated the crimson walls. Once the girls let the curtain fall closed behind him, the sound of the club music was all muffled and he slowly started down the hall.

“Mr. Blake?” A woman dressed in a stylish black romper walked up to him. She had a slit down her cleavage that had Nicholas anticipating a nip-slip at any second—but it never happened, which was kind of disappointing.

“Yes, that’s me,” he replied politely, trying not to stare at the beautiful smooth skin of her neck, framed with silky curls of fiery red. Oh, he was such a male slut. But Nicholas never gave any woman the idea that he was the promising-forever type of guy, because he wasn’t. In fact, making promises of anything more than just a good time and nights filled with pleasure went completely against his religion.

“Right this way.” She smiled and turned around, walking back in the direction she came.

“So, do you mind telling me where we’re going?” he asked while admiring the view of a perfectly toned ass swaying in front of him.
Yeah, maybe he didn’t just border on being a man whore.

Just then she stopped in front of a door with white calligraphy letters reading
Cinderella’s Booth.

Nicholas pointed to the door and looked at the redhead. “Cinderella’s Booth?”

She nodded. “You can go ahead, sir.”

Nicholas kept on staring at her when she turned around and left him standing in front of the closed door.

Cinderella’s Booth?

He shrugged. “What the hell.”

He reached for the doorknob and opened the door, not having a clue what to expect. When Nicholas stepped inside the room, his eyes grew wide.

“Son of a bitch.”

Nicholas stared all wide-eyed at a very specific item in front of him. It was a big, round glass cabinet, almost like those you get in bakeries displaying all the different cakes, but this one didn’t showcase cakes. Oh no. Inside the turning glass cabinet were shoes—lots and lots of pairs of shoes. And not just any shoes. Stilettos.

From white to red to stripy to black, it was every high-heeled pair of shoes Nicholas could ever have imagined. It was fucking heaven.

“So this is what he meant.” He stared at the cabinet. Just thinking about a gorgeous woman wearing a pair of those high heels had him turned on. Damn, he really did have a thing for a beautiful woman, with long, curvy legs wearing nothing but the perfect pair of heels. And when those legs would wrap around him, the heels pushing into his ass…oh dear God, it did crazy things to him.

Yup, man whore.

After almost drooling over the shoes, he scanned the room. There was a hell of a lot of pinks and whites, feathers and diamonds, creating a very elegant princess type of ambiance. Nicholas wasn’t quite sure if it was his thing, but hey, the shoes more than made up for it.

Then Nicholas noticed something a little peculiar. Right in the middle of the room was a white chair, but the strange part was the fact that it was bolted to the floor.
Okay…

“Pick one.”

Nicholas jerked his head to the left in the direction from where the woman’s voice came, and noticed the dark-pink curtains.

“Pick one what?” he asked, scanning the room.

“The shoes. Pick a pair,” a soft, sultry voice replied.

Then Nicholas noticed movement behind the curtain. Whoever it was dragged her hand along the fabric while leisurely pacing, apparently waiting for him to choose.

Instantly intrigued, he glanced at the cabinet and then back at the curtain. “You want me to choose a pair of shoes?”

“Yes, pick a pair and I will wear them.”

Nicholas felt a little tingle in the back of his neck when she spoke. He had only been in this room for five minutes and whoever was behind the curtain already had all his attention.

He moved a little closer to the curtain. “You know, a lot goes into choosing the right pair of shoes. For example, I’d need to know what you’re wearing first.” He tried to get a better look at the woman behind the curtain, but the fabric was just too damn dense for him to make out anything other than a silhouette.

“Why don’t you just pick a pair under the assumption that I’m not wearing anything,” she replied with soft, smoothly spoken words. Somehow it reminded him of melted chocolate.

“Why don’t you let me see for myself what you’re wearing?”

“That’s not how it works, Mr. Blake.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You know who I am?”

“I only know what details have been put on the appointment schedule, Mr. Blake.”

Of course.

The curtain swooshed a little as she moved behind it.

Nicholas turned to the glass cabinet with the shoes. How in God’s name was he supposed to choose? It was like telling a kid to choose one item in Willy Wonka’s candy factory. Im-fucking-possible.

After inspecting each pair, he finally opened the door and reached for a white pair of stilettos with a little diamond bow on top. A simple design, but it was the pair with the sharpest heel, and Nicholas loved those damn heels.

“So what do I do with these?” Nicholas inspected the shoes more closely.

And then a hand reached out from the other side of the curtain. Nicholas noticed the freshly manicured nails and beautiful dainty fingers. “Now you give them to me, and take a seat, Mr. Blake.”

Nicholas looked to the chair before handing her the shoes.

“On the table next to the chair you will see a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold. You need to sit down, lock one of the cuffs around your hand, put on the blindfold and then place both hands behind the back of the seat.”

Nicholas frowned. “Okay, I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with this. I thought this was a show. How am I supposed to enjoy the show if I can’t see anything?”