Three Dirty Secrets (Blindfold Club #4)

for my husband

chapter

ONE

Bright lights glared from above the mirror and pain stabbed into me. The tendrils of a migraine were starting, bubbling up to the surface, and my stomach rolled.

Just get through the negotiations
, I told myself. Then I could bounce from the club, go home, and slip into bed, where silence and total darkness will keep the worst of the pain from touching me. I tried to ignore it, but the migraines were getting worse. It had to be stress, which was a hard thing to admit. Wasn’t I too tough to let pressure affect me? The throbbing in my brain said no, loud and clear.

Nina swiped a brush laden with gray powder over the fold of her eyelid, blending upward as she touched up her makeup. Going for a smoky, sultry look, which was pointless. The pain behind my eyes got the better of me.

“You remember you’ll be wearing a blindfold?” My teasing tone disguised my irritation. Who the hell was going to see her fabulous eyes behind the black silk?

Nina’s gaze found mine through the mirror, her eyebrow lifting with interest. “My last three clients took it off halfway through. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

Of course. I’d forgotten that sometimes the johns couldn’t stand it. They had to make sure the woman they’d bought knew exactly who was fucking them “
so good”
and “
oh my God, more
,” and all the other bullshit the girls spewed to ensure their clients were getting their money’s worth.

“Sorry,” I said, rubbing my fingers at my temple. “My head’s killing me. I’m going to duck out after the negotiations are over. Julius said he’d keep an extra eye on you. Do you mind?”

Nina’s pretty face softened with concern. “No, of course not. I think I’ve got some Tylenol in my purse.” She dug through her designer bag.

“Oh, thanks, but I took something right before you got here.” And by something, I meant my prescribed migraine medicine, which lately hadn’t been strong enough. I’d been advised by my doctor that the next step was self-injections.

Um, no.

I wasn’t exactly a fan of needles.

Big, tough Andrea Regan Adams was afraid of a thin piece of metal, no longer than two inches. God, after the shit I’d been through, it was fucking ridiculous.

While Nina resumed her touch-up, my gaze shifted to take in the dressing room. Or
un
dressing room, as this was where the girls stripped naked and put on robes before heading downstairs. Six client rooms in total were below us. Thankfully, the lighting would be softer there, and by the time we made our way to Room Three, the Imitrex should be kicking in.

The dressing room had elegant couches scattered among the space, and vanity tables lined the back wall. The self-serve bar, always stocked with premium liquor, was surprisingly rarely used. The women who worked here seemed to genuinely like the job, no need for alcohol to ply them up onto the tables.

Opposite the bar, there were cubbies with brass numbers over them. One for each client room. I strolled to number three’s spot, deposited my phone, and grabbed the transmitter pack. I hadn’t finished getting the earpiece in when I caught movement to my left. Nina was done and approached.

“Regan, I gotta ask. Is it your headaches that keep you off the table?” Her voice was soft and unassuming. “Or the boyfriend?”

Her expression was pure curiosity. I knew there had to be talk going on behind my back about the fact I’d never sold myself, when all the other sales assistants did. I was the only one who was willing to negotiate sex for money, but not offer it. Joseph, the former owner of the club, hadn’t pushed me, and the new owner hadn’t either.

At least,
not yet
.

I got the impression that Julius’ patience might not last much longer. Claudia had left the club a few months ago and had yet to be replaced.

“Matt’s the reason,” I lied.

Nina’s smile only made her more beautiful. “Totally not my place, but you’d make so much more on the table than beside it.” Her gaze slid down over me and heated. “Hope Matt appreciates you.”

Yeah, you and me both.
Because lately I didn’t feel it at all. We lived together more as roommates than as lovers, and I was steadily approaching a breaking point. Our relationship coming to an end . . . it felt inevitable. But being his girlfriend was easy. It gave me an honest reason to refuse selling myself, plus someone to help with the rent, which in Chicago was outrageous. It wasn’t like I didn’t care about him, but sadly, I didn’t feel like I was
in love
.

God, I was a lazy piece of shit. I owed him better than how I’d been. Tomorrow. I’d recover from the migraine and we could go out for Sunday brunch. Really talk to each other instead of mumbling hellos as we waited for the coffee pot to finish brewing in the morning. Did he feel the space between us? The one that seemed to grow a little bit each day?

We hadn’t had sex in . . . oh, Christ, how long had it been? Three weeks? No, four. It’d been
four
goddamn weeks since he’d touched me. I was thirty years old, and shit, I was horny all the time these days. It could be from working the club, where I watched people fuck on the monitors, or I was hitting my sexual peak. Maybe it was both.

Last time I’d had to practically beg for sex, since Matt claimed he was tired. I’d gotten more aggressive with him than before, and although he didn’t say anything, I didn’t think he was happy with me dishing out demands. Guys like a woman who’s willing to take the lead, but not one who dominates. Matt’s insecurities had kept my wildest desires locked up tightly during the two years we’d been together.

While Nina shed her clothes, I tested my ear transmitter. “Room three, checking in.”

Julius’ baritone voice came through the line. “I got you, Regan.”

The nude woman before me was stunningly gorgeous, and a year of working here hadn’t lessened the impact of seeing it. Every time it was like the first. The girls of the blindfold club were perfection. Svelte, flawless bodies with curves that made the men so weak, most had a hard time finding their voice to negotiate a price. I savored that advantage.

I handed the white silk robe to Nina after she’d folded her clothes and set them in the cubby, and then gave myself a passing glance in the mirror to make sure everything was okay. Didn’t want to spend time smiling and flirty with the potential clients with lipstick on my teeth or mascara smudged under an eye.

“Ready?” I asked her.

“Let’s make some money tonight.”

I trailed behind her down the narrow staircase and into the long, dark hallway. Client rooms to my left, holding lounges to my right. Behind me, the cashier room, which I’d never seen the inside of. Joseph had set this place up to operate contained. Clients moved from lounges, to rooms, then to payment. Never allowed to move backward in the process. It was an added layer of protection for the club. Keeping everything separate meant it was harder to prove the illegal operation.

With a flick of her platinum blonde hair, Nina pushed open the black door with the giant brass three on it and went inside.

The first dozen times I’d come into one of these rooms, they’d filled me with unease, but now I was comfortable and confident. I’d fleeced tens of thousands of dollars from men in here.

The crystals on the chandelier shimmered as we moved about the dim room, preparing. The soundproof tiles were aesthetically draped in black fabric, and gazes naturally went to the large cushion-top table in the center of the room. In the corner, a white wingback chair waited for me. I’d get to it in a minute.

“I’ve got conversation in my earpiece about clients arriving,” I said to Nina, signaling we needed to get going.

She disrobed and hung it on the hook on the back of the door, then padded to the table, sitting on top of the leather. “I’ve been meaning to ask, is that your natural color?” Her throaty voice was undeniably sexy. “Because if so, I’m fucking jealous. Guys go nuts over redheads.”

“It’s not the hair so much as our fiery tempers,” I said lightly.

Nina lay down on her back and smiled up at me. “You don’t seem like that. Cool as a cucumber.”

I busied myself in the top drawer beneath the table, passing her the blindfold and pulling out the straps while trying not to think about her statement. My calm, level-headed persona was an act. Unless I’d been pretending to be the ice queen for so long, maybe I’d become her, just a little.

The black ribbon was cool and silky against my fingertips as I wound the Velcro at the end around Nina’s wrist. She’d donned the blindfold, offered her other wrist, and I secured it as well. With her bound naked to the table, it was time to take my position at the white chair.

“Room Three is ready.”

“Stand by.” Julius’ voice crackled through the radio. “You’re up in ten.”

I sank onto the chair, grateful to be off my stilettoes. I had to look the part and walk a fine line of workplace sexy. Most of the clients were wealthy businessmen, and they felt reassured making deals with a woman who looked intelligent, professional, but also with a hint of seduction. Another advantage, even though I was clothed. Two beautiful women were better than one.

That label hung uneasy on me. I was attractive, more or less. I had pretty blue eyes, fair skin, and full lips. In fact, I’d heard I had a sexy mouth once or twice. Yet I didn’t compare to the women who chose to make their money being bound and blindfolded. I was aware my looks played a big part in landing this job, but I wasn’t in the same league as Nina.

My head throbbed.
Okay, medicine, you can start working anytime now.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Nina said, “about your hair color.”

Unlike most of the rest of me, “It’s real.”

“Lucky bitch,” she teased, and I couldn’t stop the smile from cracking on my lips. I liked Nina. Hell, I liked almost everyone who worked here. They were nicer, friendlier, and more interesting than most of the people at my day job.

“Yeah, so lucky,” I said. “I just love spending thirty minutes with a flatiron every morning, and it’s fun to lose that battle when there’s a drop of humidity in the air.”

“You don’t know shit. Try stick-straight hair that won’t hold a curl no matter what product you use—”

The door creaked open, silencing us, and I rose to my feet. Far less than ten minutes, but it was game time.

“Good evening, sir,” I said, gesturing. “Please, come in.”

Come closer so I can start evaluating you and reading body language.
His watch was expensive, but his shoes were not. The navy suit fit him okay, but it had a Men’s Warehouse feel and wasn’t new—the decorative buttons on the sleeves had lost some of their shine.

He was in his fifties. The hair around his temples had begun to gray, and he carried a bit of extra weight. The spare tire kind of build. And, shit, he looked nervous. His doughy face was flushed red and he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Is this your first time at our club?” When he nodded, I added, “Please. Come take a closer look.”

He took a hesitant step toward the table, his gaze scanning Nina quickly and then sinking to the floor.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” I purred. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, because I should be impartial, but between you and me? I think she’s the absolute best.”

Finally his gaze found mine, filled with suspicion. He doubted it, thinking this was just hard sales pitch talking.

“I’m not lying or blowing smoke up your ass. All of the women here are top-notch. You’ll have a great time with any of them. But I’d spend my money on her.”

His suspicion grew heavier. “Why’s that?”

“She loves fucking strangers. And her voice is sexy as hell.” Nina was lying on the table with her hands bound above her head, so I casually dragged my fingertips over her bicep, skimming along until they fell off just shy of her breast. “Go ahead, Natalie.” I used her client name instead of her real one. “Say hello to the gentleman.”

“Good evening, sir.”

I closed my eyes as she spoke, acting like her voice was turning me on. Her deep, sultry tone
was
hot, but I exaggerated for effect.