Afternoon Delight - By Mia Zachary Page 0,7
finished. “I doubt that’s what the magazine article had in mind.”
“Oh, come on. What could be more of an adventure than acting out a sexual fantasy?”
With the men she’d dated, lawyers in a relatively small community where her father was an Associate Justice for the Appellate Court, a part of her had held back, unable to fully give or accept pleasure. The last thing she’d needed in her bid for Commissioner was any kind of locker room talk about how she acted in bed.
But with a sexy stranger who didn’t know her and therefore couldn’t judge her, maybe she’d be able to let go and lose some of her self-control. With her fantasy man, she could discover and explore her sensuality. She could be a bad girl indulging in decadent pleasures.
Just the thought made Rei’s pulse jump and her nerves tingle. She wanted to feel the sensual thrill of a man’s hands and tongue and body touching her, stroking her, pleasing her in exactly the way she desired. To finally experience the hot, primal excitement of wild, uninhibited sex. That would be the most daring adventure of all….
Rei set the List aside. “I don’t know if I could actually go through with an affair, but I’ll at least be open to the possibility.”
“Okay, that’s a good start.” With a surprised gasp, P.J. pulled a red and black outfit from the closet. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about this. This is what you should put on for tonight!”
“That was my costume three Halloweens ago, Peej.” She laughed uneasily. “Judge Shuford’s personal misconduct has the Ethics Committee on a witch hunt and it would be my luck to run into somebody from Court. I can’t wear that.”
“Sure you can. It counts as a risk for this week and, trust me, going out in this will be a lot more fun than buying fruit.”
Fifteen minutes and several halfhearted protests later, Rei had changed into the red and black satin corset. It gave her small breasts the illusion of cleavage and gently nipped in her waist to create an hourglass of her slender figure. The short black satin skirt with a split over the right thigh made her legs look longer while stiletto heels added three inches to her five foot five frame.
She’d let her hair down, literally, so that the dark strands fell past her shoulders. P.J. had done some kind of makeup magic, crafting smoky shadows around her eyes and enhancing her cheeks and lips. She had to admit that maybe she could do sexy. Right now she felt daring and most definitely like a woman who indulged her inner bad girl.
Tonight, just this once, she was going to follow her impulses and see where they might lead her.
LOUD, SENSUAL MUSIC with a Latin overtone and a hard-driving bass spilled out into the night as the bouncer opened the front door to the club. Rei followed P.J. inside to pay the cover charge and get a bright red kiss stamp on the back of her hand before pressing through the crowd toward the bar. She looked around while they waited for one of the bartenders to take their orders.
The boutique Hotel Liaison was located off of Union Square, in the heart of downtown San Francisco. The nightclub had originally been a small Victorian playhouse. The stage now served as an upper dance floor. Above it, the word Divas was spelled out in bright red neon with an upside-down tube of lipstick as an exclamation point.
The main dance floor occupied what had once been the orchestra pit. The balconies were used for VIP suites. Paintings of legends like Cher and Tina Turner decorated the red velvet upholstered walls and the theatre seats had been grouped around glass tables shaped like lips. Twirling spotlights and strobes illuminated the sheer yards of fabric draped from the frescoed ceiling. Even on a Thursday night, the club was packed.
“This place is awesome, isn’t it?” P.J. had to lean close to her ear to be heard as she handed over a shot glass of green liquid.
Rei eyed the drink suspiciously. “What’s that?”
“A melon ball shooter.” She raised her glass. “To you, my friend, and living to fight another day.”
“To survival.” Rei tilted her head back and swallowed the sweet cocktail. P.J. smacked her glass onto the bar and signaled for another round. “Wait a minute, you’re driving.”
“We’ll burn these off long before we leave, don’t worry.” P.J. indicated the gyrating bodies on the nearby dance floor.
Just then two men