The next cab sped them up busy Las Vegas Boulevard, where all around them Brenna saw limos and trolleys and more of those moving billboards offering up lingerie-clad women for sale. Out the windows, she noticed the neon signs marking the MGM Grand, the Paris, the Monte Carlo, and others zipping past and making her feel—along with the wine she’d drank—totally consumed by the dizzying lights and fast pace of the Strip. The next thing she knew, the cab turned off the boulevard onto a shrubbery-lined drive that led to another brightly lit mega resort and casino, but again, she’d failed to catch the name.

As Damon led her through the sprawling front doors into yet another grand lobby, she felt still more eyes upon her, felt her man’s hand in hers, felt her heart beating with the excitement of wondering what was to come and how she would please him tonight.

After they stepped into an elevator, Damon waited until most of the other people inside had exited onto their floors, then punched the very top button, marked simply with an R.

“What does that stand for?” she asked. “Roof?”

Damon’s mouth curved into a mischievous smile. “No. It’s a club. Called Rendezvous.”

So they were going to another club, this one high atop a hotel on the Las Vegas Strip. “That’s my surprise?” she asked unguardedly. “Another club?” She didn’t mean to sound disappointed, but she’d already been to plenty of clubs with Damon, so she’d been expecting something…more unique.

As the last two people with them on the elevator stepped off, the doors closing behind them, Damon cast a dark, seductive look. “Don’t worry, babe. You haven’t been to a club like this before.”

“What do you mean?”

At that moment, the elevator doors opened and the aura of glamorous nightlife assaulted her senses. Before them stretched a dimly lit room, swirling with red and purple lights that flashed across scantily clad bodies on a dance floor. The scents of alcohol and expensive perfume wafted past. Every face she saw was…beautiful, no other way to say it. This was clearly where the beautiful people came to party.

But before reaching the club’s interior, they had to be admitted by a doorman, and she’d just noticed the line of people waiting to get in when Damon led her past them, right up to the guy manning a red velvet rope. “Mr. Andros,” he said easily, then unhooked the rope, motioning them through. Damon discreetly passed the man some folded bills as he entered.

Inside, she saw the beautiful people closer up. The women were confident and gorgeous, most wearing cocktail dresses that rivaled her own for sexiness, and the men were like Damon—clearly hip, stylish, comfortable in their surroundings.

The lighted dance floor was dotted with platforms and even a few barred cages. On the platforms, more beautiful people danced—mostly girls who seemed unafraid to rub their bodies up against one another as they moved. The cages, however, held what she thought of as “go-go girls,” all dressed in black sequined bustiers and miniscule black skirts—below the skirts stretched garters that led to black fishnet stockings and high platform “stripper heels.” All she could think was—yikes. Damon was right—she’d never been to a club like this before.

Just then, a thin blonde breezed past her and she turned to look, saying to Damon, “Am I crazy, or was that Paris Hilton?”

“You aren’t crazy.”

“Wow.”

The sexual aura in the air was downright palpable. People on the dance floor moved in liquid undulations, clearly more interested in sex than dancing. Shirtless bartenders served up drinks at the bar as waitresses rushed past carrying trays of glasses and bottles, wearing the same bustier and stockings as the cage dancers. Everywhere she looked, Brenna saw people kissing, and those who weren’t kissing someone looked like they wanted to be.

“Damon,” yet another dazzling blonde said then, coming up to curl killer red nails around his arm. She wore a slinky white dress with a V-shaped bodice cut all the way to her navel, the swell of her breasts protruding prominently. “What are you doing in town, baby?”

“Hi, Cherise,” he said with an easy smile. “Just here looking for fresh talent, as usual.”

“I can be fresh, and I definitely possess certain talents.” She was downright predatory, and Brenna tried to keep her blood from boiling with jealousy—but at the same time, she found herself clutching onto Damon’s other arm more possessively than she’d intended.

“This is my date, Brenna—new A&R rep for Blue Night,” he said, pulling his Cherise-held arm free to motion toward Brenna.

“Lucky girl,” Cherise said coyly, by way of greeting.

“Yes, I am,” Brenna replied, noting that it seemed to be the universal consensus: any woman with Damon Andros, even for a night, was to be envied.

“Good to see you, honey,” he said to Cherise in parting, and Brenna couldn’t have been happier to leave Miss White Dress behind as he pulled her away through the shadowy room.

Still, she couldn’t help noticing more sexy girls feasting their eyes on her man—but when she also noted guys giving her the same look, it helped even things out in her mind. Was it all the eyes on her, the sexuality floating in the air here, that had her breasts aching and her cunt swelling? Or was it just because she’d been wanting Damon all night?

Despite the sex just dripping from this place, she was on the verge of asking him how exactly Rendezvous was her surprise—when they emerged into a whole new area of the establishment. The dance floor remained visible behind them, but the atmosphere had just changed—dipping even deeper into a slower-paced, more sultry sensuality.

The large room around her was filled with…beds. Well, not actual beds, but big, plush, jewel-toned ottomans and divans that did a good imitation. Patrons lay across them in sophisticated cocktail wear, drinking, talking, some kissing. Like at Fetish, she spied two girls making out, but unlike at Fetish, here no one seemed particularly interested—other than the guy lying with them on the emerald divan, caressing one of the girls’ legs.

The music, too, was different—though the dance floor was still in sight, the fast, pounding beat could no longer be heard and instead slower, steamier songs echoed from hidden speakers. The lighting was soft, inviting, sensuous.

And around the perimeter of the room—oh my! At first, she hadn’t noticed, seeing only dark, sapphire-colored curtains circling the area, but now she realized some of the curtains were drawn back, each open drape revealing a large U-shaped compartment containing a bed custom-made to fit against the curved walls. They were like half-round booths in a restaurant, but instead of booths, she saw more plush places to lie down.

Those that were visible allowed her to spy the people lounging there. In some, she saw couples, while other beds held three or four or even five people. Like on the beds in the room’s large open area, people on the boothlike beds drank, laughed, and some made out.

The mere presence of so many ornate beds, with so many people reclining on them, turned her warmer inside, made her pussy a little wetter. Did people actually have sex here? Is that why some of the curtains were closed?

While she was still trying to adjust to the seductive atmosphere, an attractive slightly older woman in another dress as revealing as her own—this one a pretty coral color—approached, placing a hand on the arm of Brenna’s lover. “Damon.”

“Cynthia, hi.” He covered her hand lightly as he leaned to kiss her cheek.

This woman seemed more friendly than flirtatious, so Brenna didn’t burn with jealousy like before, but she was beginning to think Damon knew everyone on the planet.

“I saw your name on the reservation list,” Cynthia said, “so I put aside my favorite bed for you.”

Oh, she worked here.

And she’d…put aside a special bed for him. Brenna’s stomach curled with strange anticipation, still caught in shock and wonderment over this whole place.

Cynthia led them past several closed curtains and a couple of open ones, then pulled a blue velvet drape aside to reveal…the most seductive bed Brenna had ever seen. Thick red velvet covered the U-shaped bed, while plush pillows of black and purple, in all shapes and sizes, lined the rounded edge. The U-shaped wall was upholstered in still more red velvet and, higher up, covered with plush red wallpaper. The private compartment came complete with ledges for placing drinks, and gilt-framed mirrors hung at various angles, clearly designed to fit the curved walls.

“This is great, Cynthia,” Damon said as casually as if she were a waitress bringing him a meal.

“Can I get you drinks?”

He looked to Brenna. “More wine?”

“Sure.” She felt so out of her element that she feared her voice had come out sounding mouselike. Even if she looked the part tonight, she wasn’t used to being surrounded by so much glitz.

Damon asked Cynthia to bring a bottle of her best Pinot Grigio and, when she departed, took Brenna’s hand and led her onto the red velvet.

It felt undeniably odd to lean back into the comfy pillows in her satin dress, bared legs stretched out before her with knees bent, especially in a roomful of people—yet at the same time, it made her suddenly feel much more a part of the open sensuality of the setting. Damon lay next to her, propping on one elbow to face her.

“So, this is my surprise?” she asked.

He gave a short nod.

“It’s…pretty wild. I’m still trying to adjust.”

“Adjust?”

“I’m used to clubs that have tables—not beds.”

Just then, a low moan echoed from somewhere nearby—one of the other beds, she supposed. She pointed vaguely toward the sound. “Are people really having sex here? Right here? In the club?”

Lechery laced his grin. “That’s kind of the point of the beds.”

She rolled her eyes at him, offering a contrite smile. “I get that part. But…why go out to have sex when you can have it at home or your hotel? Especially since I’m guessing you have to pay for one of these beds.”

Damon reached out to touch her knee, using his thumb to caress. “Some people come here hoping to meet somebody they want to fuck. And people like us, who already know who they want to fuck…we come for the thrill.”

Suddenly, she got it. “It’s…forbidden.”

His eyes sparkled. “Right.”

“Like doing it on the Eiffel Tower,” she went on. “Or in a gondola.”

His hand slid warm up her thigh. “Remember what you said on the gondola last night? You said if you could, you would fuck me right there, and you wouldn’t care if anyone was watching.”

A thin ribbon of embarrassment combined with arousal twined through her. Indeed, she had said that. Hard to believe, but true. Even harder to believe was that she’d meant it. Damon had transformed her into a shameless sex addict, it seemed.

And just a little while ago, she’d been ready for whatever he wanted her to do, wherever he wanted her to do it. And maybe she’d been taken aback by the bluntness of this place, where the sex was so “in your face,” but as Damon’s warm touch slid gently higher, his fingertips flirting just beneath the hem of her dress now, maybe her shock was starting to fade. It faded even more when he kissed her, his tongue flirting gently with hers—a soft, sensual meeting of mouths.

Just then, one of the bustier-clad waitresses appeared at the edge of their bed, bearing two stemmed glasses and an ice bucket with an open bottle of wine inside. “Your Pinot Grigio,” she said when they both looked up.

And it occurred to Brenna that she should feel uncomfortable—but she didn’t.

Because this was normal here—to be lying down, making out, in front of other people.

“Thanks,” Damon said, then raised to pull out his wallet and pass the girl a tip.

When the waitress had gone and Damon began pouring the wine, Brenna said, “I have some questions.”

He paused to flash an amused look. “I can’t wait.”

She smiled, knowing he found her naïveté entertaining. “Okay, how do you pay for the bed? I mean when? I didn’t see you give Cynthia any money.”

“You give your credit card number when you call to make a reservation.”

“Ah.” Made sense, she supposed. Her next question, though, wasn’t quite as pleasant. “And if people have sex on these beds, are they, um…clean?”

“Yes, babe, they’re clean. The velvet cover is removable. Each time a bed is vacated, the whole compartment is sanitized.”

“Good,” she said, then tilted her head. “But how do you know that?”

“Because the brochures say so.”

Brenna felt her eyes go wide. “They have brochures? That talk about cleaning the beds after people fuck on them?”

Damon let out a throaty laugh. “It’s worded a little more delicately than that, but yeah. They’re at the door and probably on the bar. And…”

“What?”

“If you’re wondering about people hearing you, the compartments were designed to keep noise inside. I know you heard that moan a few minutes ago, so yeah, some leaks out, but mostly it’s contained.”

“I suppose that’s delicately described in the brochure, too?”

He gave a concise, playful nod.

And she couldn’t help teasing him as he passed her a glass of wine. “Sounds like you’re an expert on this place.”

“It’s not my first time,” he said with a wink. Then lifted his glass in a toast. “To new experiences.”

She bit her lip, feeling at once shy but adventurous—and adventurous was quickly taking over. She gently clinked her glass against his. “To new experiences.”