“Club house thingy, huh,” he mumbled, his eyes wandering over her form again.
“Are we done? I have some messages to catch up on,” she said, then she went to step around him. He reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Alright, alright, calm down. You want to see my club?” he asked. She noticed he kept putting emphasis on that word, club.
“I don't know, now. You've made it weird. Am I going to show up and it's some football club? A One Direction fan club? I'm not so into those things,” she said.
“How about a sex club? You into that?”
She almost swallowed her tongue. A sex club? He owned and operated a sex club? Did those even exist in real life? And the way he'd said it. A perfect stranger, talking about a sex club with her. In broad daylight.
Maybe I never really woke up this morning and this is all a dream.
“I'm sorry,” she cleared her throat. “Are you saying you want to take me to a sex club?”
“Yes.”
“Is that where you take all your first dates?” she asked, still thinking he might be joking.
“No. Usually I keep it a secret. Freaks most girls out – just like I thought it would you, until I saw that Eros profile,” he explained.
“So let me see if I have this straight. Whatever you saw on my profile made you think I'd be interested in going to a sex club with you,” she spelled it all out.
“Yeah. Clearly, I was mistaken. It was nice meeting you, Katya.”
She was having a moment. A tidal pull on her conscience. This was a bad idea on an epic level. Going to a sex club with a man she'd just met? That's how women ended up on Dateline. Not to mention the fact that Katya simply didn't do things like that – she was more of a museum or opera house kind of girl.
But new-Katya, the woman from the profile, she bristled against old-Katya. Got mad at the way this handsome stranger was looking at her, as if she couldn't possibly be brave enough to try something new and daring. Something sexy and a little dangerous.
“Nine o'clock,” she blurted out.
“Excuse me?”
“I'll need more time,” she explained. “I can meet you down here at nine o'clock.”
“C'mon now, this isn't like truth or dare. No points for trying, it's okay. We can just pretend this didn't happen, go back to avoiding eye contact when we pass each other on the sidewalk,” he suggested.
“Awww, see? You're such a good little girl, trying to look out for me,” she spoke to him in a baby-voice. His smile finally reappeared and she had to will away the blush she felt creeping up her neck.
“Alright, angel cake. Let's see how far you'll take this cute little act. Nine o'clock,” he said, then he finally let her go. She nodded her head.
“I'll be down here,” she assured him, then she started for the elevator.
“Oh! And a suggestion,” he shouted after her. She turned as she stepped onto the lift and saw that his grin was stretching from ear to ear.
“Yes?”
“Don't change your clothing. What you're wearing is perfect.”
*
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
“What!?” Tori practically yelled, following Katya around the apartment as she paced.
Shit, was I saying all that out loud!?
“Quick – is what I'm wearing sexy?” she asked, holding out her arms.
“Huh?”
“Sexy! Do I look sexy!?”
“What is going on!?” Tori demanded. “Calm down and explain to me why you're acting so strange!”
“I promise, I will. Just … is this outfit sexy? Be honest, tell me the truth,” Katya said.
Tori looked like she wanted to argue, but she finally huffed out a sigh and took a step back. Looked over her friend's outfit, then motioned for her to turn in a circle. When Katya faced forward again, Tori was frowning.
“Matronly,” she stated.
“Pardon me?”
“Your outfit is matronly. Did you get that shirt from a maternity shop?”
“This is Donna Karan!”
“Okay. Then … comfortable. You look very comfortable,” Tori amended her word choice.
Katya groaned and looked down at herself. She was wearing a loose fitting blouse, tan in color, with an oversized floppy bow that hung down at the neckline. The sleeves were wide, coming in tight at the wrists with long cuffs. Her slacks were also loose, in a shade of brown she thought had complimented the blouse, and she'd paired them with an ecru colored belt. But now looking at herself, she realized she was dressed entirely in colors belonging to the beige family.
Beige. Synonymous with boring.
“That stupid profile,” Katya growled through clenched teeth before stomping through to their kitchen.
“Oh, yeah. I jazzed it up a bit after you left,” Tori said, following along and grabbing them both wine glasses.
“I know, I frickin' read it. Hell, everyone's read it. My phone has been blowing up, and then ...” Katya's voice trailed off as she replayed the incident in the lobby. What had come over her!?
“And then what? I honestly thought it would be funny,” Tori said, pouring healthy amounts of vino tinto into both glasses before sitting down at the table. Katya sat, as well.
“This guy asked me out,” she mumbled, fiddling with the stem of her glass.
“Oh. That's a good thing, right?”
“Right ...”
“Uh oh.”
“He lives next door,” Katya spoke slowly after taking a big drink. “He saw the profile and recognized me, decided to come over and introduce himself.”
“Scandalous! Who is he? Do we know him?” Tori asked.
“I didn't. I mean, I kinda recognized him just from seeing him around. Liam … something or other. Edelweiss?” Katya tried to remember his last name. “He's tall, tan, bushy brown hair. Big smile.”
“Ooohhh, great smile?”
“Sure.”
“Yeah, I know the guy! He asked you out!? You owe me one, he is hot!” Tori sounded excited.
“Yeah, super duper hot. Except the only reason he wanted to ask me out was because that stupid profile made me seem like some sort of kinky sex goddess. After about two seconds of talking to me, he realized that wasn't the case and he tried to back out,” Katya said.
“I'm sorry, honey. I honestly didn't mean any harm, but hey, no harm, no foul. At least you didn't have to wait till after the date to find out he's a misogynistic prick,” Tori said, rubbing her friend's arm. Katya polished off the rest of her wine, then poured some more.
“Oh, we're going out,” she said, deciding to chug the last of the wine straight from the bottle.
“What?”