“Speaking of, they’re over there.” He gestured to the raised area along the wall on the other side of the room. “Why don’t you take them some drinks—on the house.”

“Yes, sir.”

He mixed a lemon drop with sugar on the rim and poured two glasses of his top bourbon.

“Three?” I asked.

“They have a friend with them tonight.”

Oh fuck.

There was no way it wasn’t him, and I was about to walk right into everything I’d been avoiding. But I had a job to do, and it wasn’t to become a puddle of goop at some guy’s feet because just his stare made me wet, and I’d been dreaming of him since I walked away.

“Have fun,” Charlotte said with a sly smile. “You’re one lucky bitch. They’re both hot as hell.”

“Oh, I plan to.” With a playful flip of my hair, I easily lifted the tray of drinks and made my way through the crowd.

The current floating from person to person carried a higher energy—sexier. The room hummed with it, bringing each customer’s skin alive. Their eyes gleamed with a wild light—their smiles tinged with devious joy.

Voyeur was known as the place to be if you wanted to not only watch but also be seen. Only employees could perform in the private rooms, but patrons could do as they wanted everywhere else. Just usually with discretion. There was something to be said about hiking your dress up just enough to let a man slip his cock into you and fuck you softly—with someone five feet away. Were they watching? Did they know? Did they like what they saw? Would you get caught?

It all added to the tension Voyeur promised.

Partners slid hands under clothing on the dance floor.

Men and women spread their legs for others in the seats tucked off to the side.

Lovers bit their lips, holding back their cries as they fucked in the dark corners.

Not tonight, though.

Passing the tables in the middle of the room, a woman sat on top, leaning back with her mouth open in pleasure. More than two sets of hands roamed her body, tugging her top down and plucking at her nipples. All while her dress bunched at her waist, and a dark head worked between her thighs.

It was exactly what Daniel promised. A night of lust, passion, and immoral delights. Members chomped at the bit to pay the astronomical price for the special event—ready to support the good cause.

Making it across the room, I smiled when I saw the happy couple.

“Your drinks,” I greeted.

I passed the glasses to two of my favorite customers—Ian and Carina Bergamo.

“Yum,” Carina exclaimed, chasing the sugar-lined rim with her tongue.

“Thanks, Mar,” Ian said.

“That last drink is mine.” His voice came from just out of my line of sight.