“Let’s go down here,” Solange says, jutting her chin in the direction of a long hallway. She weaves through the crowd, periodically turning back to make sure I’m still with her. At some point, we lose each other, but then she doubles back and places her hand in mine. She steadies me with her intense gaze and gives me a firm squeeze. I feel her touch all the way down to my toes, but I school my features. I’m consumed with the need to touch her. Desperate to be the one to give her pleasure. Still, Solange has consented to being here, nothing more, and I will always respect her boundaries.

We dip our heads in the first room that we come to and find naked people massaging and fondling one another as they engage in substantive conversations. I mean, one guy’s talking about air fryer recipes. What the hell?

“So many PDEs,” Solange observes, her gaze bouncing around like a ping-pong ball.

“Don’t you mean PDAs?”

A corner of her mouth lifts before she explains: “No, I meant PDEs. Public Displays of Erections.”

Welcome to Solange World, where the official languages are English, Portuguese, and Inventive Acronyms. If I’m not careful, I’m likely to be sporting my own PDE before this night is through. How the hell am I supposed to hide my arousal in a place like this? With this woman by my side? Brilliant plan, Dean. Just brilliant.

Seemingly impatient to move on, Solange tugs on my shirt and leads us to another room and . . . jackpot.

A woman is lying in the center of a platform bed. Her legs are spread out as two naked men kiss and caress her. She’s wearing garters without stockings and nothing else, suggesting that we missed part of the disrobing.

Solange and I aren’t the only observers, but we’re the only people who appear to be together. We inch our way to an open spot, our bodies close but not touching because she slipped out of my loose grip as soon as we ventured inside.

“Is this okay?” I ask her.

She nods, her teeth pressing into her bottom lip until she releases it to speak. “This works.”

One of the men slips a finger inside the woman, and she lets out a breathy moan. Fuck. My eyeballs were expecting to be eased into this, but nope, that’s not happening. Beside me, Solange shifts. I turn and meet her gaze.

“My shoes,” she explains in a whisper. “Taking them off isn’t an option, though.”

“Get in front of me, then,” I say. “You can lean against me to take some of the pressure off your feet. You’ll see better too.”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s not bad.”