***---Harper---***
"Alright, Harper. Spit it out. When's the last time you got laid?"
I almost choked on my vodka soda. "Jesus, Chloe. Could you maybe not scream that across a public bar?!"
Chloe leaned back, grin wicked, blonde curls bouncing. "Oh, please. No one's listening. And even if they are, they probably need the answer more than I do."
Nadia, elegant in her sharp blazer and perfect lipstick, raised her martini glass. "Translation, it's been too long. Harper's turning into one of those dusty women who knit scarves for their cats."
"I don't even own a cat." I muttered, sipping my drink.
"Exactly." Nadia shot back.
I slumped into the booth, dragging my cocktail straw through the ice like I could tunnel into another dimension. "I'm tired, okay? I'm broke, I'm overworked, and the only man in my life is my vibrator. And guess what? Even that's been giving me attitude lately."
Chloe snorted. "So, like six months?"
"Two years." I corrected automatically. Then grimaced. "I think."
Her eyes went wide with the drama of a soap opera villain. "Harper Lane! That's practically a drought. Your vagina is the Mojave Desert."
I pointed a fry at her face. "Shut up."
But she wasn't wrong. And the problem wasn't just work or exhaustion. No, the problem wore a three-thousand-dollar suit and had the audacity to exist at work. At the end of the hall, fourth door to the right.
Garret Bannen. CEO. Capital-C Charisma. Broody bastard with cheekbones sharp enough to nick a diamond. Every time he walked through the lobby, women's heads snapped like he was holding up free Louis Vuitton bags. And my thighs would slick like they didn't get that HR memo about inter-office relationships.
I hated myself for it. I hated him for it. And yet, the dreams kept coming. Me bent over his glossy mahogany desk, his tie wrapped around my wrists, him finally putting that broody scowl to good use.
Which was exactly why I was here, drinking my body weight in vodka and trying not to confess that my boss's boss was the star of my personal spank bank.
Chloe leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Good news. I've got a cure for your tragic case of blue ovaries."
"Please don't say yoga." I begged.
"Better. Velour."
I groaned. "Oh, for fuck's sake…"
"Yes!" Chloe clapped, like she'd just summoned the Holy Grail. "The app. The one with the masks. You fill out the kink quiz, they match you with your perfect partner, you go to the club, you bang it out, and then you leave happy and sore."
Nadia sipped her martini like the queen she was. "Chloe's cousin owns it. Which means it's actually safe, not a Craigslist murder waiting to happen."
I blinked. "Your cousin owns Velour?"
"Julian." Chloe smirked. "He runs it tighter than the Vatican. Only with way better wine."
I slumped back. "You want me to sign up for a sex club? A literal sex club. Because I've had a dry spell."
"No." Chloe said sweetly. "We want you to sign up for a sex club because you keep making eyes at Broody Bannen, and one of these days you're gonna trip in those cheap heels and land on his dick."
I froze mid-sip.
Nadia raised one elegant brow. "She's not wrong."
"Fuck both of you." My cheeks burned hot.
Chloe grinned like the devil himself. "No, honey. That's exactly what you need someone else to do."
She snagged my phone, tapping a few times before shoving here back across the table to me. "Here. Download it. Do the quiz. Let your freak flag fly."
"I'm not drunk enough for this."
Nadia glanced at my empty glass. "Correction, you're exactly drunk enough."
I rolled my eyes but grabbed my phone anyway. Big, bold letters filled the screen:
VELOUR: Where Masks Drop In The Dark.
Underneath was a sleek black-and-gold logo that screamed money and sex. I bit my lip, suddenly aware that both my friends were eyeing me like vultures over roadkill.
"Don't be a coward." Chloe teased. "Half the women in this city are on here. Lawyers, nurses, senators' wives…probably even your neighbors."
"Yeah, because nothing says 'safe and anonymous' like bumping into Mrs. Rosenberg from 4B in a leather corset."
Nadia's mouth quirked. "You won't know it's her. Masks. Remember?"
I huffed, scrolling through the app's intro page. It was polished, discreet, expensive. Not sleazy. Not sketchy. Almost…professional. Which was somehow hotter.
Then the questionnaire popped up.
What's your favorite sin?
"Oh, fuck me." I muttered, reading the options. Everything from bondage to roleplay to things I wasn't sure were even legal outside of Nevada.
Chloe snatched the phone back. "Fine, I'll help. You like dirty talk. You like bossy men. You definitely like spanking…"
"Excuse me?!"
"Don't even try to deny it!" She sang, tapping through questions. "And since you've got that thing for Broody McCEO, we're putting down 'power play.'"
Heat shot up my neck. "I do not have a thing for him."
"Uh-huh." Chloe shoved the phone back into my hands. "Then why are your thighs glued together every time his name comes up?"
I stared at the half-melted ice in my drink. Damn her. Damn her for being right. Because it wasn't just a crush. It was an itch under my skin, a dangerous little fantasy that needed to die before it ruined my entire life. Garret Bannen was untouchable. Off-limits. A one-way ticket to Unemploymentville.
But Velour? Velour could be the pressure valve I needed. Get it out of my system. Scratch the itch with a stranger who was exactly what I wanted on paper. No names, no faces, just heat and sweat and masks.
My chest fluttered with nerves…and something darker. Need.
I took a deep breath and hit Submit.
The screen flashed gold before a message popped up:
Welcome to Velour. Your perfect match awaits.
"Holy shit." My pulse tripped over itself.
Chloe squealed and grabbed my shoulders, shaking me like a winning lottery ticket. "Yessss! Look at you, finally joining the twenty-first century of orgasms!"
Nadia just smirked, cool as ice. "Told you it was safe."
I stared at the screen, my stomach flipping like I'd just stepped off a rollercoaster. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't just tired Harper, overworked receptionist. I was a woman about to do something insane.
And maybe, just maybe, something delicious.