Tangled with Tyler: Eden's Odyssey, #2

By Tiffani Lynn

Can an alluring escort with an unsteady future tame a big-hearted yet immature playboy?  From the moment they meet, their sexual chemistry is off the charts and it doesn't take long for them to get wrapped up in messy feelings and issues neither of them is emotionally stable enough to navigate. 

Until recently, Aubrey was a normal college student only concerned with guys and grades. After tragedy strikes her family and the problems pile up against her, she's forced to do the unthinkable and take a job as an escort at Chicago's elite private sex club, Eden's Odyssey. Her plan is working well until Bobby Tyler, the promiscuous, charming defenseman for the Chicago Blizzard becomes Eden's newest member. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tiffani Lynn
• Release date: Jan 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386664086

Tiffani Lynn

Tiffani is a music loving, baseball adoring, crazed hockey fan. She lives in Florida with her family. Writing romance is a passion for her as well as reading and spending time with friends. 

Book preview

Aubrey

Taking a deep breath, I sit back in the leather wing backed chair doing my best to look relaxed, though I’m anything but relaxed. I’m in an interview at an elite private sex club. Okay, I’m only here interviewing to be a bartender, but still, it’s a sex club. I had no idea these places existed !

Just four short weeks ago, I was your average junior in college majoring in marketing. I had no responsibilities, other than getting good grades and keeping my area cleaned up in my dorm room, so I didn’t piss off my dorm mates. My weekends were spent going to parties, kissing guys and worrying if I would pass a class. Today, not only am I a college dropout, I’m the daughter of two irresponsible dead parents trying to earn enough money as quickly as possible to get her kid brother out of foster care. This is definitely not the dream I had for my future.

My parents were killed when their car was hit head on by a semi while they were on the way home from their anniversary dinner. There was no will, no life insurance, no savings, no family to help us and a giant mountain of debt. My parents screwed my brother Shawn and me. I hate to say that because I miss them, but they did. In fact, it’s their fault I’m here at Eden’s Odyssey three weeks after Shawn was taken by the Department of Children and Families and placed in

foster

care

.

There was no way the dinner shift at the diner where I worked would provide me with the necessary increase in income quick enough to help my situation, so here I am interviewing for a bartending job at a sex club. When I filled out the application online, I thought it was just a dance club I hadn’t heard of. After they decided to interview me, they emailed me a non-disclosure contract, letting me know in advance I’d have to sign it just to get their location. According to Darcy Baxter, the stunning blond owner, they’re never hiring. I just got lucky. Or unlucky. I haven’t

decided

yet

.

She’s sitting across the desk from me and in the other leather chair next to me is the manager. He’s an attractive, well-built man named James, with more of a lean, muscled surfer look than what you normally see in Chicago. They’re both probably 10 years older than me, which right now feels like light years.

Darcy is looking at me expectantly.

Clearing my throat, I ask, I’m sorry, could you repeat the question, please?

She gives me a gentle smile and I fight the lip tremble that I know is coming on. I’ve been an emotional mess since I got the call about my parent’s death. One minute I’m crying about never seeing them again, and the next I’m flaming mad that they left us in this situation.

Darcy repeats, "What makes you think you can work at a

sex

club

?"

I thought I’d be tending bar. Will people be having sex right in front of me? I do my best to school my features, afraid they’ll see how freaked out I am at the thought.

"Yes, you are interviewing for the bartending position, but this is a sex club and you may come across people having sex. Besides, every evening there’s a live floorshow. This could include anything from light fondling to full sexual acts. It just depends on the performers and the night. This all happens within viewing distance of

the

bar

."

I know I don’t succeed this time when I try to mask my horror. The thought of people having sex right in front of me is more than a little freaky. I mean, in the past, I’ve stumbled drunk into a room while at a party and discovered that it was occupied by couples having sex. But that was a brief glimpse, not a full encounter. How do you even stand there and watch without gawking?

Swallowing hard, I remind myself that I need to get Shawn out of foster care now; I don’t have time to be prudish or picky.

"Darcy, I’m going to be honest. I need $10,000 and I needed it yesterday. It’s for my brother. My lawyer says that’s the amount I need before they’ll release him into my care. As nervous as I am about the whole thing, I’ll pour shots and take drink orders while people have sex on the bar in front of me, if it means I’ll make good money. I’m learning the hard way that sometimes you do what you have to do to take care of the people

you

love

."

So, would you be willing to change your way of life to take care of your brother?

I nod, wondering what she’s getting at. Maybe I shouldn’t have answered her question about why I wanted this job so honestly. But if I hadn’t, I think she might overlook me simply because I look so conservative. I’m wearing a pants suit to an interview at a sex club, for

goodness

sake

.

"Here’s the deal, Aubrey: I like you. I have similar responsibilities and can relate. My sister Georgia has special needs and I’m her guardian. I’d do anything for her. I’m willing to offer you the bartending job right now, but I know a way that you can make money twice as fast with less time on the clock."

Darcy, James protests from beside me, she’s way too innocent for that. Don’t even give her that option.

Darcy puts her hand up to stop him from talking.

My leg starts to bounce as my nerves get worse.

"James, Aubrey’s right that sometimes you have to do what you have to do to take care of your family. If it were my choice to make, and it was Georgia whose well-being was an issue, I’d want to know about it. I’m sensing the same

from

her

."

Yes, I say, my voice shaking. "I’d like

to

know

."

I’m sure a loud gulp can be heard around the room as I swallow in anticipation of her next words. Forcing my leg to stop bouncing, I open my eyes, square my shoulders and nod for her to proceed.

Prostitution was legalized not too long ago in Illinois and we’ve added a few escorts to the ranks here, Darcy says, and I suck in a deep breath through my nose as she continues. "As beautiful as you are, you’d make twice as much a night being an escort than you would as a bartender. Depending on how many customers you take during your shifts, you could get your $10,000 in about a month

or

so

.

However, James is right. You do seem a little sheltered. She glances down at my application, probably noting my age, the straight A’s and various school clubs I was involved in; none of that screams hooker. She makes eye contact again and asks, Do you think this is something you’re capable of even doing?

I sigh. "I need to think about it. This is so far out of the realm of normal for me, I almost can’t

comprehend

it

."

James jumps into the conversation and suggests, "I think you should come in tonight during business hours and get an idea of how things work here. That may help you to make up your mind. You can see for yourself how we operate and then we can

discuss

it

."

That’s probably a good idea. I appreciate you making both offers; I’d just like to make a somewhat informed decision.

James says, "Come back at eight tonight, dressed like you would if you were going out. No one is ever allowed in if they’re underdressed. I’ll give you a tour. You can ask as many questions as

you’d

like

."

He stands, indicating that the interview is over. I rise on jelly-like legs, and when we shake hands, I’m embarrassed by my sweaty palm. Darcy follows me to the parking lot, giving me a small smile of encouragement and gently patting

my

arm

.

I’m so sorry about your brother, Aubrey, she says. "I understand some of what you’re going through and will do what I can to help you. If you have any questions before then, please feel free to call me. Here’s

my

card

."

Thank you for everything, I tell her, taking the card she’s holding and just wanting this whole bizarre thing to

be

over

.

After she retreats back into the building, I climb into my car and lay my head on the steering wheel. I wonder how in the hell I ended up sitting in my car outside of a sex club, considering a job as a hooker. They used the word escort because this is a high-dollar establishment, but in its actual definition, it’s hooker.

I’d love to flex my pride and say I’m above doing this job and walk away. I was raised to cherish what I have to give as a woman. I’m not a virgin but the thought of giving the last bit of my innocence away for a few bucks makes my stomach churn. Sitting up, I take my wallet out of my purse, open it and remove one of my pictures of Shawn. I wedge it in the corner by the odometer so I can see it as a constant reminder of who I’m doing all this for. Then I buckle my seatbelt and drive back to my crappy apartment.

Aubrey

Returning to Eden’s Odyssey later that evening, I’m surprised once again by the look of this place. It’s not what I expected. When I arrived for the interview this morning, I really thought there would be chains hanging from the ceiling, rows of whips and stuff on the walls, or possibly a room full of circular rotating beds and disco lights. Instead, the sex club looks like a classy nightclub. I guess it makes sense since these people are paying big money for the experience and probably don’t want something smarmy. At least aesthetically, they get elegance and

class

here

.

The entryway walls are painted a soothing cream color and decorated with bronze wall sconces, a few tasteful paintings, and two elaborate flower arrangements. The lighting is low, like I’m entering a nice restaurant. Behind the reception desk is a petite, beautiful, young Asian woman.

Hi, she smiles brightly, I’m Christina, the receptionist. You must be Aubrey. She holds out her hand and I

shake

it

.

Yes, I’m Aubrey. They told you I was coming?

Her infectious smile is both uplifting and comforting. It settles me and I can see why she’s the first person you encounter as you enter. My shoulders loosen a little and I take a deep breath, attempting to relax myself further. The door to the main part of the club swings open and James appears.

"Aubrey! So good to

see

you

."

He’s also smiling which helps calm me somewhat. His obvious skepticism earlier worried me. I mean, he manages this place and sees what goes on here. If he’s unsure of how I’ll fit in, I worry this place may be too much

for

me

.

Feeling nervous, I just say hi, give him a tentative smile and follow him inside without

another

word

.

As he leads me through the door, the first thing I notice is the sultry beat of the music which was absent this morning. It’s at the perfect volume setting a sexy atmosphere without being loud enough to drown out conversation. Eden’s main room is just like a ballroom, large and open. The lighting is dim and flattering, and there are heavy drapes along the walls, giving the space a rich indulgent vibe. James leads me straight to the bar, which so far looks like any other upscale drinking bar in town. I’m relieved to see that the guy bartending is wearing clothes, a button up white tuxedo shirt and black pants, and that the well-dressed customers sitting on the bar stools don’t look like sex-crazed maniacs.

This is where you’ll be bartending if you don’t take Darcy’s other option,

James

says

.

I’m starting to think I can handle all of this when I turn and see two women spinning around on poles, their routines graceful and naked bodies exquisite. One woman is a blonde with creamy white skin and small pixie-like features. The other is a buxom brunette with the type of dark tan you’d see in a commercial for expensive tanning oil. The only time I’ve ever seen strippers in action has been on TV or movies, and not only are these women more beautiful, they’re sexy in a classier way then I would’ve expected possible. It feels weird for me to stand here watching. It’s like I’m doing something wrong, almost shameful. Like I’m 15-years-old and sneaking to watch movies with sex in them. I have to remind myself that they’re only dancing.

These two ladies, says James, gesturing, "are both performers and staff members. They come out every evening from 11:00 p.m. to midnight. Should you decide to be an escort, it’s important for you to remember that, with the exception of performers, no one is allowed to have sex here in the main

bar

area

.

"This is a sex club, but it’s not a brothel. Things can get out of control fast if we allow that to happen anywhere and everywhere. That would be a mess for sanitary purposes, too, and our cleaning crew would hang us up by

our

toes

."

All of this information is overwhelming. I’ve got to relax if I’m going to work here as a bartender and especially if I’m going to be an escort.

In an attempt to calm myself, I force my attention to the people standing and talking in small groups or sitting at small round tables, which are spread all around the outskirts of the dance floor, each with a candle in the middle. Every single person is beautiful. The women are wearing expensive-looking dresses I’ve only ever seen in fashion magazines and the men have on perfectly tailored designer suits.

What surprises me the most is how everyone appears completely relaxed as if they were old friends at a corporate mixer, despite the two spinning naked women.

James left me to wander around alone for a little while so I could check things out and as I head back to him at the bar area, my attention is caught by a pair of broad shoulders about a foot above everybody else’s.

I’ve always loved good shoulders so my gaze follows the line of his back, trim waist, and down to his perfectly round butt, tight in his slacks. As he turns toward the bartender, I glance up to the mirror above the bar to see his face and my jaw drops.

"Holy crap! Is that Bobby Tyler from the Chicago Blizzard?" I ask James.

Yes, he’s actually here touring the club as a guest.

Wow, he’s hotter in person than in his post-game interviews on TV. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that he’s here. He’s well-known for his wild, partying ways. In fact, it seems like there was something about him being in a bunch of orgy pictures on social media recently. I can’t be sure because I was dealing with so much but it wouldn’t surprise me. Even as hot as he is, though, he gets put into the column of reasons why I don’t want this job. Are all Eden’s patrons horny party people

like

him

?

Suddenly, I fight the urge to cry. Can I really sell my body to someone like Bobby Tyler who’s been with countless women and live with myself? Trying to reign my thoughts back in before I lose it, I ask myself, can I live with leaving Shawn to rot in that bully-infested foster home? To deal with never belonging anywhere? Standing straighter, I fight to see this place through that perspective, knowing I have to do this for my brother. Suck it up, Aubrey. Make

this

work

.

Okay, James says. Let me take you to see the scene rooms, dungeon, and private rooms.

Um, what are those?

Well, he says, as we weave around people towards the back, "I’ll explain the dungeons when we get there. We rent out the private rooms, which are comfortably furnished and equipped, for those who don’t want an audience and want to remain undisturbed during their

time

here

."

We enter a hallway leaving the dance floor and main bar area behind. On our left are three solid oak wooden doors, with little windows you can peek through.

"These lead to our three scene rooms. Each will have a different sexual scene set up for viewing purposes, and those change throughout the night. They can be acted out by anyone, staff or client, as long as it’s consensual. There’s everything from male on male, gangbang, straight couples, some light BDSM, and obviously female on female. If, as an escort, your client wants to perform in a scene room with you, that’s okay. All types of fetishes are allowed, except blood, feces or urine play, and definitely no form of real torture.

Let me just check, he says, peeking through the little window in the first door briefly. "Perfect.

Follow

me

."

Terrified from that description, my belly is full of wildly flapping butterflies as he leads me inside. The room is long and narrow with about a dozen people seated in rows, like in a theater, facing a floor-to-ceiling glass partition and on the other side are two women, stretched out on a leather couch, in a full-on lesbian 69. Wet sounds and moaning come out of the speakers near the ceiling, allowing us to hear everything.

It’s like I’m watching a live porn flick and I glance around to get an idea of the reactions of the viewers. There’s one guy at the far end of the row jacking off in plain view, but no one seems to notice or care, except me. Gross. I know guys do this, but it’s not something I want to see out in the open, especially some random dude. Remember, Aubrey, this is a sex club. You’ll see stuff like this. I need to focus on what I

do

like

.

Turning back to the ladies on the couch, I realize that they’re beautiful. Their bodies are toned. Their limbs are long, smooth lines twisted around each other like Twizzlers. As they adjust their positions, I get a clear view of one of the women’s breasts, which are a perfect handful for her partner. As her nipple disappears into the mouth of her lover, heat spreads throughout my body and the tingle between my legs is more than a little surprising. I’m even breathing heavier.

I had no idea I would feel even a sliver of lust, and I realize I’ve never watched people have sex before, except for glimpses of porn at frat parties and basic rated R movie scenes. Seems like I should be ashamed for the reaction I’m having, but I’m not. In fact, I don’t really want to move on to the

next

room

.

I worry my bottom lip with my teeth wondering, if I have to perform in a scene room like this, whether my inexperience will show. These two ladies are so fluid, like they’ve done this a thousand times. Will I be klutzy and embarrass myself?

Are they staff members? I whisper to James.

No, not these two. He glances at me and must read the worry in my expression because he says, As an escort you are not required to use these rooms for everyone to view if you don’t want to. I breathe a small sigh of relief. I might be able to do this if I’m not on display. Maybe.

James leans over and whispers, "Like I said before, each room has a different scene, which can change as the night

goes

on

."

As James ushers me out of the scene room, it’s all I can do to drag my eyes away from the two women and follow him back out into the hallway. He takes me to an elevator for a ride to the second floor. When the doors open, we step out onto a balcony with an amazing hand carved bannister, from which I can see the main bar area, dance floor and pole dancers. Bobby Tyler comes into view and I pause to look down at him. No longer sitting alone, he’s found a strawberry blonde beauty and is flashing her his breathtaking smile that I bet hundreds of panties have dropped for. Then I look for James, who is gesturing impatiently at me from beside a set of large double wooden doors.

My feet move fast to catch up and when I do, he says, This is the dungeon. It’s pretty hardcore for someone who has never been around anything like this, so just keep in mind, as an escort you don’t have to participate if you don’t want to. Also, remember that it’s a perfectly safe place. We have extra guards, Dungeon Monitors is what they're called in here, to prevent potential problems.

What kind of potential problems are you referring to? I hope he can’t hear the tinge of fear laced in my voice.

"The submissives, who are often tied up, strapped down or handcuffed, are trusting the dominant, the person in control, to do things they like and to stop if they use their safe word to end it. In most cases, the trust is well placed, but on occasion someone gets drunk on the control, and doesn’t stop when they should. That’s when the DM’s

step

in

.

"Honestly, there’s no easing into this room, so let’s dive in,

shall

we

?"

Heart pounding, I follow James through the double doors and am struck stupid when the first thing I see is a woman strapped by her wrists, her back against a thick wooden cross, completely naked. A man in a black mask, with openings only for eyes and mouth, stands in front of her. He is already large and imposing, but with the mask he’s downright scary. Oddly, the woman doesn’t look frightened. Her flushed cheeks and heaving chest lead me to believe she’s turned on. Big time. He suddenly swings this thing in his hand, a skinny black rod with something at the end. I hear a light smack and she gasps.

I’m horrified.

"What is he hitting

her

with

?"

James leans in and explains, "A crop. It looks and sounds worse than it is. She’s enjoying it, I can promise you that. If she isn’t, she’ll use her

safe

word

."

A safe word is what exactly?

"It can be any word chosen for the submissive to use if they want to stop what the dominant is doing. If you decide to take a job here, you should probably look some of this up on the Internet to get a better idea about the things you don’t understand. I’ll be glad to answer any

questions

also

."

Oh.

I wonder what could be so bad that someone would have to use the

safe

word

.

The concern must show in my expression because he says, Don’t be nervous about the dungeon. You don’t ever have to go in here unless you want to. People, me included, choose that lifestyle for one reason or another. We’re not forced to participate.

My thought process spins off into oblivion with James’s confession. I wonder if he’s a dominant or submissive. Although, with the command he has over his body, and the way he seems to own any room he enters, I can’t imagine he’s a submissive.

Trying to get a better idea of if I can work here, I take a look around. To my left is a man handcuffed by the wrists to hooks in the wall above his head. Except for the black dog collar around his neck and the ball-gag in his mouth, he’s naked and a glance down reveals him to be fully erect. How in the hell can he be turned on when he clearly has no control of his situation and is dangling naked for everyone here

to

see

?

A tall, lanky woman with a long ponytail, wearing head-to-toe black leather, is pacing laps around him in boots with four-inch heels. His eyes follow her warily until she’s behind him. Reaching around the front, she gives his shaft a few strokes and his eyes roll back in his head. When she releases him, still hard and unsatisfied, he groans loudly and I can hear it even clear across the room. I turn away quickly, afraid of what might be next for him. This woman’s attitude doesn’t scream giver of pleasure.

The last area James takes me to is a small table where a nude woman is laid out on her back. A man is screwing her at one end while her legs rest on his shoulders and another is at the other end pumping his cock into her mouth relentlessly. This whole experience is surreal, strange and interesting all at once. I can’t decide if I’m horrified or slightly

turned

on

.

James chuckles and grips my hand, leading me back out of the dungeon. No one ever seemed to pay any mind to our presence.

When we arrive back at the bar he explains, "Two drink maximum. It helps to keep things consensual around here. You’re 21 so you can also drink, but I caution you to only have one. I’m not sure about your tolerance yet and you want to keep a clear head. Let me show you the

last

part

."

We go down a very utilitarian hallway near the entrance. I was here earlier when I interviewed but didn’t pay much