Hot Minutes, At the Club: Hot Minutes, #2

By Alyssa Turner, Stacey Wallace, Gwen Dylan and Kate Briggs

Moody lighting, intimate corners and pulsing magnetic energy is what makes a club the place to be for a hot night. Your invited to four different club experiences where secrets are kept and nothing is off limits. Have a hot minute? Drop in on these sexy shorts from Alyssa Turner, Kate Briggs, Gwen Dylan and Stacey Wallace.

The Sparrow – Marielle is not accustomed to letting her hair down. A law student in Paris and daughter of a wealthy French businessman, she spends most days living up to an impossible standard. Alex knows the best thing for her just might be a night at his BDSM club and the firm grip of his fist wrapped around that ever-present ponytail. It's time he introduces her to the life he's imagined for both of them. This standalone story by Alyssa Turner features characters from her Unmatched Series.

Three, Becoming a Third – Drew has a fantasy, and his wife Abby knows how amazing it would be to help him fulfill it. She figures a swingers club is the best place to start for her bi-curious husband, only neither of them has a clue how to find the third they're looking for. When Z sees them floundering, it's his mission to help. He's an owner after all and ensuring everyone has a good time is his responsibility. In fact… he'll see to it personally. By Kate Briggs.

Under the Covers – Dane is leaving town, but not without one last shot at joining Madame West's harem. He's loved her for years and it's now or never, even if now means just one night. First, he needs and invite, or does he? What would happen if simply crashed the party? It's anyone's guess if he'll leave empty handed or finally find himself at the center of the action for a chance to show Summer West how he really feels. Under the Covers is connected to the series of the same name by Gwen Dylan.

The First Time – Casey and Bobby have been set up so many ways they can't even count. When her sister tries once more, Casey decides she can at least have a good time. A few shots and a little dancing should do the trick. She didn't think Bobby was her type, but maybe he has a few moves she didn't see coming. His sexy friend Kellan has some useful intel on the matter, straight from his private room. First impressions can be deceiving. By Stacey Wallace.

Note: The stories told in this anthology are all unapologetic explorations of desire with the kind of colorful storytelling that brings characters to life. At the club, finding a happily ever after ending is not always the motivation for going. The same goes for this anthology, though each story contains romantic elements. Have fun meeting these characters and visiting each club along with them, and remember... what happens at the club, stays at the club.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cue the Romance
• Release date: Oct 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201186654

Alyssa Turner

If you asked her, she’d say it all started with her vast collection of paper dolls.  That’s how long Alyssa Turner has been crafting intricate story lines full of twists and turns and memorable characters.  Thirty years later, her stories are now quite grown up.  She writes erotica and erotic romance in all lengths and has been featured in the notable anthologies of Best Women’s Erotica, edited by Violet Blue and several from Rachel Kramer Bussel.  With her proclivity for the ménage genre, Alyssa is often recognized for weaving complexity and emotional depth into her characters and plots. Alyssa has more than several full length novels under her belt and no two stories are the same. For Alyssa, it’s much more fun to try something new.  

Book preview

The First Time by Stacey Wallace

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Casey McHugh hurried up the stairs to the third floor of the Portland Concert Hall where the balcony seats were located. The heels on her forest green Jimmy Choos sank into the plush burgundy carpet of the hallway as she took long strides, her near run was making the hem of her sable colored bandage dress ride up. Between the shoes and the dress and the fact that she was only at the ballet because her sister Caroline had insisted that they do something cultured for their Girls Night, Casey was sure she’d spend the entire evening dreaming about sweatpants, slippers, and the four unwatched episodes of Bridgerton calling to her.

Sorry I’m late, she whispered, sliding into her seat in the back row of the dim balcony.

Casey? asked the person next to her, who was supposed to be her sister, but from the low husky voice, she was guessing it was Bobby Stanich instead.

Bobby?

Yeah, he sighed.

Casey sighed in solidarity. They’ve done it to us again.

Caroline and her boyfriend Grayson had made it their personal mission to get Casey and Bobby together, accidentally setting them up multiple times. Only problem? Casey and Bobby had hung out with each other plenty and it was obvious that, while they didn’t dislike one another, there just weren’t any sparks.

She felt Bobby lean in her direction. Do you even want to watch this cra-

Shh! came from the seat directly in front of her.

As the finale approached, Casey reached over and grabbed Bobby’s hand, pulling him to his feet. We’ve endured enough. C’mon, let’s go somewhere and get drunk.

Out in the light of the hallway, it became apparent just how duped Bobby had been. The guy was wearing a well-tailored suit, had shaved off his scruffy beard, and looked like he was suffocating. Casey had never seen him in anything besides jeans and t-shirts and baseball caps. He cleaned up well, even if he didn’t appear to be happy about it.

He loosened the tie from around his neck, pulled it off over his head, and jammed it in his jacket pocket. Fucking Gray and Caroline. I thought I was finally going to snag myself a sugar mama and instead I get stuck with you.

Casey narrowed her eyes at him. If I didn’t understand your disappointment, I’d slap you. Caroline and I were supposed to be having a ‘Girls Night.’ We haven’t hung out in ages.

Bobby ran his hand through his thick, black hair. Sorry. He gave her a quick once-over. You look nice, by the way. I was just expecting... Never mind. I’m an idiot. You said something about getting drunk? Seems like a great idea – just not at McLaren’s, okay? I don’t need everyone giving me shit about the suit.

Casey thought for a minute. Once she’d become a college math professor, she’d stopped going out to the bars to avoid running into drunk students. She only ever went to McLaren’s. How about Moonshadow?

Bobby shook his head. Jazz pisses me off almost as much as ballet.

Duke’s? She suggested, although she didn’t really want to go there either. Casey wasn’t nearly as nuts for Wrangler butts as most of Duke’s clientele.

He shook his head again. Nah. We’re all dressed up. Let’s go somewhere cool. How about Razor?

Isn’t that a gay dance club? she asked, intrigued. She couldn’t think of a single one of her dates or boyfriends who’d ever taken her dancing.

He shrugged. Not exclusively.

Okay. Casey handed Bobby the valet ticket. I plan on getting twisted. You drive?

Sure, he said, offering her his elbow.

Casey linked arms with him, feeling for the first time in a long time like she had no idea where the evening was headed.

Bobby checked Casey out on the sly while they were waiting on the valet to retrieve her car. She was good looking for being almost forty and ten years his senior. Her ass was tight and her rack hadn’t been ruined by time or kids yet. He wasn’t a big fan of redheads though – the woman he’d thought he was meeting tonight was supposedly a blond. Fucking Grayson. Why he and Caroline kept trying to shove Casey down his throat... What the hell did they have in common? He was a bartender working his way up to manager at McLaren’s and she was a math teacher.

Still, she wasn’t a drag and he’d never had a bad time hanging out with her. He supposed there were worse ways to spend a Friday night.

The valet pulled her Volvo station wagon up in front of him and handed Bobby the keys. Trying to remember his manners and also that Casey didn’t ask to be repeatedly set up with him, he opened her door.

Thanks, B.S., she said, giving him a wink.

Ha. Ha. That never gets old. A million times in his life he wished he’d chosen to go by Rob instead of Bobby, but the nickname had stuck.

She chuckled and got in the car. He shut the door, pretending that she hadn’t just given him a crotch shot. Casey McHugh was going commando. And she had a Brazilian. Interesting. He fiddled with the car keys and dropped them, giving his cock a second to get under control.

Will you just park the damn car? Who gives a shit if people see us ‘roll up in a Volvo’? Casey said after Bobby had circled the block to the rear of Razor three times. Are you still hoping to find a hookup tonight? Just say I’m your sister and that I made you drive me. Whatever.

Bobby rounded the corner and luckily slid into the space that an Escalade was vacating. They got out of the car and quickly walked the half block to the club. Razor was housed in a nondescript brick building – the name tagged in silver above a set of black double doors.

The last time Casey had been to a club it was de rigueur for the music to be pumping so loud you could hear it out on the street. She also recalled neon signs and flashing lights. It had been awhile. There was a short line outside, no velvet rope or list or anything. It was Portland at ten p.m., after all, not NYC at One a.m.

Casey scored them a small, high table near the edge of the dance floor, which was walled off with windows to keep the music in the bar area at a reasonable level for conversation, while Bobby went to order drinks. He’d muttered something about having a friend that tended bar here and they’d get a discount. Casey didn’t have the heart to tell him that with the mark up places like this had, his discount was still probably five dollars over cost.

She gazed out into the dance tank. Bobby had been right about one thing – the crowd here wasn’t exclusively gay. They were young, hot, and overwhelmingly bisexual. Women sandwiched between men kissing each other, men gyrating against women making fuck me eyes at other women. The room looked sexually charged, and warm, like everyone was sweating lust. And glitter. There was a goddamned lot of body glitter happening up in there.

Casey skimmed her hands down her front, tugging at the hem of her dress. She felt old and overdressed. Bobby set her dirty martini down on the table and took a drink from his highball glass. This place is cool, huh?

She shrugged. "I think even you might be too