But it’s also harsh and so much more violent than the rainforest that I have to wonder why people want to live in this society at all. It only seems to cement my inherent desire to return home.

I’ve come to learn a lot more about Moira. Her father and mother were both anthropologists, which is where she got her drive and desire to follow in their footsteps. Her sister, Lisa, is a stay-at-home mother, having married an electrical engineer—whatever that means—and she’s happily raising their two children on the coast of North Carolina. My questions to her about her personal life have become endless and so far, I know that outside of being probably the only woman that will ever satisfy my lust, that she is funny, smart, and mischievous. She loves old western movies because she used to watch them with her father, and she’s terrified of cats for some reason, but spiders don’t scare her at all. I know she lightly snores when she sleeps on her back, but when she’s tucked into my body on her side, she sleeps deeply and without sound. Her favorite book is Fifty Shades of Grey… a book that she loaned to me, but I couldn’t make it past the first chapter. She smirked at me when I told her that and said I was missing out on some valuable sex lessons I could put to use. I immediately picked it back up and made myself read it, but frankly… it didn’t teach me anything I couldn’t figure out on my own.

Nights with Moira are the best because we secret ourselves away in either her bedroom or mine, and she lets me do whatever I want to her body. My favorite thing, by far, is making her come with my mouth. Sometimes, I’ll start with my face between her legs, but sometimes, I’ll pound out my own orgasm first, f**king her furiously as I race to the finish line. Then I’ll pull out of her and while I’m still drowning from lack of oxygen, I’ll push my mouth against her pu**y and eat her all up until she’s crying out her own orgasm.

This nightclub we’re in is nothing I ever expected. It’s three stories tall, and there was a huge, black man with bulging muscles and facial piercings guarding the door. A velvet rope cordoned off the entrance, and a long line of people waited outside to get in. Per Cara’s instructions, I gave my name to the huge dude, and he let Moira and me in with a brilliantly white smile.

The inside of the building is completely open, with a massive dance floor in the middle and a mirrored bar that spans three of the walls. The ceiling extends three stories above and, looking up, I see several balconies lining the walls above me, reached by private staircases. Cara had told me that they were in VIP balcony room number three, and to just ask the bartender where that was. Apparently, Cara and Clint come here regularly and are afforded their own private place, in which they can sip their fancy cocktails and watch the dancers down below.

After a quick stop at the bar where Moira orders something called a Screwdriver and I get myself a beer, we follow the bartender’s directions and climb a staircase to the third level. A solid red door meets us at the top and I push it open, immediately seeing Cara and Clint sitting next to each other, their blond heads angled in as if they’re having a private conversation. Even though the club is thumping with loud music, it’s relatively quiet inside this small room, and I see that’s due to double glass doors that are closed to the open club. As soon as they hear us come in, their heads turn toward us in unison.

Cara’s smile goes bright when she sees me, but then it dims when she notices Moira. Clint immediately jumps up, claps me on the back, and pulls Moira in for a close hug. I immediately want to kill the f**ker.

For the next two hours, I stand at the balcony’s edge and sip on a few beers, while I watch the dancers down below me. I keep the doors closed because the music is grating to my ears, and it makes me long for the soft lyrics of the tribal women who sing at our feasts. I declined the invitation to dance, but from my perch above, I can watch Moira as she gyrates her h*ps with moves so sexy that I have a perpetual hard-on. Cara takes it one step further, moving her body in an almost  p**n ographic way, her arms raised above her head. Sometimes, Clint comes up behind his sister and holds onto her h*ps while he sways his own in unison with her. It looks disgusting to watch the siblings dancing so provocatively with each other. If he even thinks about doing that to Moira, he’s a dead man.

I watch for a moment as they dance and wonder how soon Moira and I can leave. I have a powerful need for her, but what else is new in my life? She’s becoming almost a necessity to me, which further increases my dangerous mood.

Eventually, Moira heads off the floor, pushing her way through the mob as she heads toward the bathroom. There’s a line almost as long as the one outside to get in, so I know she’ll be a while. I sigh with frustration as I watch Clint and Cara make their way back to the staircase to join me back up on the VIP balcony.

Cara slinks into the private room and heads straight for me. She takes me by the hand, leading me over to the couch, and I don’t think to resist. Clint goes over to the private mini-bar and pours himself another drink. He and Cara have been pounding the liquor pretty hard, and they’re both drunk.

Cara flops onto the couch and pulls me down beside her. She drapes her arms around my neck and says in a silky voice, “So Zach… Clint and I were wondering if you and Moira wanted to come back to my apartment and party with us.”

Interesting that she invited Moira because I know she considers her a nuisance by the way she treats her. “What do you mean by ‘party’?”

She flutters her eyelashes at me. “Oh you know… maybe a little coke… a little Ecstasy. Something to loosen up Miss Frigid Pants.”