Vegas Aces: The Wide Receiver Complete Series

CHAPTER 19 TRISTAN

“Do you all want to try a new club tonight?” Jaxon asks.

We’re meeting at his place to pre-party ahead of a night out, and getting drunk tonight is a really shitty idea given the fact we have practice tomorrow, but fuck it. I’m not in the mood to make good decisions.

There’s too much weighing on my mind. Tessa, Savannah, all of it. I just want to escape the loudness in my brain for a while with a distraction. Maybe I shouldn’t find a hook-up tonight since on a technicality and thanks to blackmail I’m still married…or maybe that’s exactly what I need. A new club, a new place, new women…for a different Tristan.

A Tristan who was reminded today how broken he still is over an event that happened almost seven years ago. A Tristan who saw the only girl he ever loved with a date at her father’s funeral.

Fuck it. I need a drink.

“Where?” Austin asks.

Jaxon looks around at Cory, Travis, and myself. Usually Austin comes out with us, too, but he had some charity event today. Patrick and Deon declined going out on a Tuesday, so it’s just the four of us. “This is exclusive and private, and you all have to sign NDAs before I can even mention the club name.”

He looks so serious that I burst out laughing. When his eyes edge over to mine, though, the laughter dies. “I’m serious, dude. You either agree to the terms or we go somewhere else.”

“What kind of club is so exclusive and private we need to sign nondisclosures?” I ask.

“Will you sign the agreement?” he asks before he answers my question.

He’s piqued my curiosity enough that I nod. He glances at Cory and Travis, too, and they both nod their consent as well.

“It’s called Coax,” he begins. “Some say the letters stand for Celebrities Or Athletes Exclusively, since those are the only clients allowed in. Others say it stands for Cunt Or Ass since it’s your choice where you want to put it. And you can probably guess what the X stands for.”

“X-rated?” Cory guesses, and at the same time, I ask, “It’s a sex club?”

Jaxon shakes his head. “No, it’s not. The first floor is half standard nightclub and half sort of a business level—a place for members of a certain economic status to hang out, party, do business, get drunk, dance, whatever. The second floor is basically your high-rent gentlemen’s club. But the third floor…yeah, that’s definitely the sex floor up there.”

“So you just walk up there and the fuckery begins?” Cory asks.

Jaxon chuckles. “It’s not exactly like that. It’s a place to explore sex in all its forms. It’s a place where there’s a mutual understanding, but where everything is still consensual and safe.”

“And you’ve been there?” Travis asks. “On the third floor?”

He nods. “Several times.”

“Why are we just hearing about it?” Cory asks.

“Membership was closed, but I spoke with the owners and told them I had a few teammates who might be interested. They agreed to a preview night—a night where you can explore the place and the owners can see if you’re a good fit,” he explains.

“Let’s do it,” Travis says, standing as if he’s ready to go right now.

“Don’t you have more questions?” I ask.

I have about a million. What does a good fit even mean? Will I have to have sex tonight? Do I want to have sex tonight? Do I have to go to the third floor? Will there be whips and chains and bondage shit? I’m not into any of that, but I’m not opposed to seeing it in action. It’s not a sex club…but it sounds sort of like a sex club.

This is a whole new world to me, and the fact remains…I’m supposed to be laying low. Heading to a sex club or whatever the hell this is while I’m still married isn’t exactly laying low.

Travis shrugs. “Nothing that can’t be answered by immersing myself in the experience.”

I want to laugh, but I find myself suddenly nervous. I’m more cautious than him, I suppose, but maybe just for tonight, this could be the answer to silencing the warring noise in my head.

A new, immersive experience.

I’m just drunk enough that the next words come out of my mouth. “Let’s do it.”

We all glance at Cory, who nods and stands. “Fuck yeah! Let’s go.”

Jaxon issues the NDAs for us to review and sign, and I glance through the club rules. There aren’t many of them.

Discretion is mandatory.

No always means no.

Always ask first and assume nothing.

Practice safety.

Clean up after yourself.

The following are not permitted: drugs, intoxication, prostitution, phones, cameras, video recording devices.

As this is a private, upscale nightclub, please dress accordingly.

There’s more stuff about how you can’t contact members outside of the club without mutual agreement, but that’s about the extent of it.

“Are we dressed appropriately?” I ask Jaxon as I glance down at my jeans and black shirt.

“You’re fine. You’d wear whatever you’d wear on a date. Nobody’s going to kick you out for wearing jeans.”

Four football players piling into an Uber isn’t exactly discreet, so Jaxon drives. That alone tells me this isn’t like the usual night out with the boys. We aren’t going out to get drunk. This is something else entirely, though the more I think about it, I realize that getting drunk at a sex club would only lead to violations of the club’s few rules. Plus, you know, whiskey dick.

He drives us from his place through town, well past the Strip, and out into the desert. For nearly twenty-five minutes, we drive, and we’re all silent as we imagine what this night has in store for us.

I’m not sure my imagination would’ve conjured up the truth.

I assumed we’d be going somewhere just off the Strip, but I guess an exclusive, members only club like this has to be discreet.

There’s a mansion situated on the lot directly in front of us with no other buildings in at least a mile radius. Seclusion at its finest, I suppose. It’s a large, intimidating building that looks like a house built into the foothills of a mountain. It’s a three-story complex with lush landscaping out front, and I’d never in a million years guess this is an exclusive, members-only sex—or not sex?—club.

“It’s at a house ?” Cory asks as Jaxon pulls in front and puts the car in park.

“Where did you expect it to be?” he asks.

“I dunno,” he mutters. “In some basement under a nightclub?”

Jaxon chuckles. “Nah. The owners pooled their money and bought this place. They gutted the inside and it’s pretty fucking rad.”

The four of us get out of the car and move toward the house.

“I’m sure we’ll all go our separate ways to explore, so meet me by the front door at midnight if you want a ride home,” Jaxon suggests, and I appreciate knowing that we have an end-stamp to the night since we have no idea what we’re getting ourselves into.

We all agree then follow him up to the house. A bouncer sits in a hidden little alcove near the front door. I don’t even see him until we’re upon him. “Welcome back, Mr. Bryant.” He nods at Jaxon, and then he glances at the three of us. “Preview night?” he asks.

Jaxon nods and hands him our NDAs, and he turns to the three of us.

“I’m Rodney. Your host tonight is one of our owners, Mr. Bancroft. I need to see your driver’s license to match it to your paperwork.” The three of us pull out our wallets and show off our licenses, and then he clicks a button, and the front door opens.

He hands the papers back to Jaxon. “Give these to Heidi inside and enjoy your evening.”

Jaxon nods his thanks, and he leads us through the doors. We enter into a foyer with a reception desk directly in front of us and doors on either side. The walls and doors are all painted black, but the countertop Jaxon sets our NDAs upon is a white quartz, and a glow of light is positioned beneath the countertop—the only light in the room save for a desktop lamp behind the tall counter. My first impression is sleek elegance as the door behind us closes with an ominous click.

“Mr. Bryant, welcome back,” the woman I assume is Heidi says. She takes the NDAs off the counter and sets them on her desk without looking at them—as if she trusts Rodney already checked us. “And welcome, friends. Mr. Bancroft is on his way down now. I just need to collect and label your cell phones and then you’ll be able to go on in.”

I didn’t realize she’d be taking our phones, but I guess it makes sense. Wouldn’t want random people snapping photos here at the club, particularly not with the NDA. Recordings and photographs are not a great idea at a place like this.

The door to the right opens just after Heidi labels my phone in a bag, and I try to get a peek back there but it’s dark. Victor Bancroft walks through the doors—the same Victor Bancroft who starred in the action film I saw in theaters last summer.

Victor Bancroft is one of the owners of this club?

I guess it makes sense. You probably wouldn’t open a celebrity-slash-athlete exclusive club if you weren’t a celebrity or athlete yourself, right?

I can’t help but wonder who else has a stake in this place.

“Good evening, gentlemen, and welcome back, Mr. Bryant. And a warm welcome to you, too, Mr. Woods, Mr. Higgins, and Mr. Marshall,” Victor says.

Does he know who we are? Or did Rodney somehow send him our names?

Victor Bancroft knows my name.

I’m not starstruck, exactly, but…okay, fine.

I might be a little starstruck.

“I’m a huge Aces fan. Well done so far this season. I see you going for the big game this year,” he says.

“I’m a huge fan of Battle Road ,” I blurt.

He chuckles. “Thank you. Let me take you on the grand tour, and then I’ll give you some time to play. If you’re enjoying yourself and want to come back, we’ll get you started on the application process for membership before you leave. You must submit a clean bill of health including blood test results before we can issue your membership.”

Travis, Cory, and I stare at him as he speaks, mesmerized, and then he nods at Heidi before he walks over to the door on the left.

Have they fucked?

“Our entire first floor is the lounge. A place to socialize, if you will. A standard sort of night club but broken into different areas—one with a dance floor and a bar, another that’s a study with places to sit and relax or conduct business. The second floor is gentlemen’s club, complete with dancers and hot wings if you so desire,” Victor says. “And our third floor is our exploration area. Let’s start in here.”

He opens the door.

I draw in a deep breath.

This is it. My first experience at a sex club is well underway, and my tour guide is none other than mega-movie star Victor Bancroft.

If someone would’ve told me this was how my night would go…I’m not sure I would’ve believed them.