Free The Club by Tara Brown writing as Sophie Starr

I will fucking kill you—ya feel me?” Her bit of
Brooklyn starts to seep out.
    I sigh my
answer. “I went and had sex with many people. It was fun. Stop. I can’t talk
about it and you know it. That's all I’m giving you.”
    “Holy shit,
you are the worst friend I have ever had. You went to a fucking sex club,
fucked a bunch of people in a booze-soaked orgy, and won’t give me a fucking
droplet of info? You’re a whore.”
    I nod. “You
have no idea.” I hurry to my place, nodding at George as he gets the door for
me.
    “You have a
parcel, Ms. Edwards.”
    I freeze,
muttering into the phone, “I’ll call you back.” I hang up, turning to face the
desk. “You sure?”
    He nods.
“You’re the only person I know who hates mail.” He lifts a large manila
envelope. “Had to sign for this one.”
    I take it,
feeling the weight of my entire marriage in it. “Thank you, George.”
    He sees my
face and wraps his arms around me in an awkward embrace I couldn't have ever
expected. “He never deserved you.” He pats my head twice and releases me. I
turn and walk to the elevator, completely weirded out and yet soothed by the
words spoken by someone whose opinion I trust and cherish. No one knows people
like doormen. They see everything.
    When I get to
my apartment I slump into the chair, loosing all the confidence my naughty
sexcapades have won me. Acting like a whore hasn’t made me feel better about
getting a divorce. All it did was make me feel like I wanted to try again. I
see that now. I want love again. I don't want some filthy sex and a series of
one-night stands. I want someone to hold me and know me. I’ve spent thirty-five
years getting to know me and I want to share that.
    I slip the
card from my purse, staring at it. Everything is different now and this card is
the reason why.
    I get it. I
get why the lawyer gave it to Jenny and why she gave it to me. It’s a glimpse
of what being single can be like. It’s a glimpse of the dating pool and the
expectations placed on you sexually, like anal sex. It’s a world that maybe
women who have been married have sheltered themselves from, and maybe for good
reason.
    I tuck the
card back into my purse, completely confident I will never use it again. I pull
my phone out and delete the number, noticing a new text from Logan.
    Meet me at my
place instead. We can walk to dinner.
    I see he has
shared his contact information with me and add it to my phone. When I see the
address it makes me smile. We are neighbors. He lives a couple buildings over
from me.
    Something
about the innocence of the text and the prospect of dinner makes me excited,
and not in the way I was about the dress box. This is a way that feels more
natural to me.
    I finish
getting dressed and head out the door, feeling liberated by the fact I am
picking him up. When I get down the street I realize he actually lives in one
of the old row houses. I love their architecture and dated style. I don't make
it up to the door to knock before it opens for me. I step back as a handsome
man identical to Logan, but clearly not him, steps from the entrance. He grins.
“Why hello, gorgeous.”
    I roll my eyes
but my stomach is aching. I know exactly who he is. He waggles his eyebrows at
me. “You must be Hannah. Damn, Logan didn't mention you were fucking stunning.”
    I step to the
side on the front stairs to give him room to get by me.
    “I’m Charlie,
his brother. His much more handsome brother.” He winks like I might fall for
that.
    My mouth is
sour and my heart is beating like a drum so I don't have a witty retort and
thankfully I don't need one. Logan comes down the large hallway with a grin.
“Get away from my date, Charles or I’ll be forced to telephone mother and tell
her where you’re off to tonight.”
    He glances
back at his brother. “You know the rules.” He looks back at me. “It’s just one
night—you should come with me and forget about him. I will rock your
world.”
    I lift a