Chapter 13

Ezra woke first. Morning light spilled through the curtains, filling the hotel room with a soft glow. He blinked a few times, then turned to glance at Sofia, who was still asleep on her stomach, facing away from him. Her back was bare, the sheets tangled at the foot of the bed, forgotten. After making love, they had simply collapsed where they lay, both too exhausted to clean up, too content to move.

He slid out of bed and headed to the bathroom. As he stood at the toilet, Sofia padded in behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

When he finished, they switched places without a word. Ezra turned on the shower while Sofia sat down. Soon, they stepped into the warm spray together, arms sliding around each other as the water flowed over their shoulders and down their backs. They lathered and rinsed in a quiet rhythm, fingers lingering on each other’s skin—not out of lust, but out of comfort and closeness.

“You know,” Sofia said as she towel-dried her hair, “when we get home, we’re going to need to give Isabella some attention. I hope she’s not jealous we got this time away just for the two of us.”

Ezra, brushing his teeth, nodded. “I agree. We’ll think of something fun for her.”

Sofia leaned on the sink. “So, what are we doing today?”

Ezra wiped his mouth and paused to consider. “Let’s get food first. Then we can work on our reports for a bit. After that, maybe find something interesting to see in the city—art museum, history museum, whatever’s nearby. Tonight, we’ll head to the suburban club for dinner and an evaluation.”

“Cool. Sounds good,” Sofia said, then looked at him curiously. “Are you going to get a private dance again? Like you did last night?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“Well, Cindy was really good. She even got me going,” Sofia admitted. “I wouldn’t mind hiring someone again—just to compare the two clubs, you know?”

Ezra raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I should have sex with her?”

Sofia gave a small shrug, neither encouraging nor discouraging. “I don’t know. Your thoughts last night made sense. Maybe you should try it, if it feels right. No pressure.”

“What do you feel about that? I’ve never—”

Sofia reached out and placed a hand on his arm, pressing her still-nude body gently against his chest. “If you’re afraid of what I’ll think of you, don’t be,” she said softly. “We’re not married. It’s not cheating. It’s just sex. We’ve both done it dozens of times before back in school. This isn’t any different. Just ... relax and enjoy it.”

Ezra nodded slowly. “Alright. If someone strikes my fancy, I’ll try.”

They dressed for the day and headed to the hotel lobby for breakfast—waffles, omelets, and easy conversation. They talked through ideas for their reports, laughing at some of the notes the WE had drafted for them overnight.

Back in the room, they pulled out their laptops, synced their reports from the WE, and got to work editing and adding photos. About halfway through, Ezra hesitated. Should he really include his private dance with Cindy?

Go ahead, Ezra, the WE encouraged. Your father wants honesty. Writing about your experience with Cindy shows that you took the job seriously. There’s no shame in hiring someone to do the job they perform. You wouldn’t feel embarrassed hiring a chef or a driver. A dancer deserves the same respect. This is part of the evaluation.

Ezra agreed. He described his session with Cindy in warm, respectful language—how kind she had been, how thoughtful and attentive. He didn’t exaggerate or romanticize. He simply wrote the truth.

And somehow, it felt honest and mature.

Once they were both satisfied with their reports so far, they packed up their laptops and set off for an adventure in the city.

The WE directed them to the art museum first. Admission was free, and the exhibits were surprisingly good. They wandered slowly, letting their eyes guide them from piece to piece, absorbing the quiet creativity around them.

Afterward, they drove to the history museum near Metro City’s historic train station. Inside, the exhibits were stark and intense. War, suffering, death—so much of it was foreign to them that they found themselves stopping to read every placard just to make sense of what they were seeing. The deeper they went, the heavier the air seemed to become.

Eventually, they left early, unsettled and quiet.

A nearby coffee shop offered a much-needed reprieve. They each got a muffin and a latte, then sat at a small table near the window, trying to process what they’d just seen.

“I had no idea,” Sofia said between bites. “Books are one thing, but seeing it all like that...” She trailed off, then shuddered.

Ezra reached across the table and laid a hand over hers. He leaned back in his chair, eyes closed for a moment, letting his mind settle. It hadn’t hit him quite as hard as it had Sofia, but it was still a lot to take in.

“Let’s head back to the hotel,” he said gently. “Shower, change, then drive out to the other club.”

Sofia nodded, visibly relieved by the plan.

They parked the Jeep in the lot next to the club and walked up to the door. Both wore comfortable shorts and polo shirts—different from the night before, but still professional enough to avoid looking like a couple of kids chasing an immature thrill.

The club was tucked into a small strip mall with angled parking out front. A simple neon sign above the door read Club Velvet. No flashy posters, no crowd, no spectacle—just a door, a name, and the hours of operation.

The man inside the entrance welcomed them with a warm smile as he took their cover charge.

The moment they stepped inside, they felt it. The energy was familiar, yet noticeably different. A dancer was already on stage—she looked younger, with a tighter body and far more energy than the women they’d seen the night before. She bounced across the stage with bright-eyed confidence, moving from pose to pose like she couldn’t wait to hit the next one. She was just as beautiful as Cindy, just as skilled, but her vibe was fresher—more vibrant.

A woman greeted them with a bright smile. “Good evening, folks. I’m Dana. Dana McKinley. I’m the manager here. Where would you two like to sit?”

Sofia held Ezra’s hand and was about to respond, but he answered first. “The middle would be fine. We’re kind of hungry, actually. I’ve heard you have a good chef.”

Dana smiled with clear pride. “Oh yes, we sure do! Is that why you’re here?”

Sofia spoke up. “No, we’ve heard good things about the dancers too. Dinner and a show, you know?”

“Of course! Right this way,” Dana said, leading them into the club and guiding them to a table at the center of the floor. She handed them menus before stepping away.

Ezra and Sofia flipped through the menu. It mostly featured finger foods—sliders, wings, mozzarella sticks, soft pretzel bites. All of it sounded good, but after a day out and about, they were hoping for something more substantial.