Sleeping With The CEO
Chapter 72: Clubbing For Sleep

Chapter 72: Clubbing For Sleep

It was a Friday.

Any other Friday, Derek would have long been at the manor, done with dinner and going through a few work files, stalling until he could not anymore and had to fake like he was going to bed.

But this particular Friday was not like all the others. This Friday was different. Which was why, instead of going straight to the manor right after work, Derek had chosen to stay in the city. Heading straight for his penthouse.

When he had first bought it, his intent had been to move in permanently so that he no longer needed to commute every day. But he had ended up staying there for only one month before he had moved back to the manor. His mother, though she had not come out and said it, had missed him. And Derek had not been able to settle as easily as he had thought he would. Walking through the penthouse in the middle of the night without fear of being caught should have been a good thing. But all it had done was add something else to his insomnia...boredom. So it had not been that much of a hardship to go back to the manor, but he had still kept the penthouse. And it came in handy from time to time, just like it was useful to him that night.

Early Friday night and Derek was getting ready to go out club. Toweling himself dry after a long shower. Derek walked into his bedroom. He applied some lotion, and then turned to look at the clothes that he had left out on the bed before he had gone to get cleaned up.

A blue shirt, a size too small that would outline all of the muscles he had gained through swimming. He had been told in the past that the blue really brought out the green in his eyes. Whatever that meant. His jeans were artfully torn in places, they too were meant to draw attention.

Yes, they would do nicely with his plans for the night. Grabbing a bottle of lotion, Derek applied it generously. And then he dabbed a bit of cream beneath his eyes. Being an insomniac taking care of his skin, especially the skin beneath his eyes. The last thing he needed after everything else was to have tiredness that could be seen just by looking at the skin beneath his eyes.

With his skin taken care of, Derek went about getting dressed, his torn-up jeans coming first. Then he grabbed the skin-tight shirt and pulled it over his head. His outfit essentially done, he pulled on some socks, put on a pair of dark blue designer sneakers, and sprayed some cologne. Taking a look at himself in the mirror, Derek ran a hand through his hair, his biceps bulging as he did so. The untamed hair really brought the whole thing together.

Feeling as ready as he would ever be, Derek went down to the garage and selected a car from the half a dozen he kept there. His ride for the night ended up being a red beast, it was so low to the ground, Derek half expected sparks to fly as he drove it through the city streets. But none came and soon enough Derek was at Club 8.

The entrance was a nondescript black door. There were no long queues of people waiting to get inside. In fact the only thing that gave away that the door led to a club was the two bouncers at the door. Getting in was simple, all that you had to do was produce a black card and you were given free access.

In Derek’s case, they did not even have to see his card, they saw his face and that was enough. They opened the door without a word and Derek walked ib.

The moment he set foot in the place, he could hear the music. It was so loud it made the walls shake. After taking a moment to center himself Derek walked into the club proper.

Chaos, it was absolute chaos. That was the only thing that Derek could think of as his eyes finally adjusted to the flashing light.

Clubs 8 catered to a very specific clientele. And not just because it only allowed black card holders. But because most of the people who came there were people who valued their privacy.

From oil magnates to politicians, models, musicians, and actors. The who’s who, of who’s who all came to club 8 to unwind. And it showed. People who normally acted a certain way in public were more free now. It was easier for them to unwind because even though they had made their careers following different pursuits, they all understood the pressures of fame and money, so they were not judging each other.

There was an heiress, half naked and dancing on table tops. When she ran out of table, her husband picked her up and carried her to the next one. A testament of how drunk both of them were that he thought it was wise to carry her, and she thought it was alright to let him carry her.

There was also a conga line forming, people doing body shots. A trio on the dance floor doing something that could almost be called dancing if it did not look so sensual.

Deeper into the club, Derek made out the daughter of one of his mother’s friends, Isabel, her platinum blonde hair glowing as she spun round and round, working a stripper pole...her holier-than-thou mother would be scandalized.

Minding his own business, Derek made his way to the VVVIP section and sat down. Seconds later there was a platter of food placed before him, as well as a selection of drinks.

Derek idly sipped at a glass of vodka, his focus on the floor below. He was not there to have fun, or to get wasted.

His plan was simple. He would find someone he liked, invite them over to his place, then out of nowhere, fake exhaustion and tell them that they were just going to sleep, nothing else.

He could have hired someone for that, but of the tabloids ever got a hold of such news, no one would believe him if he said that they had just slept. So he was going for a route that seemed more organic. Plus knowing that his future bed partner would be less likely to talk about it was reassuring.

And so Derek sat in the club with single minded determination, waiting for someone to catch his eye so that he could approach them and see if they were interested.

When someone finally did catch his eye, Derek nearly choked on his drink. She looked a lot like Emily. The woman had the same frame, she was petite, elegantly built, and carried herself with confidence as she moved through the room, headed right for him. The closer she got, the more Derek realized that it was not her, and his heart rate calmed.

"Excusez-moi, monsieur, is this seat taken?" She asked, her French accent strong.

"No, I was just leaving," Derek told her. She batted her eyes at him, but Derek was already too shaken. He left the club after less than an hour there.

The whole sleeping with just anyone plan had not worked, it seemed that he would need to try something else.