The sex.

The music.

The drugs.

All of it wraps around me, luring me into its sinful embrace. I'm in Hollywood's hottest secret underground club. You can only get in if you're invited.

The requirements?

Are you pretty?

Do you like every kind of sex? Hard, fast, slow, kinky, like a rabbit, or like a courtesan?

Do you like to push your limits?

Does anything go?

If you answer yes to all of the above, you're in.

And here I am.

Yes, I'm pretty enough. Do I like to push the envelope? In every area of my life. Do I like sex? I think so, but I won't know until I try. I'm a virgin. I'm twenty—two, an intern at one of the most powerful film studios in town, and I only started about three months ago.

I received the highly coveted and secret invitation over email saying I somehow got on the list. Actually, it wasn't somehow… It was because of someone—my best friend, Kerri, who I went to college with. She now happens to be my roommate and works with me as a paid intern at the studio. She's invited to everything in town. Well, anything that's worth going to. And in this town, it's not a matter of what you know. It's about who you know.

I met Kerri at a party my senior year at the University of Boulder. We quickly bonded and realized we had many similarities: both of us wanted to work in entertainment and Kerri had a lot of insight, considering she grew up in Beverly Hills surrounded by everything Hollywood.

I, on the other hand, grew up in Boulder, Colorado, a world away from the industry and all the glitz and glamour it entails. Since I was a little girl, I always dreamed of being a screenwriter, so when I graduated from college, I moved to Los Angeles, applied for a job, and began to pursue my lifelong desire. And even though I've been working as an intern for only a few months, I've quickly learned the way things work in LA, or at least the business of Hollywood.

"We're so going to have fun tonight!" Kerri says, grabbing my arm in excitement.

I look over at my girlfriend and can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. She's certainly dressed for fun in her tight blue minidress that leaves little to the imagination. Kerri's beautiful face is alight with excitement. Her curly, pixie blonde hair falls perfectly around her face as her blue eyes dart around the club.

"Yes, we are," I tell her as I run my hand through my own long blonde hair.

"You're going to forget about that asshole," Kerri says happily, "and no matter what, you're losing your virginity tonight."

The asshole Kerri's referring to is my ex—boyfriend, Henry. He's a cheater—times four—and I wish the ground he walks on would swallow him whole.

A girl's allowed to dream.

"That's the plan," I reply, hoping my voice doesn't sound as angry as I feel.

I met Henry, a.k.a. Asshole, working at the film studio. He's an assistant to the president of the company and went out of his way to show me the ropes. We started dating a month after I started, and he quickly swept me off my feet. Fortunately, I found out I wasn't the only girl he was trying to charm the pants off.

"And even though you're more covered up than I would prefer," Kerri tells me as her gaze slides along my body. "You still look freaking hot."

"Covered up?" I put a hand over my thankfully flat stomach. That's what a low—carb diet does after three days. Kerri made us go on a strict regimen for tonight. I can't wait to have a hamburger and fries tomorrow morning, maybe even a pizza. Yes, tomorrow morning, I'm so hitting In—N—Out.

"This dress is so tight… I could barely even get it on," I grumble. "And let's not forget you're the one who gave it to me." It had taken me a good amount of time to zip the black bandage dress up my body. It came right to my knees and was off the shoulder.

"I gave you two choices," Kerri says flippantly. "I thought you'd pick the gold mini. It looked great on you and matched your eyes perfectly."

"I don't even know how you wear that dress." I shake my head, ignoring the compliment. "It was so short on me; you could basically see my underwear whenever I made any sort of movement. And you're taller than me."

"It's Balmain," Kerri responds quickly, like I must be insane to not appreciate the dress. "And I bought it off the runway."

I try not to roll my eyes. Kerri's family is loaded, like crazy—don't—know—what—to—do—with—their—money loaded. She's a B.

B among the studio interns stands for billionaire.

The way she grew up is the exact opposite way I did. Where we scrounged for money, always conscious of what we spent and how we spent it, Kerri's was one of luxury. The first time she invited me for dinner at her parents' house on a Friday night, I almost fell over in shock. I never really believed people lived the way her family did. Cooks, drivers, maids… a full staff of people to see to their every need and an opulent home I don't even think I could have dreamed up.

"Follow me," Kerri said as she grabs hold of my hand and begins to expertly navigate the club. "And remember, Wyld, anything goes. If he or she approaches you, and you want some, take it. No judgment. No rules."

My heart skips as I push my nerves aside and take a look around.

I try not to stare.

But it's hard.

Everywhere I look, people are either hooking up or dancing half naked. There are plush, black couches all around the club, set up for people to fall into various amorous positions, and the club goers are certainly making good use of them.

I should be embarrassed—horrified even—by the carnal display before me.

But I'm not.

Instead, I'm turned fucking on.

And right now, I can't wait to find a man, the perfect stranger to take my offending V—card, and be done with it.