Chapter 1

Chapter One

Brandon Daniels

Taking a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, to stop my shaking hand, I scan my card into the reader at the door in the back of the bar that takes me to The Parlour Underground, a members-only club.

It's the first time I’m using my membership.

I heard about this club from my best friend, Teddy, who thinks that I would love a club like this one.

It is an exclusive club for members only, which can make fantasies come true.

Once the door opens, I see a long white hallway that takes me to where my fantasy will finally come true.

I walk past the doors, seeing some are in use, and wonder if their fantasies are like mine or how bizarre they can come up with.

I know my best friend and his tastes are in the BDSM world.

Looking down, I clutch the black plastic that’s covering the stems of the dozen red roses I purchased on the way here.

The thorns pierce my skin. I welcome the pain, hoping to get out of my head for a little bit.

I shake my head. Maybe buying roses was a stupid idea.

Remembering the instructions Teddy told me: if I find an empty room, flip the sign and wait.

I see an open door, flip the sign as instructed, and walk into the room.

The four-poster bed is in the center of the room with white walls.

This club really likes its white. I wonder if they got the paint at a discount.

I chuckle to myself. Placing the red roses on the trunk, pulling the petals from the stems to sprinkle on the bed.

Once I see the flowers are perfect, I walk to the wall where the tablet is located so I can enter my fantasy.

Teddy’s words come back as to how I’m supposed to proceed.

I’m very nervous about this fantasy. “Come on, Brandon, just suck it up.” I scold myself for not being more of a man.

I fire up the tablet and type out my fantasy.

My fantasy is a virginal wedding night.

The female must be curvy.

I want her to knock on the door wearing an all-white nightgown, thigh-highs, heels, bringing champagne and strawberries.

I don’t want her to know my name, and no kissing unless I initiate it.

Oh, I’ll need at least thirty minutes to get myself ready.

Before I can chicken out, I hit send. Wiping the sweat from my hands down my dark jeans, I pace the floor while I wait for her to get here.

The thirty minutes are for me to calm my nerves as I’m losing my virginity to a woman whom I’ve never met.

I don’t care what the woman looks like, but I’m worried that I’m going to fuck things up.

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.