Chapter 3
3
A valet in a black suit held open the door to David’s Lamborghini, and Leslie shivered as the wind whistled past. Her mid-thigh black leather stiletto boots and full-length blood red wool cape did little to cut the chill in the air. As the valet shut the car door and she waited on the sidewalk for David to come around and take her arm, she shivered again, this time from excitement.
After all, for Leslie, exploring a sex club was a brand-new experience.
One she aimed to thoroughly enjoy.
David appeared at her side. He was dressed in a navy-blue suit with a subdued light blue and black checked silk tie and a matching silk handkerchief in his pocket. A wool overcoat was draped over his shoulders and a white cashmere scarf hung loose around his neck. He always dressed in a dapper manner, consistent with his reputation as a world-class surgeon, and tonight was no different. He would never need Leslie to go clothes shopping for him, not the way she had with Alex about five months ago when he’d gone undercover as part of Branden’s tech team at Dubois and Mellan, the same company where Cara Michal, Branden’s now fiancée, worked. Alex had run with Leslie’s fashion advice, but had been clearly happy when he could go back to his normal style: jeans, boots and a tight-fitting tee that showed off the tattoos on both his arms.
A jolt ran through her body as she realized she was daydreaming about Alex again even as she was about to walk into a sex club with her quasi-boyfriend.
Leslie, you are my rock, my oak tree, my ocean, and my guiding star. I would do anything to protect you, even if it means stepping aside and watching you flourish in a life that I only have limited access to. Even if it means part of me dies. Because in many ways, they’re the exact same thing.
Leslie had only seen him a handful of times since he’d said those momentous words to her, but even now the memory made her knees weak.
He’d never spoken so poetically or so openly about his feelings for her, and at the time, she’d longed to cry out: “Then why? Why, if I’m so important to you, won’t you take a chance on us?” But he’d already told her why—to protect her from the enemies he’d made through his job as a private investigator slash security specialist—and thankfully she’d managed to keep her instinctive question to herself. Managed to not make a fool of herself yet again by trying to convince Alex to be with her.
She’d gone down that road one too many times. She wasn’t going to travel it again.
“Here. This is for you,” David told the valet, handing the man the car’s key fob and a twenty-dollar bill.
“Thank you, Dr. Martinez,” the valet said. “I’ll take great care of your car.” He dipped a quick bow to Leslie before heading around the car to the driver’s seat.
It didn’t escape Leslie’s attention that the valet knew David’s name and profession, which bothered her. When she’d told David that she wanted to explore a BDSM sex club, David had said he was interested in exploring with her. However, he hadn’t told her he’d frequented sex clubs before; in fact, he’d heavily implied that he hadn’t. Was it because he’d thought Leslie would judge him?
Probably.
They’d fooled around but they hadn’t slept together. Leslie hadn’t been ready to go that far. Hell, she hadn’t been ready to go that far with anyone, which was why at the age of twenty-four, she was still a virgin. She’s had plenty of sexual experiences, she’d just never gone all the way, and she’d never dabbled in kink the way she’d led Alex to believe she had. Not outside watching.
But David knew. She’d been completely honest about it, just like she’d been honest about her interest in exploring the BDSM lifestyle. He should have been as equally honest with her.
She wasn’t going to say anything about it now, however—she wanted to focus solely on the experience at hand.
David held out his arm for her to take. “Ready?” he asked.
She looked at the modern concrete building with glass accents. In front of a giant red door stood a large man in a suit guarding the entrance to the club. She’d done her research, and knew this place offered a high-end experience for those involved in the BDSM lifestyle. This place was exclusive, safe, and above all, discrete. Anyone attending signed an iron-clad NDA before even entering.
The promised discretion was key. After all, if word got out that world-renowned financier Branden Duke’s younger half-sister was playing around in a BDSM sex club, things could get nasty for him, and he’d already experienced enough heartache and bad press to last a lifetime. She’d never want anything bad to befall any member of her family. The Duke family might be an odd one—none of the five siblings had the same father and most of her sisters were stepsiblings—but they stuck together.
The wind whipped by again, burrowing under her heavy cape and billowing it out with enough force to show off her short black silk cocktail dress. It was one of her own designs, created to be alluring and sexy and yet with a hint of 1920s elegance and class with its soft, barely-there black beaded chiffon overlay almost moving like water over the form-fitting silk bodice and uber short skirt, the hem of which didn’t even come close to touching the tops of her boots. It was more risqué than what she normally wore, but when in Rome…
“Leslie?”
She blinked, coming back to awareness. “Sorry,” she said, giving David a rueful smile. “I got a little lost in my thoughts.”
“Still want to do this?” he asked. His words sounded kind, but there was an edge to his voice, as if an answer of no, I’ve changed my mind and would like to go home , would irritate him.
Those words weren’t about to come out of her mouth. This was her adventure, one she’d been thinking about for years, ever since she’d been a teenager and figured out that the man visiting the posh brownstone next door was a dominant, one that relished pleasuring his sub in a variety of titillating ways. That interest had only increased tenfold once she’d suspected Alex was into the lifestyle and she’d gotten a first-hand glimpse of his sexual preferences in Montana, well before she’d spent the night at his place after he was injured.
She’d snuck into his room and kissed him, prompting him to intimately lay his hands on her in the most satisfying way before her brother had knocked on the door and interrupted them. And later that night, after she’d tempted him again, well… at his hands, for the first time, pain had equaled pleasure, and she wanted more. She couldn’t have it with Alex, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have it with someone else.
She just couldn’t imagine that person being David.
She forced herself to smile at David, then tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and allowed him to lead her up the wide steps to the door. For a moment, she almost wanted to remind him of their agreement – that they were only here to watch, not participate. She didn’t want him to think that in the heat of the moment, she was going to jump into a scene with him, or finally lose her virginity to him. But they’d already discussed that ad nauseum.
“I’ll need your passes and IDs,” the bouncer said when they arrived at the landing.
David pulled out tickets he’d printed from his wallet; they’d only been provided once he’d completed an online questionnaire for them and they’d been vetted. The hulking man examined the tickets, nodded, then let them in.
As they stepped inside the club, Leslie was surprised. The place looked like any other Manhattan club, with a bar and tables. People of all genders, shapes, sizes, and ethnicity, in clothing ranging from suits and cocktail dresses (like her and David) to skimpy latex and leather and chains wandered around, but even the leather and chains wasn’t all that unusual. If anyone wandered off the street, they might think the place had a certain edge, but it certainly didn’t look how Leslie had imagined a sex club would look.
The place was elegantly decorated with lavish furniture, vibrant artwork, and soft, ambient lighting. The music was loud but not deafening and, while a group of people danced, their bodies swaying in sync with the music, most people were engaged in conversation or walking to or from the back of the bar.
Leslie watched two women laughing and toasting one another with their glasses head that way. Even though they quickly disappeared, she knew they’d opened a door because suddenly the music got much louder, as if there were two different parts of the club playing the same loud Techno music, before it returned to its normal level.
Of course.
The racier side of the club would be in the back, behind closed doors, not somewhere someone could just wander in off the street, assuming they made it past the guy at the door.
Sure enough, David took her hand and walked her toward the back. They came upon a huge metal door and another burly man guarding it. “Tickets,” he said.
Again, David pulled out their tickets and showed them to the man.
He opened the tall metal door, and another metal door behind that one. Immediately, the music hit Leslie hard again, so deep and heavy it seemed to instill a throbbing in both her chest and core. Unlike the front area of the club, neon lights painted this new area in vivid hues.
Leslie took a deep breath, feeling excitement bubble within her again, only this time it was laced with apprehension. Tonight was the night she had been waiting for – the night she would step through this interior doorway and enter a new world.
She exhaled slowly then stepped through the doorway. This area was decorated similarly to the front area of the club, but was much vaster. Potted palms and snake plants shielded comfortable and intimate seating areas in front of small stages where men and women were either stripping or engaging in sensual acts, though she’d have to get closer to know exactly what was happening. Ahead was a long bar where numerous people sat on barstools, most of them with their backs to the bartender as they watched the action in front of them. Beyond that, a dance floor was a sea of moving bodies.
“Your wrap, ma’am,” came a voice from Leslie’s side.
She looked up to see a young man in black leather pants, a black leather vest, and a black leather bow tie around his neck with a nameplate that identified him as Devin, Customer Specialist, reaching out to take her wrap. She glanced around, seeing that there was an excessive number of wait staff, the men dressed like Devin, and the women dressed in either black latex or leather and with black leather accessories. Each wore a clearly identifiable name badge. All appeared to be attentive to the customers.
“Here you go, Devin,” David said, removing her cloak from around her shoulders and adding his overcoat to the pile. He handed the man a twenty.
“Thank you, Dr. Martinez,” Devin said, then disappeared into the cloak room.
Yet another employee who recognized David. This time, she was about to ask him how many times he’d been here when a woman with a nametag identifying her as Anya approached. She was dressed in a black latex dress cut to her crotch and showing her ass cheeks, with a black leather belt that had swinging leather strands mimicking a cat o’nine tails.
A flash of memory came of Leslie looking through her neighbor’s window, visible only from her bedroom, the window unobstructed by the blinds or curtains that normally covered it. On that night, her neighbor’s dom wielded a cat o’nine tails over her naked body. At fifteen, Leslie had witnessed a lot of things through her window that looked directly into her neighbor’s bedroom, yet the most shocking thing of all had been when her neighbor and her dom had caught her looking, locked eyes on her, and instead of drawing the curtains closed, went right back to what they were doing. Now, she knew how twisted and wrong that was. Not because they were into being watched but because she’d been an underage kid. But then? She’d enjoyed watching. For a long time, that had haunted her. Shamed her. She’d thought she was a freak. It was only after Leslie had done more research into the BDSM lifestyle and talked to the therapist her mother Bunny had hired once she’d discovered the extent of Leslie’s father’s abuse, that Leslie had begun to accept that such fantasies and interests were normal for some and nothing to be ashamed of.
Thank goodness Bunny had picked a therapist for her that was open minded and accepting. If she hadn’t, Leslie might have been scarred for life. Still, it was only in the past year that she’d started thinking about doing something about her fantasies—and mostly, she knew, that was because she’d heard rumors that Alex was into BDSM and kink.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Anya asked, holding up an electronic notepad.
“Whisky sour for us both,” David said.
Irritation buzzed through Leslie. No matter how often she told him she preferred to order her own drink and food, David continued to do it for her. “Make that a dirty martini for me. The dirtier, the better,” Leslie said.
Anya wrote down the order on the notepad, then slipped off, leaving them alone. They stepped deeper into the club. Leslie turned her head.
Wow.
There, right in front of Leslie, a woman dressed in a black lace crotchless bodysuit bent over for a young man ready to spank her with a cat o’nine tails.
And for just a flash in time, Leslie imagined it was her that was bent over, and Alex wielding the whip.