Chapter 29
It’s almost unfathomable to me that Thatcher’s never been to a sex club before.
I know many high rollers who value the discretion that the clubs provide, but I assumed he wouldn’t care about privacy.
Professional athletes can be annoyingly flashy, always happy to show off how many women they have hanging on their arms.
If he wasn’t so fucking adorable, I would have slapped the blush off his face when I asked about going to a sex club, and he thought we were going to see strippers.
And by blush, I mean he actually blushed at the thought that I would take him to look at naked women.
He turned completely maroon when I corrected him, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
I informed him that there will in fact be women and men in varying degrees of undress.
But that they won’t be dancing, they’ll be fucking.
He’s been equal parts excited and nervous about it, and it’s amusing to watch him flip between the two.
It makes me think back to my first time going to a sex club.
I was only seventeen and entirely too young to be there, but Misha convinced me to get a fake ID and sneak in with him.
I really have Misha to thank for my ability to enjoy sex at all.
After the…incident, I vowed celibacy, but he swore I needed to see something first. There was a special exhibition that night by a popular dominatrix, stage name Miss X.
He found a flyer for one of the older soldiers in the bunkers and, after a quick Google search, determined that the Domme lifestyle was well-suited for me. And he wasn’t wrong.
I was in awe of the young dominatrix the whole time.
One performance was all it took to convince me, and the two of us started sneaking in more frequently.
It didn’t take long for Misha to buy into the kink life as well.
We’re basically the same person, so it was no surprise to me how much he enjoyed being a Dom.
We were years away from being old enough to become members, so to help our ruse, we joined as a married couple.
We had a fake marriage certificate and everything.
Being a Bratva heiress does have its perks from time to time.
Over the years, our preferences morphed.
I prefer to have scheduled meetings with my toys.
I don’t mind repeats, but anonymous encounters are also thrilling.
The club I normally frequent in New York has an incredible anonymous screening process, and they’ve matched me with some of the most experienced submissives I’ve encountered.
We aren’t going there tonight, though. This is a new club to me that came highly recommended by some of the friends I’ve made in the kink community.
Rendezvous Too opened several years ago and quickly became the top club in New York City.
Its offerings are…unique. It has the basics, of course, but from what I’ve heard, they do an outstanding job of keeping things fresh and staying on top of trends.
Last month, they had an Olympic village experience in honor of the games.
And before that, an immersive Titanic experience.
Literally immersive. I heard the lower level’s pool was used to simulate the sinking, perfect for anyone with a waterboarding kink.
This month’s special is femdom, which is relatively tame but perfect for Thatcher’s first visit.
Our driver lets us out at the front door, and I take Thatcher’s hand. “Are you ready?”
“Are you kidding me? I didn’t even know these things existed. Of course I’m ready!” he yelps.
Alright, he’s flipped back to excited. That’s good.
“I’m excited too. I haven’t been here before, and I hear wonderful things—”
“Ooo, are you trying to spoil me?”
“Always, solnyshko.” I cup his face, gently at first, then apply pressure with my fingernail, just barely not breaking the skin. “But do not interrupt me again. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he says, eyes darkening with lust.
I’m tempted to get back in the car and return to his condo so I can have my boy all to myself. But a bigger part of me wants to share this part of my life with him. Whatever this is between us, I want him to know exactly what he’s getting into.
Looping my arm with his, we head to the VIP entrance to check in. As soon as our credentials are validated, a receptionist hands us a brochure with a map of the building and tonight’s events, then begins her spiel as she leads us down a hall to a pair of delicate french doors.
“We’re about to step into the main auditorium. The standard entrance goes through the bar and lounge first, but VIPs come straight here.” She opens the door, pausing for a moment to let us take everything in. And it’s a good thing she does.
I’ve never seen anything like this. The grand auditorium is massive, but it feels intimate as well.
They’ve combined modern style and Art Deco accents with incredible taste.
Maybe I should hire their interior designer.
Metallics, trendy wallpaper, and neutrals blend, with a massive chandelier tying it all together.
The auditorium is open to at least five or six stories, and each floor has a view of the stage.
“Wow…” I glance at Thatcher to see him just as awed as I am. “This is not what I imagined when you said sex club.”
“They aren’t all like this, remember? I’m spoiling you tonight.”
The receptionist giggles. “Our owners wanted to do something really special with this place.”
“Are each of the floors themed?” I ask, unfolding my map.
“Yes of course. Floors two through eight are open to the main auditorium to give an all-inclusive feel. These will be our more popular themes: exhibitionism, bondage, wax play, impact play, group activities, sensory deprivation chambers, and some medfet suites. The ninth through twelfth floors are reserved for primal play, each boasting a different rotating theme. And then thirteen through fifteen are reserved for our elite members.”
“And does the chandelier not block the view of the upper floors?”
“Oh, that can be raised and lowered. It’s a huge hit for our Phantom nights.”
“Phantom nights?” Thatcher puffs his chest, no doubt thinking she means his hockey team, the New York Phantoms.
“Phantom of the Opera. The owners are huge fans. At least once a month, they do a spicy rendition of the play, and you never know which man Christine is going to pick. Sometimes it’s Raoul. Sometimes it’s the Phantom. My personal favorite is when she picks both,” she says with a wink.
“Hell yeah!” Thatcher waggles his eyebrows suggestively before leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Can you imagine having two of me to deal with?”
Our tour guide gives us a moment to imagine that nightmare scenario before continuing. “Where would you like to start? Are there any floors that interest you more than the others? Or we can hit them all. The show here starts in thirty minutes if you’d like to wait and watch on the ground floor—”
“Mila?”
A familiar voice cuts off the lady. I turn to confirm, but I would recognize my old friend anywhere. “Riley Lemons? What are you doing here all the way from California?”
“I’m performing tonight!” He smiles, then turns to the receptionist. “That’s actually why I came over here. My partner isn’t going to make it in time for the show.”
“It’s about to start! How are we supposed to find someone in thirty minutes?” The panic in the poor lady’s eyes is stressing me out.
Riley looks from me to the lady, then slowly back to me. “Mila? I know good and well you aren’t afraid to put on a show. What do you say? Wanna give it a go?”
I freeze, now experiencing a stress of my own. If Thatcher wasn’t here, I would probably consider it. He’s right, I’m no stranger to exhibitionism and Riley and I work wonderfully together. But…
“I can’t tonight. This is my first time coming here—”
“Oh, we don’t mind at all if you’d like to fill in,” the receptionist interrupts.
“And I’m here with my friend.” I cut my eyes to Thatcher, but to my surprise, he doesn’t look upset at all.
“Do it! I’d love to watch. I mean, if I were going to watch anyone perform, it would be you! Be spontaneous, remember?”
“Yeah, spontaneous!” Riley seconds.
I glance between the three people, noting their expressions. Hope from the lady, excitement from Riley, and…interest from Thatcher. Well, I already have on my sexiest lingerie, and the stage lighting is perfect.
“Okay,” I sigh. “I’ll do it.”
I can’t help but notice, as I leave Thatcher behind and follow Riley backstage, that the excitement that’s always palpable before I perform is missing. Instead, all I feel is unease. And all I can think about is my solnyshko.