by Monica Burns
Puzzled, Jane studied her friend’s profile. The abrupt break in Angélique’s voice made Jane think the other woman had caught herself from saying something quite different. Although the two of them were as close as sisters, Jane knew there were still secrets in Angélique’s background that her friend had yet to share.
“What are you going to do?” Jane asked.
Angélique patted Jane’s hand in an absent-minded gesture and turned away to walk to her secretaire. The Frenchwoman picked up a piece of paper and stared at it for a long moment then lifted her head to meet Jane’s gaze.
“When I first opened the doors of La Maison des Plaisirs Sombres, I knew a thing such as this might happen. So, I took steps in the hope I could prevent it.” Angélique shook her head as if unable to believe the misfortune that had befallen her. “This is a list of every member who has ever entered my establishment.”
“The pseudonyms they use in the club or their actual names?” Jane stared at her friend in surprise.
“Their actual names. It’s a requirement for joining the club. It also ensures I receive the monthly fee required to enter La Maison des Plaisirs Sombres. In return, members receive anonymity within the club with the understanding that their name is one of the ways I protect my clients from discovery.”
“That is why there are members who don’t bother to hide their identity.” Jane said with quiet comprehension.
“Oui, I am not aware of any woman in the club who reveals her identity, at least not openly, but a large number of men have always felt free to go sans domino. Now, all of that has changed.” The bitterness in Angélique’s voice revealed how devastating the betrayal was for her.
“How may I help?” At Jane’s question the Frenchwoman looked at her with an expression of sadness.
“Perhaps it is best you not visit the club for a while.” Angélique’s soft words were like a hard blow to Jane’s body. She stared at her friend in amazement before she clenched her jaw and shook her head.
“Absolutely not,” she said with a sharp shake of her head. “I will not desert you, and I’ll not give up the freedom I enjoy in the club.”
“But chérie—”
“Not another word, Angélique. We must find this traitor as soon as possible,” Jane said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Now, what do we need to do?”
“I have already written notes to all the members explaining what has happened,” Angélique gestured toward the stack of notes on her desk. “Henri and Jacques will deliver them directly to members this morning.”
“Good. What else?”
“Maurice will ensure all members are aware of what has happened when they enter La Maison des Plaisirs Sombres this evening. Then we wait.” Angélique sighed. “And that will be the hardest part of all.”
“Then we must see to it that you’re occupied until we discover who’s betrayed the club and one of its members,” Jane said firmly as an idea took root in her head. If there was anyone who would know what looked well on her, it would be Angélique. “We shall visit your modiste.”
“Modiste?” Angélique raised her eyebrows in astonishment. “You despise entering a dressmaker’s shop unless it’s necessary.”
“Perhaps, but as I am to be married, I have need of new gowns that are not meant for Bernadette’s skillful modifications,” she said as she referred to Angélique’s ladies’ maid who altered the gowns she wore inside her friend’s establishment.
“Mon Dieu, you are actually considering buying something to wear outside of La Maison des Plaisirs Sombres?”
“Yes.” Jane nodded as she remembered Tobias’ stipulation that she enhance her appearance with color.
Tobias’ request would not be an easy task for her to accomplish. The standard grays of her wardrobe were more than simply practical as she’d pointed out to him. They allowed her to go unnoticed. The drab colors allowed her to fade into the background, where a more colorful gown only opened her to possible ridicule by her father and Irene.
“So, ma petite, you have come to realize how hideous these gray gowns are.” Angélique flicked her fingers toward Jane’s gown with a sneer of disgust.
“My dresses are practical and serviceable,” she said firmly.
“They should be burned.” The Frenchwoman curled her lip with condescension. “And I cannot refuse the chance to make you a butterfly.”
“Forgive me, Angélique, but it is impossible to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear,” Jane said with a laugh.
“We shall see. Look what I have done when it comes to the gowns you have bought for La Maison des Plaisirs Sombres.” The Frenchwoman shrugged her shoulders in disagreement as she focused her gaze on Jane’s dress. With a small noise that echoed with resolve, Angélique met Jane’s gaze with a smile. “Come, we will go to Madame Duval’s shop. We will go now, before you think of an excuse to stop me.”
Determination and glee crossed the Frenchwoman’s features as she caught Jane by the hand and tugged her toward the salon door. Jane went willingly and ignored the reason why she did so without any protest.
Chapter 3
Jane leaned over the rail to watch the performance below. It wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed Angélique hold sway over a man. Nonetheless, watching her friend exerting her will over her submissive lover invoked the same awe as it always did. Angélique was considered the most powerful Lady in La Maison des Plaisirs Sombres, and every time Jane watched her friend in the Obedience Chamber, she understood why men stared at Angélique with such intense lust. Her mind rushed back to the first time she’d ever witnessed her friend in the chamber.
That night had been an eye-opening experience as she’d watched her friend seduce a man with just a simple touch or look. Jane had wavered between shock and a fascination. Nothing in her darkest, most wicked dreams could have prepared her for what took place in La Maison des Plaisirs Sombres. Not even her singular experience with Barnaby, which had been far from memorable other than for the pain that had followed, could have prepared her for the sinfully erotic acts found in the club. Jane shoved the memory of her past aside and returned her attention to the couple in the center of the room below.
For not the first time, Jane marveled at Angélique’s ability to literally bring a man to his knees. The Frenchwoman did so with a sinful decadence that enticed, tempted, and excited the man at her feet. And the man was definitely aroused. Jane drew in a sharp breath of renewed excitement as the handle of Angélique’s whip gently scraped its way up along the man’s erection before lightly tapping the tip of his phallus. The action made the man groan loudly.
“Please, my Lady.”
Angélique ignored the fervent plea and slowly circled the man. The Frenchwoman was like a lioness studying her prey. In this venue, her friend dominated the man. Yet despite being the one in control, Angélique still retained her alluring presence. She was a siren calling to the man. With a dark, seductive self-assurance, she tempted him to follow her every movement and touch.
Gentle, tender, and loving, her friend controlled the man at her feet not with force, but with her strength of will. It was the darkest of seductions, and the man willingly, eagerly submitted himself to the Frenchwoman’s commands. From where she sat in the gallery, the sight of Angélique circling the naked man kneeling on the floor enthralled Jane. There was a raw sensuality in the way Angélique moved. Deliberately and patiently, Angélique bent the man to her will with little more than a smile here, a playful touch, and a promise of something more, but only when she chose to give it.
It had never occurred to Jane until her first visit to La Maison des Plaisirs Sombres that a woman could be so strong in her ability to control a man and yet retain her soft feminine nature as well. It was clear Angélique and her lover had chosen their roles. Not once since the couple had entered the chamber had her friend coerced or punished the man to keep him in the room.
Completely free of any bonds, the man could have left the room at any point in time. Inste
ad, he willingly surrendered himself to Angélique’s quiet, sometimes playful, commands. The man had even begged for the Frenchwoman to whip him in the belief that pain would ease the torment of his arousal. Her friend’s skill with the whip had inflicted little more than pinpricks on the man’s back, and it was obvious the experience had only served to increase the man’s need for Angélique.
Sweat covered the man’s back. It glistened, darkened by a slight tinge of red from the small scratches the thong had left on his skin. A simple cloth mask hid the man’s features, but not his state of arousal as Angélique continued to deny him what he clearly craved. A deep groan escaped the man, and the sound sent a shiver of excitement racing across Jane’s skin.
The man’s desire to please the Frenchwoman, no matter what she commanded, stirred something deep inside Jane. The sensation was visceral and intense in nature. It was the same feeling she had every time she watched Angélique in the Obedience Chamber. It made Jane feel capable of a similar strength as well. What would it feel like to have Tobias growl with need at her feet in the same way this man did for her friend?
Her pulse skidded out of control before she ruthlessly smacked the idea aside. Even if such a thing were remotely possible, the man was dangerous. A danger she didn’t need in her life. She winced. It was too late for that. Soft laughter echoed around her, and Jane’s gaze quickly scanned the audience in the gallery. The evening crowd was smaller than usual tonight with only a scattered few foregoing a domino.
In all likelihood, Angélique’s hand-delivered notes to her clientele had made people wary about visiting the club, or at least made them take extra care to protect their identity. Whoever the traitor was, it was important to find the person as quickly as possible. More laughter echoed quietly on the balcony, and Jane turned her attention back to the chamber below. Angélique slowly walked around the man kneeling at her feet, her fingers lightly stroking her lover’s shoulder before she stopped in front of him.
A bright turquoise mask, trimmed with black lace, covered Angélique’s face. Her dark hair was swept back in a chignon leaving her shoulders bare. The corset Angélique wore matched the color of her mask, and it pushed the Frenchwoman’s bosom upward until her nipples rested on the edge of the boned garment. Attached to the corset was a black skirt that completely covered the rest of her body. The Frenchwoman bent at the waist and gently lifted the man’s head. In a tender gesture, she brushed aside a lock of hair.
“Do you wish to please me, mon ange?
“Yes, my Lady.” The man’s voice was a harsh rasp as his eyes remained downcast.
“Then tell me what you desire. What is it you want from me?”
Angélique’s voice was soft and soothing as she positioned her body so the man’s face was less than mere inches away from the front of her skirt. The man shuddered, and Jane saw his upper body strain forward. Angélique pushed him back slightly with the rod of her whip, and the man swallowed hard.
“To serve you, my Lady.”
“Ah, so you think you can please me?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“I am not so certain of this, mon esclave.” There was a note of amused skepticism in Angélique’s voice.
“I know I can, my Lady, if you will but give me the privilege of doing so.”
The man’s face illustrated he was deep in the throes of a white-hot desire, and yet he continued to keep his gaze focused on the floor in front of him. With a small laugh, Angélique caught up two looped ribbons hanging from her waist and pulled them back to hook them around a knot of fabric positioned just below the small of her back.
The moment her friend tugged on the ribbons, her black satin skirt parted to reveal Angélique’s naked body. She swallowed hard at her friend’s ability to reveal herself so openly to anyone watching her. Jane was certain she’d never have the courage to expose herself in front of the gallery with the same confidence the Frenchwoman possessed. A dark guttural sound poured out of the man’s throat, and he quickly leaned forward. The Frenchwoman immediately took a step backward.
“Tch, tch, tch, you are too eager, mon cher.”
“But you are so beautiful, my Lady. What slave would not want to serve you?”
“And how do you think you can serve me, mon esclave?” Angélique laughed again.
“Please, my Lady. May I drink from you? May I give you pleasure by licking and sucking on you?”
“Ah, so you wish to taste me, eh, mon chou?”
Using her crop, Angélique pushed the man backward until he was sitting on his haunches, his head upright, but his eyes still downcast. Slowly, Angélique slipped her fingers between her legs to stroke herself. There was no doubt in Jane’s mind that the man’s pleas to satisfy Angélique aroused the Frenchwoman. It was evident in the way her friend touched herself, her features taut with pleasure as her head fell backward and she pleasured herself in front of her lover.
The man drew in a sharp hiss of air that echoed with need as he watched Angélique caress the place between her legs. Despite the prurient nature of the Frenchwoman’s actions, there was something utterly seductive in the way Angélique’s actions made the man at her feet groan with desire. It pulled the darkest of fantasies from Jane’s subconscious out into the light.
Angélique slowly pulled her fingers out from between her legs. Fingers glistening in the candlelight with a pale white cream, she laced the man’s lips with her essence. Eagerly and frenetically, the man sucked at her fingers with a voracity that took Jane’s breath away. The man’s hedonistic actions illustrated how easily Angélique seduced any man she chose to bring into the Obedience Chamber. Every time she watched the play between Angélique and the men who served her, it aroused a craving inside Jane to possess the same feminine control over a man. It was a hunger the small voices of her upbringing and society tried to make her deny, but they failed.
Perhaps it was the way her friend’s raw, physical sensuality transcended the rigors of societal conventions. Where others might see hedonistic practices, Jane saw the beauty of the human body in its most emancipated form of desire and need. Nowhere in her life had Jane ever seen or thought to experience such strength or control by a woman over a man. But here at La Maison des Plaisirs Sombres, Angélique demonstrated that a woman had the ability to take her pleasure in the manner of her own choice.
The sensitive spot between Jane’s legs pulsed with a need she knew would only be relieved later in the privacy of her own room. As Angélique continued to seduce her charge, a sudden frisson streaked across Jane’s skin. It created an undefinable sense of awareness that swept through her like a hot breeze. Confused by the sensation, she shifted her gaze from the chamber below to the audience in the gallery.
Her gaze swiftly surveyed the small group of members watching Angélique and her lover in an effort to find an explanation for the odd sensation winding its way through her. She was about to dismiss her peculiar reaction when she saw him. The low lighting in the corner of the gallery cloaked his features. Arms folded across his chest, the stranger stood with one shoulder pressed into the wall. It was a nonchalant pose that suggested great strength, and he exuded a dangerous appeal that left her breathless. She knew she should turn away, but something about him captivated her attention.
Despite the shadows, she could tell he was looking in her direction, and she was certain his focus was on her and no one else. Even without seeing his face, Jane recognized the sheer magnetism of the man’s presence. Power in its most potent form flowed off of him and filled the distance between them. What would it be like to harness that power and bend it to her will? Her mouth went dry at the thought.
To make this man do her bidding was a heady thought. No, it was a dangerous thought. Jane swallowed the knot swelling in her throat. She was assuming he would be willing to submit to her. Just the aura of strength surrounding him said it was more than likely he would expect her to submit. Jane immediately rejected that possibility. Submitting to a man within the walls of La Mai
son des Plaisirs Sombres was an abhorrent idea. Outside of this sanctuary, she was forced to obey the edicts of others and constraints of society. Here in La Maison des Plaisirs Sombres, there were no such limitations, and she refused to give up the freedom she’d found within these walls.
The air suddenly thickened making it difficult to breathe as the stranger straightened upright in a slow, lazy movement. Excitement, mixed with trepidation, slid through her veins as she watched him. His movement emulated that of one of the tigers she’d seen pacing in their cages in Regent Park. Like those large jungle cats, there was a raw, primitive strength beneath the stranger’s seemingly lazy shift in posture.
An image of him on his knees before her made Jane’s chest tighten at the prospect. What would it be like for her to do with him as she pleased? Her mouth went dry at the thought. Beneath his dark suit, she was certain she’d find a hard, muscular body. The thought of slowly exploring him with her hands made her heart skip a beat.
She silently berated herself. Even from a distance, she was certain this wasn’t a man who was capable of submitting himself to a woman’s command. His entire demeanor shouted he would be the master of any relationship he indulged in. A shudder rippled through Jane at the thought as she considered what surrendering to this man would be like. The thought that she’d even contemplate such a possibility appalled her. All too aware of her fascination, Jane tried to calm her racing pulse. She failed as the stranger bowed in her direction. She didn’t know why, but there was a confident air about him that convinced her he was smiling.
It could have been a smile of enticement or amusement, but instinct said it was one of self-assured amusement. A confidence which would challenge her fledgling skills. Appalled, she rejected the notion. She had no desire to encourage the man. No, that wasn’t quite true. She had the desire. She simply knew it would be her downfall to answer his silent invitation. Without bothering to acknowledge the stranger, Jane slowly turned her attention back to the Obedience Chamber in a manner designed to illustrate her lack of interest. Even as she looked away from him, Jane longed to look back.