by Mika Lane
“Whoa. What came of it?” My shaking hands sent a splash of champagne onto the sofa. Dammit.
“People gradually came back after Miss M stepped up security. And the guy? Rumor has it he disappeared.”
“What? What do you mean, disappeared?”
Jesus, what have I gotten myself in to?
“Well, of course he never showed his face at the club again. But a couple folks knew him from around town. They said they never saw him again out and about. His phone was disconnected, his apartment abandoned.”
My eyes grew wide with horror. What the fuck?
P smiled, shrugging. “But like I said, that’s just a rumor. Probably not even true.”
Holy shit.
Chapter 9
Varden
It was a relief to get out of the house after bailing out Beau. The poor bastard had had nothing but a dark cloud hanging over his head since he was a kid. It was one of the reasons I didn’t get upset with him. Maybe I was an enabler, but I really believed he was doing the best he could. Given the circumstances.
Like always, the ritual of pulling my mask on transformed me into a different person—one without a care in the world. I said my customary hellos on the first floor of the club, spent my usual five minutes flirting with Miss M, and then wandered up to the second floor mezzanine. It was early yet. Not much was going on.
I inhaled the wood scent of my mask, further chasing away concerns of the day and erasing, at least for a time, both the past and future. Wearing it, I existed only in the moment. And I desperately needed it on a night like tonight, when the past threatened to catch up and take me down.
No one could see my face, no one knew who I was, and no one knew anything about me. I was nobody but G, and that was just how I planned to keep it.
In the dimly lit the mezzanine, two women perched on the sofa where X, Y, and Z had been several nights before. I passed them on my way to get a bourbon, and threw a small smile their way. I wasn’t ready to engage. Hell, I might not be the entire night. I was usually all too happy for any hot chick to wrap her lips around my hard dick, but tonight I was feeling mellow. Watching might be the extent of things. Time would tell.
Drink in hand, I settled into a large, comfy club chair in a corner where I figured I’d be left alone, and where I’d have enough privacy to lift my mask long enough for a long draw on my liquor.
I tried to get a better look at the two women I’d just passed, but it was hard in the low light. From what I could see, the first, a stunner with short black hair, was a club regular. I’d played with her once or twice. What the hell was her name? With these silly one-letter labels, I could barely keep anyone straight.
I couldn’t get a read on the woman opposite her, facing away from me. She had nicely toned shoulders and arms—that much I could make out, thanks to her skimpy top. Thick dark hair spilled in waves down her back. Perfect for grabbing. She ran her hand through it over and over, as if she were nervous. That sort of vulnerability killed me, and usually ended up working in my favor.
I finished my drink and headed for the third floor. There was probably something going on up there; there always was. I could usually count on seeing some gorgeous thing get pounded by a guy with a baseball bat for a dick. Those scenes often turned into group play. Great way to get your balls licked, if you were in the mood.
But approaching the stairs, a surprise nearly blasted me off my feet. The women I’d just been checking out were heading upstairs, themselves.
And the one in the halter-top whose face I’d not been able to see?
I knew her. In fact, I’d just seen her one hour earlier.
Holy shit.
She was my fucking attorney’s daughter. The pretty young thing who worked for the paper.
What was her name again? Susie? Sally? Cindy?
What the hell was she doing there? And what would her old man say?
I had half a mind to leave the club. Just go home. Call it a night.
They climbed the stairs, noticing me standing in place, frozen. Thank god for the mask.
“Hi, G,” the one with the red lips said.
“Nice to see you,” I managed to return.
Hugh’s daughter smiled and said nothing.
Saffi. Her name was Saffi.
Dinner ran through my mind again. I hadn’t really paid her much attention, aside from thinking how gorgeous she was and how it might be nice to fuck her, had she not been my attorney’s daughter.
Apparently, she was also a kinky little slut.
After my initial surprise and the urge to bolt wore off, I followed them because, of course, who the hell wouldn’t? Had she been there before? Was this her first time? And how the hell did she even get in?
I sure liked what I saw, just as I had at dinner. Nice, curvy ass encased in tight jeans, and that low-cut halter showing just enough side boob to reveal some very nice and very real tits.
To put a little distance between us, I pretended I was looking for someone. It wouldn’t pay to seem stalkerish. And wouldn’t you know it, they headed right for the ultra-private Twist Room. My Twist Room. Christ.
They knocked, and the huge bouncer admitted them. He noticed me, too, and beckoned me inside. Men went through all sorts of membership hell to join Club Silk, and even more to have access to Twist. But beautiful women had only to look in the direction of the door, and the discriminating and loyal bouncer not only welcomed them, but also made them comfortable if there was any hesitation—like there was a party inside they couldn’t possibly miss.
The door clicked behind us. Time to make my move. Who cared if she was my attorney’s daughter? If she had the balls to show up in a place like Silk, she was fair game.
“Ladies. I hope you’re enjoying your evening,” I said.
“It’s been awhile,” the one with the lipstick replied.
That’s right. She remembers how nicely I fucked her.
“Hello, beautiful,” I said to her. “And who is your friend here?”
“Ah. This is…I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?” she asked Saffi.
“I’m B.” She extended a hand.
My cock was getting harder by the moment.
“Welcome to the club, B. Is this your first time?”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
Interesting.
“How’d you find out about our little slice of heaven?” I asked.
Nervousness washed over her face. “Oh, um, a friend told me. Word of mouth, you could say.”
She was lying. I’d been around long enough to smell bullshit.
“Well, if you have a few minutes, I’d like to get you a drink.” Without waiting for an answer, I turned to Red Lipstick. “You wouldn’t mind excusing us for a bit, would you?”
Lipstick smiled brightly at me. She was a beauty, no doubt. But she knew the way things worked at the club, and she’d be the last one to cock block me. “Of course, darling.” She turned to Saffi. “I’ll be right over here, catching up with friends.”
She pointed to a tufted mattress where a woman was being fucked from behind by one guy, and in the mouth by another.
Taking Saffi by the elbow, I led her to a small love seat. “Tell me, B, what can I get you to drink?”
She leaned back into the soft cushions, draping an arm over the back. Was she gaining some confidence? Or maybe she was just a mediocre actress.
“A glass of champagne would be great, thank you.”
When I returned with our drinks, I sat at the other end of the love seat and turned to face her.
“So, a friend told you about this place. That’s interesting,” I said.
Her brow furrowed the tiniest bit. “It is? Why?”
“Well, we don’t get many new people that way. But it’s all good. Don’t worry. I’m sure Miss M is very glad to have you.”
“Yeah, she sat me down and told me the rules.”
“Oh, yes. The goddamn rules. I guess we need a few of those to make a place lik
e this work.”
Holy shit. Was I really hanging out with my legal counsel’s daughter? In a sex club? If Hugh Bartlett ever got wind of this…well, shit. He was one of the top lawyers in San Francisco. I could only imagine what he would do if he were pissed off enough.
Chapter 10
Saffi
Only fifteen minutes in, but so far, sex clubs rocked.
The place was overwhelming. Refraining from staring was simply not possible. I couldn’t help myself. In the few minutes I’d been in the Twist Room, the place had filled up. P’s dress was down around her waist, and a man and a woman enjoyed each of her bare breasts. Gradually, the dress came completely off, revealing a clean-shaven pussy, which she began to finger with fury.
Jesus. She’s gonna come.
I’d never seen a woman orgasm. Well, except in porn, and everyone knew that shit was fake. On top of that, I’d never been with a woman—something I was beginning to think I might be interested in changing.
At the other end of the room, a man lay on his back with a woman straddling his hips. She leaned forward, kissing him. Just behind her was another guy. Holy shit, no way. The guy in back had loaded up his hand and then his cock with a bunch of lube. And now that cock was disappearing into that woman’s—ass. Yes, ass.
What a night to remember. For the sake of the paper, of course.
The woman, nearing delirium, moaned loudly. The guys were pretty damn loud, too, with their grunts and groans. I looked around to see if I was the only looky-loo staring, but the three had attracted attention from many in the room.
“You seem to like what you’re seeing,” my new friend whispered.
No shit.
G—the club nickname of a guy wearing a wild-looking Venetian mask—seemed to have taken a liking to me, at least enough to spirit me away from my new “friend,” P.
I turned my attention back to him. “Well, don’t you think it’s hot? I mean, come on.” I gestured to all the people gathered around to watch.
His head twitched the tiniest amount. God, I wish I could have seen his face. I was at such a disadvantage.
He didn’t miss a beat. “The first time you see other people fucking, it’s kind of shocking. But once you get used to it, it’s pretty damn alluring,” he said, quietly.
His voice sounded tinny from inside the mask. I guess I understood the desire to disguise one’s identity. Indeed, it seemed about half the club felt that way. But it would have been nice to see the man I was speaking with.
“It is pretty amazing,” I agreed.
He stood, hand extended. “Let’s get a better look.”
“Really? It’s not, I don’t know…tacky?” Someone I’d not known fifteen minutes ago was inviting me to watch sex.
“It’s to be expected, watching and being watched,” he said, leading me over to the threesome. “Have you ever been watched?”
Kind of a personal question. But given where we were, it seemed par for the course.
“No,” I said, trying to stay cool, like I talked about things like this all the time. “In college, my roommate and I sometimes had our boyfriends stay over at the same time. We’d all be going at it, but the lights would be out.” I shook me head. “It was nothing like this, that’s for sure.”
He laughed. “I remember those days. I guess some things never change.”
“What about you?” It was so strange to talk to someone whose eyes were the only thing I could see. No expression to read, no emotion to react to. And I could barely see his eyes as it was, with the room so dark.
He paused before answering me. “I’ve enjoyed my time as a member of the club. Let’s just say that.”
The woman just next to me, nude but for high heels, leaned into the man behind her. One of his hands worked its way in and out of her pussy lips, slowing to provide her clit extra attention. She writhed against him, one hand gripping his arm for balance, the other stroking her own breasts.
Another member of the audience had freed his cock from the fly of his trousers and was stroking it in a leisurely rhythm. In the outside world you’d call the cops on that. But at Club Silk, it seemed all bets were off.
The other voyeurs were enthralled, some silent and awestruck, while others chatted quietly as if they were studying a work of art.
The subject of all this attention, the threesome, seemed not to notice. The woman being pummeled in two places had closed her eyes, having reached another plane of being. She ground onto the cock below her while the one behind slowly made its way in and out of her ass.
How the hell would I put this in my story?
The experience stunned me into an erotic daze. The three were entirely in sync, enjoying their own pleasure as equally as their lovers’. I shifted to get comfortable in my binding blue jeans, and when I looked down, found my nipples jutting hard against my silk top.
I wobbled in my high-heeled boots, and just as wooziness overtook me, G caught my arm and lowered me to a close by sofa.
“You almost fainted,” he said, pushing errant strands of hair from my face.
The room was still swirling. “Could I get a glass of cool water, please?” I asked, and leaned my head back on the sofa.
When he returned, he ran a small ice cube over the back of my neck. God, that felt good.
“Thank you. I don’t know what happened. I guess it was the champagne, the excitement...” I shook my head to clear the cobwebs.
He ran his palm along my cheek. It felt nice, but with the mask between us, it was oddly non-intimate.
“Why do you wear that?” I asked, running a finger along the filigree trim.
He placed my hand back in my lap. Geez.
“I like my privacy.”
“Do you take it off?”
“Nope. Not in the club, anyway.”
With the heady setting, coupled with the champagne and G’s seductive attentions, I’d nearly forgotten my purpose for being there. “Have you been a member long?” I asked, easing back into reporter mode.
His fingers entwined mine. Smart move, this guy. Make the girl relaxed, admired, and then go in for the kill.
“Nobody knows how long the club has been around. As for me, I’ve been a member…long enough.”
A non-answer answer.
“Okay.” Seemed that was all I was going to get. At least for now.
He ran his thumb over my lower lip. His hand smelled like expensive soap, and his rolled sleeves showed a nice, strong forearm, and just the edge of a tattoo.
“What’s with all the questions?” he asked. “Are you a private detective or something?”
With the damn mask, I couldn’t tell if he was serious or pulling my leg.
I leaned toward him and whispered, “Why yes. I am a private detective. I’m here to gather information on—” I looked for someone to gesture toward. “Him. That gentleman over there.”
“Why? What did he do?” He leaned in conspiratorially, playing along.
“Rumor has it...” I paused and looked around for dramatic effect. “That he waters his lawn when California’s in a drought.”
G laughed from behind his mask, shaking his head.
Whew. Close one.
So far, I hadn’t gathered much of anything to build a story around. But I’d gotten a ton of material that I could…um…dream about. That sort of thing.
I stood. Time for good-byes. I saw P on the other side of the room, having fun with a new couple—a very expensively dressed man, and a woman who looked like a model. She moved back and forth between kissing the two of them.
Damn.
I caught her eye, and she waved and blew me a kiss. So I blew one back. When in Rome…
I turned to G, yawning dramatically. “I need to head home. Early morning.”
He stood slowly and tilted his head at me. “I’ll walk you out.”
As we approached the ground floor, he stopped me on the stairs and seized a shank of hair from the back of my head. Holy shit. With a tug, he pulled
my head back, holding it close enough to his face that I could hear his breath.
I closed my eyes, tumbling into the sensation of a strange man taking control. And as soon as I did, he spun me around to bend me over the stair railing. With my balance thrown off, there was no choice but to lean all my weight on it. He’d seized the upper hand. Not that I minded.
I hadn’t come to play, but if I were an ice queen, wouldn’t that raise suspicion?
Oh hell, who was I kidding. I was dying for release. Watching all that fucking was not for the faint of heart, and especially not for someone who badly needed to get off. The atmosphere was irresistible. I wouldn’t have made it home without at least one good orgasm in the car.
“Pull down your jeans,” he growled, tightening his grip on my hair.
My hands flew to unbutton my pants. I hesitated and glanced around, seeing people in various stages of undress all around.
So I undid my fly—all in the name of research—and pushed my jeans to just below my ass cheeks.
G followed by hooking a finger in the lace of my thong panty. In an instant, my ass was entirely bare, my sex throbbing from the thrill of exposure.
And strangely, there was no embarrassment. On the contrary, it was empowering. And fucking sexy as hell. Exhibitionism was underrated.
His warm hand ran over my ass, and then thwack! He’d smacked my right cheek good and hard. And it hurt. But just when the stinging reached its crescendo, his large palm relieved my burning skin with a soft, smooth touch, calming the fire.
Thwack!
This time he’d smacked my left ass cheek. And again, as my flesh screamed in pain, he soothed me. For a moment, I considered protesting out of decorum, having never been spanked before. But the truth was, I wanted him to continue. It was confusing as hell. The more turned on I got, the more confused I became, vacillating between wondering if our play was okay or whether it was degrading, and admitting I loved it.
His lips touched my ear. “You like that, my little friend? You like having your sweet ass smacked till it’s bright pink? You should see it. So pretty, all worked up.”