Fifty Shades of Pink: An LA Lovers Novella

by Jourdyn Kelly

  Fifty Shades of Pink

  Copyright © 2016 by Jourdyn Kelly

  Published by Jourdyn Kelly

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  ISBN Number: 978-0-9982725-0-4

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art by: Jourdyn Kelly

  Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats

  The Club

  The Invitation

  The Meeting

  The Aftermath

  The Fall

  The Parting

  The Return

  The Reunion

  The Promise

  The Mistress

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Cameo Characters & Places

  Connect with Jourdyn Kelly

  Eve Sumptor Novels:

  Something About Eve

  Flawed Perfection

  The Destined Series:

  Destined to Kill

  Destined to Love

  Destined to Meet

  The LA Lovers Series:

  Coming Home

  Fifty Shades of Pink

  THE THINGS YOU do for friends. Miranda, my best friend who doesn’t look happy with me at all at the moment, glares at me. Shit. Did I really say that out loud?

  “Cassidy, if you’re going to grumble all night, you can leave.” She stares at me, her fiery red hair a perfect complement to her being pissed at me right now.

  “Sorry,” I mumble. She knows I hate it when she calls me Cassidy. It’s Cass, damn it. But it’s her night. I have to be the supportive best friend, do what she wants to do, and be happy about it. I can be unselfish for the next couple of hours. I think. Though why she chose to come to an uppity place like this for her bachelorette party, I’ll never understand.

  Miranda and I have been friends since we were in grade school. Now, at twenty-five, she decides she’s ready to get married. Personally I think she’s too young. We’re the same age, and there’s no way in hell I’m ready for marriage. Don’t get me wrong, Connor is a great guy and all, but… well… he’s taking my best friend away from me. Damn. I’m being selfish again.

  I push past those depressing thoughts, and take in my surroundings. I should be grateful that we didn’t go to some male strip club. I’m Miranda’s ‘token gay friend’ as some of her other, not so nice friends call me. Fuck them. I’ve been in Miranda’s life way longer than they have. So they’re the ‘token straight friends’. Of course, I don’t say this to Rand. She has a hard enough time with having to defend me as it is. I just don’t fit in with her group anymore. She gets pissed when I say that, but it’s true. They’re all girly girls. And then there’s me.

  I’m what they call androgynous. I’m taller than most girls, and because I was so lanky and awkward in high school, I began working out. Now my tall, lean body is muscular. Rand’s other friends pretend they’re not interested, but I’ve seen the way they look at me. Not to be conceited or anything, but I look damn good. My facial features are a little more feminine than most people would expect when they notice my body first (yes, I wear makeup. There’s nothing wrong with that).

  My dark hair is cut short in the back, but left long in the front. That was Rand’s suggestion. My eyes are what Rand says give me “the advantage”. Whatever that means. One is a light amber color that tends to “glow” in the sun, and darken when I’m… well, being passionate. The other is a shade of blue that most people think is unnatural. My point is, it’s never a struggle for me to find female companionship if I want it. Even within Rand’s little “straight” circle.

  Not that I’ll find anything I want here. I take in my surroundings as I wait for Rand to check in. Posh enough place. A bunch of leather in different colors. White, black, red. Lace in the same shades. I don’t even know what the name of the place is, it’s that exclusive. Not sure how Rand got in here. I mean, I know all of her friends. None of them are important enough to get an invite to what I’m told is the “most exclusive club around”.

  I turn to see if Rand was done, and something catches my eye (the blue one), and I stand there with what I’m sure is a look of stupid shock. Holy shit. This is bullshit! Rand told me this was some frou-frou club, but not this kind of club!

  Rand smiles at the bouncer dude, and turns towards me with a huge smile on her face. It falters when she sees my expression, which I’m pretty positive is still stupid shock. I grab her arm, a little more roughly than I intend—how appropriate—and drag her away from the others.

  “What the fuck, Rand?”

  “Now, Cass, just calm down.”

  Oh sure. Now she calls me Cass. Because she knows I’m rightly pissed.

  “Calm down? Why didn’t you tell me this was a BDSM club?”

  “I thought you knew.” Her face is the picture of innocence. If I didn’t know her better, I’d say she was telling the truth. But I do know her better.

  “How would I know? I don’t even know the name of this… this place! You know I’m not into this shit!”

  Rand rolls her eyes. Rolls her eyes! At me! Not the greatest move there, oh best friend of mine.

  “You know, I never thought you’d be so uptight. With as much sex as you have, and all the noises I’ve heard coming from your room, I thought you’d be more open-minded.”

  “I am open-minded,” I hiss through clenched teeth. “But, I don’t get this pain shit. Or submitting to some asswipe who thinks they own you.”

  Again with the eye roll.

  “That’s not at all what it’s about,” Rand tells me with an air of haughtiness. “You, of all people, should know not to judge what you don’t understand.”

  “Oh? And you understand it?” It’s my turn to roll my eyes. The Rand I know is as vanilla as it can get. Like, seriously. She even eats vanilla ice cream.

  “Connor and I are very practiced in this lifestyle.”

  She says it so quietly I almost don’t hear her. Once I figure out what that really means, it takes all of my willpower not to say “eww”. I think it, but I don’t say it. I do not need to know that about Rand’s and Connor’s sex life.

  “That’s… I don’t even know what to say about that.”

  “Why should you say anything? It’s really none of your business.”

  “Is that how you got an invitation here?” I ask, suddenly very curious as to how into this lifestyle Rand is.

  “Connor and I are members.”

  My eyes bug out. She could have told me she had testicles, and I would have found that less shocking than what she just said.

  “How did I not know this?”

  “You don’t know because I know how you feel about this. But you are my best friend. I wanted you to be here with me tonight. This is our last night out as single ladies. Let’s have some fun!”

  “Do they know?” I jerk my head towards the glam squad who were giggling and pointing. Mature.

  “No. And I don’t want them to. They think I got the invitation from someone at work.”

  “Why didn’t you bring Connor? Don’t you think you’d have more fun with him?”

  Rand shakes her red curls at me. “Tonight is a free pass.”

  “Excuse
me?” Why did I ask? I’m not going to like the answer. I know I’m not.

  “We have tonight to do whatever we want with whomever we want.” Her brown eyes flick away from me.

  I knew I wasn’t going to like her answer! Not only does she know I don’t like this BDSM shit, but I abhor cheating! It’s why I don’t get into any damn relationships anymore. I’ve been cheated on too many times, and it hurts like a motherfucker.

  “You’re kidding me!”

  “Cass.” She pulls me closer. “I don’t expect you to understand mine and Connor’s relationship. But I do expect you to respect it.”

  “So you want me to sit around in this place while you go off and fuck some other dude?”

  “I want you to get rid of your judgements, and try to have fun. Don’t worry about what I’m doing, or who I’m doing it with.” She engulfs me in a quick hug. “What you think of me matters to me, but I won’t change for you. I’ve never asked that of you. Will you do the same for me?”

  Well, shit. She had me there. When others bullied me for being gay or androgynous, Rand was always there to support me. Never once did she complain, judge or ask me to change. If this is what she likes, and Connor doesn’t have a problem with it, who am I to say anything?

  “Fine. Have fun doing your thing. I’ll be at the bar, not judging. Just drinking.”

  Rand laughs. “No bar. We have a VIP section. The others are going to mingle. You should, too.”

  A large man in black leather, and a mask that hid more than half his face, touches Rand on the shoulder. She smiles at him before turning back to me.

  “I have to go. Please, Cass. Have some fun. It’s not as bad as you think.”

  NOT AS BAD as I think. I doubt that. I sit back in the plush leather couch—alone—and people watch. Can’t say it’s not entertaining. I notice that there are an equal number of women who are dominating as there are men. Dominatrixes? Is that what they’re called? Hell, I’ll admit I know nothing about this lifestyle. What’s interesting is there are women going off with Dominatrixes. Seems a little counterproductive to me. We all want to be strong, right? So why would we submit to another woman? Sure, it’s sexy as shit, definitely more so than seeing a woman go off with a dominating man.

  It makes me wonder. Wonder what I would do if I was with someone who wanted to dominate me. I think about that for a moment, and shake my head slightly. Nope. Never happen. I just can’t imagine being turned on by someone wanting to hurt me, or control me. Then I turned it around in my head. Could I control someone? Hurt them? Again, I shake my head. Nope. I can’t see being turned on by someone being in pain because of me.

  Even so, this place? It’s intriguing. Not raunchy, but classy, despite the leather. High-end liquors—I take a sip of the single malt scotch I had ordered, and savor it. High-end people. Oh god! What if they do drugs here? What if Rand is doing drugs? I shake that off, too. She would never…

  “I didn’t order this,” I call to the waitress that interrupted my inner musings by placing a shot glass of amber liquid in front of me.

  “It’s from Mistress,” the young woman answers. Her voice holds a bit of awe when she says Mistress, and I’m immediately interested in what or who could cause that reaction. I look behind me, then to each side, but I see no one who is focused on me. I raise the shot glass in the air, a salute to whomever may or may not be watching, and slam it back. Holy fuck that stings! Fireball whiskey. My eyes water, but I will myself not to cough or show any kind of outward discomfort. Though in a place like this I’m sure my discomfort will turn my admirer on.

  I glance at my watch. We’ve been here for thirty minutes, and I haven’t seen Rand or the others since we came in. I try not to think about that. Instead, I wonder if I’m going to get another shot. Or maybe an invitation. I’d have to turn it down, but it’s always nice to know you’re wanted. With that thought running through my mind, I almost miss the light pink fingernails that tap a pink card laying upon my table. Funny, I didn’t notice that there before.

  I bring my eyes up in time to see the most perfect, white leather clad ass I have ever seen in my entire life. Seriously, if I were a man, that ass would have me at full attention in less than 30 seconds. As it is, everything that I have that can stand at attention, is. Somehow I tear my eyes away from the sway of perfection, and pick up the pink card. Turning it over to examine it, I realize there’s nothing on it at all. It’s completely blank. Just a plain, pink card.

  “Excuse me,” I call out, flagging down the waitress that gave me the shot. She smiles at me, then sees the card in my hand. I swear, if her eyes got any bigger, they’d probably pop out of her head. “What is this?”

  “Where did you get that?” Well, hell. Why did she have to sound all accusatory? I’m just sitting here minding my own damn business.

  “Some woman left it on my table, then walked that way.” I point towards a darkened hallway.

  “She left this?”

  Again with the awe. “Who is she?”

  “Mistress.” The young waitress shakes her head. “I always thought this was a myth.” Her mouth snaps shut, and she looks around. I look around with her, and wonder what the deal is. It’s not like she gave up the secret of life. Shit, she hasn’t even really told me what this damn card means. Myth?

  “Mind telling me what the ‘myth’ means?” I ask, trying not to sound as frustrated as I am.

  “She wants you.”

  “Who?”

  “Mistress.”

  Is this “Mistress” the one with the perfect ass? Because if so, I’m seriously reconsidering my position on BDSM. Great. Now I’m thinking about positions with Mistress.

  “What do I do with this?” I wave the card in front of her still bugging eyes.

  She looks around again. What? She doesn’t know?

  “You’re to go to the Pink Room.” She looks at me now. Really looks at me. Hey, it’s fine. I know I look good tonight. I’m wearing black boots and jeans with a crisp, white button-up shirt. It was unbuttoned enough that if I had cleavage, it would be showing. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows revealing some of my tattoos. I don’t have full sleeve tattoos, just a few really important ones on my arms and chest. Okay, maybe a few in a few other strategic places.

  “And where would that be?” I ask after giving her a full minute to peruse my body. I don’t know if she’s impressed or not. Frankly, I don’t care. I just want to know who this Mistress is, and what she wants from me.

  “Follow me.”

  WHAT AM I getting myself into? Why am I even following this chick to this “pink room” at the behest of some ‘mistress’ I haven’t even seen? Okay, I’ve seen her ass. And that alone was reason enough, apparently, to get my ass up and walking down this darkened hall.

  The ‘waitress-in-awe’ stops in front of a soft pink door, the same shade of the nails I saw tapping the card.

  “In here,” she says, glancing once at the door (is that jealousy in her eyes?) before hurrying away.

  Now what? Do I knock? Just go in? I decide to tap lightly on the door. When I don’t hear anything, I let myself in. My breath catches in my throat, my mouth is dry (other parts, not so much), and I’m not sure I have a coherent thought in my mind other than I want her under me. And, all of that happens without seeing her face. That’s right. She has a mask on. Much like the one the dude that took Rand away had on, only Mistress’s was white to match her outfit.

  “Come.”

  Oh, honey. With a body like that, and a voice as sweet as yours, I could definitely come. If I had use of my tongue that’s what I would have said. Or I would be using my tongue for something much more pleasurable than talking. Unfortunately, nothing was working. Not my tongue, not my brain, not even my legs. So I just stand there. Like an idiot. She’s probably thinking she just made a huge mistake picking me out of the lot.

  “Sit.”

  Her eyes flicker to the chair that is directly in front of her. She sits with impeccable postur
e, her hands clasped together on her lap. Her ankles were crossed in an almost relaxed state, but I can see tension. Maybe I was imagining that. What could she possibly have to be tense about. I was the one being ordered around like a dog.

  She tilts her head to the side, her exquisite silver—that’s the only way I know how to describe them—eyes never leave mine. Her long, golden locks fall over her shoulder as she studies me.

  “You don’t like being told what to do.”

  It’s not a question, so I don’t bother answering. I probably couldn’t anyway. You know, my tongue being all tied and shit. I still don’t move, but she does. She begins to rise, and suddenly my tongue and feet decide to work again.

  “Wait!” I quickly move to the chair, and sit. Look, I may not understand this BDSM shit, but I’m not a damn fool. This woman is gorgeous—what I can see of her. I’m not about to miss an opportunity to be with her. Besides, who says I can’t turn the tables once we’ve started?

  “Why are you here?”

  Goddamn, but her voice makes me tingle all over. I want to give her everything she wants. Answers, orgasms, kids. Fuck, I don’t care what she wants, I just want to give it to her. She must be really good at what she does. And that thought sobers me pretty quickly. I just learned that I do not like thinking about her with others.

  “I’m here in support of my friend.” A friend who practically abandoned me the moment we got here. To fuck some stranger before she got married. “Of course I haven’t seen her since.”

  She nods. “Miranda. She and her friends are being well taken care of. You didn’t join in the fun.”

  “Not my scene.” I don’t like the bitter taste in my mouth thinking about Rand and what she was doing.

  “You don’t approve.”

  I shrug. Again, it wasn’t a question. “Who am I to judge? I’m sure you get a lot of cheaters in here. Part of the reason I could never get into this lifestyle. What if I did something wrong? Forgot to obey? My ‘Dom’ would just find someone who would, right?” Yeah, yeah. I’m judging again. I can’t help it. I have no reason to feel this insane jealousy when it comes to the woman in front of me. I don’t even know her name. But it hurt more thinking about her being with others the way Rand was than it did when I was cheated on by those I thought I cared about. Irrational.