The Braille Club (The Braille Club #1)

by J. A. Kerr

  The Braille Club

  J.A. Kerr

  The Braille Club

  Copyright © 2015 by J.A. Kerr. All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: July 2015

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-206-2

  ISBN-10: 1-68058-206-2

  No part of this book may be 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. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  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 locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Ben

  57

  Take the pieces and build them skywards.

  Dedication

  I want to thank my amazing editors, you did a terrific job.

  I would like to thank my mum who passed on her passion for books, for which I’ll always be grateful.

  To all my family and friends for believing.

  To my angels for their friendship.

  To G, C and L, all my love, I couldn’t have done it without you.

  Author’s Note:

  This was my dream, to write a successful book. Thank you for making my dream a reality.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  A BRAILLE PARTY, MARBELLA, 10 YEARS AGO.

  2002

  The air, heavy with scent and excitement, caresses the guests as they mingle. Laughter and anticipation make them giddy and carefree. Those in the know, wait—for those who are new an explosive experience lies ahead. Their host enters the room, the game is about to begin.

  Will and Benedict graduated together but were not close friends. Let down by his friend on a holiday he booked, Will talked Benedict into going instead. He mentioned an exclusive party and hinted Benedict would not want to miss it. With the graduation money Benedict’s father gave him burning a hole in his pocket, he’d gone on impulse, enjoying his step-mother’s look of dismay. Benedict would be leaving immediately. She had organised a small graduation dinner, and he now had the perfect excuse not to attend.

  Will had been mysterious about the event, saying only it was a Braille Party.

  “What’s a Braille Party?” Benedict asked.

  “All will be revealed when we get there,” said Will evasively.

  They’d gone straight to the party from the airport and were grateful of the drink they received on arrival. The room was already busy as it was late, and they soon blended with the crowd. After half an hour, Benedict became aware of their host. He entered the room and gradually as people noticed him, they stopped talking. When the room fell completely silent, he asked everyone to follow him. Benedict looked at Will, uncertain, and he nodded. They followed the host as he led everyone into an enormous room, breath-taking in its splendour. Each guest was handed a blindfold as they entered.

  Sensing Benedict’s hesitation, Will pushed him through the door. Benedict stared at the blindfold in his hand and followed the others, stopping in front of several rows of chairs. They were widely spaced and unusual in appearance, rich ochre velvet with narrow padded backs. The vast room featured an enormous fireplace and expensive chandeliers.

  The host explained the blindfolds were part of the game. Once the blindfolds went on, they could not be removed until everyone was instructed to do so. Anyone with an issue with this must leave the room. No one moved and Benedict stood, intrigued to learn more. A mixture of people, both male and female, stood listening. Benedict only knew Will; the rest were strangers. Scanning the room, Benedict saw excitement. Everyone was told to follow the host’s instructions to the letter. Anyone not complying would be removed.

  “Put your blindfolds on now,” the host commanded.

  Self-consciously, Benedict did as instructed. The blindfold was like nothing he’d seen before. More like a hood that fitted over the head, it rested on the bridge of the nose like an eye mask. Soft weighted padding around the eyes made it fit snugly into the sockets and plunged the wearer into absolute darkness.

  Benedict pulled his on and felt panic rise in him as complete disorientation took over. The eyes are the wireless control that coordinates our mind and body. Without them, the rest of the senses are shocked into action. Benedict heard gasps and murmurs all around him from the fellow guests. He touched his hands to his face, ready to pull the hood off, when Will whispered, “Don’t be alarmed, Benedict. Breathe deeply until you get used to the dark.”

  Benedict had always hated the dark and fought to calm his racing heart.

  “Quiet,” the host admonished. The room fell silent once more. “Please concentrate on my voice. From now on you will not speak; silence is mandatory. I insist each person waits until they are escorted to their seat. When seated, please put your arms behind you so your hands may be tied.” Again gasps and murmuring from the guests.

  “Silence,” roared the host. “I assure you, ladies and gentlemen, this is an intrinsic part of the game, as you will come to understand, and a precaution to prevent you from removing your blindfolds. Anyone unhappy with this development, please raise your hand, and you will be escorted from the room, but please do not remove your blindfold until after you have left.” Benedict listened intently but sensed no movement. “You will be guided to your seats now.”

  Benedict jumped as firm hands guided him to his seat and wondered why he hadn’t heard this person approaching. His heart raced as his senses strained. His body was rigid and he jerked as he felt a soft fabric wrap around his wrists. As he moved his hands, Benedict heard bells ringing and realised they were attached to the soft bindings.

  “Now,” said the host. “Let the fun begin. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a game of endurance, but you will experience no pain. Each person will have a unique encounter. The winner is the only
person not to make their bell ring. If you move your hands or body, the bell will ring, and your game will be over. When your bell rings, please remain seated. Someone will guide you from the room. Please nod your head if you understand and are ready to play.” Against his better judgment Benedict nodded his head. “Ladies and gentlemen, you will shortly receive a tap on your shoulder, this indicates start of play. Enjoy!”

  Again, Benedict jumped when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. All his senses heightened but disoriented as he fought to compensate for his loss of sight. Music flooded the room; its slow sensual rhythms new to him. A powerful smell of citrus and vanilla hung in the air. Benedict’s tense shoulders started to relax and he let the music soothe him as the delicious scent thrummed through his senses, making his pulse quicken.

  The contact of a fingertip on his mouth made him flinch. It traced its way across his lips in slow, sensual strokes. The fingertip moved back and forth, slippery with balm, its scent and taste delicious. The slow rhythmic movements became intense and wonderfully erotic. A warm breath on his neck was teasingly close but never quite touching. His nostrils were flooded with a stronger, headier perfume, expensive and sensual. His mind adrift, he was no longer able to concentrate on anything but the touch. He was aware of a presence, heat and movement. His lips began to tingle as his body gradually responded and registered desire.

  Benedict gasped as the fingertip changed to a pair of lips that barely grazed his neck. The whisper of a tongue on his skin had him inwardly groaning. The chair he was sitting on began to gently vibrate, pulsing below his coccyx. Sensation rocketed through his body, and something began to stir deep inside of him. Something that had been previously locked was released, like a key had been found. The vibrations seemed to match the increasingly sensuous touch on his lips and neck. Achingly slow waves of longing started to ripple through him, and he fought to keep calm. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. The music seemed to be all around him, perhaps heightened by the blindfold; he wasn’t sure.

  The fingertips and lips skilfully traced up and down his neck. They moved along his jaw and lips, grazing his throat, his ears, and his mouth over and over again. The sensations built, sending Benedict’s body into overdrive. The vibrations in the chair intensified, pushing his restraint to the limits. When the lips started to suck a little harder on his skin, he almost lost control.

  Benedict parted his lips and a soft moan escaped. He moved his head, trying to anticipate the next caress. He was aroused and lost in the sensations coursing through his body. The pulses more potent now, had everything tightening and tingling. He longed to free his hands, to touch, to control, and was frustrated he could not do so.

  He had no sense of time as fingers ran over his face, before resting at the nape of his neck. A fist tugged Benedict’s head back, and then at last, a kiss. Hot moist lips on his, electrifying his sensitised mouth beyond endurance. Connected, he kissed back hungrily, trapped in a vacuum, where only the kiss existed. It was powerful, intense, and all consuming.

  Benedict didn’t realise his bell had rung, only that the lips had stopped. Unsure if the person was behind or in front of him, male or female, it was impossible to tell. He only knew he wanted more. The kiss consumed him as he sat panting, the room warm now, making him sweat. He tried to contain his anger. He wanted more, much, much more.

  He had no idea how long he had been sitting, or who, if anyone, still remained in the room with him. Gentle hands guided him to his feet. Benedict swayed and stumbled, but strong hands held him upright and untied his hands. He moved, feeling the air change as he entered a cooler room. A voice told him to remove his blindfold but to keep his eyes closed for a short time. His eyes needed time to adjust to the light, and to open them slowly. Blinking, he sat alone in a dimly lit room.

  “Would you like a drink, sir?” asked the waiter.

  Shaken, Benedict asked for whisky. As he sipped, appreciating the quality of the malt, he assumed others would join him. He got another drink as he continued to wait, his body and mind alive. As time passed and he remained alone, he realised with a start the other guests had played the game before. Furious, he got steadily drunk before eventually falling asleep on the sofa. Benedict never found out if anyone joined him.

  Chapter 2

  THE BRAILLE CLUB

  “The Braille Club is just another Club,

  as a diamond is just another stone!”

  Braille Club, London, Present Day: Braille Club members are like any exclusive set. They have a certain air of superiority and arrogance that people recognise and resent, while wondering how to acquire it. Consisting of successful actors to members of Parliament, from religious figures to millionaires, from royalty to music legends, they all have one thing in common: an addiction to the darkness, and an addiction to The Braille Club. Created with passion—from a passion, are you ready? Close your eyes—what do you hear, a gasp? Close your eyes—what do you smell, arousal? Close your eyes—what do you feel, a touch? You are in the zone.

  Benedict Harrison is the owner of London’s newest private members club, Harrison’s and the secret Braille Club.

  He modelled his club based on an experience at a party he’d attended many years ago. Held in a beautiful mansion in Marbella, the house was vast and exquisitely furnished. His flamboyant host asked all his guests if they wanted to play a special game. Benedict was surprised when everyone in the room quickly consented and felt he had no choice but to go along with the others. That party changed his life forever.

  He could not forget the experience, the first time he had registered anything close to emotion, and closing his eyes, he was transported back to that room. Dressed in a smart blue shirt and tailored black trousers he had felt underdressed as he admired the well-cut suits and stunning dresses of his fellow guests. He discouraged intimacy as a matter of course. His opaque eyes and brooding manner isolated him from the central group. His friend disappeared into the crowd, but this didn’t bother Benedict. Isolation was very much his comfort zone. He sipped his drink slowly and breathed in the wonderful perfume that seemed to be all around him.

  Had he known its significance, he would have paid more attention to its occupants. His stand-offish manner ensured he spent the night alone, but the party had enthralled him and given him his first emotional connection. A human connection that not only had his dormant emotions stirring, but unbelievably, begging for more.

  Since then he had never met a girl he wanted to see again. Still preoccupied with that explosive unidentified kiss he’d experienced at that party, he kept searching for a similar reaction. He did not find relationships easy, and struggling to make small talk, he often came across as hostile with his dates. He needed time to get to know someone but didn’t enjoy the intimacy it required. His growing reputation as a one date heartbreaker was entirely unintentional. That kiss, the power and passion of it, had never been repeated, leaving him disappointed. He had no shortage of admirers but was beginning to lose hope he’d ever make a connection again, and the thought depressed him.

  Marbella, 2012

  Everything changed when he met Siena. Although beautiful, it was not her looks alone that attracted his attention. Her skin was the colour of summer. Her figure, long and lean, was accentuated by the sexy dress that clung to her body in all the right places. Her face was reserved, while her lips begged to be kissed; she was an unusual combination of haughtiness and seduction.

  They’d met on a business trip to Spain. He found himself at a hip club in Puerto Banus with Matt, his oldest friend—in fact his only friend. A club was the last thing he felt like after a busy day at the office, and then an evening flight into Malaga airport. They checked into their hotel, and it was Matt who suggested a taxi into Banus. Benedict tried to talk him out of it, but Matt was on a high, in excellent spirits, and Benedict hadn’t the heart to disappoint him.

  After a couple of bars, they ended up at the night club. Drinks in hand, they fought their way to a free table near the d
ance floor. Matt soon started to talk to a very pretty girl standing beside them, offering her a drink. As Benedict stood alone, he decided to leave. Tired from the journey, he also had a client meeting the next day. These places were not his thing. Turning, he scanned the faces around him, searching for Matt. His eyes found Siena standing at the table next to him. Unable to drag his gaze away from her, he was mesmerised by her beauty as she stared at him intently. Her hazel eyes seemed to glitter with mystery.

  As she approached him, her long white blonde curls, caught up in a high ponytail, caressed her bronzed skin. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Tilting her head, she smiled. Her high cheek bones and pert nose made her classically beautiful but it was her full bowed lips that hinted at passion, that he found himself staring at. She asked him to dance and before he could refuse, caught his arm and pulled him towards the dance floor.

  Lady GaGa was pumping through the speakers as they stepped amongst the crowd. Linking her hand through his, she pulled him closer. Her perfume hit him, the smell wonderful and somehow familiar, and again the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Their bodies were crushed together as they moved through the throbbing floor. They started to dance, and he could feel her hip graze against him as they moved to the rhythm of the music. He rarely indulged in alcohol, but the whisky had relaxed him and made him loose. Recognising the next song, he found, to his surprise, he could dance.

  “Sorry,” she whispered in his ear. Leaning in as a dancer behind her pushed past them, his body started to tingle, as did his memory. Such proximity so quickly would normally repel him, and he was utterly stunned he had allowed her so close…why? The music changed again, and he found himself reaching out for her. Their fingers interlocked, and it felt like a current passed between them. He pulled her close, enveloped in her scent; it was exotic and memorable. He pressed closer, feeling the heat and softness of her body as he wrapped his arms around her. It was hot and dark as he held her tight against him; their bodies locked together as they moved with the other dancers and the sexy beats of the music.