by Measha Stone
The lady at the front desk checked her in and offered assistance to her room, which she declined. She only had the two bags and her pockets weren't brimming with tip money. The room surprised her even more than the lobby. The deep, vibrant colors swept her away from the dreary morning she had awakened to in Smithton just southeast of St. Louis. It reminded her of the art galleries her grandmother took her to during her visits. She pitched her bags onto the bright orange armchair and tossed herself onto the lush bed.
“This is the starting line, Alyssa,” she announced to the empty room. “This is where it begins.” A large grin crept over her lips, and she found herself staring up at the ceiling like a loon. Leaping up, she threw back the curtains and drew in her breath at the sight before her. The lakefront was only a few blocks away, within walking distance for sure. Her cell buzzed, alerting her to the fact that she had an appointment to look at an apartment.
Several hours later, Alyssa sank into the tub of her hotel room, letting the bubbles reach the tip of her nose. The afternoon, however productive, had left her exhausted. After viewing six apartments, she managed to find one clean enough to live in and within her budget. The size wasn’t very impressive, a tiny studio rarely is, but it was furnished, and it was cheap. After she had cleared the background check and handed over the deposit, the landlord assured her she’d be able to move in by midweek.
The next item to deal with was employment. The landlord hadn’t been excited about starting the paperwork on her apartment without a job to back her up, but the three months’ rent seemed to appease the little man well enough. The bar she waitressed at was miniscule compared to the clubs of the city, but it was the only skill she had to work with at the moment.
Growing up with a single mother who thought more about where to get her next sugar daddy than making sure her little girl received a well-rounded education left her with little skills. Alyssa had managed to get through high school barely hanging on to honor roll, but with no help from her mother. When she wasn’t working, she spent tireless hours at the library.
“You need to pull your own weight.” Her mother had told her time and time again. Alyssa worked at the food court in the mall to earn enough to keep herself clothed and bus fare in her pocket. Whatever little extra she had, her mother took to pay the rent if she was between boyfriends. Alyssa stopped caring about the endless line of boyfriends her mother had paraded through the house in middle school.
Only one of them ever made a real impact. Alyssa met him accidentally the night he came home with her mother. Most of her mom’s boyfriends ignored Alyssa, shooing her away, but that night, this man took a few minutes to talk to her. He ended up leaving before her mother could work her magic on him for rent money. But he came back every year and made a point of stopping by to check in on Alyssa.
When Alyssa was older, she learned why he only visited once a year and never truly hooked up with her mother. He was married and came for an work related expo show, but that was it.
It had been a mistake—him going home with Alyssa’s mother after too many beers. But he’d seen how little Alyssa had, and he hadn’t turned a blind eye. He’d told her once it was her innocence that had shaken him out of his stupidity. Taking her for a hot meal and making sure she had good clothes for school was his way of showing his gratitude. At first, her mother had been irritated—she had rarely failed at finding a keeper when she set her sights on one. But after she’d seen the benefit of letting him help out for Alyssa, she didn’t stop him from visiting.
After high school, she’d made an attempt at college, at his urging, but her mother wouldn’t let her live at home anymore if she wasn’t paying the rent, so she had to get a job. Getting her own place wasn’t an option, not when her mother still needed to be taken care of, so Alyssa did the responsible thing and went to work. After a long battle with liver disease, her mother passed away, and Alyssa was free to be on her own.
The dancing of her cell on the toilet seat caught her attention. She grabbed it and answered the call.
“Ms. Sanders?” A deep voice came through the line. “This is Bradley from Top Floor. We have you down for an interview in the morning, but I’ve had a scheduling conflict pop up and was hoping you’d be free this evening.”
She sat straight up in the tub. Tonight? Her hair was sopping wet, she hadn’t unpacked anything, and her nerves were just starting to unravel. “Um…sure.” She hoped her voice was sturdier than her stomach. “I just got in. How soon would you like to meet?” she asked, hoping he’d give her at least an hour.
“I’ll be here until closing. At your earliest convenience would be fine.” Music played in the background.
“Great. I look forward to meeting you.” After ending the call, she slid the phone onto the toilet lid and sank deeper into the bathwater. Anxiety crept into her mind, but she forced it into the pit of her stomach. She had to get going. Getting the job was her focus. She could fall into bed and crumble afterward.
Top Floor was the newest club in the area, and the only club where she truly wanted to work. The position wasn’t openly advertised, but an ex of hers knew Bradley and had gotten her the interview. An exclusive club like Top floor typically meant great pay, and even better tips. Being a BDSM club only made the job more enticing.
During a backseat make-out session with a high school boyfriend, she’d been introduced to light spanking. She’d been riding him valiantly and he’d slapped her ass. Enthralled with the shiver of pleasure that shot through her, she told him to do it again and again until a flurry of spanks drove her straight into the most electrifying orgasm she’d had to date. She acquired a soft leather paddle the following day.
Top Floor wasn’t some dingy dungeon bar like she had frequented back home. It was exclusive, members by invitation only. Wanting to impress, but not look desperate, she decided on a black cotton dress, strappy sandals, which increased her five-foot-two stature by three inches, and a thin, red blazer. Hopefully the cab would be air conditioned, as well as the club. Otherwise, she’d be dripping in sweat before stepping foot through the door. She left her hair down, whipping it around her shoulders with large curls, and donned a deep red lipstick. It went perfectly with the blazer and pulled out the dark color of her eyes.
When the cab pulled up to the club, she took note of the line at the entrance. Just like any other night club in the busy city, it wrapped around the corner. Loud music poured out of the club where a stocky bouncer manned the door. As she walked past the line and made her way to the doorman, several whistles and cat calls were thrown her way, but she kept her focus on getting inside. Her nerves could only handle one issue at a time. The Neanderthals in line would have to wait.
“Hi.” She threw on a smile. “I’m Alyssa Sanders. I’m meeting with Bradley.” Her voice wavered. She squared off her shoulders and smiled a bit wider, hoping it covered how much her insides were trembling.
“Good evening, Ms. Sanders. Yes, Bradley is expecting you.” He pulled a piece of paper from behind the others on his clipboard and handed it to her. “Here’s the key card you need to access the floor. Access code is forty-seven sixty-nine. The elevators are straight back through this main hall and to the left.” The large, stocky man grinned at her. She was only mildly surprised he had all his teeth. He had a boxer’s body, and she was sure he’d seen a fist or two in his day.
“Got it. Thanks.” She repeated the access code in her mind as she headed inside.
The club housed four mini-clubs, each themed differently. The first floor was marked as the techno club. She assumed it was because it was easier to throw the punks of the twenty-something era out of the first floor than to have to take an elevator down before tossing them on their skinny-jean clad asses.
She maneuvered through the crush of gyrating bodies toward the elevators.
Another man stood near the mirrored doors, his hands folded in front of him. She showed him the key card, and with a nod, he stepped aside and called for the elevator.
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Silence filled the space when the doors shut. She inserted the key card into the reader and punched in the code, relieved when the light flashed green and she was able to press the button for the fifth floor. So far, so good.
A loud ding signaled her arrival, cutting through the stark quiet, and the doors whooshed as they slid open. Taking a calming breath, she stepped out of the elevator and smiled warmly at the gentleman standing just outside the doors. He gave a polite nod and held out his hand.
Alyssa handed over the key card, and he responded with a sensual smile. Maybe he hadn’t meant for it to be so erotic, but the high energy sexual ambiance of the floor played into her thoughts. He led her to the door serving as the main entrance for Top Floor. Even if someone had managed to get past the guard downstairs and figured out how to get the elevator to move up five flights, they would still have to contend with this man.
She stepped into Top Floor and sucked in her breath at the sight before her. The walls glistened with gold embossed paper. Not only did her sandals not stick to the marble flooring, but she worried she may scuff the beauty of it. A large bar sporting mahogany wood panels stood in the center of the room as a rounded centerpiece with intricately carved pillars.
The carvings depicted people in different positions, different sizes, different groupings, but each depicted a scene of dominance and submission. A kneeling woman. I hogtied male. It was beautiful.
“Bradley’s office is right this way.” A woman she hadn’t noticed when she entered waved a hand in front of her. “I’ve informed him you’ve arrived.”
Alyssa walked behind the perfectly shaped woman, trying not to let the beautiful sway of her hips distract. Alyssa had never been one to question her own attractiveness, but the nervous state of her mind could easily be swayed into doubting herself—and she couldn’t afford that. She needed to be on her game, get the job, land the apartment, and start her life.
Her escort brought her through the large room. At first glance, it appeared to be like any other club—couples talking, groups of men eyeing groups of women, waitresses walking through the crowds with trays of drinks—but it wasn’t.
She took note of several naked women kneeling beside their men. One woman stood in the middle of a small group of men, naked, arms tied behind her back, a thick collar holding her head as the men pinched and tickled her. The squirming and giggles she bestowed on them played like music through the air. She did her best not to stare at the man standing beside the door her escort knocked on. He stood tall, naked, his nipples adorned with diamond studded clamps, his balls hanging low beneath his caged cock. His mouth was propped open by a metal O gag, saliva pooling around it. The redness of his face gave the impression he was embarrassed to be put in such a state, but Alyssa knew the expression in his eyes well enough. The man was having the time of his life.
“Ms. Sanders.” A deep voice greeted her. She stood in the doorway, gripping her purse and staring at the large man in front of her. He towered over her by a solid foot. She should have worn higher heels. Her gaze traveled from his muscular chest to his stern chin then darkest brown eyes she’d ever seen.
“Yes, hello.” She blinked herself back to the present and extended her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you,” she blurted, and he smiled. A nice, genuine smile. She relaxed a bit.
“You as well. Thomas told me a lot about you. It’s nice to put a face to the name.” He released her hand and offered her a chair.
Alyssa had met Thomas during an evening out with a small group of friends who had braved entering a dungeon party with her at the lead. What began as flirtation quickly evolved into her first serious relationship as a submissive. Thomas was her first Dominant, and now a long-time friend.
“Thanks. Thomas has always been very generous when it comes to me. I hope I can live up to the expectations.” Alyssa took the offered seat, slipping her purse between herself and the back cushion of the chair and crossing her legs elegantly at the knee.
Bradley took his seat behind the desk and leaned back in his chair. His chest flexed under his taught black t-shirt.
“I already know you have some experience in the lifestyle, so I don’t need to worry about you running scared your first shift or gaping at those playing in the open areas.” He flashed a quick smile. His professional demeanor made the interview easier for her to tackle. Keep focus and get the job done—she could do that.
Unlike other interviews, the conversation moved from her background in waitressing to slightly more risqué talk about her experience in the lifestyle. Although he didn’t ask specifically about her sex or love life, he did inquire, in a roundabout way, about her experience as a submissive.
“Thomas mentioned he was your first Dominant.” Bradley steepled his hands as he peered at her. “Are you currently under the protection of a Dominant?”
Alyssa’s spine stiffened, and her left eyebrow rose before she could stop it.
“No. But I don’t see how that plays into my position here.” She attempted to keep her voice steady, but heat leaked into the words.
Before he could respond, the office door flung open. Alyssa twisted in her chair, coming gaze to gaze with a blond man. He paused a step, seeming to be lost in the moment with her. Blinking, he frowned and moved his gaze to Bradley.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were in a meeting.”
“No problem. We were just finishing up. A new hire.” Bradley’s chair creaked as he stood, but her eyes remained glued to the blond. “If you can start Saturday night, I’ll have Cassandra get you the paperwork you need.” She broke her stare just as the man swung his gaze back to her, a sandy blond eyebrow arched.
Gathering her wits, she shoved herself up from the chair.
“That would be awesome,” she blurted. “I mean…that would be great. Saturday works great.” Bradley moved around the desk and placed a large palm on the small of her back. With a little pressure, he led her from the room
“Wonderful. Cassie will help you with the details.” She bit the inside of her cheek as she passed the blond, trying to keep from beaming like an idiot right in front of him.
Bradley directed her to another office and introduced her to Cassie with instructions to get Alyssa all set up. An hour later, she found herself back on the elevator headed down to the main floor of the club. She had been given the usual HR packet, a uniform, and her own key card. Cassie had gone over the pay scale, and Alyssa was extremely excited to not only gain a position at the very club she aimed to, but to snag a few extra dollars an hour in the process. Although all that was great and wonderful, and she was thrilled to the tips of her badly-in-need-of-a-pedicure toes, only one thought dominated her mind: who was the man with the sparkling blue eyes and finger-ready blond hair?
Chapter 3
His father was hiding something. Alex could tell by the way his eyes would only meet his momentarily before fluttering to his shoulder, or his ear—anywhere but his. As a child, when suspected of lying, his father would crouch down and tell Alex to look him deep in the eyes. “A man telling the truth never wavers in his stare.”
Whatever the secret was, Paul would eventually come clean. Even holding back something only he would consider a grievous indiscretion was too hard for Alex’s father. An honest man through and through, he’d tell Alex no matter what it was. Alex decided to put the worry aside for later. Larger fish needed frying.
Even as a brand-new club, profits were already starting to show on the ledgers. Memberships grew at a steady pace. All in all, everything looked great. Alex, of course, was suspicious of such appearances. The club didn’t have much to compete against. Unlike the high-end clientele Top Floor was geared toward, the handful of dungeons in the area were open to the public. For the most part, unless someone showed an obvious threat, they were granted membership.
Top Floor’s membership was by invitation only. Each member was screened thoroughly, and even more so once the applicant approached the club with interest. Although Ale
x believed anyone interested in kink should be allowed to play where and how they chose, he and the other owners wanted only those serious about the lifestyle to frequent their club.
It didn’t matter if the male or female was Dominant, but only couples in an actual Dominant and submissive relationship were allowed to join. Singles were allowed, but were required to signal their status with a band on their arm. The purpose of the club wasn’t just to hook up for a night of fun, although plenty of that occurred; the point was to find the other half of their whole. As much as his father joked that Alex didn’t want to give up the single life for a relationship, he couldn’t be further from the truth.
A submissive was to wear a band, black leather, on their right forearm, and a Dominant wore a thicker version on their left. At the very least, it took away the awkward question of which position the person preferred when chatting over a drink in the lounge. A person who liked to be both sides of the coin, or a switch, simply wore both bands. Couples were not required to wear such signals. Many couples practiced high protocol while in the club. The submissives generally sat or knelt at their Dominant’s feet and served him—or her—in any way they chose.
Although safety protocols were in place, security was extremely tight, and both Bradley and Alex saw to the club personally. Alex worried about the other two investors. John and Travis had been excited about the venture when the old friends had discussed the plans together. Having been jumping from one dungeon to the next, they’d tired of the drama within the scenes. One too many times had a woman, having read some misguided romance books, come to them hoping to be tied and beaten.
All four of them wanted more. They wanted the real thing. However, time went by, the construction was completed, the doors opened, and the band of four slowly dwindled. Alex and Bradley still held the passion for the club, still wanted to see it succeed—but they were the only two who had any desire in actually doing work with the business.