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Parker’s idea of a great romantic evening was fifteen minutes of foreplay followed by five minutes of missionary sex, after which he would promptly fall into a deep sleep.
Over time, she’d probed his receptivity to trying something a little spicier. She’d attempted to get him interested in bondage or spanking as an introduction.
While he claimed he was cool with the idea and wanted to try it, it hadn’t taken long to figure out his heart wasn’t in it, or his cock. Always eager to please, he’d tried his best. He really had. She’d understood then that you can’t make someone into something they weren’t. You were either hardwired with an interest and need for BDSM, or you weren’t. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t play around with fluffy cuffs and pretend spankings, but in the end, that’s all it ever could be—play.
Their failed experimentation had convinced her she had to have more. She needed a man who instinctively understood her need for erotic domination and control. A man who would take what he wanted, without asking her if he was “doing it right.” It wasn’t fair to him or herself to enter into a marriage in which she could never totally be herself.
Once she’d gotten over the guilt, she’d been super excited at her newly single status. She was determined to sample a whole smorgasbord of sexy Doms at the clubs and BDSM groups around town.
Unfortunately, real life had gotten in the way of much more than a weekend scene or two. With her demanding job, she barely had a chance to breathe, much less the time to find a meaningful relationship with a bona fide Dom. She’d put the possibility of a relationship on the back burner, telling herself she’d get serious about finding someone once she was more firmly established in her career.
But she still craved the release BDSM gave her. It was the perfect stress relief valve after an eighty-hour work week. It was the only time she was able to empty her mind and truly let go. Intense erotic pain gave her a powerful high that was something like a runner’s high, only way better.
Part of the thrill of the club scene was the potential for new adventure. And this invitation to the Masters Club might just turn out to be the adventure of a lifetime. The fact that the enigmatic and handsome Mr. Lord had been the one to extend it was icing on the cake.
At the same time, she was quietly terrified of whatever challenges surely awaited her. It would be strange and unsettling to be put through her paces by Mr. Lord.
No. Not Mr. Lord, equity partner at Silverstein & Hart. She needed to stop thinking of him as her boss if and when she became a Masters Club member. It was too unsettling to have her two distinct, separate worlds—work and play—blur into one another. Not to mention, bad self-preservation policy. In her experience, when there was an affair at an office, it was usually the woman who got the short end of the stick when things imploded, which they invariably did.
She would think of him as Cameron, at least for tonight. Master Cameron. It had a nice ring to it, actually, and she silently mouthed the words as she waited for her next instruction.
A moment later, the car door opened. The driver dipped his head toward her, his expression impassive. “Leave your coat and purse in the car and follow me.”
Heart in her throat, she climbed out of the car. They walked past several other cars to a door that presumably led into the club. Jess was glad she’d opted for kitten heels rather than full-on high heels, as her legs felt rather wobbly at the moment.
As they reached the door, it swung inward, as if someone was already waiting on the other side. Jess’s heart skipped a beat as she prepared to look up into the handsome face of Master Cameron.
But instead, they were met by a tall, stately woman in a beaded black evening gown. Her silvery-blond hair was swept up in a chignon, long, sparkly earrings dangling from her lobes. Her dark eyes were heavily lined with kohl, over a prominent nose and wide, generous mouth.
“Thank you, Vince,” she said, smiling at the driver. “I’ll take her from here.”
As Vince took his leave, the woman extended her hand to Jess, who took it uncertainly.
“Hello, Jess. I’m so glad you could come this evening. My name is Mistress Dominique. I’m a Head Mistress here at the Masters Club. I will be a part of the panel overseeing your audition this evening. Please follow me.”
She turned and began to walk away. Jess followed behind her, staring around herself as they passed through a large, marble-floored foyer to a passageway with doors along either side.
