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Chapter 5
Over breakfast at the hospital on Monday, Dahlia peppered Hayden with questions about the Masters Club party. He answered them all with an indulgent smile, but warned her, “It’s really hard to describe to someone so new to the scene. I don’t want to prejudice you in advance either way. It’s better if you form your own impressions.”
She wanted to press, but recognized he was probably right. Better to wait and see. After all, she was only going there to watch, not to participate. No, most definitely not.
Their usual insane work schedules prevented them from getting together during the week, which was just as well. The next time they saw each other, she wanted to experienceMasterHayden.
The night of the party finally arrived. Dahlia pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, shivering as she scanned the street for Hayden’s red Audi.
The sky was a dark, gunmetal gray, the reflected city lights bouncing against the heavy clouds. A light snow had begun to fall, coating everything in fairy dust.
Dahlia’s heart skipped several beats as the car came into view at the end of the block. Hayden pulled to a stop in front of her building and leaned across the seat to open the passenger door.
Dahlia hurried forward from her spot beneath the building’s awning, her gold high heels clicking on the sidewalk. “Ah,” she said with relief as she settled herself in the passenger seat. “Nice and toasty in here.”
She glanced at Hayden, who hadn’t yet started driving. He was staring at her, his mouth actually hanging open. “You look…amazing.” The awe in his tone and the look in his eye made her blush, though she couldn’t deny she was pleased.
“Thank you,” she said. “You clean up pretty nice yourself.”
Hayden laughed as he put the car in gear. “Thanks back. I think.”
Dahlia had expected him to be decked out in leather from head to toe, as befitted her concept of a Master. Instead, he was wearing a black tuxedo jacket with narrow satin lapels over a black silk T-shirt. He did have on leather pants that looked soft as butter, and seemed tailor-made to his long, muscular legs. A day or two of sexy stubble graced his strong jaw. His deep blue eyes sparkled beneath the streetlights.
He glanced at her. “Did you remember your mask?”
“Yes,” she replied, patting her small clutch. “I have it right here.”
“Excellent.” He eased the car away from the curb.
As they headed down the block, he said, “A word about sex.”
“Just one?” she quipped.
He chuckled. “Sex at the party, I mean. Because we have non-members attending tonight, explicit sexual acts—by which I mean anything that involves or potentially involves an exchange of body fluids—is not permitted. To be more direct, if somewhat crude,” he added, stealing a glance at her, “there’s no fucking or sucking allowed.”
Dahlia immediately visualized Hayden in the middle of some Romanesque orgy, simpering slave girls kneeling around him, reaching for him with grasping hands…
“I take it that means there normally is”—she absolutely refused to blush—“fucking and sucking at regular dungeon events?”
Hayden shrugged. “Every member is routinely tested for a clean bill of health, so it’s not an issue in that regard. That said, full-on intercourse is discouraged in the main dungeon. There are private playrooms for that. But oral sex is fairly common. It’s often just a natural progression of a scene. You have a sub bound on a spanking bench or a bondage table, legs spread wide”—he cocked a single brow, his lips quirking into a smile—“it can be hard to resist. Conversely, if she’s on her knees in front of you, arms bound behind her back, lips parted as she stares up at you, ready and eager to serve your every need…” He shrugged again, leaving the sentence incomplete.
“Good to know,” Dahlia managed with what she hoped was a nonchalant tone.
They were silent after that, Hayden fully focused on the road. She watched him as he drove, admiring his strong profile. He seemed so casual about all this, like it was an everyday thing and no big deal. But that actually was the case, wasn’t it? He’d made it clear—he was a member of a club where literally dozens of available women who shared his kink waited at his beck and call. Was a guy like this, one who apparently moved so freely from one woman to the next, really someone she wanted to get involved with? Was she out of her mind to have let things even get this far?
Okay, stop it right now, she ordered herself.Who ever said a word about getting involved? You’re having an adventure, that’s all. Whatever might or might not happen going forward is neither here nor there.
The snow was falling more heavily now, some of it sticking to the asphalt. Dahlia lost track of where they were as Hayden weaved expertly amidst the traffic. She got her bearings again when they entered Greenwich Village, the high marble arch that opened onto Washington Square Park now visible in the near distance.
They entered a narrow, cobblestoned lane, bare-limbed trees along one side, a high stone wall on the other. The lane was softly lit by old-fashioned streetlamps, snowflakes dancing in their glow. Both sides of the short block were lined with parked cars.
“Here we are,” Hayden said. “The Masters Club, my home away from home.”
Dahlia glanced out the window, confused. “Where?”
He grinned. “Behind that wall there. Just another layer of privacy between us and the vanilla world.” He turned into a narrow alley, revealing a freestanding brownstone, the warm glow of lights beckoning from the windows. “We own the building,” Hayden explained as he drove down a wide, sloping driveway. “It houses the club and some of the full-time staff.” He approached a six-car garage, adding, “These used to be stables back in the day. Now it’s just a garage.”
“And you’re one of the lucky six who has a space here?” Dahlia asked, impressed.
