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I was too. This place was awesome, but the people were more awesome. I hardly knew them but I felt immediately at home, no false smiles, no judgement, no bitchy stares. I took a seat and felt myself relax, the garnet crow definitely helping me along my way.

Raven didn’t stay long. I took the opportunity to edge my chair closer to Cara, eager to find out as much as possible about the place. She pointed out the BDSM equipment at the back of the stage, the shackles and big wooden bondage cross, and then she told me about the playrooms; roped off for burlesque night but available to members at the weekends. The venue sounded just as wild as I’d fantasised, straight out of my dirty imagination. I’m sure my intrigue must have been plain as day, as our conversation soon became the focus of the group. It seemed I was amongst regulars, not just of burlesque night, but of Explicit in general. What a fucking crazy hoot.

“Are you into the scene?” Missy asked.

“No. I only moved here a few months back, from Hatfield.”

“Gem’s a chatline operator,” Cara shared. “A great dancer, too.”

Cue the conversation about my callers, but unlike the general populous the girls here didn’t shriek with surprise at my stories, they were simply interested. I was interested in them, too, itching to ask questions that flowed a lot easier after my second garnet crow.

The third annihilated any nerves that may have been lingering, and I found myself absorbed into the group, so totally that I barely noticed the club filling up. The lights had dimmed in preparation for the show when Cat asked me about my relationship status.

“It’s complicated,” I laughed.

“Isn’t it always?” they chorused.

Three garnet crows made it seem a lot less complicated than it had done previously.

“I like this guy, but I don’t know him. He’s a caller, a complete stranger... but he’s not. I dunno, it’s weird. I just want him. Really, really want him.”

“Him, or his cock?” Cat laughed.

“Most certainly his cock,” I laughed back. “He’s my kind of dirty.”

“And what’s your kind of dirty?”

I took another sip of my drink for Dutch courage. “I like sex with strangers... more than one at once, preferably.”

The revelation barely caused a ripple.

“Me too,” said Trixie. “If I’m feeling particularly adventurous I’ll hole myself up in playroom two, and wait to see who’ll come join me.”

“Sometimes that’s the whole bloody club,” Cara smiled.

“Answer honestly,” I said. “Do you think I’m crazy, lusting after some guy I’ve never met?”

“No,” Cat smiled. “I was crazy about my fiancé before I ever knew who he was. I saw him up on that very stage, a stranger in a mask who turns into a god with a cane in his hand. Sometimes you just know someone’s the right kind of wrong.”

“Jason’s definitely the right kind of wrong. My kind of wrong.”

“Dirty bad wrong,” Cara laughed. “We’re all a little dirty bad wrong here.”

“You don’t think we’re all a little dirty bad crazy?” I giggled.

“Well, Cat is engaged to a guy who wears a mask and likes to hurt her until she cries. Missy met her boyfriend by breaking all the rules in her day job and courting a guy fresh out of prison. Trixie gets her kicks by fucking anyone with a pulse, and my parents freaked when I shacked up with a dominant as fuck tattoo artist, who happens to be a woman, but you know what? We’re the sanest, happiest, cool as fuck people I know, all of us. If this kind of shit makes us dirty, badandfucking crazy, then I’m happy to take the crazy.”

So was I.

Crazy was beginning to feel really fucking good.

***

Jason

April had chosen Clancy’s for our romantic spectacle. She likes Clancy’s, not for the food, but because it fits her publicity agenda. Clancy’s is classy, but not too classy. Fit for a paparazzi turnout, without the likelihood of being upstaged by those more newsworthy than us. Welcome to April’s world, where shit like that actually matters. I couldn’t give a fuck about any of it.

She’d feigned frustration as the cameras flashed, gripping my hand as though our perfect cosy evening had been ruined by the intrusion. I wondered who tipped them off every other week, not April herself, that would never do. One of her dickhead entourage most likely.

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