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After a few minutes, I start to grow restless. She’s so peaceful and I don’t want to wake her up. But I also can’t just sit in this room either. It’s two in the morning, and I’ve never been more awake.
A bad idea brews in my mind. I’m definitely going to be punished for this, but I can’t help myself. I mean…all of the people I know that my dad works with are probably home asleep or drunk off their asses, definitely not here. No one would recognize me. So why can’t I peek around a little bit?
Quietly pulling my clothes back on, skipping the jacket, so I’m only in the now wrinkled white shirt and black pants, I quickly roll up the sleeves, button it halfway and tuck in the messy bottom. It’s good enough to blend in, I hope.
I have to take Maggie’s keycard to get back into the room, something else I’ll surely get punished for. Once I have it, I delicately open the door and slide out into the dark hallway, without waking her. I’m a dead man when she wakes up, so I guess it’s a good thing I love punishment so much.
I am a brat, after all. Aren’t I?
I don’t even know anymore. I’ve been so good lately, and I sort of miss the way it felt that night to purposefully disobey her. I loved the thrill of it. Maybe my penance will be unlimited orgasms again. Can’t complain too much about that.
The hallway only has three doors down one side, ours being the first. Instead of heading back toward the service stairwell that she brought me up, I head in the other direction. It brings me out into a bar area on the second floor. There’s a bartender and a few people mingling around private tables.
They’re not openly screwing like they were behind that black curtain. That was a real eye-opener, and I surprised myself a little with how much I didn’t hate it. I reserved so much judgment for this place, but now that I see it, I feel differently.
Hell, maybe I have been corrupted. Maybe this is just how you feel when you’ve been brainwashed by deviants, as my mother would put it, but you don’t see me complaining. Sort of feels like the opposite of brainwashing, if you ask me.
The second-floor bar has a balcony that overlooks the bottom floor, which I recognize from our nights here during the masquerade parties. It’s not as dark tonight and no one is wearing masks. They’re just meandering through the space, and no one looks ashamed or embarrassed that they’re all here to be kinky, to have sex and to get off.
There’s another bar down there that Maggie would never let me get close to, probably because we would be recognized, but again…the bartender doesn’t look familiar to me, so I shouldn’t look familiar to him. I also notice another doorway on the other side, this one guarded by a red rope and a mean-looking bouncer.
Deciding to try my luck, I walk down the stairs and across the large space, glancing up at the stage where a DJ is playing and women are dancing in cages. Once I reach the red rope, I duck my head a little, still paranoid that someone is going to point out that the owner’s son has been smuggled into the club and should definitely not be here. Instead, he simply nods his head and lifts the barrier, gesturing for me to enter.
With a curt nod in his direction, I step into the darkness. The first thing I notice is the windows. Large, floor-to-ceiling glass that opens into what appears to be separate rooms on either side.
A smile curls one half of my mouth as I realize there is a couple watching another couple fucking behind the glass. It’s erotic and intimate and strangely…wonderful. Each room is filled, people hovering around to watch, but not in a gross way. In an appreciative way.
I don’t linger too long near any window. I just pass by the voyeurs as I make my way down the dark space. Once I reach the end, I can’t fight the grin on my face. This is the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. But it’s not for me. Not right now. I’d rather come back with Maggie, where we can enjoy it together.
I hope we have something like this at our club.
When that thought makes its way through my head, I pause.Ourclub. How long have I been seeing it that way? What would she think about that? Instinct tells me she’d love it. The idea of running our own club, having it beourthing gives me more excitement than anything has in a very long time.
My whole life I’ve been searching for purpose, and nothing ever felt as good as this idea does. I almost want to go wake her up right now to tell her. But I’m not done exploring yet.
After coming out of the hallway, I meander my way through every corner of the club, seeing as much as I’m allowed. Counting rooms and checking out the store again.
My dad did this. Not alone, of course, but he built this place, and I spent so long hating him for it when I should have been proud of him. Iamproud of him. Now I almost want people to figure out who I am. Know that I’m Emerson Grant’s son.
When I finally make my way back to the bar, I must be wearing my emotions all over my face because the large man seated at the corner laughs when I sit down three seats away from him.
“First time?” he asks.
When I glance up, I stutter out my answer. “Um…not really. But sort of.”
He laughs. “Okay, then.”
After a moment, I recognize him as the bouncer who stopped me from handing that protester’s ass to him on the second masquerade night I attended. I guess I owe him for that. If I had ended up in jail, I wouldn’t have experienced the mind-bending power of the riding crop.
“So…what do you think?” he asks, taking a sip of his clear drink. Just then a bartender walks up to take my order and I politely ask for a Jack and Coke.
Turning toward the bouncer, I answer him, “I think it’s great.” Then for some reason, I feel the need to spill my secrets to a complete stranger. “I used to not think it was so great. In fact, I used to think it was terrible. But that was before I ever actually came here.”
He looks almost offended before I clarify, “I was an idiot. I only saw what I wanted to see and that was enough to feed all of my anger. But then I met someone. And she opened my eyes, so I see things very differently now.”
The bartender places my drink on the table and I slip him some cash to avoid having to hand over my credit card with my name on it. The bouncer nods at me before finishing his own drink and asking for another.
“You know…so did I, once,” he says, and that surprises me. “But people change. Minds change. Courses change. Don’t beat yourself up.”
