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What is happening? Are the planets out of alignment?
How is my Mandy Cake evenhere?
I look around. I know about a third of these people personally, and they are good people. Businessmen and -women who share my tastes in the darker and kinkier side of sex.
This is the place where we act out our deepest fantasies. Where we don leather, where we act out scenes with each other, where we…
Mandy can’t be here.
She just can’t.
Here in the main room, sex acts technically aren’t allowed—except oral sex is common and security turns a blind eye. Members can wear what they want—including nothing at all—and they can touch each other as they dance, they can kiss, but when it’s time to get down and dirty, they go to the back.
Several large rooms exist behind the main dance room for exhibitionists and voyeurs. Anything goes in those rooms as long as there’s consent—with the exception of edge play. Edge play isn’t allowed at Black Rose.
God. How am I even thinking about edge play when Mandy’s right next to me?
Fine. I haven’t scared her off Lustr yet. Doesn’t mean I won’t.
“What’s your pleasure, Mandy?” I ask.
“My pleasure is your pleasure,” she says, her voice totally calm. “I’m here for you to teach. Where do I start?”
Where do I start? Seriously? Probably with a kiss on the cheek. Mandy doesn’t belong here. Vanilla sex doesn’t belong here. But at the same time, I’m hard as a rock just looking at her in this place.
God, something about her here—her innocence and sweetness, her unassuming beauty—seems totally at home.
Which makes no sense at all.
I’m not ready to take her to the back. Hell, I never expected her to get this far. “Why don’t we dance?”
She nods. “I’d love that, Mr. Dark.”
I lead her out to the dance floor. Again—like the time at my parents’ anniversary party, like the photo on her profile—I can see her nipples protruding through her shirt. God, she has great nipples. I’ve trained myself not to think of Mandy this way, but in this place? With her nipples showing?
I find myself wanting her.
I can’t have her. This is my private place where I indulge my darkest desires. So why does she seem so at home?
She doesn’t know who I am yet. I made a mistake before. I imagined her jaw dropping. But thank God she’s acting like she doesn’t know me, which is good.
I’m not using my actual voice. I’ve added a rasp to my low tones.
She wraps her arms around my neck, looks into my eyes.
I’m wearing colored contacts. A brown so dark it’s almost black, to conceal the hazel I know she would recognize. The black mask covers most of my face except for my mouth and chin.
Normally, I go shirtless when I come to the club, but tonight I’m wearing a leather vest that covers my chest. Mandy knows I have a tattoo of an eagle over most of my back. She’d recognize me in an instant if my upper body were uncovered.
She moves against me, and I wish I didn’t have this vest separating us. I want to feel her hard nipples abrading my chest.
Where the fuck did that thought come from?
We dance together through two songs, and then I have to pull back. I’m so hard, I’m almost sure she can feel the bulge in my jeans.
Am I really supposed to be her teacher? She was supposed to be scared. She was supposed to run the hell out of here.
I’m not used to going slowly at this club. When I find someone who’s willing to share a scene with me, we go all in. I’m a natural Dominant. I like to tie women up. Bind them, spank them, bring them to their knees.
