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“Because you’re in control.” Just saying and believing it stabilized something inside her.
Then he pressed another kiss against her lips, resurrecting all those aroused feelings he’d stirred at his place. “Exactly. You’re under my supervision. You’re safe within that protection. Everything you feel and do within that circle is okay. Long as you’re letting yourself feel and react honestly, you can’t mess anything up here, Les. I promise.”
“Brick… What if my reaction to you, to this, is just another way of escaping what’s going on in my life? I want to be honest with you, too. I don’t want to hurt you by immersing myself just to get away, and then, on the other side of this…”
When his gaze flickered, she swallowed. “You’ve thought of that, haven’t you?”
“Yeah. I have. But you have a total submissive’s response to my Dom side. You’re not playing at it. It’s part of you. How long you want to pursue that feeling with me, well…that’s no different from any other relationship. I may only be your first Dom.”
She hated that idea. Hated that he could even put it out there, like he could learn to accept it. Then she took a closer look at his expression, the effort to control what was behind it. “That’s not what you want.”
“It sure as hell isn’t.” His jaw eased a fraction. “But it’s a question only you and time will be able to answer. It’s a question we’ll explore in everything we do. The answer will come when it comes. It won’t be tonight.”
Brick slid an arm around her to move them toward the door. A lot of the women on those skinny tall heels she’d thought about were using the arm of their escorts for balance, but Les thought the contact was about more than stability. It was reinforcing connection.
The security people recognized Brick and let him pass. Inside, the foyer was crowded as people milled and greeted one another, but they all seemed to be pressing forward toward a wide opening like a loading dock door, screened with dark rubber curtains. She was walking on cement flooring. The walls had chipped sheetrock. Fluorescent lighting gave things an unattractive greenish glow and she caught a faint scent of mold and old cigarettes.
“You’re right.” She rose on her toes to speak in Brick’s ear. “We’re not getting mugged in the parking lot. It’ll be in here.”
He grinned and held back a section of the curtains so she could pass through their barrier. When she saw what was on the other side, she was so surprised, she stopped in her tracks. He had to nudge her forward and off to the right, so they weren’t blocking incoming foot traffic.
She expected all of those new to the club tonight, like herself, would be easily identified by their gaping trout reaction.
The warehouse-sized space before her was broken up by a series of Ionic columns. Beyond being functional, they were wrapped with screens. Erotic videos and images flowed across the curved surfaces. The columns were protected and decorated by slim spirals of glossy black iron that circled them from the bases to the high ceiling.
The floor was a liquid epoxy, swirls of purple and gold complimenting interior walls painted dark purple and mapped with velvety fleur-de-lis. Mounted wall sconces threw light through multifaceted gold-edged glass.
Other lights hung from the rafters on poles. They had various illumination levels, suggesting individual wiring to provide more or less light, depending on the activity happening beneath their scope.
Three bartenders were busy behind a polished wood and brass bar along the wall to her left. Beyond it, an illuminated gold sign directed people to changing rooms and restroom facilities. Music played over hidden speakers, a thrumming instrumental with an edgy rock-n-roll sound to it.
“Holy shit,” she murmured.
The deep rumble of Brick’s chuckle rippled through her. The scents were definitely far more pleasant and provocative than what she’d tried not to smell in the foyer. Every sound, fragrance and visual in this space was infused with erotic possibilities. The thought sent tingles up her spine, like the trail of his fingers there.
“Mick bought this building a few years back and retrofitted and renovated the inside. He intentionally kept the outside and foyer looking like shit. We’re a private BDSM group, with approved membership requirements. Guests are allowed, but only those accompanied by a member who vouches for them.”
Brick’s gaze swept over the open area. “Regardless, Mick always sets a limit of three hundred and fifty people in here, so there’s enough room to play and see everything. When it was a nightclub, the capacity was about a thousand. He does these three-day events once quarterly, and a regular event monthly. Members can also rent it for their own private parties.”
“Mick must be loaded. Or the membership fees are astronomical.”
“The fees are scaled to income, which is how I’m in here,” he said dryly. “He personally approves every membership, and there are rectal exams less thorough than the questions and background checks. Rumor is he was a cop before he was doing this. Or a CIA interrogator. But yeah, you’re right. He’s either loaded or has backers he doesn’t talk about. He claims this place is a hobby, like a backyard garden or woodworking.”
She looked around her. “It’s a hobby he takes pretty seriously.”
“He takes everything seriously. I better not introduce you to him. You’re kindred spirits.”
“I heard rich. Is he good-looking?” When he grabbed for her, she laughed and let herself be caught. Then gasped when he lifted the back of her skirt and gave her a slap, right against the silky panties he’d bought.
He'd hit the lower part of her buttocks. The sting had maximum effect, sending a crazy ripple through sensitive nerve endings. He’d done that in front of people, their environment making it totally acceptable. If he’d done such a thing in a grocery store she would have reacted with embarrassment and dismay, and slugged him. Instead, arousal claimed her response. Much as his gesture had claimed her, for all to see.
As he rubbed the offended part, her fingers were tight on his forearm. “Better behave in here, doc.” His eyes glowed. “Let’s wander. See what everyone’s doing.”
But as they moved further from the curtained entrance, the music faded away. Signs that had been darkened now lit up with one word, in a glowing purple the color of phlox.
Quiet. Quiet. Quiet.
Conversation magically died away. Brick bent back to her ear to whisper an explanation. “This happens about once every hour. For five minutes, they play sounds from the play spaces right now, mixed with what’s been recorded earlier in the evening and at previous events.”
