by Poppy Flynn
"So…" Connor winked. "What do you do for fun around here, then?"
"Depends what kind of 'fun' you're looking for," she replied with a contrived flutter of her eyelashes.
"Okay." Connor didn't mind playing along. "What's your favourite way to unwind, pet?"
The endearment paused her flirtatious onslaught and she stopped and looked at him speculatively, her eyes narrowing.
"There's this club I go to a lot," she said slowly. "It's not everyone's idea of a good time, but it's mine."
There was a different level of awareness between them suddenly, as if each of them recognised something in the other without being told. The frivolity of their initial conversation had been replaced with a moment of gravity. They had come to a standstill a few yards away from the main entrance, each observing the other with the utmost seriousness.
"And exactly what kind of club might this be, pet?" Connor deliberately emphasised the last word, a commonly recognised submissive endearment in BDSM circles.
Laurel's eyes darkened as her pupils dilated, but she looked him straight in the eye.
"It's a kink club," she told him without a hint of embarrassment. "I could take you there as a guest on my membership, if you'd like."
As soon as she'd delivered her offer, Laurel's head dipped and she seemed to be staring intently at her feet, but Connor knew with every molecule of his dominant persona that it wasn't because she was hesitant or unsure. He recognised the gesture for what it was, a sweetly submissive offer of deference and respect.
Connor's own eyes fired as he subconsciously reacted to a kindred spirit. Crooking his fingers under her chin to lift her face back to his, Connor drew his thumb across her lips and murmured, "I would like that very much indeed."
Chapter 2
As Laurel rummaged critically through her extensive wardrobe of fetish-wear, she realised that her stomach was doing somersaults. She couldn't remember the last time she had been this excited. She had been going to the kink club, 'Perversions', for over five years now, since a friend had introduced her to the lifestyle during her last year at college, and she loved every minute of it.
Tonight, though…tonight was extra special. She could tell just by being in Connor's presence that he was an experienced Dom, a true Master. And he was hot! Not just your average hot, but extra special, juicy, muscled six-pack hot! The man was a god and he had agreed to play with her!
Well, almost. She couldn't imagine what else they might do at Perversions, although there was a bar and a banging dance floor with 'adult' entertainment featured on raised platforms just to get your motor revving on the off chance that you weren't turned on enough already.
But seriously, if all the man was interested in was a chat and a drink and maybe the odd dance, then they could have just gone to any of your average, run of the mill nightclubs.
Besides, if Connor wasn't quite working off the same hymn sheet—maybe not the best analogy, given their destination, but what the heck—then Laurel had some definite ideas to help him start reading from the same page. Some Doms might call her a brat and, meh, maybe they'd be right, but as far as Laurel was concerned, you never got anything if you didn't make a play for it. Kinda like her job. If you wanted something from life, you had to go for it, not just sit back and expect it to fall conveniently into your lap.
Better to have tried and failed than never to have tried at all. That was her motto, and she darn well lived by it. Tonight, she was going to apply that very same motto to one Connor Griffin. Laurel grinned. The man wouldn't know what hit him!
But first, she had to work out what to wear.
After leaving the office, they had grabbed something to eat in a small luxury café, while they chatted about their plans for the evening. Laurel had filled Connor in on the venue, the dress code, the general set up and the location. She'd sent him a link for the club's website to take a look at and familiarise himself with their specific protocols, then he had gone off to his hotel to shower and change while she high-tailed it back to her apartment to get herself dolled up. And where that huge hunk of eye candy was concerned, that meant the works.
Laurel hadn't had time to book herself in, recently, for her usual Brazilian wax appointment, so she had to make do with a quick home depilatory. By the time Connor picked her up, she wanted to be smelling divine and silky smooth all over. That bit had been achieved—she hoped—but the outfit? Why the heck hadn't she quizzed Connor a bit more on his fetishes. Then she might have had a better idea of what to wear to conclude her planned victory in her campaign for the conquest of Connor Griffin.
Frowning, Laurel discarded the baby doll and the schoolgirl costumes. She was most definitely aiming for something a little more mature. The shiny PVC and spiked and studded outfits were out as well, far too punk and goth. This first evening certainly called for something a little more sophisticated. Laurel seriously regarded a couple of Burlesque style corsets but finally decided they were a little too 'froufrou'. Better to keep those for when she had a better idea of his likes and dislikes, along with the age-play outfits.
Laurel's gaze landed on one of her favourite leather dresses. It was miniscule, skin tight, and made her boobs like they were always on the brink on toppling out, but with a man that exuded a dominance that seemed like he'd been born with it, she had a feeling it might shout a bit too much of 'Domme', and she didn't think he would appreciate that kind of rivalry, so that got relegated to the discard pile as well.
Laurel sighed and wondered briefly—very briefly—if she was making a fool of herself. She never had this kind of problem choosing an outfit; she just flipped through her wardrobe and wore whatever took her fancy. She dressed solely for herself and had never been a slave to anyone else's opinion. So why was she doing that now?
Laurel pushed those tiny prickles of concern right back in the box. Heck, she didn't have enough time to start having that kind of discussion with herself!
She huffed loudly and went back to her fet-wear. Thong alone—too slutty—not that she minded, usually, but she didn't want to seem too easy. Boy shorts—no easy access—she didn't want to make things too difficult for him, either. Skin tight lace body suit—all of the above. Floaty chemise—too airy fairy. Any kind of leather—that went the same way as the Domme, emo and punk style stuff. Tutu and frilly knickers—just no!
Her hand landing on a bronze coloured brocade corset deep in the depths of her closet, Laurel snatched it off the rail. She had totally forgotten she had this, it was buried so deep in the cupboard. It was almost plain in its simplicity with no bows or laces or trim, the wow factor coming from the luxurious metallic fabric alone. It had a zip at the back which made it easy to get out of but an absolute bitch to try and get into by yourself, but she'd learned long ago to shimmy and twist and heave these suckers into place, despite its body-hugging limitations and traditional boning.
Digging around some more, Laurel found a tiny, cream, satin skirt. It wasn't full but had a nice little flip to it. Worn with appropriate underwear—or none at all—it gave just enough of a hint at what lay beneath to fire the imagination. With this outfit, a thong would definitely work. Maybe one of her specially commissioned, handmade ones.
Happy with her choices, Laurel sat down at her dressing table to slick on coordinating makeup before getting dressed. Now, what about her hair? She almost growled out loud at herself when her normally streamlined thought processes became as mired over how to wear it as it had over her clothing choices.
Normally, she went for a slick topknot to keep it out of the way, but maybe Connor was a hair puller. Laurel kinda liked that image and a tingle tickled through her girly bits. On the other hand, he might be into impact play and be irritated if it got in the way.
Laurel started to scrub her hands across her face in frustration then froze when she realised she was about to mess up her makeup. She didn't have time for this, and being so indecisive and tardy was putting her on edge.
Taking a deep breath to ca
lm herself, she grabbed a simple hair tie and pulled the hair that usually fell to about mid back into a high ponytail. Then she dug around in her jewellery box until she found a gold coloured bangle with a groove at the centre that was specially designed to hold a hair elastic and make it look like a bracelet. This way, she could put her hair up into a knot quickly if it was necessary to get it out of the way for impact play, but Connor could still grab a handful if that was the way he swung, or remove the band easily if he wanted it loose. Finally happy with her decisions, Laurel dug around in the bottom of the closet for a pair of shoes just as the doorbell chimed.
Laurel was uncharacteristically nervous during the entire thirty-minute drive to the club that was housed in a quiet corner of an industrial area on the edge of the city.
Connor had been complimentary but reserved, when he'd arrived to pick her up. She'd barely been ready but had managed not to keep him waiting. The casual, flirty banter that they'd enjoyed over dinner seemed to have fled, though, and there'd been precious little conversation during the journey.
Now, Laurel was starting to second guess the situation. Was this just his Dom persona coming to the fore, the closer they got to the club, or was he having second thoughts about their date? Maybe it was because they kinda worked together. Well, they didn't, but he was at her office building a lot, lately. Perhaps it was because he was something to do with the Blackwood Corporation. No one had ever told her as much, but it was a fairly safe bet. Did that constitute a conflict of interest?
Laurel sighed silently and looked out of the rental car window at the urban scenery that was flashing by. She hated this! This whole damn sense of uncertainty that had suddenly surrounded her. It wasn't something she was used to, and she didn't like the way it made her feel. She might freely admit to being a submissive, but that was solely in the bedroom. She liked the structure and the openness of fetish scenes. She enjoyed being at the very centre of a man's attention, knowing that their encounter was designed to bring the maximum of pleasure and enjoyment to both of them. She loved the aftercare, when her Dom looked after her, made sure she was okay, and spoiled her for a little while before they parted company. Everything was negotiated and both parties knew exactly where they stood. The environment was monitored, and membership screening kept all the participants relatively protected. Some might criticise her lifestyle choices, but as far as Laurel was concerned, it was a damn sight better—and safer—than some bar or nightclub hook-up that resulted in a quick 'wham bam, thank you, ma'am', before the guy rolled over and went to sleep without caring whether the girl he'd picked up got off or not. Or worse, rolled out of bed and took off after he got what he wanted while failing to mention that he might have some communicable STI. Some of her girlfriends were full of such miserable tales. No, thank you!
She liked sex, and she wasn't going to apologise for that, but she certainly didn't want to trawl bars looking for hook-ups. She wasn't interested in having a more permanent relationship and all of the emotional trauma that went with that. All in all, the lifestyle she lived suited her perfectly, but she certainly didn't need a man to tell her what to do in any other part of her life. That, she lived for herself and herself alone. She had a good income and a nice apartment in a decent area. She could do what she liked, when she liked; and when she wanted sex, she could negotiate her own terms and be thoroughly satisfied with the results without any of the risks or the strings. What wasn't to love about that?
So, the onset of this unusual anxiety, the stewing over her decision-making process and agonising over the opinion of others, was an unwelcome development and was seriously starting to wear thin. What the heck was wrong with her? She so wasn't this person.
A quick glance over at Connor's strong profile, his innate dominance and his rugged good looks…never mind that body, and Laurel knew exactly where to lay the blame. She'd never felt this way about anyone before in her life. Damn it, the man did things to her with his mere presence that turned her into a puddle of mindless hormones and she didn't even know him that well.
He was right to keep a certain distance between them. Laurel knew she'd be wise to follow his lead and avoid getting in too deep because, instinctively, she knew that this man could be lethal to her sensibilities.
Connor was deep in thought on the way to Laurel's kink club. As he'd been perusing the 'Perversions' website, he had come across a nugget of information that had caught his interest in a really big way. The club was up for sale.
Three years ago, Connor, along with Joel and Jake Blackwood and Logan Thornton, had bought out Club Risqué, their original BDSM stomping ground, where each of them had discovered the lifestyle and proceeded to cut their teeth, in their early twenties.
Since then, they had talked, frequently, about the possibility of expanding the Club Risqué brand and adding more clubs to their portfolio, each with the same principle of excellence as the original.
Of course, opening a club from scratch was a huge undertaking which involved looking for locations, suitable buildings, slogging through planning applications and then getting it fitted out and advertising to the right clientele. They had agreed that with them all having full on, full time schedules within the huge Blackwood Corporation, they would never be able to take on such an enormous project. Plus, they each valued their privacy and anonymity and starting from scratch would make it difficult to keep that.
But a straight forward purchase. Now that was a different matter altogether. Connor couldn't wait to have a look around Perversions and scope it out with a view to it becoming the next Club Risqué.
If he was honest with himself, he was also glad of the distraction from the woman sitting by his side.
He didn't know quite what it was about Laurel Stanton, but she called to him on a deeply primal level, which he wasn't at all comfortable with.
On the surface, she was exactly the type of girl he liked to party with, fun, bubbly, animated. A good time girl. On top of that, she was an experienced submissive. She knew the score and wouldn't expect any flowery words or romantic dinners.
And she was exactly the polar opposite to the type of woman he imagined settling down with. Not that he ever dwelled much on the unlikely possibility of marriage. Sure, his father occasionally dropped vague hints about heirs to the Griffin fortune, but there wasn't any pressure. His old man was simply convinced that his sister's husband was a money grabbing gold-digger and didn't want the man to be able to get his hands on any more of the family wealth than he already had. Connor wasn't sure if it was true, but he did think his dad would probably have the same attitude to anyone who married into the family unless they produced an appropriate heir, which, so far, his sister hadn't done. Since she was older than Connor by eight years and now in her early forties, their father considered her pretty much past it. Privately, Connor thought she might still surprise them all.
He glanced over at the woman sitting next to him. She seemed almost pensive as she looked blindly out of the passenger window. He idly wondered what she might be thinking about, whether she, too, felt the same magnetic pull that he did. As soon as Connor realised the direction of his wayward thoughts, he mentally slammed the door. Uh-uh. Not going down that dangerous road. It was time to shut that shit down!
Instead, he turned to Laurel and eased into small talk. "So how many members does the club have, do you know?"
Laurel gave an almost imperceptible start. She had just decided there would be no kind of conversation this evening and she had been okay with that. Each Dom had his own little quirks and she had assumed this silence, prior to negotiating a scene, was one of Connor's. She had learned long ago to take her cues from the behaviour of the man she was with. Doms could be a bit tetchy if they thought a submissive was overstepping so, at the beginning, Laurel always let them guide the conversation, and if there wasn't any, she didn't supply her own. Although she had to admit that, with Connor, she was desperate to engage him and find out more about what made him tick. Of course, she was also
desperate to keep him hooked, so she let her better judgement win out, despite her curiosity.
She angled her body towards him and took in his profile. Connor continued to concentrate wholly on his driving.
"There are different tiers of membership," Laurel replied. "Level one members are only allowed access to the dance floor and bar, rather like a general nightclub, and they are allowed to bring unlimited and unscrutinised guests. Of course, they all still pay a premium because of the type of fetish entertainment that is performed, which sets it aside from a normal nightclub. Those overall membership numbers for the entire club run to about five hundred, I think." She paused for a moment and scrunched her forehead in thought.
"Level two membership covers all of that but includes the playrooms on the second floor. That membership is a lot more regulated and runs to about two hundred of those five hundred members."
"You seem to know a lot about it," Connor commented.
"I've been coming here a long time. You pick things up. Plus, I made a point of going out of town to do a submissive training course, since Perversions doesn't run their own. Because of that, the management asked if I'd be prepared to take on the role of Dungeon Monitor occasionally. Nothing fixed, since I like to play, but I help out during an emergency. If they're unexpectedly short staffed, for example," Laurel told him. "It doesn't happen very often, but I get a reduced membership rate, and it also means that I'm privy to things that the general membership isn't."
Connor wondered if she was aware that the club was up for sale. Likely, she was, but she wouldn't know it was of any interest to him, and he certainly wasn't going to let that slip. On the other hand, it was good to get this kind of informal perspective on how things worked. The kind of information that prospective buyers didn't find out just from doing a sales viewing or scrutinising the books. Laurel was likely to be a mine of unwitting information.
