by H. D. March
§§§
A shadow of sadness filtered over Jessalyn’s face, and she decided that she’d be having a little word with this LeBron. She was determined that somehow she would discover if he felt the same as Kitty did and maybe do a bit of match making. Again, she glanced down at the catalogue, six hunks to choose from, then amended it to five, LeBron was out of it. Jess took a large sip of her drink and choked. Her eyes sprang open. “Shit, how much vodka did you put in here?”
Kitty shrugged. “I intend getting pissed tonight, along with you.”
“Think you might be right there.” Again, her gaze snuck over the images of masked men and near naked bodies. Each one was absolute perfection, a full package of rippling muscle. “So, if this is a BDSM club, don’t other patrons use it?”
“Yep, lots of Doms and subs go there, but this is a specialist service. These guys are select, and on hand to fulfil a woman’s fantasy. And once you pick your Dom, he commands you.”
An excited tremble bubbled over Jess, along with a very real terror. Could she have sex with a stranger? Hell yes, her conscience screamed, it was the ones she knew she couldn’t, daren’t ever get close.
All her life, ever since she was old enough to understand, she’d witnessed the savage tearing apart of her parents’ marriage. And it had scarred her to the soul; she’d rather remain single than put herself through that torture. This was the reason why she’d never had sex, never wanted a relationship. It scared her shitless. The few she’d had, holding hands and the odd kiss, had done nothing for her.
When their hands had moved, so had she, fast.
“So, what exactly can I expect?” Jess didn’t wince with the next mouthful; obviously becoming desensitised, she decided.
Kitty swirled her glass, and her face took on a soft glow. “You’ll be completely at the mercy of whoever you choose.”
“I thought the Doms did the picking? At least they do in the books I’ve read.”
“Usually yes, but this is a special package deal, one that is unique to this club.”
Jess nodded. “Okay, I can go with that, and—”
“And expect to be fucked everywhere, I mean your body will become theirs.” Her hand shook holding her glass. “You’ll be tortured, sexually I mean, until you’re screaming for release.”
Jess let loose a low groan, a shiver sprang over her, and her nipples hardened, they burgeoned beneath the material of her shirt. “Will you shut up, Christ I’ll be coming now.”
Kitty ignored her. “And then there’s the bondage part, cuffed, chained, whipped, and you’ll also be paraded through the club as the property of your Dom.”
“I will?” Jess eased a hand between her legs; hell she knew she’d be giving herself an impromptu session any second. The ache grew, and her fingers scrolled over her clit despite the material.
“Mmmmm, almost naked, he’ll show them that you are his. He’ll tease you with his fingers, his hands will—”
“Oh fuck, I’ll be back.” Jess slid off her seat, she raced to her bedroom. One thing on her mind, and that was relief.
§§§
Kitty continued to sip from her drink; she was used to Jess’s needs. For a plastic virgin, Jess was highly sexed, almost unnaturally so, because Kitty had heard her vocal cries. Kitty had wondered many a time why or how Jess suffered from such an acute desperation for sexual gratification because it was more than desire. A lot more. And flinched when her scream reverberated from upstairs. Never in her life had she met someone so needy for sex, and one that didn’t have it.
At least not with a man.
There was only one other that retained the almost unhealthy need to copulate to such an extent, and there was no way Jess belonged to that species.
She was human, sort of, if she excluded her bitch of a mother Doreen.
Five minutes later, Jess returned. Her face flushed, her hair loose, it swirled around her hips, and her eyes held that sleepy, just-been-fucked look. “Sorry about that, I had to come.”
Kitty chuckled; her friend was so unconventional and outspoken at times it even shocked her. Yet she was used to her unorthodox ways. “That’s okay, I’ve refilled our glasses.”
“Good.” Jess held her glass up; they clinked in the silence. “Here’s to a wicked fucking.”
“Happy birthday, hun,” said Kitty, “and enjoy it.”
“I can’t wait. When is it?” She searched for a date on the invite she held.
“Tomorrow evening.”
“Fucking hell,” screamed Jess. “I can’t, it’s too soon, I mean, I’m not ready.”
“Jess, if I left it to you, you’d never be ready,” said Kitty. “If you had time to think on it, you’d back out.”
Jess knew what Kitty said was true. Despite the fact she craved actual sex, she’d recall her parents constant rows, would assimilate it, tear it to pieces, and refuse to go. “Oh my God, I need to get drunk.”
“I think that’s a very good idea,” grinned Kitty refilling their glasses.
Chapter Two
Jessalyn attempted to roll over in bed; unable to move, she discovered herself trapped, her legs tangled in the sheets. Dragging her eyes open, a blast of sunlight along with a mind numbing pain hit her. She hitched up onto her elbows and waited for the room to stop spinning. Shit, she felt as if she were on a fairground ride.
Jess pushed her hair back and muttered to herself. “By fuck, I’m never drinking with that bitch again.” Her scream rang out at the touch of the undulating body moving at the bottom of the bed.
Kitty peered up, her eyes swollen, her face pale, the usually immaculate hair a total disaster. She crawled out from beneath the sheets resembling an earthquake survivor. “Don’t blame me; you were the one to open the second bottle.” Her hand slapped across her forehead, then winced. Her face turned from pale to ashen, then changed to a tinge of green, and slapping a hand over her mouth, she half fell out of bed.
Jess turned away and held her stomach, whilst Kitty threw up over the floor; the retching noises ground throughout the room and made her heave. She placed her hands over her ears, blocking the sounds, her eyes squeezed tightly closed.
“Oh God, I’m never drinking again, no way, not ever.” Kitty shot her a murderous glare, yet didn’t follow with words, and, instead, wiped the spittle from her mouth. The remainder of her body that was wrapped in the sheets fell to the floor. She resembled a chrysalis evolving; her legs freed, they released their tenacious grip. On a slow roll, she struggled to her feet, still fully clothed, and staggered from the room. She held her palm to her head. “I’m going to die in the shower.” The door closed with a soft click behind her.
Jess winced, just that slight sound cracked through her cranium, and her hands clutched her head as the wave of shooting pains ransacked a befuddled brain. They left her exhausted. Then, she happened to check the time, shit, it was moving past twelve, and she had a bag to pack.
Over an hour later, she ambled downstairs to face a pale Kitty, who sat at the table propping her head up on her hand. The coffee she held steamed dark and pungent, the aroma strong. “Don’t speak to me, don’t say a word. Just let me curl up and suffer.”
“Whatever,” said Jess; helping herself to a mug, she struggled to hold down the nausea. Christ, this was to be the night of her life coming up and she felt like shit. That was putting it mildly. Carefully, she sat her ass on the chair.
The silence blew out, the only sound steady slurps from their mugs. Jess couldn’t speak; she tried to arrange her scrambled thoughts. There was so much to think of. Firstly, what was she supposed to take? What did she need to pack? Then, Jess gave another groan because at this present time she didn’t give a toss. She continued to hold her head in her hands.
The phone rang. It screamed, cutting through the silence. Each blip sent a shard of pain slicing over her. She reached out, finally grasping it.
“Hello.” Her voice hoarse, it crisped out in a not-so-sexy growl.
“J
ess? Are you okay?”
“Hi, Dad, yes fine, just hung over.” She tried to stop the smidgeon of a grin that attempted to play over her lips.
“Good, I’m on my way; bet you thought I forgot your birthday.” His words bounced and bounded with excitement.
“You did,” she managed to stutter. “It was yesterday.”
“Yes, so? You don’t think I didn’t know that?” he spluttered.
Jess smiled; she knew her father, he was the worse fibber on earth, and it was beyond him. “No, Dad,” she lied with ease; she’d never hurt him. Her mother, yes; her dad, no.
“Anyway, I’ll be there in the next half hour or so to give you my present.”
“Thanks, Dad, see you whenever.” Jess dropped the phone; she knew his idea of time and it was too much of an effort. Her head hurt, her brain had exploded, and she didn’t know how the hell she would cope with a wicked Dom.
The afternoon passed in a blur. Jess finally shifted her ass and showered. She stood beneath a spray of icy cold water waiting for it to blast her back into the real world. Her nipples had peaked, her skin blistered, and her hangover remained.
It lingered, resembling a stubborn germ.
Jess clutched the mug of strong coffee, taking sharp sips, and stared across at Kitty. She looked worse than she felt, if that was possible.
It was only the arrival of George that broke her out of her lethargy. The loud hoot of his horn ripped through her head. She knew what she intended doing to that frigging object.
“My father is here.” The words slipped out slow.
Kitty nodded. “I know, do you think I’m deaf?” Then yelped at the movement and threw another tablet down her throat.
Within seconds, the door slammed open, and he made his announcement. “Happy Birthday, baby!” The words exploded across the room, resembling the sonic boom of an aircraft.
Jess raised her head, blood shot eyes met his, and she gave a weak smile. “Hi, Dad.” Please no more yelling, not just yet.
And did a double take. Jess debated reporting him to the RSPCA for cruelty to the squirrel sitting on his head. Was she hallucinating? What the heck was wrong with her parents? Both appeared to be trying to hold back time. “Dad, what the hell has moved into your skull?”
George blinked and dragged in an affronted breath. “It’s my new hair piece; got a problem with it?”
“Well um no, but—” she shuddered and slapped a hand over her mouth. Jess was determined to use a bit of decorum. Yet she felt torn between telling him the truth and offending him or leaving him looking like an idiot.
“It cost a lot of money, and I mean a serious amount.” He passed her to stand in front of the mirror. And carefully adjusted it, his tiny eyes glimmered, a frown scrimped over his forehead. “I bought it off the bidding channel on TV. It’s a much-sought-after toupee.”
“Yeah, I bet, money well spent,” muttered Kitty. Her cheek rested on her hand, her eyes dipped closed.
George nodded with a toss of his head and almost lost his wig. He grabbed it, holding the elusive piece of hair in place. “Had a bad night?”
Jess couldn’t be bothered to explain. She had trouble stringing words together and, as much as she loved her dad, wished he’d piss off.
George studied them; he sucked in his rotund belly, or tried to, then gave a low rasp of air. “Here, it’s a cheque for you to spend on whatever you want.”
Jess hyperventilated; a twirl of excitement churned in her stomach, and she tried to work out what to buy first. She dropped back to reality, her eyes widened. “Fifty quid?”
“I know it’s a lot of money, but try to spend it wisely.” His chubby face folded into a moon based smile.
“I will, Dad,” she said. Heck, no wonder Doreen had left the tight-fisted bastard. Yet she reasoned at least he’d given her something, she’d had nothing off her mother. Although, by now, she should be used to it.
Kitty flicked her a wink. “What’s first on the list?”
“No idea.” Jess didn’t have to guess how far the money would stretch because it wouldn’t even come near to putting a dent in her overdraft.
George bounced on the spot, the balls of his feet slapped on the tiled floor.
It was only then she realized what he wore. A pair of pink lycra shorts and a matching T-shirt. Jess averted her eyes. God, he looked gross. He resembled a marshmallow on a stick.
Jesus, he had no style or fashion sense. Now, if he were gay or female, it might work. “Dad, we’ve got a busy night ahead, er, how long are you staying?” Christ, how else could she phrase it, just come straight out and ask him to leave?
“A hot date, yes?” He pinched her cheeks and winked.
Jess didn’t bother to explain, he’d have a fit. She was still his little girl, and by the looks of his idea on money, he thought he still lived in the seventies. When fifty quid meant a lot. “Yep, you could say that.”
“Okay, daughter, I’m on my way.” His cheery laugh rippled over his rotund body. “Don’t forget what I said, spend it wisely.”
“Hmmm sure.” What the hell was he talking about? When was the last time he’d gone shopping? Hell, she could spend that amount in a flicker. “And thanks, Daddy.” Jess knew she wouldn’t get to see it; the bank would swallow the money.
“Anytime, baby.” George adjusted his wig and, planting a sloppy kiss on her, ambled away on slow, lumbering strides. “I’ll see myself out.”
“Do you believe that?” Jess sipped and slurped from the coffee, her gaze focussed on George’s receding back. “Well, guess that about sums it up. My sad, frigging life.” And again inspected the cheque she held. Her dad needed to get into the real world, yet no way would she hurt him. At least he’d come through and given her something.
Not like the bitch of a mother who ignored her. Who used her and continued to as she saw fit.
“Yeah, actually I do, but I love your dad, he reminds me of…” Kitty paused, “I don’t know, I can’t describe him, but he’s sweet.” Another shake of breath broke free. “If he were a puppy, I’d want to adopt him.”
Jess managed to twist her head without her brains slamming into her hangover. “You’re one crazy bitch, you know that?”
“Yep, so pour me another coffee. I want it strong black and looking like treacle.”
Half a dozen cups of seriously bitter coffee later, both began to take on the resemblance of a human.
“Think it’s time you got your ass in gear to leave.” Kitty pointed to the manila envelope and its contents.
Jess nibbled at her nails. “Okay, don’t push me.” Then realized how ungrateful she sounded. Her best friend had just paid out for a weekend of fucking and she was stalling? She needed to get her life sorted. “Sorry, Kit, I’m really grateful for this, and trust me, I will enjoy.”
Kitty gave a glimmer of a sad smile. “I know you will.”
§§§
An hour later, Jess sat in the small car, Betsy, her battered little run around. Not new, far from it, the blue mini cooper’s paintwork was pock marked with rust but at least it was serviceable. “Shit, I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”
Kitty leaned forward. Her arms snuck around her neck through the open window. “Enjoy, hun, and take everything your Dom gives you.” She hesitated, her green eyes shimmering. “And say a big hi to that fucking prick LeBron.”
Jess smiled up at her. “Will do, babes, will do.”
The car chugged to life, and with a wave of her hand and a toot of her horn, she drove away towards the club.
To Caprice.
§§§
Jess’s stomach rumbled, the miles dwindled behind before the clawing hunger pangs hit her. The village of Kelsey, where she lived, was only an hour’s journey to Northlands, her destination. But her stomach called, and she gave a relieved smile, spotting the drive through, a fast food outlet lay ahead. Cholesterol here I come she muttered.
Flicking her indicator, the car turned into the driveway.
<
br /> Jess frowned because the place appeared deserted; unusual, but, hey, it was her gain. She had zero patience and steered towards the first window. Her glance took in the billboard, and the meal of the day. Her stomach gave another lurch. Pulling the handbrake up, she rummaged in her bag, cursing the sheer size, searching for her purse.
Jess decided she needed a tracker on the damn thing, and that she was going to give up on the fashionably large bags. Finally, her fingers gripped it; she wound the window down and, with a sunny smile, gave her order.
“I’ll have—” Her lips froze, her voice broke, and it hitched into a scared whisper. “What the fuck?”
The young girl flopped to the side, her blue and white gingham apron splattered red, whilst across her throat glared a huge gaping hole, and greedily sucking from the gush of blood was a tall man. His grey eyes were trained on her, and in slow motion, she followed his hand that swiped at the blood trickling over his chin.
She shook her head and blinked.
His fangs dripped with a ruby stain and she couldn’t drag her gaze away, instead staring with a morbid fascination. From behind him came a loud cacophony of screams and the crashing of chairs tripping over, which was followed by a deathly hush.
Jess swallowed, this so couldn’t be happening, she wasn’t looking at a vampire drinking the blood of a waitress. Any second someone would cry joke, and she’d order her burger and fries. Laugh about the scare they’d given her and give her a happy meal.
A flicker of movement caused her to check in the rear mirror, two men, their tops splattered red with what she assumed was blood and wished was ketchup, were running towards her. Even from that distance, she could see their faces glowed with a feral intensity. Their rabid heat filtered and ripped over her.
She hit the accelerator; the tyres whirled in a spin of dust, and the car remained still. Oh shit!
The men were close, another second and they would reach her. ‘Fuck.’ She yanked at the handbrake, stupid bitch, and this time flew from beside the window, the car skidded on a swirl of a scream, the scent of burning rubber infused the air.
