by Ava Claire
A devious smile crept across my face. The scheduling email said that all the hostesses and hosts used a nickname. Hush was about escape. Fantasy.
I knew what my name would be.
Sin.
Under normal circumstances, the drama and over the topness of that name would be enough to make me blush. But it seemed perfect. The guilt that was hidden inside that word was suddenly empowering. Sins were something you did in secret, when you were doing something you weren't supposed to be doing. I'd hide all my insecurities behind that word and let my eyes do the talking.
I glanced out the window, my heart quickening in my chest as I watched the city change. The buildings were no longer concrete and brick and brutal. They were grand, like someone swept in with a bottomless bank account and a vision to make every building from the bank to the cafe to the brand new apartments more grand than the last. In the daytime, I pictured socialites strolling down the sidewalk like they were on a catwalk, businessmen modeling the latest Tom Ford with shiny watches and gadgets, and moms wearimg their perfectly coordinated yoga getups, pushing the most expensive strollers on the market. The cityscape gave way to suburbia, well, suburbia if money was no object. Everything was manicured and polished and glittering. Every community we passed was gated and there wasn't a bus stop or person that didn't look like they belonged in sight. It was eerie, like there was some invisible force field that separated 'us' from 'them'. A pristine sanctuary...for those who could afford it.
As we climbed the hills, headed into the most affluent neighborhood in this zip code, I couldn't help but feel anxious. In the city, I could shrug off my dress off as going out on the town, but this was residential. The cabbie looked just as wary, eyes flickering from the windshield to me.
My nervousness must have been crystal clear because when he spoke, the edge that cut when I'd first climbed into the cab was dull. Almost non existent.
"You sure this address is right?"
I knew it was, but I looked down at the address again and repeated it. "Yeah, that's the address." I said a silent prayer that he wouldn't ask me what I was doing in this neighborhood. My outfit made a certain answer all but certain.
We pulled off of the main strip, the cab coming to a hard stop when we hit a wrought iron gate and a keypad. There was no security guard, no camera, just a security light beaming down on the control panel.
"Somebody gonna buzz us in?" His eyebrows rose expectantly.
I gave him the four digit code, a code I'd expected I would use to enter a secure building, not some residential neighborhood in the Hills. As the dark gate crept open, I realized that this place wasn't a ritzy community lined with mansions and tennis courts and infinity pools. There was only a singular road that stretched into the unknown. I couldn't see anything past his headlights.
I gripped my seatbelt, realizing I hadn't even entertained this scenario, where some chainsaw wielding ax murderer would spring out of the shadows and-
"Whoa." The cabbie and I gasped in unison when the glow of street lamps appeared, illuminating the path. Ahead of us, a separate guard shack stood sentry above a mansion that looked like it was pulled out of a scene where the villains plotted world domination. I pretended like I wasn’t having doubts about this whole thing. This could quickly become a different kind of movie. Instead of scantily clad women gyrating in fountains and rooms filled to the brim with people having sex, it could be a front for sex trafficking or worse.
When I glanced at the wide eyed cabbie, it was pretty clear we were on the same wavelength. I had a choice, run with it, or make a Uturn.
I handed the driver my fare and pushed out of the cab. There were two men standing at the shack, equally muscled and clearly immune to any charm.
“Name,” the first one barked, his blonde hair buzzed military short.
“Si-” I stopped, realizing that Mary knew my first name, not the code name I was using for the club. “Sophia.”
He powered on his walkie, repeating my name. A deep, mahogany voice purred that I was cleared for entry and he stepped aside. The cabbie that seemed ready to get rid of me at the start of our ride lingered at the gate, but I refused to look back like I was having second thoughts. I was headed toward my destiny.
When I stepped through the giant oak doors, I was immediately hit by the smell of vanilla and lust. The corridor was immersed in darkness, but I saw a shimmer of movement in the pitch blackness. As the glitter came closer, I realized it was a dress, and the woman wearing it shined just as brightly. Her skin was the color of dark chocolate and her hair hung in dark coils that framed her smiling face.
“I’m Mary. I’m sure you have half a million questions, so let’s get started.” She dove right in, taking me to a door with the most intricate woodwork that I’d ever seen. When she twisted the doorknob, I couldn’t stop my hand from covering my mouth. It was a room filled with shelves, and on each shelf was a mask ranging from the simple but elegant, to wild and outrageous with beads and feathers, full masks and half masks.
“It’s your choice, but we strongly recommend using masks while at Hush,” she explained. “It lends to the environment of escape and anonymity.” She gave me a once over, settling back on my face. “You don’t strike me as a woman that wants to be anonymous, but I suggest you use a little something extra until you acclimate yourself.”
I tried to not get too excited since she sounded like she was already considering me part of the team. Instead, I plucked a black, glittery masquerade mask and pulled it over my face.
One glance in the mirror on the wall, and I knew that I was ready.
Chapter Four: Desmond
It should have been heaven.
Better than heaven, actually. There was no blinding, all seeing glow, just the allure of darkness. There were no angels singing hymns, instead, a DJ spun hypnotic tunes that the naked and devastatingly sexy women danced to. Dances that called to me, begging me to get lost. To do some really sinful things.
The familiar ache hit me as I punched in the access code, drawing closer to my sanctuary. My bliss. Hush was a playground for the disturbed; men and women like me who needed more than gentle caresses, a bottle of wine and baby making music to scratch our erotic itch. For us, for me, there was something far more compelling in the taboo. The pull of a woman so raw, so exposed, starving to give her body to me, was like some drug and I needed more. To push the edge. To get closer to that first high. The high that made me forget.
Tonight was Submissive’s Choice at Hush. On a typical night it didn’t take a detective to determine who was submissive. Most women’s flavor of kink was revealed when they walked through the great oak doors. They shed their jackets like a moth bursting from its cocoon, transforming into something erotic.
The Dommes, women who craved the same control that I did as a Dominant, were wrapped in skin tight dresses, harsh corsets, and razor sharp heels. The submissives, in all of their demureness, heads bowed, airy giggles floating from their lips like virgin maidens, left little to nothing to the imagination. They discarded their cloaks and trench coats and beneath, they broadcasted their wares. Their gifts. Their bodies.
And that’s why you’re here. To pick one, to pick as many as your heart desires. True-as the owner of Hush there was always some business to attend to, but if that was my aim, to get shit done, I would have made the trek to the hills during business hours. Before the sun set and the property underwent some magical transformation. Castles, dragons, and St. Andrews crosses. It was fantasy come to life.
But I wasn’t fulfilling any fantasies. Throne-like chairs were set in a circle, tower candles roaring around me, casting shadows over the bare skin that told me to let my fingers roam somewhere interesting....but there was no spark.
A woman with caramel colored skin and wild, thick curly tendrils had already asked me to make her my sub for the night. She wore nothing except the diamond studded collar that all submissives were wearing for the occasion. Sitting down should have been uncomfortab
le and impossible when she crooked a finger and asked me to dance. I shook my head and tossed my gaze to the right.
There was another collared woman, this one dressed in a sheer black fabric that billowed over her body like smoke. It should have roused me from the daze I was in. The last emotion the private dance she was giving me should have inspired was boredom. My arousal should have matched hers blow for blow. She knew how to move, rolling her hips, pulling me in with her mahogany eyes and her waist length amber locks. Instead, I looked down at my glass, like it was the alcohol's fault that I felt nothing at all.
"Nothing appealing on the menu?"
I clenched my drink and grit my teeth. The thick, Aussie accent invading my ears ensured that I was well on my way to a lackluster evening. I managed to lock eyes with the intruder, even nodding in acknowledgement which was more than he deserved. Colin Faulkner was worth roughly the same amount as I was, a powerhouse in the real estate world. He was dressed similarly, in a black two piece suit, slackened tie, and bored expression. We even had similar cravings, both of us firmly on the Dominant end of the spectrum. That's where our similarities ended. My desire to have a woman submit to me sexually, to give me control, was because the power play got me hot. Pain, degradation, and general cruelty is what got Colin's engine running. Hush had lost several submissive women after they had a session with the burly businessman. We had a strict,no tolerance policy for Dominants and Dommes who went too far. Colin made me wish that I'd been more specific...none of his playmates lodged any complaints, they just left in tears and/or bruised.
He was basically on my shit list, but it didn't stop him from taking a swig of his bottle of vodka and letting out a whoop like we were throwing a party in his honor. "Look at all these hot women, Des! Are we lucky sons of bitches or what?"
I almost corrected him. The only people who were allowed to call me 'Des' were people I cared about. He didn't make the cut. "Good evening, Colin." Now get the fuck away from me.
He didn't get the picture, hovering beside me. Leering at the brunette on her hands and knees before us. He made a sound like he was about to dive into something succulent. "Are you going to have a piece or should I?" It was a rhetorical question since he leaned forward like he was about to grab her.
I grabbed him first. "It's been a couple of week's since our last discussion, but surely you know that you don't touch a woman without her invitation?"
He snatched from my grasp. Anger shot from his eyes like lasers. If he wasn't already bald, the steam coming off of him would have been enough to melt off any scraggly blond locks. He looked ready to take a swing and all the dancing around us stilled for a moment.
Do it, I thought silently, releasing him and leaning back with a smile. I could take him with one hand tied behind my back, but that wasn't why I was hoping he'd get physical. Doms like Colin gave the rest of us a bad name. He managed to skirt the rules about taking things too far with playmates, probably writing them a check or threatening to out them, but if he took a swing at me, he was out of here...right after I knocked him on his ass.
He glanced around us, still huffing, then buttoned his jacket and stormed off to make some other woman's life hell. One of the monitors, a burly ex military man who didn't like Colin anymore than I did, met my gaze and without a word being exchanged, he made a beeline for the corner Colin was pouting in.
The submissive in front of me stretched lazily, like a kitten waking up from her slumber. Her collar glittered as she looked up at me from behind her mascaraed eyelashes. "My hero."
I lifted the rim of my glass to my lips. She wasn't making it easy, but she deserved more than a halfhearted Dom for the night. I rose from the chair, adjusting my mask. "Have a good night."
I weaved through the crowd. Temptations were uncharacteristically easy to say no to. You going soft? The whole point of this was that it was so far removed from my career. Away from the cameras, kitchens, and failed dreams. But I couldn't stop replaying Roger's last words on loop.
"How do you sleep at night?"
I had a retort locked and ready. Something TV worthy. The truth was, I didn't sleep all that well, unless I had a night of complete abandon. Escape—better than a handful of Ambien. Tonight, my body and my brain were in cahoots, conspiring against me. I decided to just cut my losses and call it a night.
"If you touch me with that hand again, you're gonna lose it."
Not surprisingly, the female, pissed off voice came from the same corner Colin had skulked off to. Maury, the monitor, was already booking it in that direction, but I intercepted him.
"I've got it," I told him firmly. The flash in my belly was probably pointless, but I was intrigued. Excited. Submissives weren't known for their ability to put a man in his place. It was my experience that they excelled at non verbal communication. Saying ‘yes’, ‘more’...but with their bodies. With their sighs. With their moans. So I leashed the thrill that was flooding me with all the sensations I'd been lacking all night, sure that Colin had miscalculated and attempted his brand of charm on one of the Dommes.
When I arrived in the thick of the action, all the submissives were hushed and wide eyed and the Dommes and Dominants stood on the fringes, ready to leap into action the second it was needed.
I stopped hard. All the submissives tonight were instructed to wear a collar for the event, and one glittered around the petite, curvy woman who was standing tall. Even in her mask, I felt her authority, her command, as she glared Colin into submission.
Colin was flustered, not prepared or accepting of yet another decline of his advances. "Clearly, you're new here." He stepped forward, looping a finger through her collar and yanking her forward. "That means you do what I say."
My hand shot out, ready to collar him, then finally kick him out of my club, but the submissive was quicker, doing a maneuver that was so swift, so effective that when I blinked, Colin was on his knees, nursing the very hand she'd warned him about.
She loomed above him, hands on her hips, like a gladiator that had just slain a beast. My eyes swept over her, taking in her bubblegum pink wig and the lacy masquerade mask that had the opposite effect than it should have had. It didn't mask her at all. She shone even brighter in the darkness, her blue eyes pale and intense. Her cheeks were full and soft, rosy with every jagged breath she took. And her dress...she filled out every inch. I should have wanted to rip it off of her, because I knew that she'd look positively delicious in nothing at all, but I wanted to drape my jacket around her shoulders instead. I didn't want anyone else to see how enticing she was. I didn't want her to see anyone else but me. And when her eyes stopped scanning the crowd, sizing up everyone like, 'Who's next?' they rested on me and went no further.
My mask seemed like a silly decoration because she stripped it away with her gaze. She saw the man underneath and when her lips curved into a smile that went straight to my cock, I knew that my night had suddenly become infinitely more interesting.
The circle of people gawking at a cursing, blubbering Colin and the pink haired sub who was standing there like some sultry, female version of Jason Bourne, parted down the middle.
Mary stormed into view. She was the kind of woman you noticed, and tonight was no different. She was dressed in a glittery dress and thigh high boots, wearing a scowl that told me she was in a mood. Her thick, full afro was as fearsome and awe inspiring as her voice.
"Girl, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"
She didn't wait for the pink haired sub to reply, looping her arm and marching her out of the room. Now that the show was over, everyone ignored Colin and got back to dancing and lusting.
I followed Mary's path, pausing in the hall as they made their way past the first floor play rooms, pausing at the elevators.
One of our senior monitors, a feisty Domme named Liza, gave me a little wave and whispered something to her female slave. Her slave immediately dropped to her knees, locking her hands behind her back. Liza was like some gold statuette in a slinky, k
arat filled dress and an ornate mask that covered her entire face. Not even her mask could muffle the heat wrapped around her every word.
"She's quite something, huh?" Liza mused, following my train of thought as we watched Mary and the sub disappear inside the elevator. "It took me a shift or two before I had enough balls to call people on their shit."
I arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "I can't imagine you ever having a problem calling anyone on anything."
She let out a deep chuckle and a pivotal part of her statement hit me like a ton of bricks.
"Wait,” I said, cautiously optimistic. “She's a monitor?"
"Not yet," Liza clarified. "She's interviewing with Mary tonight."
The excitement whipped into a fury, a cyclone of potential sweeping me up. The legal implications of being entangled with an employee seemed like anthills, nothing compared to the Everest of having her. The last time I felt this way, this damn near instantaneous desire and need, was-
The inferno was snuffed out immediately, the name rising from that dark, hidden place.
Caity.
That darkness wasn't comforting or liberating or safe. It was weight on my chest, my heart suddenly too heavy to bear. Breathing, staying here, was no longer an option. It hit me that the whole mask thing had other functions in addition to hiding my identity until I wanted to be known.
No one but me knew that I was struggling to keep it together.
My first move was towards the front door, but the comings and goings with the low whine as the cars pulled to a stop, was like nails raking down a chalkboard. I kept my composure as I walked down the corridor, blood roaring in my ears. The thunder didn’t stop until I stepped onto the terrace, tugging off my mask. Lights draped around the garden glittered like fireflies and I focused on the glow, the stillness as the breeze lifted my tie. It sent a calm rushing over me as quickly as the first memory wrecked me. When my phone buzzed in my pocket, I brought it to my ear, my fingers barely rattling.
