by Tabatha Kiss
I exhale hard. “Alex, what exactly are you not telling me?”
He waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
Don’t worry about it. The ultimate deflector. Alex’s default setting.
Alex reads my concern. “Look, man, I have this under control.”
“Yeah, you’re looking real stable right now, Alex.”
He ignores it. “I promised I’d handle the details and I’ll handle the details. You just focus on getting the client list. Okay?”
“I am focused on getting it. I just don’t think your buyer realizes how difficult it is to access a CEO’s private computer software.”
“I never said it’d be easy.” He points at me. “In fact, I said it wouldn’t be, but you still volunteered. Remember?”
“I remember. I also remember you telling me it’d all be worth it.”
“It will all be worth it,” he says, clearly not giving a shit about his volume again. “I gave you my word that I would make it all worth it. Do you trust me?”
I shift in my seat. “Yeah, Alex. I do. Calm the fuck down.”
He takes a breath. “I’m sorry, I just…” He taps the table with his thumb. “I feel like I’ve let you down.”
I shake my head. “You haven’t let me down. No one’s let anybody down.”
“Your life isn’t what it should be and that’s my fault.” He lets out a chuckle and glares into his empty coffee mug. “It’s always been my fault. I’m gonna make it up to you.”
I sigh, moving on. “Give me another few days,” I tell him. “I’ll get the client list. Just tell your guy I’ll do my best. All right?”
“How long we talking here? Can you get it tomorrow night?” he asks, a glimmer of hope in his voice.
“No, I work tomorrow night.”
“It’s an office temp job, man. Why the fuck do you have to be there on a Monday night?”
“Not that job. My other job.”
He grunts with amusement. “The gym or the sex dungeon?”
I snort. “It’s not a dungeon.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, what do you call it?”
“I call it work,” I say. “Work is work.”
“Hey.” He taps the table, smiling wide. “We finish this job and you won’t even need to work. The two of us will never have to work a day in our lives ever again. Eh? How’s that sound?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “It sounds pretty good.”
Four
Nora
My eyes keep shifting toward my desk clock and each time I feel just a little more disappointed that only minutes have passed. Monday is usually a rough start day but ever since Melanie urged me to check out the sex club, I’ve felt a rush of excitement I haven’t experienced in a good long while.
Excuse me. Kink club. Not sex club.
Of course, I should have known when I told Melanie to meet me at noon, she wouldn’t actually make it sharp.
I squint at the clock. 12:15.
Bestselling romance author, Melanie Rose, lives in her own little world — which is fine. She’s more than earned it. But for the rest of us that live in a world of alarm clocks and time sheets, a blatant disregard for punctuality can be quite annoying.
I grab my phone to prepare a biting text message just as someone knocks on my door frame.
“What’s up, bitch?”
I sigh at Melanie’s grin and reach for my purse. “You’re late,” I tell her.
“You’re surprised?” she asks.
“No,” I answer. “Just tell me you finished that chapter you were working on.”
She hesitates. “Define finished.”
I throw my purse over my shoulder. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Nu-uh,” she says, pointing at me. “Not with that attitude. No one walks into Judy’s with cat-butt face.”
“I do not have cat-butt face.”
“I want bright, smiling faces and wide-open minds,” she says. “You’ll never find a good Dom if you look like you just bit into a rotten fish. Though, who am I kidding, there’s probably a fetish for that out there somewhere.”
“I’m not even—” I lower my voice, realizing my office door is still open. “I’m not even looking for a Dom. It’s a little soon for that, isn’t it?”
“Oh.” She winces. “Probably shouldn’t have put out that ad, then.”
My face drops. “What ad?”
She breaks character and slaps my shoulder. “Just kidding. Let’s go get our whips and chains on.”
I heave a thick sigh to conceal my laugh as we make our way toward the elevator.
* * *
Judy’s — despite what Melanie calls it — isn’t actually called Judy’s at all.
The club is called The Red Brick Road and it’s nestled, of all places, in plain sight a few blocks down from my own office building between a coffee shop and some hipster record store.
I blink from the sidewalk, staring up at the wooden sign above the red doorway. “The Red Brick Road?” I ask.
Melanie nods. “Yeah, you ever notice how when Dorothy and her friends skip down the yellow road, there’s a red brick road heading in the opposite direction?”
“No,” I answer.
“Well, now you won’t be able to unsee it,” she says with a smile. “Come on.”
Melanie steps forward and holds the door open for me. I lower my head and force myself to walk in quickly just in case someone sees me. There’s a deep throb growing in my gut. I don’t know what makes me so nervous about all of it. I’m not committing to anything. I’m just taking a look around.
The Red Brick Road lives up to its name. The entryway is a closed off room with one very large red door and a reception desk that looks way too innocent, not unlike the counter at the DMV. A path made of red bricks curls from the door to the counter, branching in the middle to lead toward the red door.
Even the woman sitting behind the counter seems out of place for some sadistic sex dungeon. She’s middle-aged and round as a blueberry with thin, wire-rimmed glasses hanging from a chain about her neck and tiny earbud headphones in her ears. My gaze lingers on her neck and the large, leather collar just beneath her chin with a thick, silver padlock.
Melanie throws up her arms. “Yo, Judy!”
The woman flinches in her chair and pulls the earbuds out of her ears, quickly popping her hanging glasses up over her nose. She gasps, her wide, red-painted lips instantly cracking a grin.
“Mel Rose, is that you?” she asks.
“The one and only.” Melanie leans into the counter on her elbow. “You’re looking well. How’s business?”
“As pleasurable as ever,” she answers, glancing over Melanie’s shoulder at me. “And this must be the friend you mentioned.”
Melanie reaches back to grab my wrist and yanks me closer. “Yes. This is my BFF, Nora, and we’re here to play.”
“Well, not play play,” I say, clearing my throat. “I mean... we don’t... I mean, she and I don’t play...” I shut my trap.
Judy smirks at Melanie. “A virgin, huh?”
Melanie snorts. “Might as well be.”
“Well, go on in. Should be pretty quiet in there for you.”
“Thank you, Judy.”
Melanie grabs my hand and lays it flat on the counter. She picks up an ink stamp and presses into the back of my hand, leaving behind a curvy, womanly shape on my skin.
“What’s this for?” I ask.
“Just giving you the full experience,” she says with a wink at Judy. “Come on.” Melanie hooks my arm and draws me to the door with her.
We pause outside until Judy taps a button and the lock flicks open with a dull thud. Melanie pushes it with her free arm and shoves me forward with the other. My breath catches but I force myself to keep my balance as I walk into the main room.
I glance around, once again surprised by the reality of my situation. I’m not sure what I expected, to be honest. Something closer to a strip club with cages and flashing flu
orescent lights with a pit for the pervs to throw out money.
Not Victorian furniture.
It’s one large room with a staircase leading upward at its center. Hardwood floors with plenty of seating scattered around every wall from gorgeous loveseats to comfortable benches for multiple people. I can easily picture old ladies sitting around drinking tea — and I would if it weren’t for the occasional leather leash left hanging from a hook along the walls.
It looks… nice.
“You’re straight-up flabbergasted right now, aren’t you?” Melanie asks, smiling at my face.
“Okay.” I clear my throat. “You have my attention.”
“Good.” She hooks my arm. “Because the fun stuff is upstairs. This is just the quiet room.”
“The quiet room?”
We move forward, the gentle clack of our heels echoing off the floor.
“Yeah, you come in, grab a bottle of water from upfront, and hang out,” she says, waving a whimsical arm. “Casual, nonjudgmental atmosphere. Everyone is always so friendly and welcoming.”
“Well, yeah, they want to get laid,” I say with a laugh.
“Not necessarily. I mean, sure, some people use the space to pick people up, but others just like to talk. I haven’t been here for a while, but I’ve gotten some great info on kinks and limits and all that. I should come back soon. Might help my writer’s block.”
“Limits?” I ask.
“Hard, soft,” she says. “You know, the things you’re not-so comfortable doing.”
I nod, though I’m not really sure I understand. “Okay…”
“Clothing mandatory, no sexual contact allowed — so you know the seating is nice and clean, at least.”
“Oh, good…”
Melanie twists us around and targets the stairs. “Anyway, the bottom floor is the welcome area but upstairs is where the magic happens.”
I let her pull me along and I grasp the railing on the way up the unfamiliar staircase. As we ascend, the lighting dims and that comfortable, warm atmosphere disappears into something darker.
The walls are painted black. Gone are the beautiful Victorian couches. They’re replaced with black, leather benches along the walls but this doesn’t feel like a place for sitting for long periods of time.
There’s a track along the ceiling with strategically-placed lights that barely illuminate much of anything. There are three open areas on each side of the staircase, each one with a piece of furniture at the center, some as simple as a table. Others…
An X-shaped cross with cuffs at the end of each arm. A bench that seems a little like a massage table but it’s all out of whack, like it would force you to sit on all-fours like a…
Oh.
I swallow.
“Nora Payne,” Melanie says beside me, “meet pleasure.”
I roll my eyes. “How long have you been saving that one?”
“Shush.”
She slaps my calf with a riding crop.
I flinch. “Where the hell did you get that thing?” I ask.
“Off the wall.” She hits me again. “So, what do you think?”
I take a wide step out of her crop’s reach. “This…” I chuckle. “This is a little closer to what I expected.”
“Clothing optional,” she says. “Still no sex allowed up here but play is highly encouraged.”
“Play?”
She swipes at me again, which I easily dodge. “Play.”
I look at the tables and crosses again, quickly realizing that there are no curtains or doors on the entire floor.
“They do it in front of everybody?” I ask.
“That’s part of the fun!” she says. “Being watched is super hot.”
I laugh. “Is it?”
She stares at me, unblinking. “Yes.”
“Have you done this before?”
“Once or twice. Rob and I came here a little back in the day, but…” She shrugs, going quiet.
I throw on a sympathetic face. Melanie doesn’t usually talk about the details surrounding the fall of her and Robbie too often. I can tell it bums her out more than she lets on. I won’t push for details.
“Anyway…” She waves her crop around like a magic wand and points at the X-shaped cross in the opposite corner. “The St. Andrew’s cross, a few cages, restraint tables, and — my personal favorite — the punishment bench.”
I look at the wonky massage table again. “Punishment bench…” I murmur.
I feel the surprise tap of her crop on my rear.
“See anything you like?” she asks.
I twist away from her. “I have no idea. I mean… it looks fun?”
“That’s step one,” she says, waving upward. “Wide-open minds.”
“Uh-huh.” I glance at the stairwell, noticing that it leads up again. “And the third floor?”
Melanie smiles. “Anything goes.”
“Anything?”
“Private rooms rented by the hour,” she says. “If this floors a-rockin’...”
“Wow.”
“Leave your usual self at the door and don’t forget to wrap it.”
“Your usual self?”
“BDSM, in general, is...” She bites her cheek. “Intense, to say the least. I’ve interviewed a lot of people here and they’ve all told me the same thing: the headspace they get into when they’re here is nothing like the person who wakes up at seven AM on a Monday morning to go to work.” She points her crop at me. “And that should intrigue you, in particular.”
“It should?” I chuckle.
“Nora, don’t get me wrong, you’re one of my favorite people on this planet, but...” Her head tilts. “You need an off-switch. When is the last time you slept through the night?”
“2015, maybe,” I joke.
She nods. “This place isn’t just about getting laid. If that’s all you need, Trix and I can wing-lady you a keeper any night of the week. No, you need something deeper than a little random dick. Or big random dick, as it goes...”
“So, what do I do?” I ask. “Just hook up with some guy, he ties me up, calls me I’m a bad girl… and that’s supposed to help my stress?”
She sighs. “The idea behind it is power-play. It might look like a bunch of kinky whips and chains to some, but deep down, at its core, it’s about one person giving themselves over completely. Their actions, their words — all controlled by someone else — and you can’t tell me that’s not appealing to you in some way.”
I glance around into the blackened rooms. Kinky whips and chains, that’s definitely what it looks like on the outside but there’s something else to this that I can’t quite put my finger on.
I pause by one of the crosses and flick the soft, padded restraint near the top with my finger. The idea is appealing. Being tied up, held down, and pleasured until it hurts. Or hurt until it feels good. That might work, too…
I pause and lower my hand.
What the hell did I just think?
“In the end,” Melanie says, breaking the silence, “can you think of anything else you haven’t tried yet?”
“Acupuncture?” I quip.
She rolls her eyes. “This is way better than acupuncture. For starters, acupuncture can’t potentially get you laid.” She points her crop at me again. “Don’t lie to me. I can tell you’re in a dry spell.”
I squint. “No comment.”
Melanie sighs. “Come back tonight when they’re open and watch a few scenes play out. I’ll even come back here with you if you want.”
“No, I think...” I bite my lip, my skin tingling with embarrassment. “I think I’ll give Lenny a call instead. Beg him to take me back.”
“Or... you can come back here and beg Daddy to make you his dirty, little girl.”
She flogs the wall beside her, making a loud slap echo throughout the room.
I cringe. “Daddy?”
“I know, it felt icky saying it.” She slides the flogger back into its place on the wall. “Well, if you
’ve seen enough, you wanna get some coffee? The place next door has a killer caramel frappe. My treat.”
I nod. “Absolutely.”
Melanie starts down the stairs. I linger in place, briefly taking one last quiet glance into the corners or the room. My wrists tingle, involuntarily reacting to the possible feel restraints digging in. I imagine a hard caress on my exposed rear end, all within sight of a dozen strangers.
I clear my throat and follow Melanie down.
“Did you girls have fun?” Judy asks us as we reach the entrance.
“Always will,” Melanie says. “Thanks for having us. I’ll be in again soon, I promise.”
I nod. “Yes, thank you. You have quite the place here, Judy.”
She flashes a sinister wink. “We’ll be seeing you again,” she says, staring at me.
I nod, feeling a warm chill radiate down my spine.
We step outside and Melanie nudges my ribs.
“She says that to everybody. She’s not a psychic or anything. Just a dirty, old lady.”
“Yeah, I figured,” I say, playing it cool.
“I want to be her when I grow up.”
I laugh. “Well, you’re on your way.”
We take a few quick strides toward the coffee shop next door. Melanie reaches for the handle but the door flies open and she slams right into the person leaving: a man with wide shoulders, a leather jacket, and shaggy, brown—
Of course.
“Slow down, lady! You leave your cauldron plugged in or something?”
I silently groan at Robbie’s twisted smirk.
Melanie’s face drops all patience. “Ugh, move.”
She shoves him back and bolts into the shop, leaving him grinning with a to-go cup clutched in his good hand and his bandaged palm hanging by his side.
I stop beside him with my crossed arms as he watches her go, patiently waiting while he takes a long, hard look at her ass.
Finally, he turns around and notices me. “Oh. Hi, Nora.”
I shake my head. “Robbie, why do you say shit like that to her? You adore Melanie.”
“I do. She’s the love of my life,” he says with a defiant nod.
“Then, leave her alone.”
“The thing is...” he takes a swig from his coffee, “dumping on Mel is like... well, it’s like taking a dump. If I don’t do it at least once a day then things start to feel weird. Go a whole week without and that’s just unhealthy.”
