Second Time Lucky (Club Decadence Book 5)

by Maddie Taylor

  Finally, her eyes fell to Dex. On his arm a woman she didn’t know, tall, curvaceous, with brassy unnatural red hair. She was the complete opposite of Elena.

  Mara whispered to Sean, “He looks better tonight.”

  Sean’s eyes darted to his friend. “Don’t let him fool you. Elena’s leaving crushed him. He’s putting on a good front tonight.”

  “With another new woman.” She frowned. Dex couldn’t hide the detached, hardness that turned his sky blue eyes cold as ice. “I wish there was something we could do to help him.”

  “I don’t know that anything will help except time. He loved her like I do you.”

  As they joined the group, Dex came to his feet. “I thought I was going to have to start without you.”

  “Sorry,” Sean replied, his arm around Mara’s waist squeezing ever so slightly. “Unavoidably detained.”

  His shrewd gaze switched to Mara. “You couldn’t have waited until we opened the playroom?” Dex quipped, causing Mara to flush, which she almost never did.

  Knowing exactly what he was thinking she started to explain, “It was a traffic jam, not—”

  “He’s ribbing me, nightingale. I sent him a text before we left the house.”

  Regan, whose arms were wrapped around Rick’s neck, smiled sympathetically at her apparent discomfort. “They’re all like siblings, if you hadn’t noticed. Ribbing, digging, tossing around veiled insults, and some not so veiled ones. It takes some getting used to.”

  Ignoring her teasing, Dex asked Sean, “You ready to roll, partner? It’s time.”

  “I was born ready, bud,” he shot back. “Let’s get this party started.”

  Chuckling, Dex walked to the end of the bar and climbed a few steps. He stopped on a landing in front of a set of heavy oak doors with bronze and wrought iron trim. Gothic and daunting, they were right out of a medieval castle. No, a dungeon.

  Standing quietly as heads turned in his direction, Dex stood waiting as the conversations ceased, the music switched off and the lights dimmed in the bar and the lounge. A spotlight overhead cast an ominous glow on the impressive form of the Master Dom and the equally imposing doors just beyond. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what waited on the other side.

  “Good evening. On behalf of the other Decadence Masters, we welcome you to opening night. Everyone present has passed our rigorous screening process and awarded full membership status. Contracts have been signed, rules reviewed, medical clearances obtained and the long awaited opening has arrived. Before we begin, a few reminders. Dungeon Monitors, please stand.” Throughout the room, men stood wearing bright orange armbands with black DM written in bold on the fabric. “We want you to have fun at Club Decadence, but remember, our DM’s are here to keep it safe. They are the enforcers, fellow Doms and subs, respect them and the house rules or you’ll have a conversation with Master Sean or me. I can promise if you are required to visit either of our offices at the request of a DM, the experience and the outcome may not be pleasant or what you expect.”

  A hush fell over the room. Dex was built like a tank and exuded authority. Sean was of similar bulk, though ten pounds lighter he was an inch taller and equally intimidating. No one would want to have a sit down conversation with either Dex or Sean about rule violations.

  “With that bit of housekeeping aside, we have a great band, champagne is on the house—the two drink limit stands for those planning to play, of course—the buffet is hot and looks delicious, and the dungeon behind me is ready and prepared to help make your BDSM fantasies come true. The only thing left to say is keep it safe, sane and consensual, and enjoy!”

  Applause followed, quickly turning to hoots, hollers, and cheers as Dex turned and dramatically threw open the doors to the dungeon behind him.

  Several DM’s filed in followed by the first eager members. Most headed to the bar and buffet, which surprised Mara, thinking they’d be chomping at the bit to see what lay beyond the Inquisition style doors, like she was.

  A waitress approached with a tray of champagne flutes. She began pouring the bubbly, offering sparkling cider to those that didn’t imbibe. Sean leaned in, picking up a glass of each, passing the apple juice to Mara. When Dex returned, they all rose for a toast.

  In his deep rumbling bass, Cap raised his glass and lauded, “To Dex and Sean, who have worked wonders in such a short time.”

  Again, glasses were lifted, accompanied by words of agreement and appreciation before they drank.

  Sean also had a few people to thank and was next in the impromptu round of toasts. “My thanks to Dan Mariposa and his construction team. When I invited him to join us tonight, his ears turned so red I thought they would pop off the sides of his head. Poor guy is terminally vanilla, but I promised we’d toast him in absentia. To vanilla Dan!”

  The group laughingly echoed “to Dan” and more champagne was consumed.

  “And,” Sean continued, holding his bubbling glass aloft, “thanks to our wonderful decorator. Her design ideas have captured what we all wanted and delivered true decadence. Take a bow, Joanna!”

  Applause rounded the group as the blonde gracefully slipped from her man’s lap, accepting their praise with a graceful curtsy. Mara got a niggling sense of foreboding. When the woman turned to Sean and smiled her thanks, she knew why. Although nearly a decade since she’d seen her last, her stunning blue eyes, ageless skin and striking beauty were unforgettable.

  A cold sense of dread washed over her as a tingle erupted along the surface of her skin making her hair stand on end. This was followed by a heaviness in her gut as images flashed like an old reel-to-reel film, flickering and hazy at times, as memories she’d tried desperately to suppress surged to the forefront of her mind. Somehow, she murmured a lucid excuse to Sean before turning to where she thought the ladies room might be.

  After a few halting steps, Sean called to her. She stopped, realizing her mistake. Ahead with its doors flung wide lay the dungeon. Twisting, Mara scanned the room as she tried to quell the urge to run.

  “Mara?” Sean asked with concern as his hand slid up her arm.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blonde rounding the end of the couch and heading her way.

  “I was trying to find the ladies room,” Mara blurted out.

  “I’ll show her the way, Master Sean.” The hauntingly familiar voice told her she wasn’t mistaken. Mara let her lead her away knowing her behavior was already suspect. As she followed along, her heart pounded in her chest and waves of nausea rushed through her as the heaviness in her stomach set up like a yard of concrete. She prayed she wouldn’t be sick.

  “Don’t freak out, Mara,” Joanna murmured in her ear when they were out of hearing range of Sean and the other owners. “I won’t break your trust.”

  The assurance did nothing to stem the rising tide of her panic, but she somehow managed to make it to the dimly lit hall leading to the rest rooms. That she did it without making a mad dash for the front door was a feat in and of itself. Joanna stopped her when they were out of sight and clasped her cold, trembling hands.

  “Breathe, honey.”

  “How are you here? Why?” The words were little more than a croak from her dry throat.

  “I’m married to Peter, Sean’s former C.O. Surely, he’s mentioned the general to you before.”

  Mara’s eyes shot to the older woman’s face. “Oh my god. You’re married to General Peter Davis. I heard your last name, once or twice, but it never clicked.” She covered her face with her hands. “I’m an idiot for not putting this together.”

  “It’s understandable. When we met, you were very young and in dire straits. You were dealing with so much at the time.”

  That was putting it mildly. She’d had two encounters with Joanna, at the age of fifteen when Victor had first beaten her for running away from him and three years later when she finally got away. The last beating had been brutal. He’d cracked two of her ribs, leaving her in the street bloodied, bruised and
having trouble breathing. She’d been passed out when the police found her and didn’t awake until she arrived in the emergency room. Even then, she had barely been conscious. They’d called social services. It was two weeks past her eighteenth birthday, so rather than being thrown into the juvenile system with charges pending as she’d always feared, they’d called the local women’s shelter for assistance.

  Arriving like a guardian angel, Joanna had taken her to a safe house upon discharge and promised she’d be free from Victor. At the time, Mara hadn’t known she was a general’s wife. She thought she was a nice, rich lady who had time and money to spare. All she knew in her traumatized teenage brain was this woman had thrown her a lifeline, offering a way out of the gutter and providing the means to escape Victor once and for all.

  She was grateful to Joanna, always would be, but she was also afraid of her because she knew her filthy secrets. The sight of her brought them all to the forefront and swamped her with the overwhelming fear of exposure. If Sean ever found out—

  “You can trust me, Mara. Not only am I bound by the confidentiality agreement I signed, I would never reveal a confidence that is not mine to tell.”

  “It’s like seeing a ghost.”

  “I imagine so, but I swear I’m not haunting you. Like Sean, Peter is from Texas, and with my daughter Callie living here, we decided to relocate to his hometown for his upcoming retirement.”

  Mara remembered Callie well from her shelter days in D.C. She’d volunteered after school with her mother. About her age, they had clicked. She also knew her story and the horrible things she’d done. That made two people in San Antonio who knew her secrets. Mara felt the walls closing in.

  “She lives two hours away in Austin,” Joanna went on to explain. “You don’t have to worry about running into her here. She doesn’t move in these circles, thank goodness. How awkward would that be?”

  Callie living out of town eased Mara’s mind only slightly.

  “Are you going to be okay now, honey?” Joanna’s voice was rife with concern. “We should get back before Sean or Peter sends out search and rescue. These Doms don’t like it when we drop off the grid for long.”

  “I think I need to splash some water on my face first. Seeing you so unexpectedly—”

  “You got flushed, then you went deathly pale. I thought you were going to pass out.”

  “Do you think Sean noticed?”

  “I don’t see how he couldn’t have. You were shaking like a leaf, that’s why I stepped in. Obviously, you’ve never told him about—”

  She paused as two giggling women walked passed and entered the ladies room.

  After they were gone, Mara pronounced insistently. “He can’t ever find out.”

  “You were a child, Mara. Surely—”

  “No! I can’t risk it.” In a panic, her voice cracked from the stress. “I couldn’t bear him knowing.” She choked at the thought. Swallowing and trying again, she repeated, “He can’t ever find out.”

  “Okay, honey. It’s your decision.”

  More traffic in the hall as two different women left the ladies room.

  “I’ll have to tell him something.”

  “Dizzy with excitement, maybe, or blame it on the champagne,” Joanna suggested.

  “I had sparkling cider.” She met Joanna’s gaze as she referred to something from her rarely mentioned past. “Not after my mother.”

  Joanna nodded in quiet understanding. “Have you eaten?”

  “No, there wasn’t time after work.”

  “Perfect. We’ll blame it on low blood sugar, come on.”

  With the older woman’s arm around her shoulders, she went back, still shook up, but having recouped her composure somewhat.

  A concerned Sean took over on her return. Upon hearing their made up excuse, he solicitously guided Mara toward the buffet tables while apologizing for being so short sighted. As they turned, Mara glanced at Joanna, who winked at her as she leaned into her Dom’s side, the distinguished handsome gentleman who she now knew as General Davis. No wonder his bearing was formidable, he was a powerful man. They all were, giving her the uneasy feeling once again that she was way out of her league.

  * * * * *

  Although her stomach felt leaden, she ate to keep up the charade Joanna had started. Sean had fixed her a huge plate of canapés. Until he popped a wasabi shrimp with avocado topped cracker in her mouth that was to-die-for, she hadn’t realized she was hungry. Suddenly ravenous, they fed each other the heavy hors d’oeuvres: stuffed mushrooms, veggie and cream cheese pinwheels, tostada steak bites, and Parmesan and onion crostini. As she licked her lips after consuming her third mushroom tartlet with garlic herb cheese, Sean inquired, “Feeling better?”

  She nodded behind a tremulous grin. “The food, as well as everything else is awesome.”

  “You haven’t gotten to the pièce de résistance yet, better reserve judgment.”

  Discerning instantly what he meant, she glanced toward the medieval doors.

  “Are you ready for a look around?”

  She reached for her glass of cider and chugged it as though it was liquid courage instead of a teetotaler’s brew. Putting on a brave front, despite being a quivering mass of nerves inside, she quipped, “Yes, Master. Take me to your dungeon and do unspeakable things to my body.”

  He threw back his head and laughed, the rich, full sound rising above the chatter and the sound of the house band. A truly beautiful sound, as always, it turned heads. Unconcerned, he stood and tucked her into his side. “The pleasure, my sweet submissive will be all ours, make no mistake.” Chuckling, he swept her along to the daunting dungeon doors.

  Once inside the mysterious room, Mara was shocked by its size. At least the size of a football field, it was crammed full of people, equipment, platforms at different levels where member’s with an exhibitionist bent were already at play. She gaped, trying to take it all in, but it was impossible. At the far end of the dimly lit room, she saw a set of stairs and followed them up until they disappeared into blackness. Peering up at where the ceiling should be, she strained to see in the low light, but it wasn’t visible making it appear limitless.

  “This room,” Sean explained, “is two stories high. When fully lit, the upper level is visible as is the main floor from upstairs. There’s a wide walkway and railing surrounding the open second floor, similar to a loft that allows members to observe activities from a bird’s eye view. A different perspective is quite telling sometimes.”

  “A loft is all that’s up there?”

  “No, in fact, I think you’ll like the rest of the second floor. Remember how we always wished for private areas at the club in D.C. Somewhere quiet if we were in the mood to play, just the two of us? Dex and I expanded on the idea and built private rooms, six for now, with room for expansion to twelve. Each has a specific theme. There is also access to the third floor, reserved for the owners only. The apartments are the only thing still under construction.”

  Intrigued, she scanned the darkness. Unable to see a thing, she glanced to the back of the room and the stairs where a DM stood as if on guard.

  “Aren’t you letting anyone upstairs?”

  “Yes, but only those who have a room reserved. They’re all booked through midnight, and have been for months. Afterwards, those who want to explore will be allowed up in small groups.”

  Struck by the idea of the private playrooms, Mara pushed for more information. “What kind of themes?”

  “Let’s see, there’s the CEO’s office for those with a Christian Grey/Fifty Shades fantasy, a Victorian study where the Lord can wield his birch rod on naughty behinds, a classroom, which is self-explanatory, stocked with many whippy canes and stout paddles, and of course, a fully functional doctor’s office with an exam table, stirrups included…”

  Mara breathed heavily, conjuring up an image of each room in her mind.

  “There is a mini-dungeon,” Sean continued, clearly enjoying her interest in the
second floor, “with a lot of the equipment you see down here, for those who want to have a little more privacy with their play. The last room is a Sultan’s chamber complete with a gilt throne where a slave may entertain her Master with the dance of the seven veils. There is a claw footed tub big enough for two, scented oils, plush towels, grapes waiting to be peeled, and the center point of it all, a huge four-poster canopied bed complete with handy pre-mounted restraints where the Sultan may impress his concubine with his prowess, dominating and chastising as he pleases.”

  Her mouth was agape, imaging herself tied spread eagle on the silken bed. “Uh, they all sound fascinating. Can we explore after midnight?”

  “Nope.”

  Instantly, she deflated, feeling her face fall in disappointment. Chuckling, he lifted her chin, his lips gliding over hers that were set in a pout.

  “Why should we wait until midnight when I reserved us a room at ten sharp?”

  “Sean!”

  “Uh-uh, sub, remember your manners.”

  “Sorry… Master! You’re a big tease.”

  Grinning, his face radiated his high spirits. “I had a feeling at least one of the rooms would appeal. Guess which one and I’ll give you a special treat.”

  She peered up at him, her eyes narrowed in thought. Did he select a room for his preference tonight—the dungeon, of course, without question—or did he choose to please her? Knowing the generosity of her man and that he’d find pleasure no matter what room he chose, she beamed up at him as she guessed. “I can’t wait to dance the seven veils for you, oh mighty Sultan.”