by Sienna Mynx
Destini stopped mid-type, finger on the period, eyes glued to the last sentence. Rain was doing a lot of tying down lately, a lot of bondage sex. What Rain called Breaking the Man. She lifted her fingers from the keyboard as if the keys themselves had poison darts attached. Breathlessly, she scanned the passage and the one above it.
Why was her writing going down this road? Before Russell left, Rain was in control of her own sexual prowess, looking for that soulful connection of someone just as centered as she. Rain, for Destini, was about a woman’s sexual awareness; her purpose wasn’t defined by what men or society dictated.
And now what, Destini? No answer? I’ll tell you. Now Rain’s different. She’s frustrated, demanding, unfulfilled. You think that this is a coincidence? I wouldn’t say so. This is your issue, Destini, not Rain’s. Face it.
To make matters worse, Destini’s readers were commenting. They weren’t buying into Rain’s change. They had already unmasked the identity of her secret lover. Her readers saw through her and were telling her about it.
One wrote, What’s the fun in all this screwing if there is no real seduction, no believable push-and-pull with a little of the chase? Give us a break! We know who Mr. Green Eyes is.
Another wrote, Don’t get me wrong, I like that Rain can get her freak on, but I’m a little tired of all the whoring around. Give Rain someone on her level. Teach Rain something for a change. Seriously, she can’t know everything!
Still another wanted to know, I was with you three stories ago, but I think this will be my last. Women don’t have to be subjected to abuse or take it to be desired. You need to do your homework, girlfriend.
Her inbox was loaded with questions, rants, comments that lingered in the recesses of her mind and made her question her writing, her motives.
Seduction? Women liked to be seduced. Okay, noted.
Submission? Sometimes women can be submissive without losing complete control in bed. Fine, duly noted.
But what did she know truly about the bondage? Sex for her in the past was over before she entered the room. Never in her life had she climaxed while in the throes of a huff and puff session with Russell. Only some serious rubbing of her clit during the act brought her close, or some oral action in between, which rarely happened. And even when she enjoyed it, she had to endure what pleased Russell more. Her never-ending desire to please Russell squeezed any self-awareness of her own desires from her spirit. No balance there.
So, was it Rain’s turn to be submissive in bed? Was it her turn to have a man set her toes to curling with a whispered command, before he beat his name into it? She wasn’t a dominatrix. Rain was somewhere in between. A rare specimen who was more like a chameleon. That’s what made her stories different, exciting, and decadent.
A deeply frustrated sigh escaped her as she slowly lowered the top of her laptop. Her favorite chair sat pointed to the west in front of large picture windows. The sinking sun shot rays of red, orange, and gold through the glass to warm her. Her mind drifted as it sometimes did while watching the day slip away. And despite her best efforts not to, she began to consider Naiya’s words.
Oh, cut the shit! Rain would turn a place like that out. And, honey, let me clue you in on something. Rain is you. She is the other you that you think no one can see. You need to stop all the stalling. Your life, Destini! When are you going to live it for a change?
Destini shot to her feet. She located her purse on the credenza. She removed her things: wallet, lipstick, keys, checkbook, mints, and finally a platinum VIP card. On the front of the card in black lettering, it read: Club Ajani.
She tapped it against her chin. Thinking hard about the invite and the chance to learn how to release her inner self was tempting. She could reign in Rain’s insatiable appetite and Rain could help her to loosen her inhibitions. A mix of the two could prove to be interesting.
Naiya was right. She would never explore this side of herself in Manchester Hills or hiding behind her computer. She would continue to be boring, uptight Destini. She was grown, a big girl, her own person. Still, her parents’ religious discipline was in her heart, part of her core, and she knew right from wrong. Sex with someone you loved and married was right. Everything else was wrong.
Destini sighed, shaking her head. Her curls loosened, falling over her brow. This wasn’t her. As she lowered the card to her purse, her hand stilled. Russell’s words soon played through the hollows of her memory and barely-healed heart.
“Asshole!” she grumbled. “He has no clue who I am, the bastard. None of you know who I am.”
Destini set a firm, determined line to her lips. She rubbed the pads of her fingers into the raised lettering on the card. “They want Rain? I’ll give them Rain.”
She marched into her bedroom and straight to her closet, digging out the naughty black dress with the leather straps. It was barely the size of a towel. She tossed it onto the bed and then padded off to the shower, shedding her clothes as she went. Fearing her courage would slip, Destini decided not to think it through. Instead, she undressed, and then stepped under the warm spray of the water. Tonight, Rain and Destini would be one. She smiled at the possibilities.
***
For a moment, Destini wondered if she’d put the wrong address in her GPS. The building was a three-story non-descript building located on the edge of an industrial park. Two bouncers stood under a black awning, which covered the red carpet that led to the club’s double red doors.
As her car idled at the curb, a third bouncer stepped outside. Tall, blond and handsome, he was dressed in black slacks, matching t-shirt and a white blazer. A small smile tilted the corner of his mouth. He signaled her to drive forward.
Could he see her through her car’s tinted windows? Destini shook her head. She was reading way too much into this. Unsettled by her decision and what lay ahead, she crept forward. So what if it took her five minutes to go five yards? This was too surreal.
The four-door passenger vehicle with the “teachers make the world go round” bumper sticker finally coasted to a stop at the front of the club. Her car door opened as she laid hands to her purse. Five fingers upon an open hand moved in level with her breasts, palm upturned. She placed hers within and allowed the blond giant to guide her out.
“Welcome to Ajani, beautiful,” he said in a voice more seductive than his years should allow. His palm, warm and smooth as a baby’s behind, held hers. Stepping out of the car, she met his gaze. They were brown like hers, amber and framed by long lashes. His eyes were beautiful, almost too pretty for a man. Without any hesitation, his gaze drifted down to her open coat and her overly exposed boobs molded into a black leather corset with crossover scarlet ribbons. The leather breast cups gave such a lift that she feared her nipples would pop out if she raised her arms.
Destini’s cheeks warmed. Out of instinct, she drew the lapels to her thin black leather coat together, forcing his eyes back to her face.
The valet handed her a black parking ticket with silver writing. “Enjoy.”
“Th––” she cleared her throat with an upward toss of her chin. “Thank you,” she said evenly, letting the coat fall back open as his reward. She had to check herself and draw on her secret weapon. Rain. If she created her, she could become her. No problem.
He stepped aside.
Destini sashayed around the car, swinging her hips with her back straight and chest thrust forward. The other two bouncers were ebony giants with skin the color of a rich, dark, Hershey bar. One had a shaved head and a thick mustached goatee that framed the most sensuous pair of lips. His gaze cut to his partner at her approach. Sporting thick velvety dreadlocks that were tied back from his face. The other man was clean-shaven with heavy-lidded eyes. What Rain would call bedroom eyes.
He stepped forward and addressed her. “Hello, beautiful. Welcome to Ajani. Do you have an invite?”
“Hi. Um, one second.” She fumbled with the front flap to her clutch purse. She searched the side pocket zipper for the ca
rd. The men towered over her, their shadows adding to her nervousness. Though the night air whipped at the hem of her coat and her loose curls, she was grateful for the manly shield she received. Beyond them was a roped-off red carpet walk, leading to red double-glass doors that reflected her clumsy plunder. If she had left the card home, she’d be so embarrassed. “I know I have it,” she said, and just when she feared the worst, she found it stuck between a grocery card and a credit card. She flashed it with too eager a grin.
The bald one nodded, not bothering to check it for authenticity. “I was going to let you in either way, sexy,” he said, smoothly dropping the velvet rope and stepping aside.
“Thanks, sweetie.” A voice foreign to her escaped her lips. A surge of confidence straightened her spine and sharpened her ego. Destini couldn’t explain it. She strutted past the men, relishing the unspoken desire that charged the air, like a storm wind before a lightning strike. She could feel the sizzle of excitement playing along her skin. In fact, she wished she could run home and grab her laptop to write Rain, sandwiched between them both. Destini chuckled to herself. Naiya was right. Even her fantasies belonged to Rain.
Mr. Dreadlocks caught up in two long strides. She saw his arrival in the reflective glass of the door.
“Let me, beautiful,” he said, drawing the door open.
The other remained behind. He stroked his jaw, his eyes fixed on her swaying hips covered by her coat. She laughed to herself and walked inside. Cool freshness with a hint of frankincense and a touch of polished leather greeted her. There was sparse lighting. Dim, it set a seductive appeal over the dark contemporary furnishings. It was reflected in the polished floors.
A striking woman stood behind a grey and black stone-carved podium rooted to the floor. The small lamp that smoothed out the lettering of her guest registry cast the woman’s heart-shaped face in half-shadows. Her eyes lifted slowly, registering Destini’s arrival. When she smiled, her ruby-glossed lips parted to reveal a display of dazzling white teeth.
“Welcome to Ajani.”
“Hi,” Destini rushed out, then reigned her eager fumble in. “Hello,” she said.
“Ms.?”
“They call me Rain.”
The woman’s gaze flickered appreciation and then gleamed with a little of the heat that the two bouncers radiated in their stare. “Let me help you out of your coat, Rain.”
The hostess stepped around the podium. She was tall, but the four-inch spiked heels made her an Amazon. She wore a small, fitted leather dress with one shoulder and high hem. Her dark hair floated in loose curls around her face. She circled Destini, trailing a swirl of warm floral fragrance that was quite seductive. Destini’s shoulders slumped to shrug her coat off, but the woman’s touch stayed the action. She eased in close. Her nipples brushed Destini’s back intentionally. She leaned in until they were cheek to cheek and ran her hands up her arms. “Oh, please. Allow me the pleasure, sweetheart,” she breathed.
Destini gulped. The urge to object was a hard swallow. She tensed. The hostess’ hands dropped on her shoulders and then slipped down the front lapels, a touch above her cleavage, before parting the coat. It peeled away easily, exposing her bare shoulders, the high hemline to her dress, and the split that went all the way to her hipbone on either side. She couldn’t wear underwear with her dress. No g-string was thin enough and no bra low enough. She knew this woman sensed it.
The idea of a woman… well, let’s just say it did nothing for Destini. Her brain started firing off questions as panic welled, and the hostess remained close.
What’s the matter, Destini? She’s sexy and she evidently has eyes for you. Flirt a little. It’s what Rain would do. That’s right, you think Rain isn’t you. After tonight we shall see.
“First time?” the woman asked, sashaying away. The moment passed.
Destini let go a slow breath of relief. Maybe she was over reacting? This woman wasn’t flirting. She was beautiful. Surely she was into a woman who was her equal.
“Yes… yes it is.”
The hostess’ lashes remained still, shielding her penetrating gaze. She ran her tongue over her top lip. “A virgin, hmmm…you came on the right night, cherry. Step inside. I’ll keep this coat warm for you,” she said, stroking Destini’s coat with a lover’s touch.
The woman chewed on her bottom lip as if she wanted to say more. What more could there be? Destini noticed how the hostess’ eyes lingered on the tops of her cleavage before finally making the climb to look at her face. She decided to ignore the dark swirl of lust. But there was no mistaking the sexual tension it brought.
No wonder Naiya loves this place, Destini. It sure does wonders for a girl’s ego.
Destini headed through the curtain, parting it with her hand. Another short hall awaited. Again, a hunk of a man greeted her. He however, was shirtless, a leather collar fastened around his neck with a long link chain that attached to the belt secured on his tight-fitted leather pants. He wore a bandit’s mask, which made the topaz beauty of his eyes pop. She stepped toward him, slowly. The man licked a very kissable pair of lips. What awaited her next?
A new stranger bowed. His arm went behind him, and the door was pushed open. She sucked in courage. He stepped aside, she felt his gaze burning through her. She forced her legs to move. The soft blow of a saxophone blended with the bluesy voice of Billie Holiday that permeated the room. Surprised, she stepped through a very cozy and normal scene. The place wasn’t intimidating at all.
Destini held her small clutch with both fingers. Men were sharply dressed in dark suits in shades of black, some leather and some not. There were a few women like her. White, Black, Indian, Middle Eastern, Asian, Latino. It was a cornucopia of races of men.
Destini found the nerve to move on. Others, men mostly, gathered at the bar. There seemed to be a shortage of ladies, unless upstairs...
Maybe upstairs is where a small-town girl like you is introduced to the strap? You know that’s where you’ll be heading eventually. Are you ready? Of course you are, Destini, this isn’t your first time at the rodeo. How many times have you visited a place like this in your dreams? Careful though, reality can have a different bite.
Destini cast aside the warning voice in her head and conjured more of Rain’s fearlessness. The music tempo switched to another jazzy melody with the piano rippling sweetly in key with the musician’s love affair with his saxophone. Again she had to give it to them on their choice of music. It definitely set her at ease. Destini stepped deeper into the room. Open and spacious like a large warehouse, Club Ajani’s floor plan had taken up more with floor space than actual seating. A long bar occupied one wall and several booths spacious enough to seat ten each occupied the other. Tabletops were covered in black linen topped with vibrant blood-red roses and black candle centerpieces.
She kept glancing to the booths. Some had dark drapes drawn. Some not. Singles and couples lounged, sipping drinks and observing, just as she was.
“Excuse me, beautiful.” A stranger with a mask sidestepped her, his hand brushed close against her.
Destini frowned at the unwanted touch. But the action broke her from the spell. That was the interesting thing about the club. Some men and women concealed their identity, and some didn’t. She wondered if she should have worn a mask too. When she looked back to the booth, she could see nothing remarkable. She wondered why she felt so compelled not to turn away.
She decided on the bar and gracefully headed that way. She caught the eye of several as she passed but it was the men who wore masks who stared the most heatedly. Avoiding the challenge she met in their eyes meant she kept hers trained on the bartender only. She needed a drink. Maybe two. Then…
Then maybe you’ll be ready? Come on, Destini. You are ready; you just got to loosen up. You’ve made it this far, what’s the point of not seeing this through?
“What can I get for you, sexy?” the bartender with a devilish smile asked as he wiped down the counter. She went for the open seat, bu
t the man before her stood. He offered his instead. Destini smiled her thanks and sat down. Coolness spread over her thighs and she tugged at her rising mini. She thought the split was sexy when she strutted out the door, now she felt overly exposed. So much was revealed from her raised hem that she put her clutch bag in her lap to make sure her jewel remained covered.
“I’ll… I’ll have a dry martini,” she said.
“Your name?” a voice spoke to her left.
“Rain.” Destini accepted her drink. She cast the man a shy smile. He looked so much like Russell it set her stomach to fluttering.
“So tasty,” he said under his breath. “I wonder if your pussy is as sweet?”
“Uhm,” Destini steadied her voice and nerves. She spoke up boldly. “Is that your very best? Tasty?”
“It’s only a compliment, beautiful,” he said, moving a martini toothpick over his tongue to the corner of his mouth.
“Move on,” she said.
He blinked, his silky brows dipped, and he pulled back from how he had leaned toward her. “Yes, ma’am,” he said obediently, sliding from the barstool. Destini couldn’t believe it. She opened her mouth and spoke and it—it just happened. Most times when men approached or peppered her with compliments she found offensive, she never stood her ground. Even worse, she’d let them corner her until she agreed to take the number she’d never call. For the first time in the game of creepy man versus insecure woman, she stood up for herself. Damn, it felt good.
As she watched the bartender shake her martini, a man’s arm suddenly reached around her. She tensed, readying herself for another verbal insult. It was unnecessary because he ended up reaching for the peanuts sitting in front of her. Taking fingers full, she noted his immaculate manicure and spicy cologne. Destini stilled before she fell off the barstool. His scent was intoxicating.
Luckily he didn’t steal and make a quick getaway. He leaned in and smiled. “You’re new,” he stated. His skin was a buttery brown, and his long dark hair, shiny and thick, fell to the sides of his face from a center part. He was really close, his tie brushing the curve of her shoulder. And he didn’t wear a mask.
