She's All In: Club 3, Book 1

by Cathryn Cade

  “Wow,” Sara breathed. “Right there? Sneaky. I wonder what the neighboring businesses would say if they knew there was a sex club in their backyard?”

  Daisy shrugged. “Some of them probably know. Stuff like that is on plat maps. Anyway, you should come with me next time.” They’d party, and she’d talk Dack into taking her into one of those back bedrooms for their private fun.

  Carlie peeped at her over her coffee cup. “So, did you do anything, um, kinky?”

  Heat rolled over Daisy’s face and down her throat. “Heck, yeah,” she said breezily. “Got a spanking and did the wild thang.”

  “Oh my God,” Carlie breathed, her blue eyes like saucers. She peered around to make sure no one at the neighboring tables was listening. “Dack spanked you? Was it because you, y’know…disobeyed?”

  Sara shot her a look of surprise, and Carlie shifted, looking like a guilty little girl. “Well, if he’s a dom, that means he gets to make the rules, and his partner is supposed to obey.”

  “His submissive,” Sara corrected her. She grinned as the other two turned to stare at her. “Hey, I’m a health teacher. I read a lot.”

  Both of them seemed to know more about BDSM than Daisy had to start with. And if she couldn’t be honest with these two, who could she share with?

  “Dack is a dom, all right. And I kind of screwed up.” Daisy told them about her mishap with the keys. “But I think it was really just because he likes spanking women. I mean, that’s why he and his buds are there and not down at Bingo’s.”

  “Maybe they should’ve called this place Spanky’s,” Sara muttered.

  Carlie giggled, shooting Daisy a look. “That’s better than Daisy’s idea.” She looked around before relating Daisy’s alternative names for the club. Sara snickered delightedly.

  But Sara soon sobered. “Gosh, Daise, you are so…brave. You just waltzed right in and asked for what you wanted.”

  “Yeah, good for you,” Carlie said wistfully. “I want to give it a try, but…I need to work up to it, I guess.”

  Daisy looked at them. “Thanks,” she said, blinking back tears. God, she was so emotional. “I mean, for not judging me. ’Cause part of me feels so…bent.”

  “Judge you?” Sara’s auburn brows shot up. “Daisy, after all you’ve been through, neither of us is going to judge you for having sex—any way you want it.”

  “Unless you have it with Jake,” Carlie added. She immediately blushed, waving her hands in negation. “Sorry, sorry.”

  Daisy shook her head in understanding. “Carlie, if you have your eye on him, girlfriend, there’s no way I’d go near him. It’s not like I want to nail every guy in the club.” Of course, Carlie didn’t need to hear about Jake ogling her bare ass, either. That was TMI.

  “But if the guys are running this club,” Sara said slowly, “and it’s so they can act out their kink, or whatever you want to call it, doesn’t that mean that they’re all…with other women?”

  Daisy drained her coffee cup and reached for the carafe. “Yup, probably does,” she agreed briskly as she poured. “But that’s okay with me, because you know what? I’m just looking for a good time.”

  She was not going to fall for Dack or anything stupid like that. She’d let him introduce her to the joys of her kind of kink, and then she’d wave good-bye, and be moving on to some other lucky guy.

  The other guy would have to have some nicely trimmed facial hair, because that was her new favorite thing, and of course he’d have to be a weight lifter, because big muscles were le sigh. And his voice had to be so deep and rough it sent shivers through her and made her want to melt at his feet.

  Just a few simple requirements. Another guy like that shouldn’t be too hard to find, should he?

  She looked up to see an elderly woman glaring at her disapprovingly as she passed the table. Daisy smiled sweetly. “Sex,” she said. “That’s what I want. Lots of great sex.”

  Carlie and Sara managed to hold on to their snickers until the woman stalked away, her face mottled with outrage. Daisy’s cheeks were hot again, but she laughed with her friends. Life was too short to worry about what some prudish stranger thought.

  “Oh God,” gulped Carlie when she could talk. “I love you, Daise.”

  Sara held her hand out to Daisy, palm up. Daisy slapped it.

  “So did you go upstairs?” Carlie asked when she finally managed to stop giggling.

  Daisy shook her head. “No. I don’t even… What’s upstairs?”

  Carlie’s eyes widened with pleasurable horror. “That’s where they have the, um…the kinky stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know, places where doms can tie their subs up and do…stuff to them. Like spanking benches and things like that.”

  Daisy shook her head adamantly. “No way. I’m not going up there. I just want…sex.”

  Carlie nodded. “You’d have to really trust a guy to let him do that stuff. Or be into pain.” She shuddered. “Which I am not.”

  “Me either.”

  “You know what?” Sara set her jaw, looking determined. “I want good sex too. Why worry about an exclusive relationship? I had one, and look what that got me. Nothing but a blood test to make sure he hadn’t brought any STIs home.”

  Daisy nodded. She knew from margarita night at their favorite Mexican restaurant that the jerk Sara had divorced the year before had denigrated her sexual attractiveness while he slept with every other woman he could. Now that was bent, and not in a good way.

  “That reminds me.” Carlie looked worried. “How do we know we won’t catch something at the club? I mean, I’m sure they hand out condoms, but…”

  “Like party favors,” Daisy said wryly, remembering the bowls. “But you also have to be tested before you can join. I went to the Riverside Clinic. They’re fast.”

  Carlie nodded, stirring her spoon absently in her coffee. “That’s good.”

  Daisy took another drink of her own coffee, watching her friends over her cup. She’d opened up, but what would they decide? That she’d gone too far for them to follow, or that Club 3 might be the place for each of them to find their own sexual freedom?

  She wasn’t even sure what she’d found herself. She’d had great sex and let Dack and Mason—she wasn’t counting Kevin, because that jerk was never coming near her again—roll out their dom moves on her. But would she have the courage to go further?

  Sara drained her cup and slammed it down on the tablecloth as if it were a shot glass on a bar. “I’m coming to Club 3,” she told Daisy, her brown eyes narrowed, her lips set firmly. “If you can do it, so can I. I’m breaking out of my good-girl cocoon, and I’m going to…to…” She wrinkled her nose. “Um, I have no idea what I’m going to do. How do I start?”

  Daisy reached over and patted her slender arm. “It’s okay, little teacher. I’ll lead the way.”

  She wriggled in her seat with excitement. “Oh, we’re gonna have so much fun.”

  “Yeah,” Carlie said softly. “You are.” She smiled at them, but her lovely blue eyes held a look of frustrated longing.

  “Come with us,” Daisy pleaded. “This Saturday is Western Night. Cowboys?”

  Carlie shook her head. “I…I just don’t think I can. Not yet.” She looked down, rubbing a pattern on the white tablecloth. “There’s that guy I’m interested in and… I’ll see if that goes anywhere.”

  “What about Jake?” Daisy asked, then winced as Carlie’s full lips tightened. “I’m sorry, sweetie. You have to make your own decision. Not my business.”

  Sara was watching Carlie too. “Except we all know you think Jake is mega-hot.”

  Carlie blew out a breath. “Yeah, but I also think he’s…out of my league. I mean, if he has hot-and-cold-running women at Club 3, why would he want me?”

  She pushed her chair back and stood up, brushing her hands down over her prim navy dress. She smiled at them. “Well, ladies, this has been great, but I really have to run.”

 
; “Well…okay.” Daisy nodded, when what she really wanted to do was leap out of her chair and hug the tall blonde. “Thanks.”

  Carlie dropped a bill on the table and gave them both a little wave.

  “See you at the gym?” Sara asked, twisting in her chair as Carlie stepped past her.

  “Sure. Bye.” She walked away, her blonde hair swaying down her back, her full hips swinging gracefully

  Daisy frowned after her. “How can any woman be that beautiful and not see it?”

  Sara turned back to the table with a sigh. “I don’t know. We’ll just keep working on her, right?”

  “Right. Now, missy, how about Saturday? You gonna come with me?”

  Sara nodded. “I’m in. So…what does one wear to Western Night?”

  Daisy grinned. “I have no idea. But we’ll figure something out.”

  Dack opened the front door of his parents’ small, ranch-style home and stepped inside.

  “Hi, Mom,” he called. “I’m here.”

  The living room was tidy as usual, the beige carpets and peach-flowered furniture immaculate. He glanced warily at the carpeted scratching post as he walked by. He didn’t relax until he found a slim Siamese perched on the back of a corner chair, hidden in the shadows of a luxuriant hanging plant.

  As their eyes met, the cat hissed at Dack, and he curled his lip in answer. “Yeah, the lashing tail gave you away there, Sheba. Better luck next time.”

  The damn cat liked to lie in wait for him and slash playfully at his ankles as he walked by. His mother frowned on his kicking her cat, so he stayed out of its way.

  Dack walked around the partition that divided the galley kitchen from the living and dining room and set his six-pack of Widmer Drop Top on the island next to a big bowl.

  He eyed the contents with interest. His mom made great salads, with everything in them from baby greens to different kinds of nuts. This one was chock-full of interesting bits, with a bowl of homemade ranch-style dressing sitting next to it. His favorite.

  And the smell wafting in through the open windows was another of his favorites—barbecued pork ribs. He peered out through her fluffy curtains and saw his mother standing on the spacious back deck he’d built her. She was not alone.

  His gut tightened, and he grabbed a cold bottle of beer and twisted off the top, taking a long pull. Time to play nice with his mom’s new boyfriend.

  He opened the sliding door and stepped out into the warm shade of the huge trees that framed the backyard. Beverly Humboldt turned. His own eyes, hazel with thick lashes and arching brows, gazed back at him, but in a rounded, soft face with a quick, nervous smile.

  “Hello, sonny. I didn’t hear you come in.” She met him in the middle of the deck to hug him and smooth down the front of his shirt.

  “Hi, Mom.” Dack gave her a one-armed hug, keeping his cold beer away from her. “That’s ’cause your cat missed me this time through, and you didn’t hear me screaming in pain.”

  “Oh, you.” She swatted him. “You’d think Sheba was a mountain lion.”

  She turned to the short, stocky, gray-haired man standing by the gently smoking barbecue, hands in the pockets of his golf shorts. “And here’s Frank.”

  Dack nodded stiffly. “Hey, Frank. How’s it going?” His dad wouldn’t have been caught dead in those plaid shorts. Hank Humboldt had worn Levis every day, or maybe a pair of old chinos when it was above eighty.

  “Hello, Dack. It’s going very well, thank you. And you?”

  “Great, thanks. Hot. Makes for a long day of work.”

  The other man grinned, his eyes nearly disappearing in the creases of his tanned face. “Yes, I’ve been getting up real early to get nine holes in before it’s too hot.”

  He laughed, and Dack’s mother joined in. They beamed at each other, and Dack laughed to show his appreciation of the great joke. Ha, ha. Jesus, if it wasn’t for the smells coming from the barbecue, he’d feign illness to get the hell out of here.

  “Beer, Frank?” he offered. “Got five cold ones in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks, I will,” Frank agreed.

  “I’ll go get you a cold glass,” Dack’s mother offered.

  “Thanks, Suze.” Frank beamed at her. Dack took another drink of beer. Maybe he wouldn’t have to fake illness. Kind of turned his stomach to watch his mom smile at the guy that way.

  They drank a beer while his mother put supper on the picnic table. Dack tried to help, but his mother pressed her hand on his shoulder. “You work hard all day in the hot sun. I can at least feed you supper.”

  Dack smiled his thanks, but it felt awkward as hell, especially when Frank got up and took the platter of ribs from her to carry to the table. She’d waited on his dad hand and foot, but Dack tried to chivvy her into the twenty-first century when he ate here.

  Dack drank another beer with dinner and answered Frank’s questions about his current construction project, remodeling an old home in Gresham into offices for a bunch of lawyers.

  “I guess even ambulance chasers need a well-built office,” he said wryly.

  Suzie frowned at him, her cheeks turning pink. Frank patted her hand, smiling easily.

  Dack cleared his throat. “Ah…so, you a lawyer?”

  “Retired,” Frank said cheerfully. “Bet I know more lawyer jokes than you too.”

  “Sorry,” Dack said. He gave his mother an apologetic glance, but she refused to look at him. He sighed inwardly. How the hell was he supposed to know?

  He made his escape soon after, saying that he had to be up at sunrise the next morning. Which was true, but more than that, he wanted to be gone before his mother got any more wound up. He recognized the signs—refusing to meet his eyes, getting up to clear the table with jerky movements and stomping off to the kitchen. She was revving up to blow, and he didn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity when that happened.

  Dack wiped his mouth on his napkin and rose. “Frank, great to see you. Again, sorry about…y’know.”

  Frank shook his head, his gaze friendly. “No apology necessary, Dack. And don’t worry about your mother. She’ll calm down.”

  Dack walked back through the house, where he said good-bye to his mother, stole a kiss on her cheek and thanked her for the dinner. She refused to look at him, and he sighed. Damn, no dessert for him, and he guessed Frank would be getting the leftover dinner too.

  The goddamned cat got him on the way through the living room. Dack felt the white-hot slash on his ankle as he passed the corner of the sofa. “Augh,” he gritted out.

  “You leave that cat alone,” his mother called from the kitchen.

  “Yeah, thanks, I’m fine, Mom,” Dack muttered as he let himself out her front door. He’d deal with the scratch when he got back to his place.

  As for the knowledge that another man had taken his dad’s place in her affections, he’d be damned if he’d think about that anymore tonight. It would only give him heartburn.

  He’d think about Daisy and what he was going to do with her when she came back to the club. Now there was something to make him smile. He was getting those pretty breasts of hers out to play next weekend, or he wasn’t a dom.

  He grinned to himself as he drove through the summer evening, his windows rolled down and Zack Brown Band singing about his country girl.

  Who the hell needed relationships when he could have a gorgeous woman just dying to learn how to let her bad girl loose?

  Chapter Nine

  “Sara? Where are you?” Daisy stood on the veranda of Club 3, phone to her ear. Sara was fifteen minutes late.

  Three other couples and two single women had driven in, parked and walked into the club while she waited. Now she was pacing back and forth on the veranda, in the subdued glow of the globe lamps over the door.

  The heat had not fallen with the sun, and even in the shade of the tall evergreens that rimmed the parking area, a trickle of perspiration was running down her cleavage, pooling inside her bra.

  “At home,”
Sara wailed on the other end of the line. “My car won’t start. I cannot believe this. Now I have to call a tow truck, if I can even get one this time of evening.”

  “Oh, too bad,” Daisy said. “I’ll miss you.” But she was still going in. The faint thump of a bass reverberated from inside. Tonight she was dancing.

  “Yes, you go have fun,” Sara said woefully. “Maybe you could call me once in a while with updates.”

  Daisy grinned. “Not likely. Good luck with your car. Talk to you soon.”

  “Okay.”

  Daisy stuffed her phone in the pocket of her faded cutoffs. It was a tight fit. They were an old pair she’d found stuffed in the back of her closet—from high school, if she remembered right.

  Her plaid western shirt she’d found at Goodwill. Dirt cheap, just right for a wanna-be hayseed. She’d ripped off the sleeves and most of the bottom, tying the remainder beneath her breasts and leaving all but two of the pearl snaps unfastened.

  She hoped Dack liked the shabby-chic look. She’d been tempted for one crazy moment to buy a pair of cowgirl boots but managed to control the temptation. Not in her budget, and her beige platform sandals were just fine. The other women heading inside had been wearing everything from dresses to rhinestone chaps over a bikini. That had been a flashy combination, especially on a tall redhead with double-D cups.

  Well, nothing was stopping her from going in too. Taking a deep breath, Daisy walked up and opened the front door.

  Rochelle was at the front desk, wearing a brief version of an Old West saloon girl’s dress. She smiled at Daisy, tipping her head to the side in apology. “Welcome back. I’m so, so sorry about last time, when I forgot to tell you about the keys.”

  Daisy shrugged. “That’s okay. You had a lot going on.”

  Rochelle grimaced. “You’re sweet. But some guys just aren’t worth the time or the tears, you know?”

  Then she picked something up from the desk and waggled her brows at Daisy. “But some are.” She held Dack’s key, dangling from the lacy silver collar.

  Daisy’s heart thumped with delight. “Thanks.” She took the key, closing her fingers around it. This meant Dack wanted to be with her again.