*
It was aboutnine-thirty p.m. when I slipped into the club the following night—I had roughly an hour before Marly arrived at the diner. Well, hopefully. If her nerves didn’t get the better of her. And if she didn’t show? My stomach twisted at the thought and I sighed, with a quick glance around the crowded dance floor. Bass pounded through expensive speakers. Sweaty bodies writhed against each other, despite the early hour.
My stomach flipped as I made my way through the maze of people to the back rooms of LnS—an abbreviation for Leather n’ Silk. It had been over a year since I’d stepped foot inside these walls. But nothing had changed. It felt like just yesterday that I was here every weekend.
On the surface, LnS looked like any other thriving nightclub. It had a light BDSM/Burlesque theme to it, but it was just that. Light. The people who frequented the downstairs were first timers. People who saw the lifestyle as a fun gimmick. They’d put on leather and carry whips, and at the end of the night, they went home, spanked a few asses and called themselves edgy.
But those with a key to LnS knew that it was so much more. I turned down the small hallway, passing the bathrooms and came up behind Claude Guille—star of the most recent teen heartthrob movie and the main love interest to most girls ages thirteen and under. I snorted to myself.Claude Guille.At an audition, just a couple of years ago, “Claude Guille” was Clyde Grimes—a pimply blonde kid from Texas reading for featured background roles. A bony brunette with far too much eyeliner clung to his arm, eyes foggy and dilated. The bouncer stood about triple the size of Claude with arms folded. A massive wall, blockading the way up the stairs into therealLnS.
“C’mon, man!” Claude whined, holding up a one-hundred dollar bill. “I can double this.”
Pete’s eyes darkened and his crossed arms flexed with the bribe. These guys get paid more than that and then some. The last thing he needed was a hundred bucks. “Upstairs is off-limits. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave.”
“Baby,” the girl’s nasal voice clipped my ears and I winced at how closely she sounded like Layla. Fuck. “I’m tired.”
Claude snaked his arm tighter around her waist, tugging the girl into him. “Thanks a lot, asshole,” he muttered, turning and practically dragging the girl beside him.
Claude’s eyebrows jumped when he saw me. “Good luck, man.”
I nodded, waiting until Claude was completely out of sight, then pulled a gold keycard out of my wallet.
“Jude,” Pete looked at me, his eyes widening for only the briefest second. “It’s good to see you here again. Welcome back.”
“Thanks,” I did my best to give him a smile. So much for trying to slip in without making a big deal of my return. “Rough night?”
Pete exhaled through tight lips, shaking his head. “It’s a Tuesday, man. Thought it’d be a slow night.” He took my keycard, swiping it through a reader and holding the screen out to me.
“My voice is my password,” I said into the microphone.
Pete handed the card back to me.
“I have a guest coming tonight, but we need to be really discreet. More discreet than usual.”
“Back entrance?”
I nodded. “We’ll be meeting down at the diner on Kings Ave in about an hour.”
“What’s her name?”
“Marlena Taylor.”
Pete typed something into the tablet, his face revealing nothing. One of the attributes LnS prided itself on—absolute apathy toward everything and everyoneyou do inside its doors. The second I walked up those stairs, Pete would be on the internet, researching the hell out of Marly and putting together her file… essentially a blackmail file if she were to ever leak information about therealLnS. It was the best and most secure way to keep those within its walls hushed. The types of people who came to this club had money—more than they knew what to do with. A monetary fine would do jack shit in keeping people quiet. But dirt on you that will be spilled if you spill? Yeah. That was enough to keep mine and most everyone’s mouth shut for sure.
“You know the drill,” Pete continued. “You can explain the privacy code to her yourself. I’ll have a temporary contract in your room in a few minutes. It will cover her for the basics for a night.”
“I might need something a little more involved. I want her to learn about the lifestyle and see more than the average girl I bring.”
Though his face didn’t show it, interest vibrated off of Pete’s body. I haven’t been to the club, let alone had a sub with me in a long time.
“Not a problem. I’ll get you the beginner’s contract. If she decides to join, the process will be more involved, as you know, but this should give her a taste of the community with safety to you and the others.”
“Thanks, Pete. Have the contract be good through Thursday.” I took off up the stairs, two at a time. The question was, what would they find on Marly as leverage? Damn, I hoped I never found out.
*
Marly
I sat inDaisy’s Diner sipping my second cup of tea. I was early, but hoped that the extra time and the warm beverage would calm my frazzled nerves. Steam billowed from the top of my porcelain cup and the warmth of it surged from my palms up my arms, heating me both inside and out. I set the glass down, my hand trembling as it clattered against the saucer, then picked up my pen, twirling it in my fingers. My turquoise planner sat next to my cup like a reliable friend and I tapped my pen rapidly against the binding. With a quick glance at the clock, I chewed my lip and tugged on the raven black wig. It itched like hell and sweat gathered at the base of my neck. I still had time to back out. It wasn’t yet ten thirty; I could still leave.
