Page 7 of Filthy Dirty Dom
It didn’t escape Leslie’s attention that the valet knew David’s name and profession, which bothered her. When she’d told David that she wanted to explore a BDSM sex club, David had said he was interested in exploring with her. However, he hadn’t told her he’d frequented sex clubs before; in fact, he’d heavily implied that he hadn’t. Was it because he’d thought Leslie would judge him?
Probably.
They’d fooled around but they hadn’t slept together. Leslie hadn’t been ready to go that far. Hell, she hadn’t been ready to go that far with anyone, which was why at the age of twenty-four, she was still a virgin. She’s had plenty of sexual experiences, she’d just never gone all the way, and she’d never dabbled in kink the way she’d led Alex to believe she had. Not outside watching.
But David knew. She’d been completely honest about it, just like she’d been honest about her interest in exploring the BDSM lifestyle. He should have been as equally honest with her.
She wasn’t going to say anything about it now, however—she wanted to focus solely on the experience at hand.
David held out his arm for her to take. “Ready?” he asked.
She looked at the modern concrete building with glass accents. In front of a giant red door stood a large man in a suit guarding the entrance to the club. She’d done her research, and knew this place offered a high-end experience for those involved in the BDSM lifestyle. This place was exclusive, safe, and above all, discrete. Anyone attending signed an iron-clad NDA before even entering.
The promised discretion was key. After all, if word got out that world-renowned financier Branden Duke’s younger half-sister was playing around in a BDSM sex club, things could get nasty for him, and he’d already experienced enough heartache and bad press to last a lifetime. She’d never want anything bad to befall any member of her family. The Duke family might be an odd one—none of the five siblings had the same father and most of her sisters were stepsiblings—but they stuck together.
The wind whipped by again, burrowing under her heavy cape and billowing it out with enough force to show off her short black silk cocktail dress. It was one of her own designs, created to be alluring and sexy and yet with a hint of 1920s elegance and class with its soft, barely-there black beaded chiffon overlay almost moving like water over the form-fitting silk bodice and uber short skirt, the hem of which didn’t even come close to touching the tops of her boots. It was more risqué than what she normally wore, but when in Rome…
“Leslie?”
She blinked, coming back to awareness. “Sorry,” she said, giving David a rueful smile. “I got a little lost in my thoughts.”
“Still want to do this?” he asked. His words sounded kind, but there was an edge to his voice, as if an answer of no, I’ve changed my mind and would like to go home, would irritate him.
Those words weren’t about to come out of her mouth. This was her adventure, one she’d been thinking about for years, ever since she’d been a teenager and figured out that the man visiting the posh brownstone next door was a dominant, one that relished pleasuring his sub in a variety of titillating ways. That interest had only increased tenfold once she’d suspected Alex was into the lifestyle and she’d gotten a first-hand glimpse of his sexual preferences in Montana, well before she’d spent the night at his place after he was injured.
She’d snuck into his room and kissed him, prompting him to intimately lay his hands on her in the most satisfying way before her brother had knocked on the door and interrupted them. And later that night, after she’d tempted him again, well… at his hands, for the first time, pain had equaled pleasure, and she wanted more. She couldn’t have it with Alex, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have it with someone else.
She just couldn’t imagine that person being David.
She forced herself to smile at David, then tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and allowed him to lead her up the wide steps to the door. For a moment, she almost wanted to remind him of their agreement – that they were only here to watch, not participate. She didn’t want him to think that in the heat of the moment, she was going to jump into a scene with him, or finally lose her virginity to him. But they’d already discussed that ad nauseum.
“I’ll need your passes and IDs,” the bouncer said when they arrived at the landing.
David pulled out tickets he’d printed from his wallet; they’d only been provided once he’d completed an online questionnaire for them and they’d been vetted. The hulking man examined the tickets, nodded, then let them in.
As they stepped inside the club, Leslie was surprised. The place looked like any other Manhattan club, with a bar and tables. People of all genders, shapes, sizes, and ethnicity, in clothing ranging from suits and cocktail dresses (like her and David) to skimpy latex and leather and chains wandered around, but even the leather and chains wasn’t all that unusual. If anyone wandered off the street, they might think the place had a certain edge, but it certainly didn’t look how Leslie had imagined a sex club would look.
The place was elegantly decorated with lavish furniture, vibrant artwork, and soft, ambient lighting. The music was loud but not deafening and, while a group of people danced, their bodies swaying in sync with the music, most people were engaged in conversation or walking to or from the back of the bar.
Leslie watched two women laughing and toasting one another with their glasses head that way. Even though they quickly disappeared, she knew they’d opened a door because suddenly the music got much louder, as if there were two different parts of the club playing the same loud Techno music, before it returned to its normal level.
Of course.
The racier side of the club would be in the back, behind closed doors, not somewhere someone could just wander in off the street, assuming they made it past the guy at the door.
Sure enough, David took her hand and walked her toward the back. They came upon a huge metal door and another burly man guarding it. “Tickets,” he said.
Again, David pulled out their tickets and showed them to the man.
He opened the tall metal door, and another metal door behind that one. Immediately, the music hit Leslie hard again, so deep and heavy it seemed to instill a throbbing in both her chest and core. Unlike the front area of the club, neon lights painted this new area in vivid hues.
Leslie took a deep breath, feeling excitement bubble within her again, only this time it was laced with apprehension. Tonight was the night she had been waiting for – the night she would step through this interior doorway and enter a new world.
She exhaled slowly then stepped through the doorway. This area was decorated similarly to the front area of the club, but was much vaster. Potted palms and snake plants shielded comfortable and intimate seating areas in front of small stages where men and women were either stripping or engaging in sensual acts, though she’d have to get closer to know exactly what was happening. Ahead was a long bar where numerous people sat on barstools, most of them with their backs to the bartender as they watched the action in front of them. Beyond that, a dance floor was a sea of moving bodies.
“Your wrap, ma’am,” came a voice from Leslie’s side.
She looked up to see a young man in black leather pants, a black leather vest, and a black leather bow tie around his neck with a nameplate that identified him as Devin, Customer Specialist, reaching out to take her wrap. She glanced around, seeing that there was an excessive number of wait staff, the men dressed like Devin, and the women dressed in either black latex or leather and with black leather accessories. Each wore a clearly identifiable name badge. All appeared to be attentive to the customers.