A Wifey for the Bad Boy(8)

Melissa had spent all day, all her one free Saturday month, trying to  figure out what to wear. What was BDSM club chic? Should she go with a  costume of some kind? Should she go with something that looked  absolutely normal, and figure she might be out of place. She dithered  about it all day, it wasn't as if she could ask her friends none of her  friends would've understood this, she tried to broach the subject with  them before. None of them seemed interested in the lifestyle, none of  them seemed at all interested in what Melissa might be attracted to and  the power exchange. It wasn't that they were bad friends, they just  didn't understand.

She finally decided to wear a pair of black jeans that hugged her long  legs and a tunic top, cut really low in front, to expose her generous  cleavage. Black seem like a safe choice for the pants, and the red of  the shirt, would complement her dark complexion.

The Post was a place she'd only vaguely heard of, in whispered  conversations at clubs her friends liked to attend; the places where  Melissa didn't fit in, the places that catered to cute girls. They'd  driven past it, a warehouse on the water with a thick velvet rope, and  they'd tried for months to figure out what was behind the doors. Google  searches and even a scan of the county records hadn't given them any  insight, but slowly, gradually they'd figured it out, though they  weren't exactly interested in checking it out. They called it the freak  market.

Glenn picked her up promptly, and she didn't let him come to her door,  though she knew he probably would have liked to. He was sort of courtly  that way. But her place was a mess, Mom was sleeping off her latest  bender, and Melissa hated anyone knowing this part of her life.

"Hi," she said breathlessly, transitioning from nurse to … what? Was she  part of a dating couple or were they just two people doing...what? Did  she want something to happen tonight? Did she not? She had been clear  she was only going as an observer rather than an actual participant, and  he'd been clear that he would respect that.       

   





"Good evening, Melissa," he said, his voice rich and deep and sexy. She  risked a glance over and saw he was wearing a black shirt, open at the  throat, and black dress pants. With his thick, dark hair and his deep  brown eyes, he looked unapproachable, miles away from the mild mannered  doctor she knew.

Not to say his overall look wasn't completely sexy, because it was.

Melissa loved seeing the side of him. It was a foregone conclusion that  he was a dominant, it was steeped in his bones. It was also in his  manner, though he only brought that out subtly at work. There had been  something that had attracted her to him from the first day, even if  she'd couched it in friends or doctor to nurse. Melissa was drawn to the  energy that he had, the easy dominance with which he ran the office,  the way he handed over power incrementally, as if the other had to be  trusted for him to give over complete full rein. Their relationship had  gone very smoothly, he'd given and she'd taken, she'd proven herself  again and again, and he rewarded her with more responsibility and very  regular and generous raises. He suggested that she might want to go to  med school, but that wasn't in the cards for her. Anyway, she liked  being his nurse.

"Hi," she said again giving him a smile.

"You look lovely, he told her his voice though rich and gravelly. It  wasn't quite an octave deeper from his working voice, but there was  something incredibly sexy about it.

"You're my guest tonight," he said, "and I need you to stay by my side,  whatever happens. You be observing some scenes, things you might never  have been exposed to before, not even in books. I know that you're  virgin to the sort of life, so please try to be casual and not shocked  by whatever you see. Our club runs by safe, sane, consensual, sober.  This means, that a submissive who doesn't like what's going on in the  scene, can use their safe word to get out of it. Everything here is  consensual, and done with everybody having all their faculties to them.  There is no alcohol. There is a very light food."

Melissa turned in her seat, regarding him. "Yes, I understand. I don't  think I would like it if this was a club where people didn't get …  If  they didn't have full control of everything that they were deciding to  do."

"Melissa, if you decide you want to explore any of this, we can do it on  our own turf. Or, we can come back to the club. But for tonight you're  just an observer. As in my..."

Melissa rolled it over in her head and nodded. "Yes, I understand. I  wouldn't be comfortable doing anything without really understanding what  the lifestyle is. Yes, I read about in books, but that's a bit  different than being in reality and the real life, isn't it?"

He chuckled, another rich sound that went right into her settling somewhere by her pussy, arousing her. Oh, this was not good.

"That's a very wise thing," he told her. "I can assuage any curiosity  that you have, and I can suggest some books in the romance realm, that  will give you a better idea of what goes on in my life."

Something niggled at Melissa; he said that before his life, his club.  What did it mean? "You seem to be taking a lot of ownership of certain  things. Is it just a part of who you are, or is there more  significance." She said the last is a statement, she already knew. It  was just a matter of letting him know that she knew.

"Melissa, I'm a part owner in the club. I own about a quarter. Several  of my friends and I decided to get involved in this venture many years  ago, when I was a medical school and several of them were in law school.  We wanted a safe place to explore the lifestyle. And this, from the  warehouse, to setting up the infrastructure, to getting people in the  lifestyle rather that those who wanted to gawk here. We're now one of  the most popular clubs on the coast."

She blinked a few times, absorbing his words. "How do you keep your life  and your lifestyle apart?" Certainly if someone came in to the office,  who had seen Glenn whipping or binding someone, there would have been a  reaction.

"Melissa, the club runs under very strict rules of anonymity. It costs a  great deal to join the club, and even more to stay an active member. We  know everything about our members, and they know well enough to keep  quiet about who they see behind our doors. In our twelve years in  business, we've never had a situation where anonymity was compromised.  Not ever. That says something about our clientele."

"And your lawyers," she pointed out.

"Yes, indeed."

He drove them to the warehouse district and they bypassed the ropes at  the front of the club. "Ownership has its privileges," he pointed out,  pulling into a small private keyed entry parking lot behind the club.  His BMW slid in between a couple of Mercedes; these people were not  exactly struggling, were they?       

   





"Come on in. as my guest you'll get the full tour, starting at the  offices." He got out of the car and came around to take her hand. "And  for tonight, you're my lady."

That made her heart race, and moisture collected between her legs. She pressed them together, trying not to whimper.

"Come. Inside." She had a feeling she could come anywhere and any time, as long as he was offering.

Melissa followed Glenn into a door, a burly security guard handed her a bright pink wristband.

"Wear that. Everyone will know you're a VIP guest," he told her, and she slipped it on.

He took her first to his office, a small alcove adorned with beautiful  BDSM portraits. He unlocked a drawer in his desk and motioned her to put  her purse there.

"Tell me if any of this gets to be too intense for you."

"I will."

He guided her out of his office and into the main space of the club. A  dance floor stood in the middle of the room, a stage at the far end. All  around the sides were alcoves where people were...getting busy.

"This is our main floor," he told her. "We have private rooms above, and  a separate VIP area two floors up where the membership caps at fifty.  Those are the coveted memberships, twelve thousand a month. We have  memberships as low as three hundred a month, so a wider span of people  can get in here, as long as they pass all background checks."

She couldn't even imagine that much cash. "Must be exclusive."

"It is."

Glenn allowed Melissa to drift toward one of the alcoves, where a woman  was being petted by her Dominant. She arched up when he stroked down her  back, practically rising off all fours.

"That's a sensory exercise," he told her. "If you look carefully, Gina  has a dildo in each hole-anus and vagina. As she rises and falls, they  stimulate her, keeping her on edge."

Melissa made a vague sound, she'd been transported to a new place, a  realm where everything was too bright, too stark, too...beautiful.

"I've read about these sorts of places in books, but I never quite thought I'd see one."