Read Online True North (Compass series Book 4) by Tamsen Parker - Free Book Online
Authors: Tamsen Parker
Ads: Link
partner as a pin-cushion? How about a high-ranking military official who likes nothing better than to be diapered and bottle-fed?”
“I—”
“You haven’t. And I guarantee it’s not because those people don’t exist.” Rey opens the car door and slips out, bending over so his head and torso fill the doorframe. “Or do they?”
He winks at me before he straightens and hip-checks the door closed. I grit my teeth and run a hand through my hair, irritation and anxiety making me fidgety. Rey likes to mess with me. Which, on the one hand, pisses me off. On the other, there aren’t a whole lot of people who would dare to and a little friendly ribbing makes me feel more like a person instead of a block of stone.
So I grudgingly open the door and push out of the low-slung car, hurrying a little to fall in beside the man who holds the key.
*
The façade of the Black House isn’t remarkable, just another brick-faced building in a neighborhood with middling traffic, but the inside of the club is nicer than I’d thought it would be, given how most kink clubs get described. Sometimes just a barely finished basement with a few St. Andrew’s crosses and a mattress in the corner. Shudder-inducing. Not this one, though. Dark green walls and black-and-white checkerboard tile make the entrance look interchangeable with any other Washington club, as does the besuited security guard flanking the door and the uniformed man who takes Rey’s name.
The greeter’s impassive expression is encouraging, although I’d still almost rather run down the Mall with no clothes on than go in here. That would only be exposing my body, after all, and I’m in decent enough shape for a guy of forty-four. Walking through this door, though, is like putting my innermost thoughts and desires on display, admitting I’m a freak like you . It’s enough to bring vomit into my throat.
It’s been bad enough the few times I’ve been able to have sessions with Rey over the past couple of months, either at his home or in his hotel room when we’ve happened to be in the same city for work. This, though, with its exponentially higher potential to turn into a career-ruining clusterfuck, is even worse.
Rey’s already stepped through the door so I follow. Though I feel like a small child clinging to his mother’s skirts, I tell myself I don’t look that way. We’re just friends. Well-dressed, powerful friends, hanging out at the kink club on a Tuesday, looking for some people to smack around and humiliate. As you do.
The décor once we’ve stepped through the looking glass is much the same, dark walls trimmed out with wood, checkerboard floors. But there’s no way in holy hell that this place could ever be mistaken for any other kind of club. Not with the sight before my eyes.
I haven’t seen so many naked or nearly naked bodies in so many shapes and sizes since… No, never. Never have I seen this. And the people who are clothed range from the stereotypical full-blown leather get-up to jeans and T-shirts to a couple other suits. And there are some people who look distinctly otherworldly. Like out of Star Wars or some other sci-fi universe. I swear to god I see a Spock on a leash being led around by an Uhura, but they disappear around a corner too fast for me to be entirely sure.
A nudge to my elbow makes me realize my mouth is hanging open and I shut it.
“It’s fine to look, but try not to stare. I know you don’t want to be treated like a neophyte, so don’t act like one. Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people.”
I follow Rey as he weaves through the room, getting stopped by people as we go. Some he introduces me to, some not. I can’t quite tell how he makes the distinction. Is it me or is it them?
Finally he ambles over to a small knot of people who are chatting in a back corner. There’s a brawny man in a black…what could only be called utility kilt and leather vest. He’s petting the head of a slim redheaded boy
“I—”
“You haven’t. And I guarantee it’s not because those people don’t exist.” Rey opens the car door and slips out, bending over so his head and torso fill the doorframe. “Or do they?”
He winks at me before he straightens and hip-checks the door closed. I grit my teeth and run a hand through my hair, irritation and anxiety making me fidgety. Rey likes to mess with me. Which, on the one hand, pisses me off. On the other, there aren’t a whole lot of people who would dare to and a little friendly ribbing makes me feel more like a person instead of a block of stone.
So I grudgingly open the door and push out of the low-slung car, hurrying a little to fall in beside the man who holds the key.
*
The façade of the Black House isn’t remarkable, just another brick-faced building in a neighborhood with middling traffic, but the inside of the club is nicer than I’d thought it would be, given how most kink clubs get described. Sometimes just a barely finished basement with a few St. Andrew’s crosses and a mattress in the corner. Shudder-inducing. Not this one, though. Dark green walls and black-and-white checkerboard tile make the entrance look interchangeable with any other Washington club, as does the besuited security guard flanking the door and the uniformed man who takes Rey’s name.
The greeter’s impassive expression is encouraging, although I’d still almost rather run down the Mall with no clothes on than go in here. That would only be exposing my body, after all, and I’m in decent enough shape for a guy of forty-four. Walking through this door, though, is like putting my innermost thoughts and desires on display, admitting I’m a freak like you . It’s enough to bring vomit into my throat.
It’s been bad enough the few times I’ve been able to have sessions with Rey over the past couple of months, either at his home or in his hotel room when we’ve happened to be in the same city for work. This, though, with its exponentially higher potential to turn into a career-ruining clusterfuck, is even worse.
Rey’s already stepped through the door so I follow. Though I feel like a small child clinging to his mother’s skirts, I tell myself I don’t look that way. We’re just friends. Well-dressed, powerful friends, hanging out at the kink club on a Tuesday, looking for some people to smack around and humiliate. As you do.
The décor once we’ve stepped through the looking glass is much the same, dark walls trimmed out with wood, checkerboard floors. But there’s no way in holy hell that this place could ever be mistaken for any other kind of club. Not with the sight before my eyes.
I haven’t seen so many naked or nearly naked bodies in so many shapes and sizes since… No, never. Never have I seen this. And the people who are clothed range from the stereotypical full-blown leather get-up to jeans and T-shirts to a couple other suits. And there are some people who look distinctly otherworldly. Like out of Star Wars or some other sci-fi universe. I swear to god I see a Spock on a leash being led around by an Uhura, but they disappear around a corner too fast for me to be entirely sure.
A nudge to my elbow makes me realize my mouth is hanging open and I shut it.
“It’s fine to look, but try not to stare. I know you don’t want to be treated like a neophyte, so don’t act like one. Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people.”
I follow Rey as he weaves through the room, getting stopped by people as we go. Some he introduces me to, some not. I can’t quite tell how he makes the distinction. Is it me or is it them?
Finally he ambles over to a small knot of people who are chatting in a back corner. There’s a brawny man in a black…what could only be called utility kilt and leather vest. He’s petting the head of a slim redheaded boy
Similar Books
