Lily
I sleep longer than I should, and when I finally wake up around eleven, I have two texts from Christina.
Hey! Did you do any thinking about the club tonight? It’s really fun and I promise it’s not as scary as it sounds.
Not to pressure you love, but let me know what you’re thinking! Tonight? You and me? Well, and Zack, of course, but three’s company!!!!
I should tell her no.
It’s what I would normally do.
Clubs are not my thing.
Dealing with strangers is not my thing.
Facing weird, random sexual situations is definitely not my thing.
I get up and head into the kitchen, pour myself a bowl of cereal, and sit down in front of the TV. Owl comes and climbs onto my lap, and then I realize what I’m doing.
I’m turning myself into a spinster.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I come home right after work every day and hang out with my cat. I have a schedule of my favorite shows and I don’t even DVR them: I watch them when they’re on, commercials and everything. I don’t have a social life. I don’t drink. I don’t party.
The wildest I get is one-clicking a new Kindle book without reading the sample.
Shit.
I grab my phone and text Christina back. It’s 11:45.
Sorry, I overslept. I’m in.
I hit “send” before I have the chance to back out. There’s no take-backs when it comes to texting.
Christina messages me back immediately.
Yes!!! This is going to be amazing! Come over at 8, okay? We’ll get you something sexxxxxy to wear.
Something sexy?
Of course, it’s not a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant: it’s a sex club. Of course I’m going to need something to wear. I hadn’t even thought about the clothing people wear at these sorts of places, and honestly, it’s a good thing because now I can’t freak out.
Now I have to be normal.
I have to be calm.
And I can do this.
Sounds good. I’ll be there. Text me your addy when you get a chance.
Christina and I chat for a few more minutes. Then I take a shower, blow-dry my hair, and slip on a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. It’s not sexy, by any means, but she’s going to be dressing me up, and I’d rather be warm on my way over.
It is December, after all.
The rest of the afternoon I spend reading. When my phone alarm goes off at 7:15, I brush my teeth, feed Owl, and head for my car.
It’s time.
I can do this.
The drive to Christina’s house only takes a few minutes. We both live close to work and, consequently, close to each other. I park on the street in front of her house and head up to the door. I ring the bell and a sexy-as-fuck man in a dark suit opens the door.
I blink up at him, craning my neck. I’m not that short, but it still takes effort me to meet his gaze.
“You must be Lily,” he says.
“Yes,” I say, suddenly feeling totally out of my element.
Holy.
Fucking.
Dragons.
How the hell did Christina meet a guy like this? And where? And what’s he like in bed?
I feel my cheeks blush eight shades of red even as the thought floats through my mind. Mr. Sexy must be a mind-reader because he just chuckles and steps aside.
“I’m Zack,” he says. “Welcome to our home.”
“You live here together?” I ask, stepping inside. I’ve heard Christina talk about Zack plenty of times, but I didn’t realize they were living together.
“It’s recent,” Christina says, coming out of the kitchen. “But we’re going to be getting married really soon, so we figured we might as well move in now.”
“Congratulations,” I tell her. “When’s the big day?”
“February,” they both say in unison. Zack smiles at Christina and takes her hand. Then he plants the sweetest, softest, gentlest kiss on her forehead and a surge of jealousy shoots through me. I want that, I realize. No matter how many times I tell myself that I’m fine without it, I’m not.
I want what they have.
I want the passion, the sweetness, the tender moments.
I want all of that.
“It’ll be small,” Christina says. “But perfect.”
“Bennett must be totally excited. Speaking of which,” I look around, but don’t spot a babysitter. “Where’s the little monkey tonight?”
“My friend has her tonight,” Christina says. “I take her daughter on Fridays and she takes Bennett on Saturdays.”
“That’s amazing. Talk about a dream arrangement.” Considering the going rate of overnight babysitters these days, I’d say Christina hit the jackpot with her friend.
“We’re very lucky,” Zack agrees. “Now,” he looks from Christina to me and back again. “Why don’t I pour us a couple of drinks before you ladies start getting ready?”
“Yes, please,” I slip my jacket off and hang it on the coat rack by the door. My boots go below the coat. Then I follow them into the kitchen.
“What’s your pleasure?” Zack asks.
“Rum and Coke,” I tell him easily.
“Nice choice.”
“I try my best.”
“Are you nervous about tonight?” Zack speaks smoothly, easily. He speaks with a certain grace I don’t think most men possess.
“I’m not really sure what to expect.”
“I was nervous my first time, too,” Christina says. “But I think it’s incredible now.”
“Did Christina tell you we met at the club?”
“No,” I shoot her a sideways glance, like what else don’t I know about my colleague? Christina just smiles, though, and nods.
“It’s true,” Zack hands me my drink and I take a sip. Instantly, I start to relax, and he smiles. “You can drink while we’re there,” he says. “Since you aren’t a member of the club, you won’t be able to play.”
“Play?” My voice comes out high-pitched and squeaky.
“That’s the word used to describe what happens at the club. Basically, Anchored is a sexy sort of club. Some people are into hardcore BDSM, but there’s a lot of light play, as well. So you might see someone tied up and being whipped, but you might just see people having sex in public. ‘Play’ is the word that encompasses all of that.”
“Whipped?” I sip my drink again. “Are you two…will you guys?” Shit. How do I ask my friend if I can expect to see her being beaten tonight?
“Christina and I both prefer lighter play,” Zack says quickly. “She likes to be tied up and I like to spank her, but we usually keep our play pretty tame compared to some people.”
“And will you…tonight?”
Christina shrugs. “Honestly, tonight we’re there to show you around. If the mood strikes us and you’re comfortable and having fun, we might play around, but tonight we’re just planning on hanging out with you.”
“And you don’t normally drink at the club?” I’m trying to take everything in, but there’s a lot of information.
“Because BDSM requires you to have a clear head, it’s not a good idea to drink and play. Members can’t drink on nights they’re playing. If they want a drink after, that’s fine, but they have to wear a bracelet that indicates they can’t play anymore,” Zack seems calm, collected. He seems like he’s discussing the news and not the details of a sex club.
“Okay,” I tell them. My drink is gone and I hand Zack my glass, but he doesn’t refill it. He sets it to the side of the sink.
“If you have any questions, we’re happy to help you.” And suddenly, I know exactly what Christina sees in him, and it’s more than just the pretty face and fucking muscles. He genuinely seems kind and caring, and that’s kind of wonderful.
“And if you decide you hate it, we can totally leave early. No hard feelings. And if you love it, we can get you an interview to become a member, okay?”
“Wow, I didn’t realize sex clubs were so serious. I thought you just kind of showed up, had your fun, and left.”
“Some clubs are like that,” Christina says. “But Anchored is different. Membership is taken very seriously. Everyone has to have health checks and psychological assessments before they’re allowed to touch people.”
“To play,” I say, remembering the term.
“That’s right,” Zack says. “She’s a quick learner,” he tells Christina. “I like her.”
“Me too,” Christina squeezes my hand and sets her glass down. “But enough talking. What do you say we get you dolled up? It’s going to be a fun night.”
Zack settles on the couch with a book while Christina and I head upstairs. She explains the differences between Dommes and submissives and tells me that I might be one or the other or both or neither, and that’s all fine. Then we look through her closet.
“So usually, I get dressed at the club,” she says. “Since it’s the middle of fucking winter, that’s what we’re going to do. Otherwise, we’ll freeze our asses off in the parking lot. We’ll pick out an outfit here, do our hair and makeup, and then get dressed at the club, okay?”
The idea of being in a locker room with a bunch of other women doesn’t freak me out. Should it? It probably should. It doesn’t, though. I was never big into sports when I was in high school, but I was never embarrassed to change in the locker room. I was always a little curvier than the other girls, but it never bothered me, for some reason.
So I’ve got that going for me.
“Here we go,” Christina opens up her closet and I start laughing. “What?” She asks innocently.
“One side of the closet is ‘mom clothing’ and the other is ‘dirty girl’ clothing. It’s just a huge contrast.” On the left side are shirts, dresses, and pants, along with what I would consider to be normal shoes and boots and sandals. The right side of the closet is mostly black and lace: corsets, thongs, shorts, and mini-skirts. There are a pile of stilettos on the floor and there are even a couple of costumes.
“Come on now,” she says. “Variety is the spice of life.”
“Is that a naughty schoolgirl uniform?”
“You want to try it on?”
“No,” I blush.
“You should,” she grabs the outfit from a hanger and hands it to me. Somehow, it ends up in my hands, and I look at it.
“I don’t want to,” I say, but even as I speak, I realize how lame I sound. Isn’t tonight all about getting out of my comfort zone? I’m in a rut. I’m in a boring, tired, sick-of-my-life rut and I’m ready to get out of it.
It’s time to stop being lame.
It’s time to be bold.
“You know what?” I pull my shirt off and toss it on the bed. “I will try it on.” Christina giggles and claps her hands and jumps up and down as I finish stripping down to my bra and panties and then pull the outfit on.
Only, as I look in the mirror, I realize there’s a huge problem.
“My panties are showing.”
“Your panties are showing,” she repeats, but she doesn’t seem uncomfortable or nervous or weird about it. “What do you think you should do, Lily?”
And therein lies the question.
What do I think I should do?
The question isn’t what I think the world wants me to do or what I think my mom wants me to do or what I think my friends want me to do.
The question is what I think I, personally, should do.
“Take off my panties?” I ask.
“That’s one option,” Christina says.
It’s no different than a locker room, I tell myself, and wiggle out of my plain black panties. I drop them on the floor and then turn around.
“There you go,” she says. “You look sexy as hell.”
I peek at myself in the mirror and I blush when I realize I can see my ass cheeks. That’s how short the skirt is. Still, I kind of look, well, sexy.
And I kind of feel sexy.
And I kind of love that.
“Okay,” I say, turning back to my friend. “What else do you have that I can try on?”
Christina just laughs and waves at her closet.
“Have at it, love. We’ve got an hour to get you something perfect.”