I can’t believe I’m doing this.

I keep telling myself that it’s not big deal. I’m just going to a club. I’ve gone to dozens of clubs before. They’re all the same. You just walk in, grab a drink, listen to some music, do a little dancing, and go home — sometimes alone, sometimes not.

It’s fun. It’s exciting. It’s...

Not at all the same thing.

I have no idea what will happen when I walk through this red door. I don’t know what the kink club equivalent of dancing will be. Is it spanking? I’ve been spanked before. Sort of. I dated a guy that liked that. Didn’t last, but that didn’t have anything to do with the spanking thing.

“Are you lost, honey?”

I flinch, my attention instantly yanked away from the giant red door in the entryway. Was it this big earlier today?

“Huh?” I ask.

Judy sits behind the counter, smiling at me. “Just follow the red brick road,” she says, waving a hand downward.

I glance at the winding brick beneath my feet. “That simple, huh?”

“Of course.”

The entrance opens behind me and I jump out of the way as two men walk in. They each raise their hands to show her the stamp on the back. Judy waves them in, quickly tapping the button below the counter to unlock the red door.

They go through it so fast I don’t get a chance to peek around them to see what this place is like after dark.

“Come here,” she says to me, beckoning me closer.

I walk up to the counter and she stands up out of her chair. My eyes instantly fall to the tight, midnight blue corset around her waist but I raise them back up just as fast.

“Guest passes are twenty-dollars a night,” she says, her voice deep and raspy. “Or you can purchase an annual membership.”

I reach for my purse. “Guest pass, please. Might be a bit too early to think annually,” I say, withdrawing my debit card.

“That’s what they all say,” she says with a wink. She takes my card and swipes it. “Do you have questions?” she asks. “That’s why I’m here.”

I inhale, prepping my tongue, but I quickly draw a blank. “Well...”

She grins. “You don’t have to do anything here you don’t want to do,” she says.

I nod. “Right...” I pause, leaning in. “Do people really just let you watch?”

“Of course. However, do not interrupt, do not distract, do not get too close, and... do not touch yourself.”

I blink. “Is that a thing that happens?”

“Not really, but it still needs to be said.” She picks up a stamp and dabs it into a dark green ink blot. “Your right hand, please.”

I lay my palm on the counter and she presses it into me. This stamp is different than the one Melanie used earlier. This one is shaped like a whip, all curly and snappy.

“If you have more questions, I’m here. Or you can speak to any of the uniformed staff on the floor. Look for the reflective armbands.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

“Enjoy your stay,” she says, reaching below the counter.

The red door unlocks. I swallow hard. Point of no return, as they say. Then again, I already threw down twenty dollars to be here. Might as well get my money’s worth.

I step forward and push the door open.

Soft music greets me, a deep and moody track that definitely sets the mood. The lights are dimmer than earlier but much brighter over the Victorian chairs along the wall. The seats are mostly occupied by a wider variety of people than I would have expected. Some sit back in cocktail dresses and ties while others mingle in corsets and... full body latex suits.

I glance at my little, black dress. At least I’m not overdressed.

Or am I?

“Dom or sub?”

I flinch at the sudden voice next to me in the corridor. I look up into the shadowed eyes of a man in a gray suit with a bright, blond perm.

“Huh?” I ask.

“Are you a Dom?” he asks, enunciating. “Or are you a sub?”

I ease back from his hard, impatient stare. “Neither, currently...”

His eyes fall from my face, slowly gliding down my body to my strappy heels, and in that moment, he makes up his mind. He turns away and moves on to a tall woman in pink boots sitting in the nearest chair. He very audibly asks her the exact same question.

“Sub,” she says.

Once again, he turns and walks off. She shrugs and starts chatting up the girl in the seat beside her again. Guess he didn’t like her answer either.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty, little thing?”

I spin around and gasp at the hidden face. It’s a man — I think — obscured behind a skin-tight, black latex suit from head-to-toe. I squint, searching for eye holes. How the hell does he see out of that thing?

“Uh-huh,” I say.

“I’m Roger. You look familiar but I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

I shake his hand and he squeezes my fingers. Hard. “Yeah, I’m new,” I say, hoping he doesn’t actually recognize me from somewhere else. There have been plenty of articles published about me in the last few years. I should have thought about that before. I would be walking around here in one of these bodysuits, too.

“Sweet! I remember my first time here. It can be pretty traumatic for a newcomer.” He laughs like a jolly child. “So, do you work around here?”

I shift awkwardly, double thinking this whole conversation thing. My eyes drop for a brief moment and I pause at the very obvious erection tenting his suit.

“Uhh... sorry...” I pause, forgetting his name.

“Roger,” he says.

“Roger, would you excuse me? My friend just arrived.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure! No problem!” He steps aside, his suit squeaking. “It was nice to meet you, mystery newbie. Give me a holler later if you’re down to fuck.”

He walks off, leaving me with a feeling I can only describe as whiplash.

I blink. “O-okay, I will...”

Maybe the quiet room isn’t the best place for me. Too much talking going on…

I take a quick step toward the stairwell. According to Melanie, the second floor is where the magic happens. Open rooms. Spying eyes. Come and watch a few scenes play out, whatever the hell that means.

I climb the stairs with one hand hovering over the railing. Again, the higher I go the lower the lights dim around me. That low bass music follows me up. It must be piped through a speaker system in the walls.

I reach the top and swallow hard. It’s more crowded up here but the air is still and quiet. Just a brief whisper here and there. A chuckle or two.

A loud snap breaks the silence, instantly followed by a deep, guttural moan. It’s a woman hidden somewhere behind this wall of people. I slink in, my petite height allowing me to pass through without so much as an annoyed glance from the others.

I ease to the front and spot a woman bent over a punishment bench. Both hands and feet are restrained to it with thick bindings. Her dress is ripped in three places, exposing the side of her breasts.

There’s a man standing over her wearing nothing but a pair of tight leather pants. I spot the long paddle in his hand. He holds it up to her face and her body reacts to it like an animal, cowering and shaking. I crane to see more and I spot the large, red markings on her ass.

I bite my cheek.

My first instinct is to do something. She’s hurt, obviously. But no one seems to care. People aren’t speaking in cautious whispers. They’re humming words of encouragement. I look from the man to her and back again as my heart starts racing.

“This is all you are to me,” the man says to her. “Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

My nails dig deep into my arm.

He circles the bench and I flinch as he reaches out to her. My thoughts spike, thinking he’s about to strike her or worse, but he lays the back of his hand on her cheek.

She smiles.

He leans over to whisper in her ear, something soft and sweet enough to make her cheeks crease. She even laughs. It’s warm and comforting but it only lasts a moment.

The man stands up again and turns the paddle multiple times in his palm. She braces herself, locking her body in anticipation as he lays the paddle along her ass.

I almost look away. I’m glad I don’t.

As the paddle connects with her skin, she cries out with a sharp, quivering voice. I feel it so deep in me, it makes me dizzy. The submission, the pain. She’s lost all control over herself but she still looks so happy.

I breathe in, biting my lip as goosebumps tread up my back.

I want to try it.

Just once. Just to be sure. It might be horrible and terrifying but Melanie has a point. I’ve tried just about everything else and this…

I release my grip on my arm. My fingers are shaking. I should go back downstairs and find a place to sit down for a minute.

I turn, easing slowly through the crowd. Those who notice me happily shift to make room as I look to the man in leather again.

Her Dom. She must trust him completely, or else why would she even let herself be tied down like that?

Where would I even begin to find a guy like—

I slam into a body on the edge of the crowd near the stairs.

“Shit!” I say, looking up. “I’m sorry, I...”

I freeze, locking eyes with him.

The man leans back. His eyes quickly grow wide and he recognizes me the same time I do him.

Clive. The hot temp.

My fucking employee.

We both inhale, preparing to speak, but neither of us gets further than that. We just stare, unwittingly blocking the stairwell as we wait for the other to fucking say something.

Finally, I hop back and scoot around him, clinging to the railing as I bolt down to the first floor. I’m not stopping to chat anymore. I push through the small crowd near the entrance, thinking of nothing but getting the hell out before I run into someone else who knows who I am.

I am so fucked.