TURNS OUT CLUB Alias was within walking distance of my apartment. Makes me wonder how many people in the relatively quiet town know there is a place made specifically for sexual debauchery right under their noses.
When I arrive at the building, there are two doors. The one on the left is a glass door with the words Imperium Security in bold lettering, along with a phone number and business hours. The door on the right is painted black and unmarked. I look around, seeing no other entrance, so I pull on the handle to the unmarked one, gasping a little in surprise when it opens. I thought for sure it would be locked for some reason, even though Seth knows I’m coming at this time.
Inside, there is a small foyer with a host stand, but no one in sight. Beyond that, there is only a set of stairs that continues up until you can’t see where it leads. With nowhere else to go, I head up the stairs.
Reaching the top, I look around the giant open area. There is a horseshoe of leather booths around a huge dance floor with two bars on either side of it. Around the perimeter of the entire space, there are framed alcoves like open rooms, but from where I stand, I can only see the ceilings of each one, since the booths have high backs, blocking the view inside.
Directly to my right, there is a metal staircase leading up to a door, which opens just as my eyes land on it. Out steps Seth, and I watch as he gallops down the stairs, a smile on his face when he reaches the bottom and starts making his way over to me. I have time to take in his dark jeans, and black long-sleeved Henley stretched taut over his muscular frame just before he stands in front of me.
“Good morning, doll,” he says cheerily, his voice sounding loud in the silent, wide-open space.
“Morning,” I reply softly, feeling like I should be quiet in the almost ominous feeling place. I’ve never been to a dance club before, much less during the day, and even less a club made for teaching the things I just read about in Astrid’s romance novel last night. Maybe it would feel less imposing if it were full of people using the space as it was made for. I get the sense I’m somewhere I’m not supposed to be, like that eerie feeling you get when you stay after school. The empty halls and classrooms always used to creep me out when I’d stay to tutor someone after the last bell rang.
“Before we get started, I have something for you to read and sign. It’s the same contract all our members sign. It just states that you’re aware there are security cameras throughout the entire club, including in the playrooms. They’re there to ensure everyone, employees and patrons, are protected,” he explains, leading me to one of the large leather booths next to one of the bars.
Playrooms? Oh, God. This is for real. I guess I thought everything in the book was just fantasy, something made up, like a sci-fi novel or whatever, and when I got here, it would just be a regular old bar with naughty pictures in the bathrooms. But no. This is a real-life BDSM club. One that apparently has cameras in its playrooms for security. At first, the idea of being watched on a security camera freaks me out, but I suppose if you’re already here and have the balls to do these… acts out in the open anyway, then you really wouldn’t care if someone was watching it happen on a screen somewhere.
I slide into the booth but then keep on scooting over when Seth sits beside me instead of on the other side. His nearness is intoxicating. The scent of leather is much stronger here than when I smelled it at the shop, and being in his environment, I see why he carried the aroma with him. The feel of his body so close to mine is scorching. I could slide away a little more, but the heat is somehow comforting, the same way my scalding baths make me feel.
Handing me a pen, he lays the contract on the tabletop, and before I can stop it, a very unladylike snort escapes me. I bite my lip, knowing he’s staring at me. I can feel his eyes heating the side of my face. I timidly turn my head, meeting his breathtaking gaze.
“What’s funny, doll?” he asks quietly, his face so close to mine I can smell the blueberries he must’ve eaten for breakfast.
“I, uh… this isn’t a contract asking me what my hard limits are, is it?”
A smile spreads across his handsome face, and I can’t help but admire his straight white teeth, framed beautifully by full lips and his brunette beard, a few shades darker than his hair, which is perfectly, purposely disheveled atop his head.
“Did someone do a little research after work yesterday?” he teases, looking almost… proud.
“As a matter of fact, I did. My sister made me read her copy of Fifty. It was… enlightening,” I admit, trying not to let on just how much I’d enjoyed it.
He throws his head back, letting out a belly laugh. It’s infectious, and I can’t help but giggle. “You had never read it before?” he gets out when he catches his breath. When I shake my head, his brow furrows, but his smile is still in place. “First Guardians of the Galaxy, and now this? What rock have you been living under?”
“No social medias, remember? For the past ten years, I’ve been doing absolutely nothing except school and work. Trust me, my sister gives me enough shit about it,” I grumble, rolling my eyes.
“What did you go to school for?” he asks.
“Chemical engineering. And for the past two years, I’ve been on a team in California working on all-natural cleaning solutions. I was allergic to a lot of stuff growing up, and my mom had this book, the Encyclopedia of Natural Medicine. Instead of bedtime stories, I would fall asleep reading pages of that book. I found it so interesting that something that came from the earth could be just as effective, if not more so than the stuff we’d buy at a grocery store or pharmacy with all those chemicals in them. I grew out of a lot of my allergies, but the book always stuck with me,” I explain. It’s the most personal conversation I’ve had with another human being since, well, ever.
He tilts his head to the side. “A chemical engineer, who doesn’t like chemicals, and who now works at a sex shop.”
“That’s me.” I shrug. “What about…. Oh, never mind.” I fiddle with the pen he’d handed me, dragging the contract closer so I can read it.
“What? What were you about to ask?” When I shake my head and continue to read the contract, he reaches up, takes hold of my chin, and turns me to face him. I hear myself gulp when I meet his eyes once again. “What were you about to ask?” he repeats, and his tone is more of a demand than a question, making my heart flutter inside my chest.
“I was, um, just going to ask about you. How does one open a BDSM club? But you don’t have to—”
“I was also super into school. Believe it or not, I’m a fucking genius.” He grins, wiggling his eyebrows. I think he means metaphorically genius, for opening up a BDSM club when it’s apparently so mainstream now, but then he explains he means literally. “I graduated high school when I was thirteen, then college at MIT when I was twenty with my masters in computers.”
There is complete honesty in his tone and eyes, and all I can do is blink up at him. “A prodigal child, master in computers, who now owns a BDSM club.”
“I guess you could say I went from being a master at computers to a master of tapping dat ass,” he tells me, and I burst out laughing. “There it is. That’s the smile I wanted to see,” he says gently, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear before tracing my jawline with his fingertip, sending a shiver up my spine and instantly hardening my nipples.
I don’t know what to do or say. I feel like I’ve been frozen in place, even though my body feels like it’s suddenly caught fire.
“Don’t ever be afraid to ask me anything, doll,” he implores, and my face softens as I nod. “Okay, look over the contract and sign. I’m excited to get started.”
“Why do you call me that?” I ask, using his fancy pen to scrawl my name across the line on the last page.
“What? Doll?” he clarifies, and when I nod once again, he simply states, “Your name is Twyla,” before sliding out of the booth.
I scramble after him, following as he walks around the row of booths and past the open alcoves I can now see are the playrooms he mentioned. I try not to look too closely, completely intimidated by what I glanced in the first one, which appeared to be a wooden cross with shackles attached to each end. “What does my name have to do with a doll?” I question, but all he does is chuckle as I see him shake his head from behind.
“You really have no pop culture knowledge, do you?”
“We’ve established this,” I huff, and then almost run into him as he abruptly stops in front of the first playroom on the back wall of the club.
“It’ll be like I’m speaking a foreign language to you. This should be interesting.” He looks down at me when I walk around him. When he gestures for me to precede him into the room, I do a side-eye peek inside and then face him. I’m sure my expression shows nothing but panic. “Aw, no need to be afraid, lovely Twyla. I’ll be gentle.”
But the wicked grin on his face doesn’t match his softly spoken words.
He takes my hand and pulls me into the room. “Sit there,” he instructs, pointing to a black leather chair against the left wall. As I do, I watch as he pulls over a rolling table that has a plethora of toys I recognize from the shop, and my face instantly heats. He chuckles. “Hopefully by the end of all this, you’ll be able to see this stuff without blushing. It’ll be a shame though, since it’s fucking adorable.”
“I doubt I’ll ever be comfortable with this stuff,” I murmur, sitting back in the seat, getting as far away from the devices as I can get without becoming one with the wall.
He puts his hand to his heart. “Now what kind of teacher would that make me? By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be a master at dildo hocking.”
His grin makes me smile. He has a way of distracting me from my discomfort and making this awkward situation more fun. I’ll give him that much.
“All right. Before we begin, I need to ask you some personal questions. That way I can assess what you already know, or decide if I need to start all the way down at the basics. No, no, no. Get that ‘I’m about to run for my life’ look off your face, young lady. I had a feeling you aren’t much of a sharer, so in return, I will give you something I’ve never given another one of my students before. And it may not sound like much, but it really fucking is.”
This piques my interest enough to battle back my fight-or-flight instinct that he was obviously able to pick up on. “And what’s that?” I prompt.
“The power to ask me personal questions too. Like I said in the booth, ask me anything you want, Twyla. This isn’t a normal situation for me. You are literally the first person who has been in one of my playrooms who wasn’t a full-fledged member of the club. There are very strict rules here, ones I had to clear with my partners last night just to be sure we were all okay with breaking just this once. Just for you.” His voice comes out soft at the end, making me feel warm inside.
“Thank you, Seth,” I say quietly, not wanting to disturb the sweet moment. “No one’s ever gone to so much trouble for me before.”
“It’s no trouble at all, doll. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to. But that brings us to our first rule of the club. I’d insert a Fight Club joke here, but you wouldn’t get it, so I’ll skip that part.” He chuckles. “When we are here, at Club Alias, you must refer to me as Seven. Right now, you’ll only be coming during nonbusiness hours so you won’t be around any of the members or staff. But in the event you want to become a member, it would be best if you got used to calling me Seven in this environment, so you don’t slip up and reveal my real name to anyone.”
“So that’s why your e-mail address said Seven. I was wondering about that. What’s with the codenames? Or is it a nickname?” I question.
“Keeping everyone’s identity secret here is very important. The people who can afford membership are those who wouldn’t exactly want their patients, or clients, or anyone else knowing the kinky shit they’re into. Besides Roxy, who has signed a confidentiality agreement, and my partners, you are now the only other person on the face of the planet who knows that I, Seth Owens, am Seven, Dom and co-owner of Club Alias.”
As he stares into my eyes, I can feel him searching… wondering if I’m trustworthy enough to keep his secret. I can’t even measure what a big deal this is for him, and the fact he’s given me this vital information about him makes me trust him too.
“I… I’ll take it to the grave. I promise… Seven,” I tell him honestly.
He walks up to my chair, puts one hand on each of the padded armrests, and leans down, his face mere inches away from mine. “Care to seal it with a kiss, doll?”
My heart leaps up into my throat. His eyes… God, his eyes are so fucking beautiful. So many blues, greens, and gold swirled together. And they twinkle with both heat and challenge. And for the first time in my life, I want to kiss a guy. Sure, there was that one time in middle school when James Justinson ran up and planted one on me in the hallway between classes after his friends dared him to kiss the first girl he spotted, but that totally doesn’t count.
Yet, with my hesitation, he must think I don’t want to. And like the good guy I’m discovering him to be, he smiles gently and then reaches up to push my glasses up into place with his pointer finger before softly tracing down the bridge of my nose. The caress is sweet, yet the most intimate thing that’s ever transpired between me and another person. And I miss his proximity when he stands up and backs away.
I clear my throat, sliding back down into the seat. “Um, so uh. Where did you get the name Seven?” I ask, trying to get back on track.
He chuckles. “I don’t suppose the only show you’ve watched besides The Office happens to be Friends, is it?”
I shake my head. “Nope. But I’ve never watched The Office before either.”
“But… then how would you know about the ‘That’s what she said’ thing?” he questions.
“My sister says it all the time to make me laugh, and it just kind of stuck. I didn’t know she got it from a TV show. I thought she was just making everything sound dirty,” I confess.
He lowers his face into his palm, and his shoulders begin to shake with laughter. Finally he sighs, his grin firmly in place. “What am I gonna do with you?” After a moment, he gets back to my original question. “I’ll tell you what. If you can make it through this lesson and learn what I’ve planned for the day, I will show you where my Dom name came from.”
“Deal,” I agree.
“Okay, so, first personal question. Have you ever used any sex toy before, with another person or by yourself?” he asks, completely straight-faced.
“That would be a negative,” I reply, proud of myself for being able to reply without being embarrassed.
“So I assume you only use your fingers to pleasure yourself.” He hops up on the edge of the padded table directly across from me, his black boots dangling a foot off the ground.
“Um… no. Not exactly,” I say, trying to keep my nerves under control.
“Look at me, Twyla,” he says, his voice taking on a commanding tone that instantly snaps my eyes up to his from his boots. It does something funny to my belly. “First and foremost, there is no judgment here. I will never judge you for the things you like or want. I will never think differently of you for your past experiences. You could tell me you like to throw your stilettos at men’s genitals while they thank you and call you princess, and I wouldn’t bat an eye.”
He ignores my snort and continues, “But what I will not tolerate, if you truly want to learn, is not being open with each other. Normally, when I’m in this room with another person, training them, I already know every single thing about them. They have to go through weeks of therapy with our resident psychologist to be cleared before they’re ever allowed to be in the building. I need to know these things for both of our safety. For example, we have a submissive who is a rape survivor. She had triggers. Something that we could’ve easily been doing for pleasure for someone else, on her, they could have sent her into a state of panic, or worse. Much, much worse.”
I stare into his eyes, feeling his seriousness like a tangible thing. Being so used to his lighthearted and jovial ways, the gravity of what he’s telling me hits me deep. Can I do this? Can I let down my walls and allow him to get to know more about me than anyone else, even more than my sister?
Maybe if I look at this like any other class I’ve taken, one of my courses at school, then I’ll be able to learn everything without it feeling too personal. And for some reason, I trust him when he says he won’t judge me. Even though I don’t know if I’m quite ready for him to know there’s really nothing to tell about my past.
I clear my throat again, keeping my eyes on his when I speak. “Normally, I use my showerhead to masturbate. I’ve never been comfortable touching myself, so I always use the concentrated setting on my showerhead when I need… relief.”
There, I said it. My voice unwavering and everything. I’d give myself a pat on the back if it weren’t such a nerdy thing to do.
And just as he promised, Seven doesn’t say anything to make me regret my confession. Instead, he stands from the padded table, quickly adjusts the sudden tent at the front of his pants without shame, and makes his way to the rolling table full of toys.
“That’s a good place to start.” He hands me a small purple device, phallic in shape, but doesn’t look like a replica of an actual penis. It’s smooth and pink, and at the end, there is a ring around it. “Spin the end just one click,” he instructs. I do as he says, and it comes to life, vibrating gently. “That is a waterproof vibrator. Some people enjoy them in the shower or bathtub, or anywhere else where it would be submerged. A lot of women cannot orgasm off sex alone, and they need a little something for clitoral stimulation. That little guy would be perfect for sex in a pool, or even if you’re not going into water. Turn it up another notch.” I spin it one more click, feeling the vibration get stronger. “Now, touch it to your nose.”
“Like, seriously?” I pull my eyes away from the device to see if he’s being funny.
He’s not.
“This is a trick you can use at the store. You don’t want your customers sticking vibrators between their legs to test out how strong they are. Touch it to your nose, and it’s a good indicator just how powerful it’ll feel on your clit,” he explains.
Feeling silly, but determined to learn everything I can, I place the end of the vibrator against the tip of my nose, pulling it away quickly when it tickles. “That feels way stronger than it did just in my hand.” I giggle.
“Neat trick, huh? Little guy’s got some power.” He smiles.
“That’s what she said,” I murmur, turning the device off and hearing him chuckle.
“Now, check this one out.” We trade toys, him handing me a tiny silver toy the size of a bullet, attached to a cord with a remote control. “Hold the vibrator in one hand, and the remote in the other.” I do as he says. “Good. Now, click the button one time.”
When I push the button, the little bullet comes to life, and dear God the thing buzzes so hard I nearly drop it. “Holy crap!”
“Right? And that’s on the lowest setting. Click it again, going through the different settings, until it stops again,” he instructs.
I work my way through the different strengths and patterns of vibrations until it finally reaches the end. “But wouldn’t this one be hard to hold on to with it being so small?”
“It actually makes it nice to use with a partner. There’s not a big, bulky object you’re trying to get between your bodies in order to get the stimulation. A woman could easily hold that in place while her lover takes her from the back or the front. A lot of larger vibrators, there isn’t much room for it during missionary and can only be used in other positions, like doggy style, where the other’s body wouldn’t be blocking the device from the clit. Which brings me to my personal favorite….”
When he hands me the pink device, my eyes widen. “Where the hell does this thing go?”
He laughs, walking back over to the padded table to sit down. “Bring it over here,” he orders, using that sexy tone again that makes me want to do anything he pleases.
So I stand and make my way over to him. He spreads his knees and pulls me closer by my hips until I’m standing between his muscular thighs. My heart pounds in my chest as my stomach fills with butterflies being this close to him. His hands rest at my waist, practically burning me through my clothes.
“It’s not what you’re thinking. This, lovely Twyla, is the Wild Orchid. Yes, it looks like there are two shafts, one shorter than the other, but it is not meant to fill both holes,” he says, and this time I do blush. “The longer, bulbous one is inserted into your pussy, and when it’s all the way in, the shorter one will naturally rest on top of your clit. Place your hand around the longer one, letting your fingers rest beneath the short one. There you go, and now, when I turn it on….”
He squeezes the end of the device, where a button must be hidden beneath the rubbery surface, and when it comes to life, my knees grow weak imagining what that would feel like between my legs.
“Wow,” I breathe, and then bite my lip.
“Yeah.” And then after a moment, he says, “Would you like to try it?”
My eyes snap to his, surprised at his suggestion.
He chuckles. “As much as I would fucking love to try it on you, I meant would you like to take it home and test it out yourself.”
I try not to think about why I feel disappointed that he wasn’t offering to show me exactly how to use it properly, and instead say, “Oh, that’s okay. I can imagine.”
He squeezes my hips between his thighs, reminding me just how close our bodies are pressed. “Why imagine when you can experience?” His voice is molten, making my core clench, and I’m suddenly regretting not wearing any panties with my leggings today. “This is a brand-new toy, right out of the package. No one has ever used it before, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No, no. It’s not that.” Shit, should I tell him now? I guess I need to. “I’ve just never—”
“I know, doll. That’s why I’m offering you to take it home so you can try it out in privacy. Watch.” He takes the toy from me in his right hand and makes an O-shape with his fingers and thumb of his left. “You just take the longer one’s tip, and slowly slide it inside you. And once you’ve got it in place, you won’t even need to move it in and out. Just tilt the back end of it down toward your ass, which will press the other end against your G-spot, and—”
“No, I mean—”
“I don’t think you’ll fully appreciate how awesome the Wild Orchid is unless—”
“It’ll hurt!” I squeak, finally getting his attention.
“Not if you’re gentle. Don’t just go shoving it in there, doll,” he says, not understanding. And why would he? He has no idea I’m…
“I’m a virgin.”