Kelly Jamieson - Dream Girl

"Jesus,” he said again, almost stunned speechless. “You're going to some kink club? All alone? Dressed like that?"

She nodded, like she thought nothing of it. Her eyes were a little wary, though.

"Uh-uh,” Zach said firmly, shaking his head. “You are not going there."

"Zach, it's my job,” she said, just as firm. “I have to go."

"I'll go with you, then."

"You can't! I can't show up with a guy! I have to be alone!"

"I'll just watch from a distance. Just to make sure you're safe."

She sighed with exasperation. “I'll be safe,” she said. “Besides, you can't get in unless you dress appropriately."

He raised a brow, and she hastened to explain. “I mean, there's a dress code. I guess they don't want people just walking in off the street to gawk at all the pervs."

He groaned and rubbed his face. “We'll see,” he said. “But I'm coming."

Ashlyn and Zach stared stubbornly at each other for a long moment. “Oh, all right,” she groused. “But you have to stay away from me. Seriously."

He nodded and put a hand on the small of her back as they left her room.

Ben sat in the living room, still glowering as he flipped the pages of a Maxim.

"Zach's coming with me,” she announced, a little sulkily. “But just in case, the address is on my desk."

"He hates my guts,” Zach commented as he started his vehicle.

"Oh, he does not. That's ridiculous."

She apparently had no idea how Ben felt about her. Maybe that was just as well. Things could get a little uncomfortable, living together. He decided not to pursue that topic right then.

She told him the address, and a while later they pulled up outside an old warehouse downtown, a three-story brick building that could have been a brewery—except for the small neon sign in a dark window that said “Klub Kink."

They walked into a dimly-lit foyer, where a man sat at an antique desk. He was big, with a shaved bald head and an expressionless face.

He eyed Zach. “No admission unless you comply with the dress code,” he said sternly.

Zach sighed. “What is the dress code?"

The man handed him a sheet of paper with a lengthy list. “No street clothes. Rubber, leather, PVC, transparent, full uniform or totally over-the-top. Absolutely no fabric trousers or street wear,” he read.

The man jerked his head to a door on the right that said, “Men.” “Strip down to your underwear,” he said. “You can change in there."

Zach hesitated only briefly. Underwear. Well, hell. But then he'd never been afraid to make a fool of himself.

"Wait here,” he growled at Ashlyn.

The room resembled a plush locker room. He stripped down, keeping on his leather flip-flops and snug black boxer briefs. He stood there with his wallet in his hand. What the hell was he supposed to do with it?

He took it with him, hoping Ashlyn could put it in her purse.

She eyed him up and down when he came out, and he grinned. He pulled the price of two admissions out of his wallet.

"I already paid for me,” she whispered. “It's a ... business expense."

He paid for himself and handed her his wallet. She smiled and shoved it into her purse.

The doorman stood and opened a heavy, carved wooden door just to the left of his desk to admit them.

They walked into a crowded, dimly-lit bar, techno-pop music blasting, lights flashing.

"I'll find you later,” Ashlyn yelled in his ear before she headed to the bar.

Zach gazed around, amazed at the getups people wore. A tall, muscular guy wore a g-string, garter belt and stockings. One woman's outfit consisted of a bra made of silver chains circling her bare breasts and similar chains on her hips. He swallowed hard.

He decided to wander around. Ashlyn was at the bar getting a drink. Not a bad idea, but he'd wait.

Signs directed him to “The Playpen,” the “Dom Room,” and the “Torture Chamber.” Whoa. If Ashlyn headed to the Torture Chamber, no effin’ way was he staying away.

He watched Ash get her drink, glance his way, and then start mingling through the crowd. He approached the bar and found a seat where he could survey the room. As he sipped his beer, flashing colored strobe lights illuminated partiers writhing and bouncing on the dance floor, all in various states of undress.

This was nuts. But everyone seemed to be having such a good time, it was hard to think it was all depraved. He noticed a man and woman making out on a couch. Things progressed—including, much to Zach's dismay, his hard-on—until a discreet bouncer hustled the couple out. Zach recalled the paper with the dress code also saying, “no sex except in designated rooms."

He couldn't help but be curious, so he went out the door through which the couple had been led. Doors with signs opened off a wide, artfully-lit corridor. The couple disappeared into the Playpen, so with a shrug, Zach followed.

Couples in various combinations of male and female were engaged in numerous stages of sex. His eyes widened. Holy shit.

"Looking for a partner, gorgeous?"

He turned to the woman. She was statuesque, dark-haired, actually kind of attractive in a French maid outfit that hid little.

"No thanks,” he muttered.

"Ah.” She winked knowingly. “You're into voyeurism."

"No!” he exclaimed forcefully, but she'd disappeared.

Well, voyeurism was relatively harmless.

Unable to drag his eyes away, Zach watched. And against his will, became even more turned-on.

He realized he'd better find Ashlyn. Some job he was doing keeping an eye on her. He was a pervert.

He went back to the bar but after fifteen minutes of looking, he realized she wasn't there. She must have gone to one of the other rooms. He went back to the hall and pushed the first door he came to. It was the Torture Chamber.

Okay, now this was sick.

There were people handcuffed, chained, being spanked and whipped. There were fewer people so it was easy to see Ashlyn wasn't there—thank Christ—so he left.

Next was the Dom Room. Peering into the dim light, he saw similar scenarios as the Torture Chamber, but not quite as severe. He watched one woman receive a sexy spanking from her partner, both of them obviously excited and enjoying it. The woman's ass glowed pink and she was panting. He clearly wasn't really hurting her.

Another man had a woman bent over some kind of cushioned table, her hands above her head in fur handcuffs while the man took her from behind. Her face, turned to the side, reflected her ecstasy.

Zach gulped and left the room. He must have missed Ashlyn, so he went back to the bar. Damn. Again, not there. Then he realized there were stairs leading up to another level.

He hurried up the stairs, passing a man dressed in leather coming down, who eyed him hungrily and arched a brow. Zach shook his head and kept going. He wasn't homophobic, but he definitely wasn't interested in experimenting.

Finally. He found Ashlyn, and when she saw him, she came right over. Her face was flushed, and she looked even more enticing.

"I was looking for you,” she said, her voice a little husky. “We can go now."

"Already?” The word popped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

She gave him a knowing look. “What? You don't want to go?"

He could deny it. Or he could go for it. He studied Ashlyn. She looked just a little ... hot and bothered. He went for it.

"I have to admit, this place is kind of intriguing. Did you find your guy already?"

"Yup. I didn't have to do a thing. He was already with someone, getting spanked in the Torture Chamber. Getting more than spanked."

"Ah."

They looked at each other.

"Since you got all dressed up...” He ran a finger over the top of her swelling breasts.

She grabbed hold of his hand. “I can't believe you're into this,” she teased, still smiling.

"Not all of it,” he admitted. “The Torture Chamber was a little rough for my tastes."

Her eyes twinkled. “Where do you want to go?"

"Where do you want to go?” he countered.

She turned even rosier.

"I was accused of being a voyeur,” he said softly, stroking a hand across her bare shoulder. “I needed a partner."

She swallowed. “I don't know...” she whispered. “Having sex in front of other people is pretty kinky."

"We could just watch,” he suggested. “C'mon."

He took her hand and led her down the stairs, through the bar and into the hall.

"Actually"—she tugged his hand—"I saw something in the Dom Room that looked kind of interesting."

"Really?” He stopped, and his heart sped up a little.

She looked a little embarrassed, but met his eyes. They entered, and she went over to the cushioned table he'd noticed earlier.

The little devil, he thought with surprised delight, and his dick almost ripped his briefs open.

"We'll need to get you out of these,” he murmured, touching her shorts. He glanced around. Nobody paid any attention to them. She trembled under his hands.

"But first, let's do this,” he said, deciding she wasn't quite ready. He kissed her, hot, wet, urgent, his tongue stroking over hers, and she melted into him. He could feel her heart pounding, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Oh yeah. She was turned on too.

He kissed her over and over, hands on her ass, the leather stretched smooth by the curves of her cheeks, and moved her backwards until she bumped against the table. He lifted her so she was sitting and stood between her bare legs. He could smell her arousal mingling with the scent of leather, and it made him nuts.