That didn't get a grin, but it didn't get a scowl either. I'd take it...because as tight lipped as this guy was, I'd have to celebrate every small victory like it was an Olympic win.
We turned down a corridor with charcoal gray walls and four black doors. On the wall beside the doors were numbers and a single light attached to the wall. All the lights were lit up except for the door at the end.
He reached for a keypad, not even bothering to fire me a scathing glare because his fingers flew through the code before I could spy a single digit. The indicator light flashed green and like I'd been transported into some movie scene full of wonder and marvel (complete with a hallelujah chorus ringing) I got to see what was behind door number five.
The far wall of the room was lined with monitors, a control system filled with all the bells and whistles of the NASA control center. Before I could get a single word out, he started giving me a long list of 'thou shall not's'.
"Being discreet and respectful of our client's privacy is of the utmost importance. You are to bring no cell phone or other electronic device into this room." He wheeled to face me. His eyes gleamed, flashing like a knife's edge. Sharp as the powerful angle of his jaw. I never knew that jaws could be so sexy. I wasn't prepared for the need that flickered to life between my thighs as he settled his angular good looks on me. His businesslike tone just made the fact that I was pretty sure there were moans coming from the speakers affixed to the wall ten times hotter.
His eyes drifted down, touching my breasts, or maybe it was wishful thinking because they dropped even lower...resting on my clutch. Any arousal that was brewing inside me stalled somewhere behind the accusatory set of his frown when he snatched my clutch from my hand. I wasn't a complete idiot, I'd powered my phone down before I entered the building, just in case. What he didn't know was a single twist of my lipstick would confirm that it wasn't a lipstick at all, but a recording device I'd asked for as a present when I graduated from college.
“A normal young woman would ask for an outfit for interviews or money for some last hoorah trip before she enters the real world.” Mom shook her head like she wanted to have a heart to heart with God and find out why she was saddled with a defective daughter.
Dad stepped up with the tiny box and a gentle, frustrating smile that said to ignore her. After twenty one years of trying that, I was kind of tired of that strategy, but I yanked the sides of my mouth upward and accepted the symbol of my future. Of putting aside the dreams they had for me, and finally chasing my own.
Still, my heart galloped in my chest as he opened it and wielded my phone like he was the warden and I'd just been caught with contraband.
"I've heard Mary's spiel, so I know that she mentioned we don't allow cell phones-"
"It's powered down and Mary told me as long as it stays that way, it's okay for tonight. Sir," I added quickly, heat flooding my cheeks.
His dark eyes rose with interest and at first, I regretted saying Mary's name because she was so sweet and funny and it didn't feel like an interview, but grabbing coffee with an old friend. This guy was clearly a step above her, maybe even the highest point on the totem pole. And I had a feeling he was a stickler for the rules, and the punishment for breaking those rules was swift and-
No.
It wasn't the fact that I still had my phone on me and Mary allowed it that snared his attention. It was my last word. 'Sir'.
My body tingled as I realized the heat in his eyes wasn't anger. He was intrigued.
The absurd part of me that gorged on everything related to D/s and BDSM since I first had the idea for this story wanted him to drop my purse and pick me up instead, take me to one of those rooms and make me make the sounds that filled the room now.
We stared at each other in silence. His tongue glided across his bottom lip. It was the slightest movement that I would have missed if I blinked my eyes, but I saw it. Like he was tasting the air that grazed his lips, hot with possibilities.
When I started chewing my bottom lip, holding back because I knew that just jumping into his arms, uninvited, was the last thing a real submissive would do, the moment was broken and he turned back to the monitors, tossing my purse on the desk.
"As a hostess at Hush, you're responsible for more than presentation, providing refreshments, and smiling." There were two high back, plush executive chairs. He sat in one. "Come join me. I won't bite."
"Darn," I whispered, smiling to myself as I pulled out the second chair, watching him pointedly not acknowledge my knee grazing his knee before I collapsed onto the soft leather cushion. Or maybe he just wasn't as interested as he seemed back in the main room. He was the kind of man that could have any woman he wanted, after all, and he knew it. Why would he pick me?
I gripped the armrests, steering my attention and purpose back on course. You're here for a story, not to get in his pants. My eyes stole away to my right, and I almost gasped when I saw the outline of his cock, pressed against his thigh.
"Focus on monitor three," he instructed. The wall had three rows of five monitors, gold embossed numbers stamped below. I found the third monitor, swallowing when I realized I had to slide my chair a little closer to his chair. The outfit, the makeup, the environment made it easy to forget that under normal circumstances, embarrassment and self consciousness would be my approach to being so close to a man that I liked.
Liked? Wrong l word. Lust.
This other side of me would get me in trouble. Feeling like he was out of my league helped me do as he said and stare at-
Oh my god.
I knew this was a sex club. And that people were naked. I'd lost count of how many breasts and other things I'd seen out and about when I stepped through the doors of Hush. This was different. I finally got a look at the inside of one of the playrooms, but the fact that it was like a high end hotel room that was outfitted with inquisition style devices and four poster beds with chains and ropes hanging from it was barely a bleep on my radar.
There were two people in the room and they were about to get down. Again, sex club, so...sex happens, but it was different. They were both naked, the man built like a guy who was definitely juicing (except in the penis department because he was painfully large), and the woman was a quarter of his size, petite and waiting beside a huge X in the center of the room. A St. Andrew's Cross. I didn't stop breathing because I was about to watch some random, masked couple have sex. I was riveted because the man was fisting this whip that had ribbons of leather hanging from it. The cameras weren't close enough that I could make out facial expressions, but I knew if he was approaching me with that thing that reminded me of every historic film where some slave was whipped to an inch of their life, my face would be scrunched in terror.
Instead, she let out a moan of want, of need, as he drew closer.
I jumped slightly when the man's deep, baritone punched through the speakers. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you?"
She murmured something that was barely a whisper on our end and it must not have been loud enough for him either because he adjusted the whip and used the handle to lift her chin.