Page 51 of Captive Heart

How sad was it that after eight—she hesitated to call them lovers; none of them deserved that title. Daddy came closest, but, as much as she was grateful to what Daddy had provided, attraction had never been the motivation there, not for either of them. Then there was V and the half dozen men he had allowed to use her. How did one refer to those encounters? Was there even a word?

Melody shook her head in reaction to her own silent thoughts, but the notion remained. How sad was it that after having been intimate with eight men, she still didn't know that feeling. Didn't know what pleasure there was to be had at the hands of a man who put his woman first.

And damn it all, she wanted that!

Because she refused to let that brute, V, still hold any kind of power over her, either physically or mentally. Sure, there might be people who viewed her as damaged and fragile because of what she had gone through. But they'd be wrong.

She was strong. It had taken strength and a clear mind to choose to live with a man old enough to be her grandfather and share her body with him. And it had taken even more to refuse to allow the brute to grind her down.

It wasn't that he hadn't tried, and he’d succeeded to a certain extent.

But deep inside, in a quiet, private place within the deepest fathoms of her mind, Melody harboured the dream that one day things would be better. Now that they were, there was no way she was going to allow the brute to sabotage her life from afar. She’d already lived through hell and managed to come back from it. Now she planned to find a little slice of heaven.

On her own terms.

And what better place to find it than here? In this place, where the pleasures of the body were respected and embraced, cherished.

All she’d ever known in her life was mundane, at best. Or force, at the worst.

Melody wanted to replace those memories with something good. Maybe, if she was lucky, something great. Was that really so bad?

It seemed to take forever for Laurel to be ready, but Melody knew it was just her own impatience.

"Okay, let's do this!" Laurel came sweeping out of a cubicle, then sashayed straight out through the doors to the nightclub, speaking as if Melody hadn't been standing there waiting for her for the past five minutes, and leaving her trotting to catch up.

When she turned to check on her, Laurel yelled through the noise and the crowd, "Stay with me, hon. It can get a bit manic down here!"

A wall of sound was the first thing to hit Melody as she followed Laurel into the shadowy, cavernous hall, pierced with blinding shards of rainbow colours and spotlighted showstoppers. It engulfed her like a wave, bringing with it a heavy heat and the cloying combined odours of musk, perspiration, and perfume.

The dance floor was an undulating mass of bodies which seemed to move as a singular, surging groundswell in a ritual as age-old as sex itself. And above their heads, were the famed, unique display platforms the club was famous for. They hung suspended, each inside its own little bubble of light. The sounds from each one broadcast slightly above the noise of the crowd and the thump of the music, providing a stimulating soundtrack of sexy sighs and groans to backdrop the incredible scenes taking place atop them.

Melody stopped in her tracks, mesmerised by the assorted displays of kink taking place above her head, momentarily forgetting all about Laurel, who continued toward the bar.

From the incredible athletics of professional pole dancing, to two, or three-person scenes featuring straightforward D/s, to MMF, to same sex combinations. Any blend you could possibly think of was taking part in every conceivable activity,

Flogging, fellatio, bondage, role play.

There were crops, and paddles, and handcuffs, and rope, and spreader bars. A veritable smorgasbord of idiosyncratic kink and shamelessly unorthodox debauchery to titillate even the most critical or enthusiastic of voyeurs.

Melody's eyes were as wide as saucers as she struggled to take it all in.

There was so much going on, too many things to see.

Where did she look first?

And where had Laurel gone?

Melody had promised Trinity, faithfully, that if she was allowed into the club, she would remain with her chaperone at all times. But there were so many people, hundreds of bodies, pressing and flowing, thronging and clustering, that Melody couldn't see the other girl anywhere.

It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, and suddenly, Melody was overwhelmed with the need to find a familiar face in this seething mass of strangers.

Damn! She should never have allowed herself to become so distracted.

The back of her neck prickled as if someone was staring, but then everyone in this place was ogling one thing or another, watching, assessing, considering. It was the very nature of the environment. Still, Melody was suddenly uneasy and eager to locate her friend.

As she pushed her way toward the bar, she still couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched. Not just a casual glance, or sensual consideration, or frank approval. This felt like something more sinister—calculated scrutiny; an ominous deliberation.

Jesus, was she paranoid or what? Was her mind actually as fragile and damaged as Micah had feared and she had denied? Was she jumping at shadows now?

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